#hawkeye not included cause hes got his own post

[trappper-johnathan]

Happy aromantic day of visibility to the aros of the 4077th !!

[marley-manson]

Love the first half of Welcome to Korea a lot. Frank and Margaret are peak hilarity and had me laughing outloud several times (Frank’s stolen ham... incredible writing), the satire is a delight, and Trapper’s goodbye kiss followed by Hawkeye going awol to race to the airport is still the most romantic thing to happen on the show.

Still remember the first time I watched it a decade ago it was the episode I went from ‘I enjoy Hawkeye and Trapper’s homoerotic wisecracking and I think they’re fwbs’ to ‘oh shit actually they were in love and I ship them hard,’ which is probably the worst time to start shipping them lol, oops. But like, come on. How can you not?

I don’t really roll with the “Hawkeye got leave from Frank because he had a breakdown when Henry died” headcanon because it breaks my suspension of disbelief too much since that’s a big thing that would’ve been mentioned or alluded to, and Hawkeye is fine here lol. I can’t easily slot it in without breaking a sense of emotional continuity. I prefer to assume either Henry arranged for it before he left, or Frank wanted Hawkeye out of his hair while trying to establish an air of authority among the rest of the camp. (Since obviously the real reason is so Trapper could disappear off-screen bc Wayne Rogers was gone.)

I find Hawkeye’s tour guide vibe in this episode interesting because they’re clearly trying to make him come across as very aware politically and socially, but the writing is hamstrung by the writers’ own failings. Like Hawkeye introducing Korea by listing its history of colonization, including America; BJ calling the Korean hospital primitive while Hawkeye’s like well yeah they’re impoverished; Hawkeye knowing the farmer is using his daughters as minesweepers to save the expensive ox... but of course it ends up white saviour-y, and very surface-level, and some of Hawkeye’s jokey phrasing can be wince-worthy (plus the Kipling quote...) The scene with the farmer in particular is unfortunate in its overt condemnation of the farmer and lack of overt condemnation of the forces that caused the poverty and mines that created the situation. Granted we get that condemnation in other scenes to an extent, but this one felt clumsy to me, yk?

Though that said, this episode is another reason I dislike Hawkeye Get Your Gun, in which Hawkeye, despite having been shown that he knows better, is the one to complain about Korean hospital conditions and Potter, of all people, is granted the voice of reason.

“Frank I lived with the guy for over a year, he was my best friend!” “You’re exaggerating his importance.” “He was very important to you too, Frank.” “Says who?” “For over a year he kept me from killng you.” Like I was saying about Hawkeye being more impulsively violent than Trapper.

Outside gay stuff, my favourite line in this episode, as Frank is going through the Swamp throwing stuff away: “Boots covered in blood. Animals.” That’s the military satire I love.

And I’m gonna make a separate post for my thoughts on Hawkeye and BJ I think.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Spook-vengers Tower

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

Inspiration: Halloween!

Warnings: None.

Summary: Your plan to host a Halloween party at the tower was sabotaged and so, you enlist the help of the mighty Avengers. What could go wrong?

It had been perfectly planned out from decorations to the catering and music - that was, until Baron Zemo attacked the tower the day before. It was a futile, and frankly petty, retaliation that he knew he would lose given that all Avengers were stationed at the base. The villain was quickly tossed out but the damage had been done to the top floor where you were meant to be hosting a Halloween party for the children of New York as a charity fundraiser.

With less than twenty-four hours on the clock you thought that a full home of superheroes could be wrangled together for the common cause to help fix the mess.

Oh, how you were wrong.

Yes, they banded like a team. And yes, they allocated specific tasks.

The only problem was that they appeared to be working according to their own time and party design post-tower fight. Your only saviour was Natasha who you trusted to pick up a themed-cake from Hell’s Kitchen without a fuss.

With the Black Widow out on a dessert mission, you found yourself watching the rest of the team put up the ‘emergency’ decorations after a quick clean up of shattered glass and broken tables.

“I don’t know if I should be in the kitchen, (Y/n). It’s a stressful place.” Bruce confessed a little sheepishly. You would have taken sympathy on the doctor but the man with multiple PhD’s had the easiest job. All he needed to do was follow the recipe for all the cold treats - you even organised the ingredients.

“Bruce. There’s literally nothing to bake or measure. And if following instructions to mix melted chocolate is too hard then you really don’t have a promising career as a chef.”

You hadn’t meant for it to sound snappy but his complaint came across as meagre. Of course, despite being overwhelmed with the volume of things happening, you weren’t a horrible person and your eyes caught themselves on the short, tousled brown hair of their youngest member. Peter had been carrying orange and black chairs three times his weight across the room when he spotted you waving him over. The young boy quickly set the chairs down by an overturned table and jogged over.

“(Y/n), this is going to be an amazing party. What can I do to help?”

His peppy voice and eager eyes managed to coax a brief smile from you and you gestured to the scientist standing to your side. “Think you can give Bruce a hand in the kitchen with the party treats?”

“Halloween candy preparation with the Hulk?” Peter clapped his hands together. “Count me in!”

Bruce gave a nervous laugh as he led his chatty partner back towards the kitchen. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes hoping that you hadn’t just added to your list of problems. 

Ready to check on the rest of the preparation, you turned around and managed to take a step forward before Steve approached you with a pumpkin and a proud smile. He shifted the pumpkin ‘face’ around in his hands so you could see it.

“What do you think?”

A monkey - the man carved a damn monkey onto the hull of the vegetable. You glanced over his shoulder to the table and found that the primate wasn’t alone. It’s like he had created a pumpkin zoo.

“They’re meant to be scary.” You told him bluntly, no trace of an amused smile on your face. “Scary - not educational.”

Steve looked at his creation, shoulders and smile dropping a little. “Well, I thought that...”

“It’s pumpkin carving, you shouldn’t need to think when there’s less than fifteen hours until people arrive!”

The outburst came out louder than expected and drew the attention of the few in the room. Tony sauntered over and draped an arm around your shoulders, “You know, I think I might change my costume and just go as you. Honestly, it’s a lot more frightening.”

You heard a roar of laughter from the God of Thunder by the balcony and shot him a scathing look that made the man swallow down any further jests in pure fear. Tony gestured to the newfound silence, emphasising his point. “See?”

You lifted his arm and freed yourself from his carefree attitude with a huff. It was difficult enough that your earlier preparations were ruined and now the team - who usually had your back when villains rained hell - were treating this like a joke.

“Lighten up, (Y/n). We’re going to have a great ‘Spooky Town Monster Mash’.” Clint commented as he attached some fake cobwebs to an arrow. With his eyes cast down, he couldn’t see how furious you were when he got the name of the party wrong - and you had repeated it several times in the last week! 

The avenger aimed his bow high above the elevator door and let it the loaded arrow fly until it hit its mark and splattered the white cotton messily against the wall. The only thing he succeeded in doing was jamming the doors as they attempted to close - the mechanics whirring and grinding loudly. 

The Hawkeye pursed his lips and hummed at what had just unfolded. “I think your decorations are a little dodgy.” He assumed despite it being clear that his idea to use his weapons indoors backfired.

You were raging at this point and probably just about to scream at the top of your lungs when there was the distinct beep of an incoming message was heard through the room. A holographic screen appeared in the centre of the room with the familiar faces of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. All eyes were drawn to it and Steve paused what he was doing as he stepped forward.

“Hey guys.” Sam greeted in a quick whisper, eyes glancing around the figures in the room before landing on the blonde-haired man. “We’ve tracked Zemo to an abandoned medical facility but he’s got more friends than the two of us can handle and-”

Suddenly, the Falcon was nudged aside as Bucky leaned in closer. “Did you carve a monkey on that pumpkin?” He asked with a frown. Steve glanced down at the orange vegetable in his hands and racked his brain for a response when Sam took charge of the call once more, pushing his co-Avenger out of frame.

“So, can you spare a helping hand?”

Straightening his shoulders, the Captain nodded. “I’m on it.” He confirmed and waved his hand to close the projection. He had just turned to ask if there were any volunteers when you stormed past him in a blur.

“I’ll go.” You said quickly, leaving no room to argue. “This tower is a nightmare.”

Almost two hours later, you found yourself wrapping the last five of Zemo’s henchmen together with some rope while narrating how their boss destroyed your event which was being ruined further by your friends.

“...so, you can’t blame me for wanting to throw one of them off the tower, right? All I wanted was a fun night for the children.”

The henchmen looked at each other confused and gave a small grunt in reply. It didn’t really answer you but at least it meant that they were listening. You fastened the rope together and began to talk again about classic Halloween parties when Sam and Bucky returned. They jogged past the knocked out soldiers until they reached you.

“Zemo took off.” Bucky sighed, head shaking with disappointment.

You couldn’t blame him or Sam, sometimes the bad guy got away but it just meant that you’d be ready to strike them down when they resurfaced.

“We’ll get another shot at him.” You smiled.

Sam nudged his friend in the metal arm and chuckled. “Come on, we’ve got a Halloween party to get to.”

And just like that - you remembered why you came on this mission.

“Can’t we just stay here or go out for a drink instead of going back home?” You asked only for Sam to laugh and shake his head.

“Not a chance. Friends don’t let friends attend party disasters alone.”

Bucky perked up at the change of topic and sent you a sympathetic smile. “(Y/n) you just took out twenty armed henchmen. The party has nothing on you.”

You would have stayed to argue the point further but it would have been futile as the duo refused to step back. With a reluctant sigh, you agreed to return to the tower and found yourself standing in front of the tenth floor doors, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos inside.

Alright, let’s get this over with. You thought and pushed the wooden panels wide open.

The first thing you saw was a bright orange and black banner hanging across the balcony window reading ‘Happy Halloween’. Then your eyes dropped lower to a confectionary table that was decorated and hosted party snacks, including a mystical bowl of fruit punch that sent plumes of smoke over the edges until it fell into nothing. Children were laughing and screaming and you noticed the spookily-carved pumpkins - not a monkey in sight!

“What the...?”

Tony strolled over and handed you a glass of red wine. “Welcome to Spook-vengers Tower.” He smiled, taking a sip.

You watched a few children run around and play while some pulled down the fake webs and others grabbed as much candy as possible. When you had left, this place was a shamble so the turn around was surprising until you spotted a few of the Avengers by the table.

“Nat put the fear of god into you, didn’t she?”

Tony smacked his lips together, enjoying the beverage. “Like you have no idea.”

Masterlist here

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #246: GATHERINGS

August, 1984

Family feud! Guest-starring SERSI of the Eternals!

She comes!

A portent of times to come! I hear a faint rumbling of leather jackets from distant years...

Also, hey! She-Hulk! I missed you!

The Avengers have been through the Secret Wars and participated in the Wraith War! What’s next for our band of heroes?

Maybe parties? The cover makes it look like a party is going on before some Kirby-looking guys crashed.

But also? Vision’s vague scheming to raise the Avengers’ profile continues as he and Scarlet Witch take a trip to visit President Reagan and First Lady Reagan at the White House.

Weird thing is that we don’t get an unobscructed view of Reagan’s face. He’s either back to the ‘camera’ or cropped on the panel border. Weird, since this wasn’t a problem last time he appeared in this book. Y’know, the time some plant people tried to hold him for ransom? That time?

President Didn’t-Pay-for-the-Likeness-Rights thanks Vision for taking time to personally brief him on all the biz the Avengers have been up to.

President Reagan: “I wish we could talk like this more often! The National Security Council keeps me posted on your missions, but there’s nothing like getting the news firsthand.”

Vision: “I quite agree, Mr. President. In fact, I have a few suggestions for making the lines of communication between Avengers Mansion and the White House more... shall we say... direct?”

He suggests they speak in private which Reagan gladly agrees to, shooing Scarlet Witch and Mrs. Reagan out. To Scarlet Witch’s surprise because he sprang the trip on Washington on her and now he’s sprung this on her.

Also, every time Vision meets someone in private and the conversation takes place off-panel, they suddenly come around to his point of view so.... uh...

Well, I’m sure it’s fine.

Meanwhile, we get back to Captain Monica Marvel Rambeau’s subplot. Remember how she worried after getting back from Secret Wars that she had no explanation to give her family for being missing for several days? And was thinking of telling them about her secret superhero thing?

Well, she calls home to New Orleans and her presumably firefighter dad answers. I presume he’s a firefighter because there’s a firefighter hat and coat hanging up prominently in the background. We call that environmental storytelling.

Monica’s mom isn’t home so Monica asks for her parents to call her back when they’re both available.

Monica: “In a way, I’m glad momma wasn’t home. That gives me more time to figure out how I’m going to tell them that their ‘little girl’ is leading a double life... as an Avenger called Captain Marvel!”

... Geez, her costume looks so weird when there’s nobody in it.

Monica ponders just bringing it up casually by RECAPPING HER ENTIRE BACKSTORY! Which, in fairness, would be an appropriate way to handle it. But she decides that just going ‘yeah I was helping old family friend Professor LeClare investigate a secret lab on an oil platform, punched a machine, got powers, and then joined the Avengers’ would sound crazy and that there must be a better way to tell them.

I say, take it slow and ramp up. Start from ‘I have superpowers’, do a little pew pew flashlight beam and let their questions guide your explanation.

Meanwhile again but elsewhere, Wasp van Dyne is just chilling at Avengers Mansion, bumming herself out rereading the World According to Garp, and receiving a phone call from West Avengers Chairman Hawkeye.

He tells her that he found a great HQ for the new West Coast Avengers, some old silent film star’s home, and he’s overseeing renovations now.

This ongoing Hawkeye real estate subplot is to get you excited for the upcoming West Coast Avengers series. Are you?

I dread it.

Anyway, Starfox comes in after the phone call and recognizes that Janet is in a Mood. A very bored mood. A post-chairperson funk.

Wasp: “It’s just that Wanda and the Vision are in Washington... Hawkeye and his new wife are setting up a new team in California... Cap and Thor are away on missions of their own... Everybody’s doing something! Everybody but me! It’s funny, after all we’ve been through lately, especially with that horrible Magneto, you’d think I’d appreciate a little leisure time. But instead, I’m bored out of my mind!”

Magneto kissing her really teed her off if that’s what she’s focusing on from the whole Secret Wars thing and not having died.

Starfox has just the answer for Wasp’s post-Magneto-kissing blues though.

PARTY.

He was on his way to a great party and Wasp can be his plus one!

Meanwhile, on the Washington to New York plane, Vision and Scarlet Witch.

She’s confused why they didn’t just take the Quinjets that they have instead of flying on a commercial airline but Vision says that getting out among the people is just good public relations.

I mean, he’s not wrong. But also flying in public, in your costumes, seems like it runs the risk of aggroing a supervillain attack.

It doesn’t happen but I wouldn’t have been surprised if it did.

The flight attendant asks Vision if he drinks before course correcting into asking him if he wants a drink.

I don’t know what’s more amazing here. Wanda going ‘he never has coffee at home’ like that coffee ad that Airplane spoofed.

Or Vision patting himself on the back for connecting to the common man with his drink order.

Simply superb.

Back at the casa Rambeau, Maria Rambeau returns and then returns Monica’s call. Monica says she’s going to come over for dinner and then a panel later, she’s knocking on the door.

Her parents are confused because it’s a twenty-minute drive between Monica’s house and theirs but that’s just part of what Monica wants to explain to them.

I see Monica decided to just jump into her explanation.

Back in New York, Janet frets over whether she’s dressed right for the party but Starfox just dismisses that as one of Earth’s weird mores. Why, he only wears the one outfit and that’s just gonna have to be good enough.

They arrive at the party and it seems to be a hobnobbin’ sort of event, with people discussing court settlements and acting. Also, She-Hulk is there. Hi, She-Hulk!

Glad Stern found another excuse to include you after Byrne stole you away to the land of the Fantastic.

She-Hulk says she met the host at an exotic bakery shop just last week and that’s how she scored the invite.

I wonder what made these baked goods so exotic. And I’m wondering if it wasn’t actually erotic. Do I think that She-Hulk would purchase a butt cake? Yes, yes I do.

She asks Starfox how he knows the host and, well, he doesn’t. He heard about the party and decided to invite himself (and Wasp) along. I.e. crash.

But the host...

ITS SHE!

SERSI!

SHE COMES!

But the host, Sylvia Sersi, isn’t too bothered by the pair of party-crashing Avengers and has She-Hulk introduce them.

Starfox is enchanted to meet Sersi and she likewise but they’d best not be too enchanted to meet each other because I’m pretty sure they’re not too distant relations.

Mentor founded the Titan colony of the Eternals and the Eternals have all been around a while so there’s not that many branches between Starfox and Sersi, I don’t think.

Anyyyyyway.

A drunk man pauses before a mirror to tidy up his tie and gets a startle when a Watcher-looking guy that isn’t the Watcher because he has hair appears in the mirror instead of his own face.

When Sersi comes over to investigate she tells him he must have imagined it and sends the guy away for some air but then interrogates the mirror face man and calls him Domo.

Domo, in the mirror: “We need you here in Olympia! Everyone is needed for the final decision!”

Sersi: “I told you before, I don’t care! Go ahead and make your big decision! It won’t affect me, because I intend to go right on doing as I please!”

Then she turns the mirror into a picture of penguins??

Her powers are great indeed.

Although her investment in the community is less so.

Whatever this mysterious decision everyone is voting on, it is clearly less important than this rockin’ party. This party has a She-Hulk!

Back over at the Rambeaus, Monica decides to just rip off the band-aid and tell her parents that she’s Captain Marvel. They find it hard to believe so she just pulls out her costume and lightspeeds into it.

Harder to hold doubts when your daughter glows with an awesome power.

Frank Rambeau: “It’s true... my little girl’s an Avenger. Hey, that means... you’ve met Captain America!”

Frank jumping right to the important points.

Thankfully, Monica’s parents are very supportive. And actually like the Avengers. You have cool parents, Monica.

Frank Rambeau: “Monica, I don’t know what to say! The Avengers are heroes... like Cap and the Black Panther and Thor... They’re like a legend! To think that you’re one of them -- !”

Maria Rambeau: “We’re very, very proud of you, dear... Prouder than we ever thought possible!”

Very cool parents.

Meanwhile, back at the party, mirror spooked guy (apparently Harry) goes out for air like Sersi suggested and then sees something else which spooks him even harder!

He runs from the party babbling about seeing things or not seeing things and not sticking around to sort out which.

Then a bunch of goons crash the party by flying through the terrace doors.

Look at these total goons.

Starfox steps forward and tries to defuse the situation both by words

Starfox: “Easy, my friends! I’m sure you don’t want to hurt anyone!”

And by shooting pleasure beams from his mind.

Predictably, his pleasure beam, besides being creepy, can’t be allowed to be too effective.

If it actually worked we wouldn’t have conflict and plot.

So like the Hulk in Incredible Hulk #300, these dudes called Delphans just slap Starfox out of the way.

Then superhero number two steps up.

One of the Delphans say that they need to get “that witch” before she can cause them any grief and She-Hulk was in proximity and assumes they meant her and takes exception to that.

She-Hulk: “‘Witch’, huh? You wouldn’t mean me, would you? That’s a bad choice of words, but you’re right about one thing... I can give plenty of grief!”

The Delphan just immediately hits her with an energy pole which just pisses off She-Hulk and ruins her party dress. Thankfully she had the unstable molecules FF costume on underneath.

She dresses in layers.

Delphan: “You’re still standing? But that photon-burst would have stunned the mighty Karkas!”

She-Hulk: “You stupid jerk! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find nice things in my size?!”

She-Hulk and Starfox start beating on the Delphans but its Sersi’s party and she can shoot eye beams if she wants to, eye beams if she wants to.

Sersi: “I should have known Domo would send you Delphans after me! Well, it won’t work! You’re not taking me away without a fight!”

Not just eyebeams but apparently a piggifying beam!

A singing piggifying beam!

Oh, sure, the Delphan says that its a transmutive ability but I know whats what.

Her name is Sersi, which is like Cerci, and she can shoot pig beams at people, especially Greek soldiers.

Unfortunately, like other witches before her, she needs some wrist range of movement to do her business and grabbing her by the arms will just nullify her.

Sigh.

If only he didn’t have armored outpanties, she could kick him in the business.

But fortunately, Wasp “can blow up a small house” van Dyne won’t be stopped by armored outerwear and shoots the Delphan grabbing Sersi right in the butt.

That is, Wasp shoots him in the butt, not that he’s grabbing Sersi in the butt.

Meanwhile, over in the Vision and Scarlet Witch subplot, their plane lands at LaGuardia and they’re instantly accosted by journalists who wants Vision’s take on rumors that the president is going to make chairmanship of the Avengers a cabinet-level post.

Vision coyly tells them that he and the president discussed many things but he’s not at liberty to confirm anything.

Hmm.

Then Vision excuses himself, saying that he and Wanda have to get back to Avengers Mansion.

Scarlet Witch: “We certainly do!” And when we get there, we are going to have a little talk!

Seems Wanda is annoyed at all this being left out of the loop.

Back at the A-plot, where A stands for Avengers go to a party and then get into a fight, Sersi gets fed up with these shenanigans and threatens to turn the Delphans into worms but she gets grabbed by the wrists again, this time by power-dampening chonky handcuffs, and dragged away by the Delphans to their spaceship that was hovering right outside the party.

Starfox and Wasp fly out in pursuit, with non-flying She-Hulk complaining about being left behind.

Wasp: “After them, Starfox! We mustn’t let them get away!”

Starfox: “I quite agree! Hostesses such as Ms. Sersi are all too rare!”

Wasp: “No kidding! Once we rescue her, I want to find out how she does that trick with her eyes!”

... Really.

The eyes specifically? Not the singing pig beam?

Huh. To each their own.

The ship takes off shortly after Wasp and Starfox stow aboard and the two heroes resume beating Delphan ass to try to save Sersi.

Lead Delphan: “We have the advantage in number, but they’re still making us look like idiots! We can’t let them beat us now! Have to initiate transport... while there’s still a chance!”

The ship then disappears with a FWOF!

And reappears above the mountains of Northern Greece.

Apparently, Eternal transportation is like the kind in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because Starfox and Wasp are discombobulated and nauseated by the transport.

The Lead Delphan seizes the opportunity while the bull is hot and pulls the lever to make the ship just completely disassemble.

The Delphans take advantage of the heroes startlement to beat the shit out of Starfox in midair.

Clever. But rude.

Sometime later, Starfox comes to in Olympia to discover that he and Wasp are completely surrounded and in the shit.

Domo: “Citizens of Olympia!! At last, we all stand together... reunited with our Polar and Pacific cousins! Our destiny beckons! But before the ritual may begin, we must first deal with these two... who have intruded into the affairs of the Eternals!”

Hey, dick! They don’t come to a party you’re crashing and slap the host!

But I guess we’re going to meet all the Eternals next time.

What a fun coincidence that I’m hitting this point of the story when the Eternals movie is just a few months away.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because one day I’ll read comics about Sersi wearing a leather jacket. Like and reblog for the same reason or for different reasons.

[bulkyphrase]

Everybody & the Avengers Team

I've got a new fic rec list for you!

The stories in the "X & the Avengers Team" tags focus on one person's relationship to the Avengers team as a whole. Courtesy of AO3's tag browse and Excel, here's a ranked list of the top 20 most popular pairings:

Tony Stark | 2470 total, 240 OTP

Peter Parker | 2255 total, 85 OTP

Steve Rogers | 602 total, 56 OTP

Loki | 387 total, 26 OTP

Natasha Romanov | 308 total, 35 OTP

Clint Barton | 268 total, 46 OTP

Bruce Banner | 244 total, 15 OTP

Thor | 209 total, 7 OTP

Avengers Team | 174 total, 24 OTP

James "Bucky" Barnes | 156 total, 7 OTP

Wanda Maximoff | 143 total, 4 OTP

Phil Coulson | 105 total, 9 OTP

Darcy Lewis | 91 total, 6 OTP

Matt Murdock | 60 total, 8 OTP

Sam Wilson | 53 total, 5 OTP

Nick Fury | 41 total, 5 OTP

Harry Potter | 40 total, 0 OTP

Pepper Potts | 31 total, 1 OTP

Vision | 29 total, 2 OTP

Stiles Stilinski | 25 total, 0 OTP

In chart form, if you like charts:

Notes:

The numbers after the names are the number of stories tagged with that ship. OTP means the number of stories where that is the only relationship tagged on the story. Numbers are accurate as of July 2021.

Story Recommendations

For your reading pleasure, included below is at least one fic rec for each pairing except the crossovers from non-Marvel fandoms (apologies to Mr. Potter & Mr. Stilinski). Most are gen fic, and even in the ones with a romantic pairing, romance is not the focus.

Tony Stark

As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration by petroltogo (Teen, 8949) tumblr: @tonystarktogo

Standing inside his penthouse, listening to Rogers, Barton and Banner explain to Fury how they just happened to stumble over the Tesseract on a routine security check of Stark Tower’s roof and wouldn’t you know, they’ve managed to fight off the looming alien invasion before it could really start and secure the missing overpowered nightlight is one of the most surreal situations Tony has ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Peter Parker

the worst field trip ever by shrill_fangirl_screaming (Teen, 3420) tumblr: @i-am-having-an-emotion

"We're on a field trip," Peter said. "To here. And Tony decided to be our tour guide and absolutely embarrass me, so can you please help get him under control?"

Which is how Peter Parker, architect of his own destruction, ended up with not one but two superhero pseudo-dads being annoying on his school field trip.

Steve Rogers

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (Teen, 11022) tumblr: @galaxythreads

That seems about right. He doesn't know how he knows that, though. He does have vague memories of an annoyed fondness at finding peanut butter in some sort of jam. Thor's doing, because he doesn't see the point of using two knives when one works just as fine. He knows that. How does he know that? He knows all those little details, though, almost innately. How can he know these strangers so deeply?

Everyone else below the cut!

Loki

Proprietary by TheThirdMarauder (Teen, 7639)

No, Loki simply wants the Avengers conquered. The details of whom, how, and when matter not. Unless, of course, said details interfere with Loki's plans. Then, well, then none can fault him for protecting his own interests.

Loki has always been exceptionally good at lying to himself.

Natasha Romanov

What Girls Are Made Of by enigma731 (Teen, 4613) tumblr: @enigma731

She rolls her eyes but does as he’s indicated, using his shoulders to leverage herself up onto his back, her arms around his neck and her legs hugging his waist.

“You know,” he says blithely, “this isn’t really what I tend to picture when I think of a hot girl riding me.”

Natasha groans, deciding that if his sense of humor gets them arrested, she’ll kill him herself. “Just go.”

Clint Barton

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (Teen, 4221)

With a normal person, this might count as blackmail material, but a) this is a case of mutually assured destruction if ever there was one, and b) Fury is immune to embarrassment. Not just in the regular, Tony Stark way, either, oh no. Things that could possibly end up being embarrassing to Fury get somehow warped and changed until they go from mortifying all the way over into useful and/or good for his image. It’s like a superpower.

Carrying Clint’s small child self around on his shoulders more than once has probably already hit the interagency rumour mill as an example of Fury’s innate awesomeness: good with rocket launchers and small children.

Also available as a podfic!

Bruce Banner

They're Not Wrong by Trumpeteer34 (Teen, 10163)

As Tony began to pace around the hole in the road to keep himself from shooting repulsors at the nearby buildings in a fit of rage, Thor began to study the nearby area. There was no sign of either the Hulk or Bruce Banner beyond the crater. The surrounding area, aside from the rubble of the fight, held no clue as to their friend’s location.

“Guys, he’s gone,” Tony growled into the communicator on their private line, drawing Thor out of his darkening thoughts. “Someone tranqed him and took him. He’s gone.”

Honorary mention goes to the Responsible Science series by @letteredlettered - the stories don’t have the "Avengers Team & Bruce Banner" tag, but they could, and they are amazing. The best Bruce Banner writing I've ever come across.

Thor

Fortunately, I Am Mighty by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 3062)

Steve was the first one to speak. “Are you okay?”

Thor nodded. Which was a bad idea, as it turned out, because now there were little gray lights flashing in front of his eyes. “I’m fine.” Absolutely everyone narrowed their eyes, and he added, “But, uh. Could we possibly not get back in the car just yet?”

Avengers Team

Civil Wasn't by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 7123)

"We're having an ideological conflict here," Tony stated with disbelief. "Are you telling me you still want to go out to dinner?"

"It's a standing engagement, Tony," Rhodey reminded him.

"Not you too—"

"We already had to reschedule from Friday when Natasha was..." Rhodey frowned. "What were you doing?"

The question was directed toward Natasha, who shrugged and said, "Spy stuff."

James "Bucky" Barnes

You Know How I Feel, aka, The Adventures of Bucky and Muffy the Dinosaur by ifeelbetter (Not Rated, 4511) tumblr: @ifeelbetterer

“As you may have heard, Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. The Winter Soldier, recently rescued a tiny part-robot dinosaur during the Avengers’ battle with Dr. Doom in Antarctica,” the other newscaster explained. “Pictures of Barnes and the dinosaur were posted on twitter by fellow Avenger, Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, and immediately made Barnes’s new pet America’s sweetheart.”

“Her name’s Muffy,” said Steve."

Wanda Maximoff

and the woman was young again by Mira_Jade (General, 3669)

Tony Stark called them the Cap's Kooky Quintet, and sometimes the term amused her – causing her to lift a sardonic brow where someday a smile would truly smile. She enjoyed the presence of comrades – true comrades – and she enjoyed the way their minds wove and bound together about each other to fluctuate against her senses as one. There was something soothing about being in their midst, and even when their loud and brash ways – their painful Americaness - rubbed her raw and drained on her, it was ever the knitting of their minds that soothed those moments over, and made them inconsequential.

Phil Coulson

Coulson's First Day of School by storiesfortravellers (Teen, 3055)

Coulson looked up at him. “I like drawing pictures with Mr. Rogers. I like having tea parties with Ms. Potts. I like it when Dr. Banner reads me books, and I like it when Natasha teaches me things. And I like when you play with me. You do really good voices when we play action figures. And you’re the only one who lets me do stuff like jump off the high diving board at the pool or eat three cupcakes or play tackle with kids at the park.”

Clint didn’t realize that. He was pretty sure that meant that he was doing something wrong.

Darcy Lewis

Beginner Yoga for Dummies (Darcys) and Sad Hobos by chailover (Teen, 3434)

Darcy had a theory: crazy attracted crazy, working kind of like gravity. It was pretty much her explanation for her life after Thor. And if she had thought the type of crazy Thor attracted was bad, be it Loki or the Warrior Three and Sif, or the dark elves and the Convergence, it was still nothing against what the Avengers manage en masse.

Matt Murdock

Double Blind by smilebackwards (Teen, 2381) tumblr: @smilebackwards

Stark snaps his fingers. “You can’t see half of my inventions. This explains so much about you and why you’ve never been properly impressed by me.”

“Does it?” Matt says, ambiguously.

Sam Wilson

Bystander by scribblemetimbers (Teen, 52029)

“I just want you to know,” Sam says loudly, cautiously raising his hands, “That I’m very poor and very sleep-deprived and literally the only thing you can kill me for right now are my notes.” He pauses. Wait. On second thought: “Please don’t steal my notes.”

“I’m not—I’m not a mugger,” Not Mugger rasps out, and for all that he looks about to keel over and die, the man actually manages to sound offended.

Nick Fury

Bedtime Story by dixiehellcat (Teen, 2532) tumblr: @deehellcat

Fury snorted. “I have to check in with the duty officer. I’ll be back in, let’s say twenty minutes. I expect all of you to have whatever your pre-bedtime routines are completed, and be in here pajama’ed and ready to be read to.”

He tapped the book under his arm, then left with the usual dramatic swish of his long coat. Bruce scratched his head. “Did…he just say be ready to be read to?”

Pepper Potts

Pepper and the Avengers (Which She Knows Nothing About) by rebelmeg (General, 6696) tumblr: @rebelmeg

The Avengers, that mismatched group of hurt and heroism, was one of the most important things in Tony Stark’s life. So, naturally, Pepper had made them an important part of her life too.

Vision

039. Intoxicated by aimmyarrowshigh (Teen, 100) tumblr: @aimmyarrowshigh

It might be nice to fit in, just this once. To lose a bit of composure.

Vision floated over to the refrigerator and, with some timidity, pulled off a magnet. He stuck it to his forehead.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: A Fight in the Shadows (1/16)

Summary: After her grandfather Grumman’s death in mysterious circumstances, private detective Riza Hawkeye receives a letter from him, instructed to be delivered to her after his demise. She is floored to discover he was the head of the Amestrian Intelligence Network, and the secrets he’s found out are deep and dangerous. He mentions a conspiracy within the military, and instructs her to gather together a group of individuals he trusts to assist her in continuing his work.

To say that they’re a rag-tag bunch is putting it kindly, but when they finally get their act together and delve into the mystery, they uncover something that will shake the very foundations of Amestris…

An espionage AU with some core canon elements.

Rated: T

==

A Fight in the Shadows

[AO3]

One

Roy

In all of her years working as a private detective, Riza had learned that one really ought to expect the unexpected, especially in a place like Amestris, and especially in a place like Central City. It took a lot to phase her; working on the principle that she had already seen everything there was to see and that whatever latest Central Weirdness was about to arrive at her door, it couldn’t be any weirder than everything she had already dealt with. 

That said, she really wasn’t expecting to get a letter from her grandfather a week after he died. 

Riza knew that her grandfather had died. She had been the one the hospital had called to identify his body, and she had certainly identified it beyond all reasonable doubt as Charles Grumman. Now, she had indeed come across cases of people faking their deaths before, but she had no reason to assume that this was what her grandfather had done. He had no earthly reason to do so. He had spent his entire life working as an unimportant pen-pushing bureaucrat in some backroom government department in Eastern, and he had died in a car accident. That was all there was to it. 

The letter, however, implied that there was definitely more to it than Riza anticipated. 

It was definitely from Grumman. She recognised the same handwriting that had left odd little flowery messages in her birthday cards for as long as she could remember. Sitting there so innocently on her desk where she had brought it in unknowingly with the rest of the mail, it seemed to be hiding a multitude of secrets. 

The most logical explanation, of course, was that it had been written and sent prior to his demise and had just been delayed in the post. There was nothing suspicious about that. 

Except, of course, for the fact that her grandfather never wrote to her except for the aforementioned birthday cards. And he certainly never addressed the letters as ‘private and confidential, for the eyes of R. HAWKEYE only’. 

Riza was beginning to think that perhaps he had faked his death after all. She sighed. Whatever was in the letter, she knew that the moment she opened it, she was going to end up getting into something far deeper than she had any intention of getting into anything, and it would be a one way trip. She would not be able to back out. A part of her was screaming to just burn the letter and pretend it had never arrived, and then go on with her day. Another part was telling her that whether she read it or not, she was involved now – Grumman had ensured that from the moment he had sent it. 

She snatched up the letter before she could second guess herself and sliced it open with such force that Hayate gave a worried yelp, perhaps concerned that she would turn the letter opener on him next. 

It was from Grumman all right. Riza sank down into her desk chair as she read the tightly packed text that proved to her once and for all that there were some unexpected things that really could never be expected, and that she had not, in fact, seen everything. 

To the outside observer, the letter would have been gibberish. It was gibberish to Riza herself until she remembered how much her grandfather had always loved word games. He had been creating codes for her to play with ever since she could read and write; it had always been their little thing that they could bond over, something that she could keep secret from her father and have as wholly her own.

Grumman hadn’t written to her in code for a very long time, not since her teen years, but she had still kept all the ciphers he had created with her, including the most complicated one that she had been so proud of creating. She recognised some of it in the letter, and she settled down with a pencil and the main cipher, beginning the painstaking task of decoding it all character by character.

With the deciphering complete, she read the letter through three times before the true meaning of it really started to sink in, and she knew that Grumman had definitely got her involved with something she could not back out of, and she was already in it up to her neck. 

At least she was now fairly certain that he had not faked his death, even though she now knew that he was not, and never had been, an unimportant pen-pushing bureaucrat. No, no. In life, Charles Grumman had been the head of the Amestrian Intelligence Service. 

In short, her grandfather had not only been a spy, he’d been the most important spy in the country.

At least that explained his preoccupation with secret codes. It hadn’t just been an odd fancy to keep her entertained. He had been training her up to follow in his footsteps and ensuring that if something ever happened, like it had indeed just happened, then he had someone he could trust and a code no-one else knew how to break.

Riza leaned heavily on the desk and began on the letter for the fourth time, still not quite believing what she was reading. 

My dear Riza,

If you are reading this letter, then I am dead. The circumstances will probably look like natural causes or an accident, but they will have been anything but. I am leaving this letter in the care of a trusted associate, to be delivered in the event of my untimely demise. 

I don’t know if you ever suspected the true nature of my profession at any point, but the time has come to be candid with you. I am, and have always been, an intelligence operative. I am a spy for the Amestrian Intelligence Service, and it is as a result of this intelligence that I have found myself in a very dangerous position. 

I know it is unfair of me to put this onto your young shoulders and put you into this same dangerous position, but in this profession you learn to trust few and trust even fewer with your life. I think I may have trusted the wrong people, but I have always trusted you. You are a bloodhound, Riza, and I know that you will sniff out those responsible for my death and continue the work that I have started, exposing the terrible truth that underpins the entirety of Amestris, because I know I have only just begun to scratch the surface of what is going on in our country. 

There are a few individuals whom I do trust to assist you, and I advise you to find and make use of their many and varied talents. To make things easier, I have also sent a letter like this one to the first of these contacts. I don’t know if you have kept up with the career of your father’s former student, but you must have heard in among of the renown of the one they call the Flame Alchemist. Roy Mustang is in fact an intelligence operative like myself and is my most trusted subordinate. He has his own off-book network who should provide you with a wide range of skills you may need. 

If all has gone to plan, Mustang should be arriving in Eastern on the day you receive this letter…

Riza remembered Roy Mustang. They’d practically lived in each other’s pockets for the two years that he had been apprenticed under her father, learning the secrets of flame alchemy. There had been talk of him joining the military academy (and of course, her father’s reaction to that particular suggestion had been well-documented), but when the time came, he had chosen a different path, and after his training was finished and he had left the Hawkeye home for the final time, Riza had not seen him again.

A part of her had always wondered what he had ended up doing. After her father’s death she had not kept up with the gossip and rumours in the alchemy circles. After everything that had happened, she had wanted to keep as far away from it all as possible. Almost unconsciously, she reached around behind her, touching the small of her back as if she could still feel the sharp sting of the needle there as her father bound her up indelibly with his research. 

So no, she had not heard of the renown of the Flame Alchemist. At least now she knew what Roy had been up to in the intervening years. She had been glad when he had decided not to go into the military, but at the same time, the line that he seemed to have walked instead seemed scarcely better. 

Riza shook herself. She was one to talk; her own profession didn’t exactly bring her along the most morally upstanding path, and there was a good deal of espionage in what she did on a daily basis, although following cheating husbands and finding evidence seemed pretty tame compared to national intelligence work. Still, she was in no position to judge what Roy and her grandfather did. 

Roy… It must be nearly ten years since she had last seen him. It was his hands that she remembered above everything else. She had always tried to put that down to an upbringing steeped in alchemy; whilst some people noticed height or build or hair colour or eye colour, alchemists tended to look at hands as the first thing of note. Their hands were their craft, after all, be they gloved or tattooed or bare. Roy had typically worn spark gloves towards the end of his training. Her father, ever the traditionalist, had disapproved at first, but had eventually been talked around to the practicalities of not needing an ignition source on hand all the time - or rather, having an ignition source literally on hand all the time. 

At the beginning, though, when he had still been learning, his hands had been bare, his fingers long and tapered. They were always warm, his hands, and Riza had never known if that was from the flame alchemy or if he was just naturally like that. She remembered the touch of his fingertips on her back, and immediately felt her cheeks colour up. There had been nothing like that between them, but since Riza was the canvas for the full array and her father had destroyed the rest of his research for fear of it falling into the wrong hands, she had felt that Roy needed to see it. 

He was still the only person who’d ever seen her bare back, and she didn’t think she’d ever forget that little gasp that he gave when he saw it: admiring the beauty of the craftsmanship and shocked that it had been crafted on living skin - her living skin - at the same time. 

She’d been seventeen then, embarrassed at being half-naked in front of a boy, even if they’d been friends for over a year and he couldn’t see anything from the front. Even more embarrassing was how much she’d found that she really wouldn’t mind feeling those warm fingertips in other places. 

Riza groaned, crumpling Grumman’s letter up into a ball and knocking her forehead against her desk a few times. She hadn’t thought about Roy for years, and she had long since got over her silly teenage crush on him, figuring that of course she’d ended up feeling that way about him because he was the only member of the opposite sex other than her father and grandfather that she ever had any interaction with at the time. It was bound to happen from the sheer novelty value if nothing else. 

She really didn’t need to be reminded of it now. Not when she was about to get unwillingly dragged into the world of international espionage and investigate her grandfather’s murder. The last thing she needed to be thinking about was whether Roy’s hands were still as warm as they had always been before.

Riza sighed, pushed all thoughts of Roy Mustang very firmly out of her head, and straightened out Grumman’s letter again, tucking it into the chest pocket of her shirt. Every single spy novel she’d ever read (now her grandfather’s extensive collection made a certain ironic sense) was telling her that she ought to burn it, but she was not in the habit of memorising letters having only had them in her hands for a few minutes, so it would have to stay on her person for now. Besides, she might need to compare notes with Roy. Drat, now she was thinking about him again. 

If he was arriving into Eastern, where she was to go herself in just a few short hours, then Grumman had probably instructed him to go to the funeral, so at least Riza wouldn’t need to look for him since her grandfather had given no further hints as to where he might be found. Hopefully, Roy would have a few more clues as to what needed to be done. The rest of the letter had detailed several more people that Grumman wanted her to recruit, and she would likely need Roy’s connections to do so. This was not a simple investigation by any stretch of the imagination. 

Riza dragged herself away from her desk, Hayate padding along at her heels as she went to pack a bag for the trip to Eastern. Grumman’s funeral was the next morning. As much as she wished it was sooner so that she could get some answers, she also wanted to put it off as long as possible. 

What had he got her into?

X

The funeral was a fairly standard affair. Riza was Grumman’s closest family left, and even then, they had not been all that close in recent years. She didn’t recognise any of the other people gathered around the grave and making a polite show of mourning, but she assumed that they were people who had known her grandfather. She idly wondered how many of them were spies, or if they were all under the impression, like she had been, that he was a harmless old man sitting in a back office somewhere. 

As she’d suspected, Roy was there. He didn’t join the main group, hanging back in the shade of a tree and watching from afar. He hadn’t changed much. His face and shoulders had filled out from the slightly gawky nineteen year old he’d been when she’d last seen him, but he was still instantly recognisable as Roy. He wasn’t looking in her direction, more staring into the middle distance, and Riza wondered if he had noticed that she was there and recognised her. She didn’t think she’d changed all that much either. Her hair was longer now, but that was about it.

A small part of her, in the back of her mind, was annoyed that he’d turned up and was so obvious, because now she couldn’t stop glancing over at him every five seconds and she couldn’t concentrate on the service. Not that she’d really been concentrating on it before she’d noticed Roy. Something in the back of her mind kept telling her that whoever had killed her grandfather might have sent someone to his funeral to make sure that he was actually in his grave, and now she was looking around at all the unfamiliar faces and wondering which of them, if any, she should trust. 

At last it was over and people started moving away from the graveside. Riza hung back for what she hoped was a respectful amount of time, making small talk with the minister, and when she did finally walk away, she saw that Roy was waiting for her. She made her way over to him and they moved away from his tree. He smiled as she approached. She remembered that smile.

“Hello, Riza. It’s been a long time.”

“Hi. Thanks for coming. How’ve you been keeping all this time?”

“Oh, you know. Here and there, this and that.” If there was ever a more ‘if I told you I’d have to kill you’ answer, Riza had yet to hear it. “Keeping busy. What about you? Grumman told me you went into private investigations.”

“Yes. It’s interesting work. I’ve always been fascinated with solving puzzles. I suppose that’s why…” She tailed off, and there was a long pause. How did one go about starting a conversation about secret messages and secret agents with a secret agent? Thankfully, Roy saved her the trouble.

“I assume you received a letter.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you do with it?”

“It’s… on my person.” She didn’t tell him she’d stuffed it in her bra as the most secure place she could think of.

“Fair enough.”

Riza stopped suddenly, causing Roy to stop as well and turn back to her.

“Should we really be discussing all this out in the open like this?”

Roy nodded. “It’s the best place to discuss things. There’s a reason why all the important conversations in the novels take place on park benches or looking out over rivers on misty bridges. The misty bridges are a bit romantic, but it’s always better to talk outdoors. It’s easy to bug a room and listen in, but it’s much easier to see if you’re being watched or followed out here in a nice, quiet, open location.”

That made sense, and Riza fell into step beside Roy again as they continued to walk through the cemetery. There was no one else around.

“Have you got any idea what’s going on?” she asked. “I’ve got a list of people who can help, but it’s not going to be much good if I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be helping with.”

Roy shook his head. “No, you probably know more than me at this stage. My instructions were just to help you in any way I could. So, I guess my services are at your command.”

“Grumman mentioned you had a secret network.”

“Yes. I’ve already contacted them. They mostly work out of Central, as I believe you do too. We can meet them in a few days. I have a safe meeting place there.”

“Oh. Ok.” At least Roy seemed to have his side of the plan all figured out. Maybe once she met this mysterious network and worked out what skills she had at her disposal, she’d have a better plan for what to do next. 

They fell into silence for a long time again. Ordinarily Riza knew the basic etiquette for making small talk with someone you hadn’t seen for a decade. You asked about their family, you talked about the weather, you nodded politely in all the right places. But Roy was more than someone she hadn’t seen in a decade, and both their lives were so steeped in subterfuge and solitude that nothing seemed right as she thought it. That was probably what led to the next words out of her mouth.

“You know, I think that you’re actually the worst secret agent in the world.”

Roy laughed. “Oh really? And what makes you think that?”

“All the time you were standing under that tree, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, and I’m sure that there were a few other people who couldn’t either. You weren’t exactly inconspicuous. I thought spying was all about blending into the background.”

“It is, until it isn’t. Sometimes you need to be noticed and draw attention to yourself. Besides, there are two ways to follow someone. The first way, they never see you. The second way, they only see you.”

Riza felt her blood run cold, and she looked over her shoulder. There was still no one around besides her and Roy; everyone else had gone the more direct route out of the cemetery after the service was over. 

All the same, his words were not at all reassuring.

[cassiopeiassky]

Black Velvet

Alright everyone, it’s finally here.  I’ve been sort of salty about the lack of tall!reader fics for awhile now or maybe it’s just the ubiquitous short, petite, drowning in his sweatshirt descriptions that get under my skin but just couldn’t get a decent amount of inspiration to write one.  I have been known to throw in a mention of height randomly in my fics, but my usual workaround to avoid physical descriptions of the reader is to just write Bucky as like six and a half feet tall.  Hes a damn super soldier, he should be taller anyway he did not start out as short as Steve.  So one day I stumbled across this post by @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ and for some reason I can’t explain, an idea was finally unlocked in my brain later that same day.  (Inspired by a song?  Me?  No.  Never.)

It’s kind of all over the place, so buckle in.  It does take a sharp right into smutsville but also ends up flipping a u and landing in flufftown.  I don’t know.  I just write what the muse tells me to write.  

I would like to thank the incomparable @scottish-pepper​ for her amazing help and support while I wrote the thing - I couldn’t have done it without you, darlin.

Bucky x Tall!Reader

Modern day AU - think of a 40s prewar Bucky if he got a chance to grow up and lived in a small town 

Plot:  You have a terrible day of epic proportions but a beautiful stranger in a small town helps to make it better.

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), smut, mentions of alcohol/drinking/bars, a brief mention of potentially disordered eating, mentions of a thunderstorm, and a very specific shitty family member.

Word count: 12K  Yep.  Knda got away from me

One last author’s note:   This fic includes some ASL dialogue; it is expressed in italics without quotation marks.  ASL is an incredibly beautiful and expressive language, and it’s in 3D!!  It also has its own grammar structure, rules, nuances, and regional differences, just like any other language, and it can be a challenge to fit it into a two-dimensional space.  Taking this into consideration, I’ve decided to write the dialogue with spoken English grammar because my ASL is really rusty and I don’t want to mess it up.

It’s hot.  Like 100 degrees in the shade with 95% humidity hot. The trees are wilted, flowers are drooping, and there isn’t so much as a glimmer of hope for a cloud in the sky to interrupt the sun’s torture of earth’s inhabitants.  The air is thick and still – there’s no movement at all – yet dangerously unsettled.  It’s the kind of weather that if you sneeze, you might cause a tornado in the next county over.  Of course your cousin would choose today of all days to get married.  And of course her mom pressured her into going black tie, increasing everyone’s suffering tenfold.

“I can’t believe I rented a room for this.  I can’t believe I spent $200 on a dress.  Why am I even here?  What did I expect?”  There’s no answer, but of course there wouldn’t be.  You’re alone in your car, driving back to a motel that you might not even stay the night in.  You’d rented a room because you figured you’d have a few drinks at the reception – you wanted to celebrate the bride, she’s one of your best friends – but at this point you might as well just make the hour drive back home.

About a block from the motel you notice a bar tucked behind a gas station.   According to the clock on the dash, it’s only 5:25.

Fuck it.  You deserve a goddamn drink after today.

You pull into the parking lot and are surprised by the number of cars, farm trucks, and motorcycles already parked.  There’s only one redneck limo, thank God – a pickup truck with a 10 inch lift kit and truck nuts hanging off the hitch, and in your experience driven only by incredibly insecure men – so that’s a good sign, right?  It must be a decent place with decent drinks if it’s this busy so early in the evening.  Maybe some of your day can be salvaged after all.

The hot, sticky air rushes in as soon as the car door is opened.  “Gross,” you mutter; the heat hits even harder after the air conditioning in your car.  Glancing over to the passenger seat, you see the hideous shoes your aunt Lydia pressed into your hands upon arriving at the wedding.  “You know what, Lydia?  Fuck you and fuck your ugly shoes.”  You put your heels back on just to spite her.

It’s a small-town watering hole, so of course all eyes are drawn to you when you enter.  And they stay on you as you find a seat at the bar – perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger, perhaps it’s because you’re overdressed.

But probably not.

The bartender approaches while drying his hands.  He’s got dirty blonde hair in a sloppy undercut, a wide, flat nose, and is wearing a concert tee shirt with the arms cut off to show off his full sleeve of tattoos.  

“Do you have blended drinks?”  He nods. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Sure thing.”

You pull out some cash, tipping generously because your drink is a pain in the ass to make, then look around while you wait.

The bar is cool but not cold, not brightly lit but also not uncomfortably dim, is bigger than it looks, and is even busier than the amount of vehicles in the parking lot would lead you to believe.  On one side there’s a jukebox next to a small stage with an empty but decently sized dance floor.  There are a few high tops, then a gaming area featuring pool tables, dart boards, and a few pinball machines.  On the other side of the bar you see a window with someone selling pull tabs, a station set up for calling bingo, a door to what’s probably the kitchen, and a popcorn machine filled with freshly popped popcorn.  Behind you and scattered generously throughout the building are tables, some with 4 seats and some with 6, and over half of them are occupied.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender places your drink in front of you with a polite smile.  “Would you like a menu?  The full kitchen is open tonight.”

The thought is nauseating. “Mmmm…maybe later.”

“Too hot to eat?”  At your despondent nod, he grimaces and places a tall glass of ice water next to the daiquiri.  “Thought as much.  I’ll check back in a bit.”  You didn’t notice his name tag until now – his name is Clint, and according to the hand illustrations under his name, he’s fluent in ASL.

Unsure if he’s Deaf and fluent in lipreading or if he’s hearing, you both sign and murmur, “Thank you,” before bringing the drink to your lips.  It’s on the edge of being burned – just the way you like it.  Sipping on the sweet slush is pure bliss, cooling you down from the inside out as it tempers the heat of the rum.

You sign?  He doesn’t speak this time.  It’s not an uncommon reaction.

Yes.  I’m an interpreter.

His eyebrows rise in interest.  What made you go into that?

My high school offered it, and I ended up becoming really good friends with the teacher’s daughter, who is Deaf.  I made a lot of friends, got involved with the community and immersed in the culture, and I just loved it, so I figured, why not do this for a living?  My dreams of being a Triple Crown winning jockey went out the window by the end of 5th grade so…

He laughs, but not unkindly.  Yeah, I suppose you are a bit too tall for that.  But 5th grade?  Damn.   His face lights up, Hey, have you heard of PATH, International?  They’ve got a campus about half hour north of here.  If you like horses, it might be right up your alley.  

PATH International, or Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, is an organization very close to your heart.  Yes! I volunteer there every Tuesday night.

The look of surprise on Clint’s face is priceless.  No shit? I’m there on Thursday nights!  You must be the other interpreter the kids are always talking about - they LOVE you!  And so do the horses.  You know, I was Ace’s favorite till you came along.  Now he won’t even look at me unless I bribe him with a treat.

You look again at his name tag, and the name clicks.  Wait, you’re Hawkeye!  The one that does the archery demos on horseback for the kids’ birthday parties.

He takes a theatrical bow. The one and only.

Clint “Hawkeye” Barton is nothing short of a legend at PATH.  Profoundly Deaf yet impossibly accurate with speechreading, he manages to blend both worlds perfectly.  He’s also a master archer both off and on horseback, which basically makes him a superhero in the kids’ eyes.  There are whispers that he travelled with a circus as a teenager, that he raises horses, and that he moonlights as a vigilante, but nothing has been verified and from what you’ve been told, he will neither confirm nor deny.  It’s very likely that there’s at least some truth to the horse raising rumor – Ace is technically his horse, he just loans the chestnut gelding to the program.  You’d been dying to meet Clint for a few years now but hadn’t been able to make it work.

It’s so good to finally meet you!

Likewise!  I’ve been meaning to swing by on a Tuesday to see who it is that stole my favorite horse’s heart, but I’m usually here.  His face lights up, Hey, I’ve got some ideas for a field trip for the older kids and adults but I need to team up with an ASL interpreter since I can’t technically work as a Deaf interpreter on my own off PATH’s campus.  You know, rules and shit.  You interested?

Absolutely!  Just let me know.   You dig a pen out of your purse and write your number and email address on a napkin. You know, I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about Ace.  He stole my heart, what can I say.

He’s a shameless flirt, but I never thought he’d actually prefer someone else over me.  But now that I’ve met you, I guess I can’t be too sore about it.  He seems to have good taste.  He takes the napkin with a grin and folds it up before putting it in his pocket, then looks to his left when a waitress waves for his attention and nods.  Duty calls.  Let me know if you need anything.

Well, that improved your day considerably.  

For a few minutes, anyway.

“That’s an awfully girly drink for a woman like you.”  A cloud of stale cigarette smoke with an obnoxious sounding man in the middle of it takes the seat next to yours.  

You don’t turn to face him; you don’t even acknowledge him.  If that’s his opening line, then you really, really don’t have the patience to interact with him today. This is the guy that owns the jacked-up truck. You can feel it in your bones.

Clint makes a face from behind the drink he’s making, notices your annoyance, and shakes his head. “Dude, she’s got more alcohol in her glass than you and your four buddies combined, so don’t knock her drink of choice.  She’s also clearly not interested, and way, way out of your league.  Go back to your pull tabs and leave the lady alone.”

You can feel the guy’s eyes on you, but Clint keeps glaring daggers at him and he eventually leaves. You can overhear him tell his buddies, “Thought she’d be an easy lay, but you know what?  Even I have standards.  How do you fuck someone that tall anyway?  I’d need scaffolding!”  They laugh, but you continue to hold your head up high.  It’s nothing you haven’t heard some version of before.  He’s not clever.

Ignore them.  They’re lonely, small little men.

I know.  Thank you.  His protective gesture is touching and completely unexpected.  This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often because most people assume you can handle yourself.  You can – but it’s nice to not always have to be on the defensive, and today you’re at your limit.

No worries.  You look like you had a rough day, I figured you didn’t need Chad making it worse.  Clint winks and turns back to his drinks.

Well, he’s not wrong, but the day can only get better from here, right?  Right.  You nod to yourself then sit back and enjoy your drink.  Clint stops by periodically to chat, but otherwise you’re left alone.

Eventually it’s time for a trip to the ladies’ room, and you do your best to ignore the stares and chuckles that inevitably follow you.  In your semi-formal black dress you certainly stand out in a bar filled with cut off shorts and tee shirts, but that’s not why they’re staring.

In your black satin and lace, modestly platformed stiletto heels – affectionately known as your ‘fuck me shoes’ – you’re well over six feet tall.  Are they uncomfortable?  God yes, but they’re also beautiful and totally worth it.

The bathrooms are at the back of the bar, past the dart boards and pool tables.  You’re almost there when you hear something ping off one of the pool table lamps and see it ricochet across the aisle and onto the top of the glass and wood cabinets housing the pool cues.  

“How – how the hell did you manage that, Rogers?”  A man with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass heads in your direction.  “You were supposed to throw the chalk to me, not your imaginary friend standing thirteen feet behind me.”

“Sorry, Buck,” a blonde joins him, looking appropriately apologetic.  “My aim was a little off.”

“Ya think?”

You slow your pace to watch them.  The guy with the dark hair is gorgeous – well, they both are, to be fair – but the one…damn.  His maroon tee shirt is fitted enough to show off his beefy physique, and his jeans hug his thighs and ass like they were made for him.  He throws off an air of cocky confidence with just a hint of danger, lending a genuine feel to his bad boy image.  Should you…maybe?  No. No, you absolutely should not. You’re not in the right mindset to try to soothe a man’s threatened masculinity just for a bit of company.

He and the blonde reach for the wayward chalk, but it’s just out of their reach.  It’s amusing to watch them try to grab for it, but you take pity on them eventually.

Time for your good deed of the week.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”  Stepping between the two, you reach up and effortlessly pluck the blue cube from its spot before dropping it into the dark-haired man’s hand with a smile.  “Here you go.”

Wide blue eyes look up into yours, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even smile.  He just stares.  Figures.

The blonde looks between you and his companion before clearing his throat.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

The unspoken rejection from the brunette stings.  Normally it wouldn’t get to you, but after today?  It does.  It really does.  So you swallow against the burning thickness in your throat and force back the tears with a fake smile.  “You’re welcome.”  A few more steps and you’re in the ladies’ room, which only serves to make matters worse when you step into an open stall.  As you turn around to lock the door, you can see your entire head in the mirror, poking out above the top.  A pair of women walk in and they giggle, so you quickly sit down.  There’s no point in taking it personally – it actually happens quite a bit in older buildings and you can fully admit that the sight is pretty funny – so you compose yourself and do what you came in to do.  You slouch when you stand in order to avoid accidentally looking into one of the neighboring stalls and go to the vanity to wash up.

Even the sink mocks you by making you bend almost in half to reach the water.

A woman with dark hair and bright red lips exits the far-right stall and joins you at the mirror.  “Oh wow, your shoes and dress are so pretty!”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come from the wedding at the ballroom?”

“Mmm hmm.”  You glance at her shorts and flowery sleeveless top and swallow your sigh – you feel like a fucking behemoth next to her.  “I think maybe I should have stopped by my motel room to change.”

“No, you look really nice!” She smiles up at you, “It’s really not unusual to have people dressed up in here on the weekends, you’re just earlier than we usually see it.  I’ll give you a tip, though, in case your feet start to hurt.  I know the place looks kinda crusty, but the owners take a lot of pride in it.  The floors are clean if you choose to go barefoot.”

Her unexpected kindness surprises you; you’re usually shunned by other women when you’re at a bar because all they see is your height, which they erroneously perceive to be an advantage in attracting men.  “Thank you. That’s really good to know.”  She turns to leave but you stop her when you notice something wrong with her shirt. “Hey, hon, you’re missing a button.”  The poor girl is busty, and she’s likely been flashing an unintentionally generous amount of cleavage for who knows how long.

She looks down and immediately sees the gap in her shirt.  “Well, shit.  I just bought this shirt.  No wonder some of the guys couldn’t look me in the eye.  Stupid boobs, always trying to pop out.  Why can’t they just make clothes that fit real people?”

“I feel ya,” you mutter as you start digging through your purse.  “Hold on, I’ve got something…here, try some of this.”

“Scotch tape?”  She looks confused as she takes it.

“Double sided tape.”

Her eyes get wide as she gazes up at you.  “You’re a genius.  And an angel. An angelic genius!”  She takes some and fixes her shirt, smiling brightly. Thank you so much!!”

Despite your incredibly shittastic day, you find yourself warming to her.  She’s nice.  “You’re welcome!  I didn’t want a bunch of creeps leering at you.  In a world of Chads, we women really need to stick together.”

“Oh, God, you met Chad?” She grimaces and shakes her head, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of the entire town.  He and his friends are not a good representation of the rest of us, I promise.  They don’t even live here, they were just permanently banned from the bar in the next town over and now they’re our problem, apparently.  But I promise, the rest of the people here are alright.”  She sticks out her hand, “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

You shake her calloused hand and give her your name.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. If you feel like some company, just come find me.  My friends and I will probably be here for a while, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, I might just do that.”  You flash a smile, genuine this time, and go back to your seat at the bar.  What the hell, maybe you’ll take her up on her offer after you finish your drink.  

A minute passes, maybe two, before someone takes the barstool next to you.

It’s him.  The gorgeous brunette.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  You want to roll your eyes at your reply. Smooth.  Real smooth.

“My uh, my friends pointed out that I was rude earlier, so I wanted to apologize.”

You turn to him quizzically, giving him your full attention.  Is this really the same guy that was playing pool?  The sexy one that projected ‘bad ass’?  “For what?”  

His cheeks grow pink and it throws you off guard.  “It’s not nice to stare.  My ma taught me better than that – she’d slap me into next week if she saw how I acted. I ain’t usually like that, I’ve just never seen, uh…”

Here it comes.  The ‘I’ve never seen such a tall woman’ comment that leaves you feeling like a roadside circus freak show.

“Well, you just got an amazing smile.”

Wait, what?  “Huh?”

“I’ve never seen such a pretty smile.”  He shrugs and studies the bar top.  “Your eyes looked sad, though.  I dunno. I guess I was tryin’ to figure you out.” He turns back to you with an almost obnoxiously handsome grin, “My name’s Bucky Barnes.  Can I make it up to you?  Buy you a drink?”  

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his intent.  He seems genuine enough – he’s either a brilliant actor or you seriously misjudged him, which, in your current cynical mindset, is entirely possible.

You look up to see Clint watching as he dries some glasses.  Maybe he has some insight.  Is this guy decent?  He’s gorgeous but does he have a personality?  

Clint snorts, glancing at Bucky then back to you.   Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy.  He’ll treat you right.

Bucky looks like he’s swallowing a smile when you turn back to him.  “Yeah, I guess you can make it up to me.”

“Really?”  He seems genuinely happy at the prospect.

“Sure.”

“Great!”  Apparently that’s all the invitation he needs to turn on the charm.  “So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doin’ in a dump like this?

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head sheepishly, “It’s not.  Guess I’m really off my game today.  I can usually flirt, I promise.”

A beer and another daiquiri appear on the counter.  “Thanks, man,” Bucky nods to Clint.  “Hey, you wanna grab a table?”  He nods his head to the side of the bar by the jukebox.  “It’s quieter there.  We can chat and I can show you that I ain’t, in fact, the dumbass I’ve made myself out to be.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Why not?  Even if you don’t know Clint enough to trust him, the kids that you work with do, and you trust their judgement.  So if Clint says that Bucky is decent, you’ll believe him.

***

It ends up being a good choice.  Bucky turns out to be more than decent – he’s really nice, funny, respectful, keeps his eyes where they belong, and doesn’t ask if you play basketball.

He asks the basic questions and learns that you live about an hour north of here, that you’re an interpreter, you love to read, write, and draw, and yes, you were at a wedding. Tired of talking about yourself, you take advantage of him pausing to drink his beer and flip the topic.

“So what do you do?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’m a mission systems engineer with NASA.”

You blink at him.  “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“A mission systems engineer with NASA.  I know, I –“

“Do you have top secret clearance?”

He looks thoroughly confused.  “That’s your first question?”

“Do you?  Or would you have to kill me if you told me?  Have you been to space?  Does the government have a plan for if an asteroid comes our way, or would we have to do like the movie Armageddon and wing it with a bunch of oil rig operators?”

Bucky appears to be absolutely delighted at your string of questions.  “Well, yes, no, unfortunately no, and I can’t tell you that because has to do with national security.”

“Fascinating.”  You sit back, thoroughly intrigued by the man sitting across from you. “What the hell are you doing in a podunk town like this? Shouldn’t you be in Houston?  Or D.C.?”

“I live here.” He chuckles at your unimpressed stare. “Yeah, I know it’s a small town – we got a bar, three churches, a motel, a gas station, and a diner that closes by 7 pm every day.  Our biggest draw is the ballroom on the lake shore and the hunting grounds in the fall. It ain’t exactly the heart of modern technology.  But I grew up here, my family and friends are here, and I stick around to help out on their farm.  I fly into Headquarters a few times a year, but otherwise I work remotely.”

“So what do you do?”

“The general gist of it is that I lead a team that designs, develops, and deploys missions.”

“To space?”

“Well, I mean, I work for NASA…”

“What are you working on now?”  You can’t help peppering him with questions – this is so fucking cool.

His eyes sparkle.  “You got top secret clearance?”

“No.”

“Sorry.  Can’t tell you anything,” he shrugs with a smirk.

“I…yeah, I guess I kind of walked right into that.  Wow.  So you’re really freaking smart.”

“I hope so!”

“Do you like it?”

“Being smart?”

“Your job, dipshit.”

He laughs, freely and openly, and it’s an amazing sound.  “I love it.”

You can’t help but stare at him.  “Wow. That’s…that’s just really, really fucking incredible.”

Bucky gets quiet.  “It is really incredible.  Thank you for thinking so.”  He looks up, then back down as he starts peeling the label off his empty bottle of beer. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my job that didn’t either tell me I don’t look smart enough to be a mission systems engineer or ask me how much money I make.”  He meets your eyes again.  “Or both.  I get that a lot, too.”

You certainly know how shitty it feels to get those kinds of unsolicited comments based solely on appearance.  It’s one thing to have an impression, but to just say those things out loud?  “Well, they suck.  And they’re truly shallow if they think intelligence has anything to do with how you look.  But hey, at least they show their true colors right away so you can save yourself some time.” You lean forward, chin in hand, “Okay, so I know you can’t tell me about your actual projects, but can you tell me about your job?  What are your responsibilities?  What does a mission systems engineer do?”

Bucky lights up like New York City and spends the next 40 minutes going into detail about what he does, and you hang on every word; it’s impossible not to, really.  His enthusiasm for what he does is so evident that even if the topic weren’t interesting, you’d still be entranced.  And you thought he was gorgeous before?  His animated passion makes him absolutely breathtaking.

You’ve both finished your drinks and, perhaps not so surprisingly, he switches to soda when you do. When unordered appetizers arrive with your new drinks, you both look over to Clint, who just winks and shrugs.

“Well I ain’t gonna complain.  Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”  Bucky shoves an entire ham and cheese ball into his mouth, but then has to hasashafahasa because it must have just come out of the fryer.  “Ish hot!  Rearry hot!”

Bursting into laugher, you slide your ice water to him before cautiously taking a bite of your buffalo wing. Considering how much fun you’ve had in the last hour, it isn’t all that surprising that your appetite has returned. “Me neither.”

The hours fly by as the conversation eventually turns to other topics, and you find yourself talking about things you wouldn’t expect considering you’ve just met.  Bucky seems so open and honest that it’s difficult not to reciprocate, and if one doesn’t go into detail about what the other asks, it’s only because there’s so much to cover.  

Bucky dips the last bit of pretzel into the beer cheese sauce and pops it into his mouth.  “So if you don’t mind me asking, what made those pretty eyes of yours so sad?”

You take a long sip of your Coke Zero as you debate your next move.  Deflect or come clean?  You surprise yourself when you blurt out, “My aunt, Lydia.”

“Your aunt?”

You squirm a bit at the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability, but you keep going.  “Yeah.  It was her daughter that got married today.  Marie and I grew up together – Lydia is my mom’s only sister, so she was the one that took care of me when my mom had to work double shifts, which was a lot. She did the best she could, and she means well, she really does, but she’s just so caught up with appearances. My height is a, uh, a definite sore spot with her.”

“Really?  Why?  What does it matter?”

“I think it comes down to the appearance thing.  Tall women are generally seen as less feminine, even straight up masculine.  Lydia is tall, too – not quite as tall as me, but close.  She claims that she got her husband through making herself appear daintier.  She only wears flats and follows all the newest fad diets to make herself as small as she can because she feels that being a tall woman puts her at a distinct disadvantage.”  You shrug, “She was one of the primary examples I grew up with. And to be fair, it’s not like she’s completely wrong.  In my experience, guys tend to feel emasculated by me.  And it’s not just men that seem to see me through a distorted lens.  Even from a young age – I’m talking 4th grade – I’d hear teachers tell my mom that I seemed so much more mature than my peers, that I didn’t need as much support, emotional or academic, as everyone else.  I got additional responsibilities and higher expectations.  The thing is, I wasn’t more mature.  I was just tall, so I looked more mature.  Eventually it kind of came true, though.  Other than my mom, who was single and working 2 jobs to keep me housed and fed, I didn’t really have anyone that would protect me or support me.  I guess no one thought I needed it, so I just got used to doing it myself.”

Bucky shakes his head, and you can’t tell if his expression is one of pity, sadness, anger, or something else.  

“But Lydia made everything a hundred times worse than it needed to be.  I already knew I was outside the norm, I didn’t need the reminders. But every time I’d hit a growth spurt she would share some nasty comment on it, as if telling me that boys didn’t like tall girls would somehow stop my bones from stretching.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm hmm.  Despite my mom’s efforts – and the fact that being tall is actually pretty awesome – Lydia’s words really got under my skin, and even now they undermine my confidence sometimes.”  You gesture to yourself and the bar, “Obviously.  I should be at my cousin’s wedding right now.  I don’t go to many family functions anymore, because of her.  It just…it puts my head in a bad place.  You know, they say it takes five to seven positive comments to balance out one negative comment?  The negative is in everything she says.  Everything.  I love my family to pieces, but I just can’t handle her.”

“What did she say to you today?”  If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Bucky is getting pissed.  

“She met me at the door of the chapel with a pair of her ugly black penny loafers.  Said that she told the photographer that I wasn’t allowed in any family pictures unless I was wearing them, because she didn’t want my Amazonian ass towering over everyone else and ruining the aesthetic.”

“Your…your ‘Amazonian ass’?”

“Eh,” you shrug and wave your hand dismissively.  “It’s not the first time I’ve been called an Amazon and far from the worst thing people have said. I mean, people say it to be cruel, but Amazons were fearless warriors.  I just think of it as being put in the same class as Wonder Woman.  The part that hurt was that she was prepared to make sure I wasn’t in the pictures, that she thought she could just erase my existence, simply because I’m too tall for her liking.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I might be overstepping here, but what a heartless bitch.  No one should ever try to erase you, what a fucking idiot.”

“She browbeat Marie into dyeing her hair blonde for the wedding.  Marie hates it, but did it for her mom’s approval.”  You release a deep sigh, “But that’s Lydia, and that’s why I took my Amazonian ass out of there the second the ceremony was over.”

“Hmmmm.”  He gazes at you.  “You know she’s a princess, right?  

“Huh?”

“Wonder Woman.  She’s a princess. You know…Amazon Princess…it actually kinda suits you.”

“Seriously?”

“Damn right I’m serious. You’re tall?  So what.  You’re fuckin’ royalty.  Own it, Princess.  Correct ‘em. Make ‘em say it.  Amazon Princess.”  

“What?”

“Yep.  Say it with me.  Amazon Princess.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, but there’s something undeniably sweet about the way he’s pressing the issue. It’s not good enough for him that it doesn’t bother you – he wants it to be seen as a term of empowerment and to let people know that’s how you see it.

The moment is interrupted when a booming voice comes through the sound system.  “Alright everybody, it’s ten o’clock!”  Someone stands on the stage, holding a mike and looking more than a little tipsy.  “You know what that means!”

The bar cheers, “Free jukebox!”

A line forms immediately, and the music starts.

“Wanna dance, Princess?”

“Really?  You’re going to call me ‘Princess’ now?”

He shrugs with darkening eyes and a suggestive smirk.  “If it’s okay with you.”

If he keeps looking at you the way he’s looking at you right now, he can call you whatever he damn well pleases.  But he doesn’t need to know that.  “Yeah,” you murmur.  His gaze is so intense that you have to look around the bar to break it and gather your thoughts.  You happen to see Peggy; she’s standing next to the blonde that had been playing pool with Bucky, so she must know him.  She catches your eye, sees who you’re with, and gives a thumbs up with a huge grin. Well, alright then.  You grin back and remember what she said.  “Let’s dance.”

Bucky stands, stopping when he sees you toeing off your heels.  “Woah, what’re you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes?”

He shakes his head, “Princess, you don’t need to do that.  I ain’t too fragile to dance with a woman taller than me.”

“I know,” and you do, “But I can’t dance in these.  And my feet hurt.”

When you stand, you’re almost eye to eye with Bucky; if he were barefoot as well, you would be.

People are still lined up at the jukebox, selecting their favorites.  It’s exactly the mix you would expect from a place like this – classic songs like Brown Eyed Girl, Summer of ’69, and Footloose with more modern tunes sprinkled in  – the kind of music that gets everyone up and dancing.

Bucky is a great dance partner, and you’re having an absolute blast.  You don’t think about your aunt, the wedding that you’re supposed to be at, or how you are, without a doubt, the tallest woman in the bar.  He laughs, showing off the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, obviously enjoying himself, too.  

The jukebox switches songs again, and on comes the relentless, even rhythm of Black Velvet.  For the first few measures, you just stare at each other.  It’s the first song to play that isn’t upbeat, and you don’t know what to do until he makes the first move and pulls you close – close enough to breathe each other in. He stares as Alannah Myles’ smokey voice drifts over the steady bass, then spins you so your back is to him.  

If Bucky’s a good dance partner for upbeat music, he’s even better when it’s slow like this, when every move counts.  He’s enough to handle you, and more than confident enough to do so.

Bucky stays behind you, mirroring you with his hands resting gently at your waist.  Your back is against his chest, but his hips keep their distance. Just to experiment, you press yours back and hear a guttural “fuck” before he intentionally shifts.

Bucky is absolutely nothing that you expected.  “You’re a gentleman.”

You can feel the dark chuckle rumbles through him. “I wouldn’t say that, Princess.”  He spins you around, pulling you close but not too close, and runs his thumb along your neck.  “I just ain’t in the habit of taking what ain’t mine.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine.  Fuck. You like him.  One night stands aren’t usually your thing…but that’s not what this feels like.  He feels familiar.  Safe.  You like him, and he sure seems to like you. Your mind is already made up – you’ll take the chance and see what happens.  You hardly recognize your own voice when you ask, “Do you want me to be?”

“Thought I was makin’ it obvious.  Yes.”  He doesn’t hesitate and his eyes don’t leave yours.  “Are you offering?”  

You move your hand to the back of his neck and lightly scratch, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate even more than they were.  His lips part when you pull him closer, but he waits for you to close the kiss.

The second you do, his hands slide down to your lower hips before he tightens his grip.  He’s not timid; he kisses you as though you’re a well-known lover, deeply and intensely, without bothering with introductions.  

Bucky suddenly breaks the kiss, spinning you around again to pull your back against his chest.  This time, though, he allows his hips to rock into yours with the rhythm of the music, slow and steady and insatiable.  The way he moves makes it impossible not to think about fucking him; hell, you’re practically halfway there already.  His hands alternate holding you tightly to his body, maximizing contact, and running up and down your sides.  Your head falls back when his mouth finds your neck, and your legs go weak when his teeth nibble that spot beneath your ear.

You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His voice is thick when his lips find your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, taking his hand to lead him back to the table to collect your things.  “I’ve got a room at the motel a block away.”

“Good.”

When you take one last look around, you see Clint, still behind the bar, grinning at you like an absolute idiot.  Have fun!

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t completely hide the smile.

You step outside to find that the unbearable heat of the day has eased somewhat now that the sun has set. It’s still warm as the humid air kisses your skin, but with the breeze it’s sultry rather than oppressive.

You and Bucky look up at the same time – the stars are barely visible through the haze of clouds. There’s a thunderstorm rolling in on the western horizon.

Bucky walks you to your car, making sure you’re in safely before getting in his own truck and following you to the motel.  He jumps out of his vehicle and pushes you against the car the second you’re out of it, kissing you like it’s been days and not 2 minutes since his lips were last on yours.  

He doesn’t stop until the first few raindrops hit your skin.  Bucky looks up while you grab your purse and your aunt’s shoes out of the car, gathering them clumsily before locking the door.  It takes a minute for you to get your room key out of your purse, but you finally manage.

“Looks like the storm is already here.  Gonna be a good one if it got here that fast.”  He takes your hand, “Which room are you in?”

“Up the steps, furthest door on the left.”

Bucky leads you to the stairs as you both laugh while trying unsuccessfully to dodge the increasingly fat drops of rain.  He doesn’t let go of your hand until you need to unlock the door, and the second you hear the click of the lock, his lips are on yours again.  He pushes the door open and guides you through, closing the door behind him with a well-placed kick.  You drop your purse and the loafers, then step out of your heels as he toes his shoes off.  Still connected at the lips, he doesn’t see the things on the floor and trips over one of your stilettos.

“Oh shit!”  His eyes are huge, staring up into yours when he realizes he isn’t going to hit the floor because you’ve caught him by the arm. “Good catch, Princess.”  Both of you start laughing as he stands up straight, but the laughter dies out when his mouth find yours again.  Hungry hands roam your body while you reach beneath his shirt so your fingers can explore the taut muscles you just know are hiding beneath it.  Bucky grabs the collar behind his neck and pulls the shirt off altogether, and you are not disappointed.  “You like what you see, huh?”  

“Damn right I do.”  You’re breathless, pressing your lips against the salty skin of his collarbone.

“You sure know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t ya?”  He groans, then reaches down to grab the hem of your dress to lift it over your head before tossing it to the side.   “Goddamn, darlin.”  Bucky eyeballs you like a starving man at a feast before his mouth is back on yours, then moves his lips to the top of your breasts while he reaches around to unclasp your bra.  It joins your discarded dress as he pulls you close, groaning at the feel of your naked breasts pressed against his chest.  “I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you walkin’ into that bar tonight,” he bites your neck and you can’t stop the light whimper, “but I ain’t gonna complain. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Princess, I promise.”

You believe him.  And you cannot wait.

The two of you somehow manage to take a couple of steps toward the bed.  “I’ve wanted to do this since you smiled at me after givin’ me that chalk.  Those eyes, that smile, that dress, those fuckin’ sexy shoes.”  His hands find your hips, hooking your panties with his thumbs to push them down so you can step out of them.  “When we started dancin’ all I could think about was what it would feel like havin’ your legs wrapped around me, I want you so damn bad.”

You unbutton his jeans and fumble with the zipper, then pull his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, freeing a fully hard cock that is nothing short of glorious.  “Then either figure out how to multitask or stop talking and fuck me already.”

Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

He kicks off his remaining garments before pushing you against the nearest vertical surface – which happens to be the middle of the window, where there’s a strip of metal supporting the two panes of glass.  You aren’t sitting on the ledge, just leaning against it to keep your balance.  It occurs to you that maybe you should close the curtains, but you’re too far gone to care enough to do anything about it.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I can do both.”  His arm is looped around your waist to hold you steady while your upper back presses against the cold strip of metal.  You’ve got one arm hooked around his neck and the other steadying yourself on the edge of the windowsill.  Bucky reaches down, takes hold of your thigh and lifts it to his hip. He lets go of your waist just long enough to guide his cock to your entrance – and he can slide right in because you’re so damn wet – and fuck, the way he stretches you is delicious.

“Christ, you’re so damn fuckable,” he moans in your ear, sending shivers throughout your entire body. “So fucking perfect…don’t need a bed or a chair, I can fuck you anywhere I want.  I could just bend you over, wouldn’t even need a wall.”  Between his thrusts, which are as maddeningly steady and slow as his dancing, the cool metal of the windowpane at your upper back, the flickers of lightening, and the crashes of thunder, it’s almost sensory overload. He’s holding you so tightly that you can’t move your hips much, so you’re completely at his mercy.  And he knows it.

Each move he makes is a sin; the angle you’re at all but guarantees he’s stroking your clit with every move.  Delirious with the sensations flooding your brain, you can only babble nonsense.  

“What’s that, Princess? Use your words, darlin,” Bucky

“So…so good…I, huh…”

He chuckles darkly, “What was that?”

He’s not playing fair but you really don’t mind – his confidence with you is a rarity and is such a fucking turn on.  “More.”

“More?  You want me to fuck you harder?  Is that right?”  He waits for your nod before flashing a wicked grin lit by lightning, then adjusts his grip on your thigh.  “Anything you want, Princess, you get.”

His thrusts come harder and faster, multiplying your pleasure tenfold.  Then he shifts his hand on your thigh, changing the support from holding it up to pushing it back, opening you further and allowing him to go even deeper.

Oh, oh fuck…

Your entire body clenches with your orgasm, so tightly you can’t even breathe, and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

Bucky follows you just seconds later with a growl of your name against your neck and a few last ragged movements.

He releases your thigh as he gently pulls out, but he doesn’t take his arm from around your waist. You lift yourself onto the windowsill, pulling him between your legs as you hold each other close and catch your breath while the storm rages outside.  He keeps his face buried in your neck as you run your fingers up and down his back, calming you both.  The thunder rumbles violently while lightning dances in the sky, but it doesn’t worry you. You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of a storm.

Eventually your legs start to fall asleep, so you begin to move.  Bucky notices and hikes both of your thighs up to his hips before guiding your arms up around his neck.  “Hold on, Princess.”  He reaches down and lifts you, carrying you the 5 feet to the bed.  After laying you down, he begins kissing you again, then starts exploring your body.  “I love being cradled in your thighs like this, but there’s something else I wanna try,” he whispers as he starts crawling down.  “Now I can take my time with you.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s going.  “Really? Um, maybe I should shower first?” You’re sweaty from the heat of the day and just had some really incredible sex, so there’s no doubt in your mind that things are less than fresh down there.

“If you want to.”  He keeps on his slow descent, kissing everything in his path, “But I’m happy with you just like this.  I want you, right now, as you are.”

“But don’t you –“

“No.  I don’t.”  There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks up from his destination.  “I don’t care.”  And then Bucky dives in, devouring your pussy like he’d devoured your mouth.  He’s got you writhing in moments, all worries gone. But he’s a goddamn tease now that the initial urgency has been satisfied, bringing you to the edge and then backing off again and again in a beautiful torture.

You can’t do dirty talk to save your life, but you’re about to start begging when he finally looks up, chin glistening before he wipes it away with the back of his hand.  “Fucking delicious.”  Between the sight of him, his voice, and the sensations you’re feeling, your brain just about short circuits.  Then his fingers start to circle your entrance, teasing you, making you want more before he slowly pushes two in and curls them to press against that spot, and fuck it can’t feel any better, but then somehow it does.  You pull a pillow over your face but he shifts, reaching up to yank it back off and throw it across the room.  “No way, Princess, I wanna hear what I do to you,” he rasps, watching you with hungry eyes and a feral grin.  You’re almost there…almost…and then he puts his mouth back on your clit and your universe implodes.

One orgasm blends into another and you allow him to push your limits until you can’t handle it anymore. “Stop,” you gasp, and he does immediately.  “I’m – it’s too much.  I…wow.” You’re so oversensitive at this point that if he breathes too hard, you might jump out of your skin.

Bucky crawls his way back up to you, dropping kisses on your hot skin as he goes.  “You’re incredible, you know that?  I love how your body responds to me, I fucking love it.”

He kisses you again, and despite your sensitivity, your hunger for him grows.  Sitting up, you pull him with you then push him down to the mattress.  “Fuck yes,” he whispers hoarsely when you straddle him and slide down, pausing to glide your pussy along his hardened cock, but then you slide down a little farther before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them.  

It’s impossible not to groan aloud when your hands find his thighs; thick, tight, and incredibly well formed, they look like they were sculpted by a generous god.  “I might have to ride one of these later.”

“Please –“  Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips as he watches you in the dim, sporadically flickering light, “Please do.”

One hand moves to palm his balls while you part your lips to take him in as far as you can, reveling in his heaviness on your tongue while using your hand to stroke the base of his cock. You give it a bit, waiting until he’s writhing beneath you before you pull off and redirect your attention.  His eyes grow wide when your fingers start moving down beneath his balls to his taint, pressing gently to find the very root of his cock which will then lead you to the spot you’re looking for.  Pressing firmly when you find it, you begin rubbing tight circles.

“What are you – oh.  Oh.  Oh, fuck, Princess, oh fuck!”

It’s ridiculously satisfying to see him reduced to the same whimpering, quivering puddle you were not so long ago.  You make him come once, twice, three times without ejaculating, just because you can.  

Bucky’s got his forearm resting over his eyes as he shakes his head, and you take advantage of his distraction to shift your body into position.  “Holy shit.” He’s breathless, shaking,  “I did not know I had a spot that could do that.  Fuck.  I – oh Christ…“

You slide onto his cock, smiling when his hands automatically reach to grip your hips – the biology and technique can be explained later.  Leaning over, you kiss him deeply then stretch your arms above him to grip the headboard.  Rocking your hips slowly, so slowly, you watch him watch you.

Bucky’s lips form words but nothing comes out except for sighs and soft moans as you become more and more intoxicated by his need for you.  His hands wander up and down, touching your breasts, hips, ass, and everything in between until he pulls you down for another kiss.  “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?  You feel so good.  So fucking good.  Wanna make you feel good.  As good as you make me feel.”  Bucky kisses you again, sloppily, then wraps an arm tightly around you before flipping you both.

Now that you’re on the bottom and he’s back in control, he picks up the pace considerably.

You certainly aren’t about to complain.

His hands are grasping yours, holding them over your head, and your legs are locked around his hips as his thrusts eventually begin to lose their impeccable rhythm.  

Now neither of you are in control.

The pleasure has been steadily building, an inevitable tidal wave on the horizon.  Maybe it’s his confidence, maybe he’s naturally gifted, maybe it’s that his body seems to fit with yours just right.  Whatever it is, this is by far the best sex you’ve ever had, and despite already having multiple orgasms, your appetite for him seems to be insatiable because you’re greedy for the next one.

“Fuck, Princess, it feels so good having those legs wrapped around me,” he pants, “Goddamn, I can – I can feel you’re right there.  I ain’t gonna last much longer, come for me, darlin, give it to me now.  Oh Christ yes, that’s right, just – just like that.”

Your body obeys, giving him exactly what he wants.  The velvet sound of his voice, his incessant dirty talk, the way he smells and tastes – everything about him adds to your pleasure induced stupor.  The orgasm is so powerful that everything but Bucky goes black, and the only thing keeping you tethered to this world is the way he chants your name as he comes.

His body continues to cover yours as you wait for your racing pulse to slow.  He presses kisses to your neck, cheeks, lips, and eyelids, and finally your forehead before he gently lifts himself off to lay next to you. “C’mere,” he pulls you to him, and when you rest your head on his chest you can hear how fast his heart is still beating.

Thoroughly sated and soothed by the feel of his fingertips on your skin, it’s tempting to give in and fall asleep.  But not yet. Not if you want to sleep through the night.

Reluctantly, you rise. Maybe, if you’re really fast, maybe he’ll still be here when you get back.  It’s probably not the sane thing to do, but you really, really want him to stay the night.

“Where you going?”  Is that trepidation you hear in his voice?

You smile as you take in the sight of him lying in the bed, disheveled and clearly satisfied. “I need to shower.  And wash my face – I need to get my makeup off.  My eyes are getting itchy.”

“Can I join you?”  He laughs at your raised eyebrow, “No, Princess, not like that.  I’m gonna need some time to recover.”

“That’s good to know,” you smirk, “I was starting to wonder if you were a god wearing a mortal’s skin.”

Bucky blushes.  It’s adorable.  “Nah, no god here.  Just a man that’s never wanted a woman so bad before.  Still do,” he shrugs, “Just too worn out at the moment to do anything about it. You’re somethin’ special, I hope you know that.”

It’s your turn to feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you hold out your hand to help him up.  

The shower is tender and sweet, full of soft kisses and softer touches.  This man just keeps surprising you.

He’s toweling off his hair when his eyes meet yours in the vanity mirror.  “Is it okay if I stay?”

A slow smile spreads across your face – you couldn’t stop it if you tried.  “I’d like that.”  You slip into fresh panties and a tank top, turning to face him fully to admit, “I’d like that a lot.”  Bucky beams at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and heads to the bed. You finish up a few minutes later and crawl in, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.  There’s nothing to hide behind – no makeup, no cocktail dress, no drink.  It’s just you, and this is a state that very few people see you in; no one you’ve ever dated has seen you this vulnerable until months have gone by.  Some didn’t see you this way at all.  “Don’t look too close.  I’m very unglamorous and monochrome without makeup.”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare in yours.  “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”  His fingers trace your freshly moisturized skin.  “I think you’re beautiful.”

Outside, the thunderstorm has exhausted itself.  He pulls you close and breathes you in, and you both fall asleep to the sound of gentle rain.

***

When the sun peeks through the gap in the curtains at 6 am, you’re not even mad that you’re awake.  The sight of Bucky lying peacefully next to you is something you’re thoroughly enjoying.

“You’re staring.”  His voice, deep and gravelly, rumbles lightly into the silence as he opens his eyes.  “It’s because I’m decent and gorgeous with a personality, right?”

“What?”

Bucky smirks as he stretches and sits up.  “I should probably come clean.  The bartender from last night?  My parents took him and his sister in after their parents were killed in an accident. Clint and Carrie were lucky to survive – he lost his hearing and six months of memories and she was in the ICU for 3 weeks.  He and I have practically been brothers since grade school.”

It takes a minute, but you finally put the pieces together.  Oh.  Well, shit.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; I was just really surprised to see you sign so I didn’t look away fast enough. I’m sorry.”

You sit up and slap him lightly on the shoulder.  “So, you knew what I asked him?

His smile broadens as he gives you puppy dog eyes.  Yes. Please don’t be mad.

You try not to smile back as you think about it but lose the battle and shrug.  “I’m not mad.  Maybe a little embarrassed, but we’ve known each other for what, 12 hours?  It’s not like you can tell me everything about you in that short amount of time.”  You give him some serious side eye, “Although you could have mentioned that when I told you what I do for a living.”

He studies your eyes like he’s trying to see into your soul.  “I told you a lot, though.”

“You did.  We both did.”  It surprises you, more than a little, that you aren’t horrified at how open and honest you’ve been with him.

Bucky reaches his hand up to cup your cheek and he pulls you in for a kiss.  “Good morning, beautiful.”  It seems like he doesn’t want to part, because he rests his forehead against yours.

Somehow your hand finds his neck, and you gently rub your thumb along his jawline.  “Good morning, Bucky.”

His stomach grumbles. Loudly.  “Wanna grab some breakfast, Princess?”

It makes you a stupid amount of happy that he’s not ready to leave you just yet.  “Yeah.  I just need a little bit to get ready.”

A half hour later, Bucky opens the passenger side door of his pickup.  “Your chariot, Princess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking his offered hand and climbing in.  It’s an older truck, one with a bench seat, and it smells of hay, Bucky’s cologne, and sweat.  It’s not what you’d expected, but it suits him.

In this tiny little town nothing is open at this hour on a Sunday morning, so Bucky pulls his pickup onto the interstate to head to a fast food restaurant a few miles away.  You take the time to look around – the area is really pretty and reminds you of the drive to your grandparents’ house, all farmland and pastures.  Of course, you can’t help but stare at the horses whenever you pass them.  “Whoa.  They must breed Appaloosas.”

Bucky takes a quick glance out your window.  “Yeah, that’s the Carter farm.  They raise Appaloosas and alpacas.”  He’s quiet for a moment.  “You like horses?  Not everyone can randomly pick out that breed.”

“I love horses,” you murmur, smiling broadly when you spot a few foals among the herd.  You’re too busy looking at them to notice how he looks at you.

***

Breakfast is simple, just something picked up at a drive thru window, but that’s perfectly fine with you. Bucky doesn’t pull back onto the interstate though, he instead starts driving the winding country roads.  You don’t mind in the least; you simply sip your coffee, content to be exactly where you are.  Considering the hour, you aren’t even grumpy.  Stealing glance at the reason why, you hide your smile and take another sip.

Bucky’s fingers drum almost nervously against the wheel, then he seems to make a decision as he brakes sharply.  “Sorry, Princess,” he smiles sheepishly, “You up for a picnic?  I know a spot.”

His smile is infectious. “Yeah.”

He takes the left he stopped so quickly for, and then another left onto a dirt road, and a mile later he turns onto what looks like a seldom used service trail leading up to a fenced in pasture.  “Just a sec,” he pulls the truck to a stop, then gets out to open a gate.  Bucky quickly climbs back in, drives the truck through about 20 feet before turning in a tight circle to face the road, and closes the gate behind him before stepping up to your door.  “I got some blankets, do you want to sit in the truck bed with me?”

“Of course.”

He gets the blankets and spreads them out while you grab the food and coffees, handing them to him before you climb in after him.

“I would’ve helped you in, Princess.”

“Bucky.  I’m not five feet tall.  I can get into the back of a truck.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that.  But unlike the other shmucks you seem to have come across in your life, I ain’t gonna make you do something by yourself just because you can.  You deserve consideration and chivalry, too.”

What do you even say to that?  He’s the exact opposite of pretty much everything you’ve ever known.  It’s nice.

He sits down against a box that is attached to the back of the cab.  “C’mere.  You look cold.”  

It was hot when you’d packed your overnight bag so you’ve only got a tee shirt and shorts on, and luckily a hoodie that just happened to be in the backseat of your car.  “I am, a little,” you admit as you curl into his side, allowing him to cover your legs with another blanket that he’s pulled out.

He eats one handed, keeping an arm around you to keep you close and warm.

Everything smells clean and fresh now that the storm went through, and the morning air is chilly but fresh with the light breeze.  The radio plays softly, drifting through the open windows as you and Bucky eat and watch the fluffy white clouds drift by.  It’s the best picnic you’ve ever had, hands down.

“So where are we? It’s beautiful here.”

“My parents’ farm.”

You turn to stare at him. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yep.”

“Lucky.”

“I am.  Hey, I wanna introduce you to someone.”  He stands suddenly, not waiting for a reply.  You’re in the middle of a pasture, who the hell is there for you to meet?  Bucky brings his fingers to his lips and lets out the sort of piercing whistle that you’ve never managed to master.

And then…and then…

“Are you fucking serious.” Eyes wide, you bring yourself to a kneeling position as a steel grey Percheron comes galloping full speed towards the truck.  “Bucky!”

He turns toward you, face almost split in two by his grin.  The horse slows down, circling the truck and whickering before coming to a full stop right at the tailgate.  

“I’d like you to meet Sergeant.”  

“Oh my God, Bucky, he’s stunning,” you breathe, unable to help yourself as you slowly move forward to sit at the edge of the open tailgate.   Intelligent eyes take you in before a velvet muzzle finds your hand.  “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats for you.  But I do have ear scratches,” you murmur, firmly stroking the planes of his face before scratching behind his ears.  You giggle when he sighs, and again when he mouths gently at your hair.  

Bucky beams with pride as he pulls an apple out of the box you’d been leaning against, feeding it to Sergeant before sitting on the tailgate next to you.  “I’ve had him for 20 years.  I got him when he was just a colt.  Trained him myself.  He’s one of the reasons why I choose to work remotely – I just can’t imagine not getting to see him.”

“I don’t blame you at all, I don’t think I could’ve left this sweetheart either.”  Sergeant blows gently in your face, then nuzzles you hard enough to push you backwards.  “Oh my goodness, you are just a big baby, aren’t you, Sarge?  Oh, you like that?  That spot right there?”  You laugh lightly as the giant horse stretches his neck toward you, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how you scratch just beneath where his mane grows.

“He likes you.”  Sergeant looks over when Bucky speaks, but then turns back to you.

“Well, I like him.” Feeling eyes on you, you turn to Bucky. “What, are you jealous?” you tease.

“Yes.”  Bucky cradles your face in both his hands and begins kissing you.  Before you know it, you’re lying in the truck bed with him, making out like a couple of teenagers out past curfew.  Time slows even as it moves, and you’d swear the minutes stretched into a blissful forever as you lay in his embrace.  But the real world likes to force its way in, and the distant sound of a car’s horn brings you both back to your senses.

Sergeant is about 50 feet away, grazing peacefully as Bucky pulls out his phone to check the time.  “We, uh, we should get going.  I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself, and my folks will be drivin’ by on their way to church in about 15 minutes.”

“Don’t feel like scarring them forever with the view of your naked ass?”  You sit up and start pulling up the blankets to fold them.

“Honestly?”  He shakes his head, “They’d probably cheer and then invite you over for dinner.”

Pausing your movements, you let that one sink in.  “…Oh. Well that would be just as awkward as the alternative.”

He shrugs.  “They’ve been dropping some not so subtle hints that they think I should settle down.  They’d be thrilled just to know I spent the night with you.”

You tilt your head a bit as you watch him.  “Don’t you date?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Really?  Why not?”

He shrugs again as you hand him the blankets, then he turns his back to you as he puts them in the box. “I dunno.  I guess I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to actually spend time with.”  

“Huh.”

“What?”  There’s a challenge in his eyes when he turns back around.  “That so weird?”

“No, I get it.  You definitely shouldn’t settle.  I guess…” he’s staring at you now, waiting for you to finish, “I guess I’m just a little surprised that someone hasn’t snatched you up yet.  Where I come from, you’re quite a catch.”

“You think so?  How’s that?”

Is he baiting you? Teasing you?  Genuinely curious?  It’s impossible to tell.  “I know so. You’re smart, kind, funny, and a stupid amount of gorgeous,” you pause to level a look at him, “but I suppose you already knew I thought the last part.”

Bucky barks out a laugh but at least has the good grace to look sheepish.

“You have an absolutely beautiful horse, which wins points with pretty much every person I know. Your parents took in a couple of kids when they needed a family, and you learned a new language so you could keep communicating with your friend.  You have every opportunity to move to another city, but you stay here to be close to those you care about.  And,” it’s dumb, really, how you’re suddenly too shy to meet his eyes, “You’re really good in bed.  Like, really really good.  You’re the whole damn package.”  When you finally look up, he’s staring at you again.  “There’s a perfectly real possibility that you’re a total asshole and that you’ve been acting this whole time – I’ve only known you for a day – but I haven’t seen any cracks.  I get the definite impression that I met the real Bucky, and he is one hell of a catch.”  

“Huh.”  He hops down and turns, holding out his hand to help you down.  Do you need to take it?  No, but you love that he offers anyway.  He doesn’t let go after he helps you out, instead choosing to hold your hand as he walks you to the passenger side.  Bucky only lets go because he has to, and once the gate is secured behind the truck, he takes your hand and holds it for the entire drive back to the motel.

***

Ever the gentleman, Bucky walks you back to your motel door.  

“Do you have to go?” The words are out before you can think too long on them.

He’s shaking his head before your entire sentence is out, “No.  Not if you don’t want me to.”

You don’t even care if you sound needy or clingy.  “Please stay.”

Just like you learned last night, Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

At least the drapes are closed this time.

***

A sharp rap at the door and an equally sharp call of your name interrupts your post-lovemaking bliss.  It’s your aunt.

“I don’t wanna,” you whine.

Bucky bristles, sensing your distress.  “That her?”

You nod before pulling a pillow over your head.  “I’m just going to pretend I’m still asleep.  Maybe she’ll go away.”

“Don’t worry Princess, I got you.”

You feel the bed shift and move the pillow.  “Bucky!”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised, as another insistent knock echoes through the room.

“You’re naked!”  It comes out as a stage whisper, making you both snicker.

He flashes a shit eating grin.  “So?”

Is he really gonna…

With a dramatic huff, he stops to find his boxer briefs and quickly tugs them on.  Kind of.  They’re sitting awfully low.

First there’s the sound of the door swinging open, then Bucky’s voice, bored and borderline intimidating.  “Yeah?”

The following silence is deafening and you almost wish the room was set up so you could see your aunt’s face, but all you can see is the back half of Bucky’s sensational body leaning in the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?  I’m looking for my niece?  I thought this was her room?”

“You mean the tall, gorgeous drink of water?  About my height?  Killer smile? Was wearing, uh, let’s see, what was she wearing?  It’s been awhile and she ain’t wearin’ much of anything now.”

The blood rushes to your face, but you can’t even imagine how embarrassed Lydia is right now.  The thought is nothing short of glorious.    

“Uh,” he snaps his fingers a few times, feigning concentration, “Oh!  A black dress with the sexiest heels imaginable?  Sound about right?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“Yeah, she’s here.” His tone is still bored, but you think you can pick up on an edge of amusement.  Your aunt must be squirming by now, and it’s all you can do to not start cackling.

“I thought…well…the gift opening is in an hour.  I thought she was going to meet us for breakfast before –“

“She won’t be goin’ to the gift opening.  Or breakfast, but don’t you worry, ma’am.  I made sure she ate something.”

The not so subtle innuendo almost makes you choke on your own spit.

“You can’t – are you holding my niece hostage or something?”

He laughs darkly but yells out, “Princess, am I holding you hostage?”

Your own laugher, unable to be contained any longer, bursts out.  “Nope!” you call out, absolutely feeling as gleeful as you sound.

Lydia is practically apoplectic by now.  “But what about the gift opening?”

“She doesn’t. Want.  To go,” he growls, stooping down.  “And here, she doesn’t want your fucking ugly shoes, either.  Stop projecting your insecurities onto her – she’s perfect the way she is.”  Bucky closes the door – perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary – and you hear the sound of the lock sliding into place before he saunters back to the bed.

“Thank you for doing that, Buck.  I – holy shit, I cannot believe you answered the door like that.”  Your eyes are glued to how low his boxers are sitting – he’s showing more than just his happy trail.

“What?  Everything’s technically covered.”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I – I’m not even sure how you managed it, but you basically turned your boxers into the dick version of a pasty.”

He grins, “Like I said. Everything’s technically covered.”  Bucky moves closer, crawling into the bed until he hovers above you. “But not for long,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck.  “Now, the way I figure it, we got another two hours till checkout.”

“Mmmmm…” you’d rather not think of the time.  It’s necessary if you don’t want someone from housekeeping to accidentally walk in, but you don’t want this to end.

He kisses you deeply before pulling back, looking just a little hesitant.  “And then, if you want, we could continue this back at my place? If you’re not in a hurry to get home?”

He’s kept his lips to himself for a few seconds, so your head manages to clear enough to process what he just said.  “What? Really?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I get it if you have to get back.  But,” he shrugs awkwardly, his current vulnerability at stark odds with his usual confidence, “I like you.  I’d like to spend the day with you if you’re free.” He kisses your neck again and nibbles your ear.  “We can do more of this.  I like this, too.  A lot.” He pulls back to look you in the eye. “But we could also do some talkin’. Maybe you’d let me take you out to a nice dinner before you head home?”

A smile, broad and genuine, stretches across your face.  “I’d like that.  I’d really like that.”  Even if you never see Bucky again after today, you’re hungry for whatever time you can get with him.   He’s addictive and you’ve never in your life felt more satisfied and safe than you do right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His borderline cocky confidence returns as his hands resume roaming the landscape of your body. “Good,” he mouths against your throat, and resumes his worship of you.  “It’s gonna be a good day, Princess.  A good fuckin’ day.”

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[fictionandthingsbyafangirl]

Hawkeye

WARNING: INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 1

So...I watched the first ep. of Hawkeye, and I have some opinions.

Again, discussing stuff + my overall thoughts/opinions. Also, I won't be doing the plot just yet. Maybe after ep. 3, cause then we'll have a lot more context.

Characters

Um, idk how to put it, but the acting of Hailee Steinfeld at the start and kinda sucked. No offence, but it felt so....bland. It kinda got better as the ep. moved forward though, so that's good. For Clint, I have to say, I have a feeling that him watching the black widow in the musical feels life foreshadowing (Anyone remember the post-credits scene from Black Widow?). Kate's mother....sucks, as in I don't like her as a person (nothing against the actor). I feel like she's not giving Kate the attention and 'motherly love' that she needs. I wonder if that's gonna result in something during the show. ALSO, important, the guy who died. Strong feeling that Jack was involved with that, but I could be wrong. ALSO, NATHANIEL!! He is precious and must be protected at all costs (also, lemme make you sad by reminding you that he won't ever meet the wonderful person he was named after). Also, the doggo! I wonder who used to own the dog, cause he/she knows something (cause the dog started biting that man when he found the watch he was looking for).

My Thoughts

Firstly, I am legit just waiting for the lady (I forgot her name, but the one at the end of the BW post-credit scene with Yelena) to show up. Okay, so lemme just share something with you all. There is a plot going on, cause this one lady

Her. She keeps showing up. She was in Falcon and the winter soldier (the person who encouraged John Walker) and in Black Widow (Told Yelena that Clint killed Natasha, which is a lie). Also, it is confirmed that Yelena will be in Hawkeye, soo...yeah. Something is definitely up. Also, me the only one who doesn't like Kate Bishop yet? Probably cause it's episode 1, but yeah...she seems so...bland. Also, Clint having hearing-aids in the MCU is canon, which feels great. ALSO, can we just appreciate his relationship with his family, like, can they be any more adorable? Yeah, I think that's it for now.

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s Black Widow: MCU Easter Eggs and References Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains Black Widow spoilers. We have a spoiler-free review here.

The MCU is finally back on the big screen! Marvel’s Black Widow was supposed to be the official kickoff of Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but then the pandemic happened, it got bounced around the release calendar, and Disney managed to release three MCU TV shows before Natasha got to take her curtain call on the big screen.

But that’s thankfully behind us, and Black Widow delivers terrific blockbuster action in the mighty Marvel manner. And you know what that means! Let’s try and spot all the cool MCU references and Marvel Comics Easter eggs in Black Widow.

The Prologue

Setting this prologue in 1995 gives us the approximate age of Natasha. If she’s supposed to be about 11 or 12 here, that conveniently makes the character the same age as Scarlett Johannsson, who was born in 1984.

The general premise of Natasha’s childhood, in which she was the daughter of two Russian spies is highly similar to that of the FX series The Americans. 

This seems to be the late summer of 1995, which puts it roughly around when Captain Marvel was taking place (the official word on that is 1995, but little details in it, like Stan Lee reading a Mallrats screenplay could place it in 1994). 

Young Natasha is played by Ever Anderson – the daughter of actress Milla Jovovich and Event Horizon director Paul W. S. Anderson. You will not be able to unsee her resemblance to Milla. 

The first song choice in the movie is young Yelena’s fixation on Don McLean’s fixation on “American Pie,” a song about (among other things) the death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and “The Big Bopper” J.P. Richardson. That being said, “American Pie” is about a larger loss of innocence, a theme that weighs heavily throughout this film.

Before Alexei turns the radio off to play “American Pie”, the station is set to 105.1 FM. This is WQXK, a country station based in Salem, Ohio that serves the Youngstown market. Natasha and Yelena’s American home is likely based in Eastern Ohio.

There’s an episode of DuckTales playing on TV in the background while they have dinner. We can’t tell what episode it is, but DuckTales ruled, and the new series was even better. And hey, we get some payoff later in the movie when they play an aircraft crash for laughs while having everyone just casually walk it off.

Alexei was working undercover in the US at the North Institute, which he burned to the ground before making his escape. In Black Widow Vol 3 #1, Natasha decided to retire to Arizona but she and other Red Room victims were hounded by the North Institute. Spurred to investigate the situation, Natasha returned to Russia where she discovered much of the terrible truth behind her past Red Room manipulation. This was a story that also featured Yelena (and Daredevil, believe it or not).

There’s definitely an early SHIELD logo on the trucks chasing the family to the very end there.

The plane number is 258. In Incredible Hulk #258, we get the first appearance of the Soviet Super-Soldiers (later named the Winter Guard), a communist superhero team created for the sake of rivaling the Avengers. The original lineup was Ursa Major (more on him in a minute), Darkstar, Vanguard, and the fifth Crimson Dynamo (more on this, too). Over time, Red Guardian joined their ranks, though it was Josef Petkus and not Alexei Shostakov.

This is a perfect cold open, the kind that James Bond movies excelled at, and it’s far from the only Bond parallel we’ll get in the film. 

The Opening Credits

There’s all kinds of stuff happening in the opening credits, including the film’s villain Dreykov being inserted into photos with various world leaders, including President Bill Clinton, President George W. Bush’s Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice, and others. The Red Room’s influence knows no national boundaries, it seems.

The overall effect is to imply that Dreykov and the Widows have been putting their fingers on the scale for quite some time.

It’s also a nice touch that many of the “news broadcasts” we see here are from MCU staple WHIH.

There’s a shot of some vials with blue liquid, which allude to the Red Room’s attempt to create Captain America-esque super soldiers, which they succeeded with to some degree with the Red Guardian, but also makes us wonder if they tried enhancing any earlier Widows.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

The opening credits are set to a version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Malia J. You may have heard her covers of Seal’s “Crazy” and Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” in trailers for shows like Bloodlines and The Handmaid’s Tale.

We wrote more about the Black Widow version of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” here.

When Does Black Widow Take Place?

This movie takes place in 2016, shortly after the events of Captain America: Civil War. General “Thunderbolt” Ross (William Hurt) is here to remind us all that Natasha is still in trouble with the government.

What’s kind of neat about this is that it’s the first Marvel “prequel” that feels like it is designed to be watched in its chronological sequence (minus that post-credits scene, of course). Captain America: The First Avenger makes more sense as a flashback interlude between Thor and The Avengers, while Captain Marvel makes more sense as a breather between Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. But Black Widow feels like it should be watched right after Civil War.

Thunderbolt Ross

Natasha brings up Ross having his second triple bypass. In Captain America: Civil War, Ross talks about how he had his first heart attack while playing golf and it gave him perspective and convinced him to retire from the US Army. It seems chasing down Cap’s allies hasn’t been so good for his health.

Red Guardian

We know that Alexei has been active as Red Guardian since at least 1983 or 1984 based on the tales of fighting Captain America he tells while in jail. He was apparently sent to the USA for undercover work in 1992, and then imprisoned a few years after their 1995 escape back to Russia.

Red Guardian’s knuckle tattoos say “Karl Marx” which is kind of adorable but…shouldn’t they be in Cyrillic/Russian characters and not Latin/English? Is this to troll his capitalist opponents so they can read them as he beats their asses?

Red says he fought Captain America in 1983 or 1984. The simplest explanation is that he’s lying but…what if he isn’t?

Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he’s telling the truth and there really was yet another secret Captain America active in the ‘80s. Now that The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is done, we know that there was at least one “replacement Cap” and the comics indicate there were others. Or maybe it’s just Steve in the timestream…maybe we’ll find out one day, but we wrote much more about some possibilities for this here.

Ursa

Red Guardian breaks the arm of a man named Ursa… Ursa Major (Mikhail Ursus) is the name of another Russian superhero in Marvel Comics, whose mutant power caused him to turn into a literal talking bear. He became a staple member of the Soviet Super Soldiers/Winter Guard along with a Red Guardian. While the movie doesn’t depict him like the comics, Red Guardian does joke about him being a bear.

Taskmaster

This is a very different version of Taskmaster than the one we got in the comics. Marvel Comics Taskmaster has “photographic reflexes” and is a man named Anthony Masters. Here, in addition to the new gender (Dreykov’s daughter is named “Antonia” as a nod to the comics character), Taskmaster is cybernetically enhanced to make those “photographic reflexes a little easier.

There is precedent for a female Taskmaster. The series Deadpool MAX reimagined Deadpool in a cynical, dark, and very adult (albeit absurd and humorous) way. This lent itself to Deadpool-adjacent characters. Taskmaster was depicted as a woman roughly in her ‘50s who trained Deadpool and warped his mind.

There’s also Finesse, a member of Avengers Academy, whose powers are so similar to Taskmaster that she believes him to be her biological father. Unfortunately, due to memory problems, Taskmaster doesn’t know for sure and refuses to offer any DNA to find out the answer.

In the course of Taskmaster’s action scenes, we see her mimic a number of Marvel heroes, with a particular focus on those who played a part in the recent (by this movie’s timeline) Captain America: Civil War including Hawkeye, Captain America, Black Panther, and even Natasha.

We have more on Taskmaster here.

Who is Mason?

Rick Mason first appeared in his own 1989 graphic novel called Rick Mason: The Agent. Mason was a SHIELD agent mostly remembered for being the son of Phineas Mason, the Tinkerer. Granted, the Tinkerer we saw in Spider-Man: Homecoming isn’t nearly old enough to be Rick’s father in the movies and he looks nothing like him, so I wouldn’t expect any secret connection.

In the comics, Rick was practically forgotten about and killed off-panel. His son was one of the victims of Nitro’s explosion in Stamford, Connecticut from the beginning of the Marvel Comics version of Civil War.

Melina Vostokoff

The Melina Vostokoff of the MCU is pretty different from the one in Marvel Comics (who created by Ralph Macchio and George Perez in 1983). There, she was known as (we shit you not) Iron Maiden, and she was at least a former Widow-esque agent as she is here in the film.

Yelena Belova

Yelena and Natasha’s first meeting being over a bio-weapon/agent is very faintly similar to Yelena’s proper introduction in the comics, a 1999 Black Widow comics story where they were explicitly fighting over a bioweapon, not a “mind control antidote” as we see in this film.

The “face swap” trick that Natasha and Melina pull in the film’s final act also has the faintest of echoes of another early Yelena story, where Natasha “swapped faces” with Yelena to try and break her mind and get her on the side of the angels.

What Happened in Budapest?

“You and I remember Budapest very differently,” Clint Barton famously told Natasha in The Avengers during the Battle of New York. But now we know what went down…

Basically, Taskmaster’s origin story is tied to Natasha’s superhero origin. To fully defect from the Red Room and go to work for SHIELD, Natasha had to assassinate Dreykov…which meant the collateral damage of Antonia.

Of course, that led to Clint and Nat getting hounded by Red Room agents, which led to them hiding out for days together. 

And before that, they were in that safe house apartment that was currently occupied by Yelena, hence the arrow damage to the walls.

Crimson Dynamo

Yelena (probably on purpose) refers to Alexei’s superheroic days as when he was “the Crimson Dynamo.” Sure, this is cute, but there really was a Crimson Dynamo in Marvel Comics! Crimson Dynamo is primarily an Iron Man villain, lots of different Russian agents have worn the Crimson Dynamo armor. It…didn’t end well for any of them. 

The original Crimson Dynamo was Anton Vanko, otherwise known as the old man dying in the beginning of Iron Man 2. Although his son was known as Whiplash, Ivan Vanko was more of a cross between Whiplash and Crimson Dynamo. In the comics, “Ivan” was an alias Anton used.

We’re gonna choose to believe that Yelena isn’t just making this name up and that the Russians really did have an armored hero called the Crimson Dynamo, and if we’re lucky we’ll get to see him in a flashback of some future MCU project. After all, there’s that Armor Wars series on the way…

Also, there’s one thing that Crimson Dynamo has over the Red Guardian: he was immortalized in the lyrics of a song by a member of The Beatles. Paul McCartney and Wings have a tune called “Magneto and Titanium Man” which involves “a robbery” where “the Crimson Dynamo came along for the ride.” It’s great, and it’s on Wings Venus & Mars album.

Thor

Yelena’s line about how a “god from space” doesn’t “need to take an ibuprofen” after a fight is kinda priceless.

Mutants in the MCU

Dreykov tells Natasha that they were searching for the “genetic potential in infants.” Sure, this could mean anything like how athletic someone might grow up to be, but is there a chance they could also have been searching for a mysterious x-factor in a baby’s DNA?

James Bond

Natasha is watching one of the lesser-regarded Bond flicks, Moonraker. Of course, she still knows every word.

Dreykov gets a classic “Bond villain monologue” wherein a baddie spells out his plans for world domination before a hero who he surely thinks is either neutralized or could be swayed to their cause.

Antonia/Taskmaster is a Bond Girl! Olga Kurylenko played Camille Montes, a Bolivian agent with a vendetta in Quantum of Solace.

Remnants of the Red Room

Black Widow was written by Eric Pearson, who also wrote Thor: Ragnarok.

So… Natasha probably couldn’t taste that peanut butter and jelly sandwich from Endgame, right? That’s too bad.

It doesn’t seem that “Fanny Longbottom” is a thing from Marvel Comics, but as Mason points out it is most certainly a real name. Also, Yelena’s dog in the post-credits scene is named “Fanny.”

We get an explanation for Natasha’s blonde look in Infinity War here, as Mason gave her the hair dye. But the way it’s presented here feels slightly like a sisterly tribute to Yelena, which is really sweet.

Natasha makes a crack about “the cavalry” as Ross’ troops close in, but folks hoping that’s an Agents of SHIELD reference are probably going to be sorely disappointed.

Dreykov’s pheromone trick that he has implanted in the Widows (and Natasha in particular) leads to this scene playing out like when RoboCop tries to arrest Dick Jones in the classic 1987 film.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Natasha tells Dreykov with a smirk after getting him to monologue his evil plans. This is as close as we get to a Black Widow catchphrase – she also ended a veiled interrogation with Loki using the exact same words in The Avengers.

The Post-Credits Scene

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) is back after her appearances in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. If we had to hazard a guess, she’s putting together a team of “Dark Avengers” or “Thunderbolts” for the MCU.

Florence Pugh is indeed confirmed to appear in the upcoming Disney+ Hawkeye series, as well.

We went into much more detail about what the post-credits scene means for the future of the MCU right here.

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Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s Black Widow: MCU Easter Eggs and References Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[eskalations]

'Im pregnant'

No one could have imagined the amount of pandemonium that those two words would cause in the office of Brigadier General Mustang.

(Day 1 "Letter" - Royai Week 2020)

A/N: Happy Royai Week! The first prompt was "letter" and let me tell you, I HATE the dreaded letter prompt. So, I decided to have a bit of fun with it. Enjoy some Team Mustang + Royai shenanigans! Let me know what you think if you have the time! (FFN link)

~

I'm pregnant

The words were written plain as day on the parchment in front of them. Certainly, this is not what they had expected to find in the un-postmarked envelope that had been lying between the boss's office door and Havoc's desk – but alas, here it was. The letter said it all, the Chief was going to be a dad.

Their shocked silence soon diffused into absolute pandemonium.

"Holy shi –"

"No way!" Fuery had his face sandwiched between his hands, panic evident in the shaky tone of his voice. "No way! No way!"

"This sure is gonna put a damper on things!" Breda commented, finding his seat once more. He propped his feet on the desk before leaning back with hands behind his head, a pensive look on his face as he stared up at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd see the day. The boss has sewn his oats and now he's gonna reap the consequences!"

Havoc still stood in disbelief at the middle of the office. "Holy Shi – "

"Is that all you can say?!" Breda cut him off.

"I'm processing!" This finally broke him from his daze, his shaking hands pulling the paper closer to his face, his eyes examining every letter. Breda scoffed at his actions.

"Well the words aren't going to change!"

"I know that! I'm just – I don't know, double checking!"

"Guys," Fuery tried desperately to calm them, wishing now more than ever that Falman hadn't chosen to stay in the North. It would have been nice to have another level head amongst the men in the office. "We really should leave it alone. This is none of our business."

The young communications specialist looked nervously over at the door where the Brigadier General and Captain had taken their leave just an hour before. Their meeting was slated to be over any minute and Fuery preferred not to face the wrath of a newly christened father on this bright Monday morning.

That being said, the young soldier couldn't find it himself to be unhappy with the news they had just received in regards to their superior officer. Ever since 'The Promised Day' two years prior, Brigadier General Mustang had grown stupendously as both a military officer and a man. Fuery imagined he would make an excellent father.

This just left one question – who was the mother?

It seemed like both Breda and Havoc had the same thought as they both stared at each other with wide eyes.

"Man!"

"Oh MAN!"

"Who do you – ?!"

"It could be anyone!"

"I bet its Leslie." The auburn-haired man remarked, pushing back even further in his chair, the legs squeaking in protest. "She's the brunette from Archives that's been finding some reason to come up here at least twice a week."

"She can't be more than twenty! Do you really think the Chief would – ?"

"Well I don't know! It may not even be her!"

"Well, maybe it's Sarah," Breda suggested, now not as sold on the whole Leslie idea as he was before. "She's that petite girl he took to dinner last week. They did look pretty cozy."

Havoc stroked his chin in thought. "Hmmm now that you mention it, they did look close."

"Well you do know what they say about a lady's hormones during pregnancy…"

"Ohohoho," The blonde slapped the other man on the shoulder, a mischievous smirk evident on his features. "That sly dog! Mustang's going to be handing out promotion after promotion these next few months if what I've heard is true!"

Fuery, who had remained silent as they bantered back and forth, suddenly jumped from his chair. Both of the first lieutenants stared at him in shock as he gripped the edge of his desk with sweat building over his brow. There was a moment of heavy silence before the Warrant Officer let his thoughts be known.

"What if it's Hawkeye?"

The only sound that could be heard coming from the room was a soft thud as Breda fell backwards out of his chair. Then – all hell broke loose.

"IT IS! I JUST KNOW IT IS! She's been acting weird all week!" Havoc said, dropping the letter to the ground and gripping his face in an anxious fashion. "What are we going to do?!"

Breda, who was rubbing his head while sat on all fours, answered from beneath the desk. "We're going to be transferred out of East City again and end up somewhere like Briggs."

"I won't survive!" Havoc fell dramatically into his desk chair, throwing his head back in mock agony. "I can't leave my dear Rebecca at a time like this. Her best friend is going to be dishonorably discharged and I have to help pick up the pieces!"

"Guys – " Fuery attempted to interject – but was cut off by Breda, who had finally gotten a grip on the edge of his desk and was lifting himself up off the floor.

"Forget about your precious Catalina!" Breda spit out at his comrade, rubbing his backside for good measure. "We've got other problems! The boss is never going to make Fuhrer if he's kicked out of the military!"

"All that work in Ishval – for nothing!"

"Well, I wouldn't really say it was for nothing. It – "

"The country is doomed without it's fearless leader!"

"Okay, now you're just being dramat – "

"I need a cigarette!"

"I knew it!" Breda stomped over to his friend's desk, swiping the container from between his sweaty palms. There was a look of warning in his dark eyes. "Don't use the General's problems as a reason to pick up smoking again. It's not like YOU'RE the one having the baby, so I think you can manage!"

"Manage what?"

Several things happened at once at the sound of their Commanding Officer's voice breaking through the chaos. Fuery, who out of sheer panic, had sat back down once his revelation was brought forth – sprung up like a spring and lifted his shaking hand to his forehead in a poor salute. Breda, on the other hand, dropped the cigarettes like they were on fire and backed several feet away from his friend's desk, giving his boss a salute only marginally better than Fuery's.

Havoc took longer to respond. He stared at the door of the office where the man stood for several seconds, stunned silent. Then, he allowed his eyes to drift down to the letter that had been dropped in the middle of the room.

Oh shi –

"Havoc?" General Mustang asked curiously, stepping fully into the office. There was a set of meeting briefs tucked under his arm, signaling that his work for the morning had concluded. "What's going on?"

The man couldn't even begin to think of an answer for his dark-haired superior. All he knew was that his eyes kept darting to that damn paper that lay still in the dead center of the room. Oh, why did he have to be so obvious?

Noticing his subordinate's strange behavior, as well as the nervous energy that seemed to be sitting heavy over the office, the General made to step forward and address the men once more when something caught his eye.

It was a letter.

On the floor, there was a piece of parchment sticking out of a crudely ripped envelope. From the nervous glances First Lieutenant Havoc was making towards it, the General assumed that had to be the reason for the strange behavior that seemed to be plaguing his subordinates. Before he could reach down and pick it up though, Breda's hand snatched it out from under him.

"Wha – ?"

"Sorry, Chief," Breda apologized, hiding the letter behind his back. "I don't think you're ready to see what's on it."

The way his tone wavered with a hint of fear had the General's blood running cold. There was very little that could discompose Heymans Breda. This must be serious.

"What's going on?" The man placed the meeting briefs on his Captain's desk before turning back to his men. With arms crossed, he stared them down with a deadly set of black eyes. "As your Commanding Officer, I demand you tell me."

There was a silent moment where the three soldiers exchanged glances, urging the other to talk first. After a series of wide-eyed communications, both Fuery and Breda raised their brows at Havoc who was still seated at his desk. The man gulped, a sweat breaking out under his military blues. Oh, why did it have to be him.

"Well," Havoc cleared his throat, willing the words forward. "You see, we found this letter – and well, uhhhh – it has some interesting intel on it."

It was Mustang's turn to raise his brows – though his expression was a touch more doubtful than the others. "Oh really? It's just intel?"

"Well I wouldn't say it's JUST intel," Havoc scratched his blonde mane, searching for the right words. "It's relatively important intel."

"If it's so important," Mustang reasoned, taking a step towards his very nervous comrade. "Then I think I should be told, post-haste."

"See you say that, but I don't thi – "

"Havoc! Just come out with it!"

"You're going to be a father, sir!"

Breda and Havoc turned in disbelief towards the shaky Warrant Office who still stood with his hand to his head. Though his words came out as little more than a squeak, they still had been heard by all – including the Brigadier General.

Roy Mustang stood in shock, starring at the young man who stood quivering in his boots at his desk. Surely, he had heard him wrong?

"Come again, Fuery?" He asked for clarification, the tone of his voice giving no indication as to what he was feeling. "I don't think I heard you right."

"The letter, sir." Fuery dropped his hand from his head, pointing towards Breda. "It's in the letter."

Still shocked at the fact that the meek officer had been the one to speak up, Breda wordlessly held out the piece of paper for his Commanding Officer to read. He barely reacted as the letter was swiped quite harshly from his fingers.

They all watched anxiously as the man read over the note – his face becoming paler and paler the longer he stared at it. After a few minutes of examination, his dark eyes came up to meet his comrades' in utter confusion.

"Where did – Just where did you get this?"

"It was on the floor between your door and my desk, sir," Havoc finally spoke up. The blonde stood and walked over to the General, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I guess congratulations are in order."

"Now, wait a sec – "

"And you don't have anything to worry about," Havoc continued, squeezing the man's shoulder in what was supposed to be a show of support. "We will support you and Hawkeye no matter what happens from here on out!"

"Yeah! The Fraternization Laws be damned, we're here for you!"

"Even if I have to freeze my ass off at Briggs," Havoc gave his shoulder one last squeeze for good measure. "It'll be worth it to see the two of you together and happy."

"That's not what you were saying earlier…"

"Can it, Breda!"

Mustang remained silent at the attempts of congratulations, feeling as though his lungs had been robbed of air. He didn't even notice a timid Fuery walk up and stick out his hand for a shake.

"I hope you and the Captain will be very happy, sir." The Warrant Officer said softly, the genuine respect he felt for the two superior officers evident in the tone of his words. "I can't think of two people who deserve this kind of happiness more. You'll make excellent parents."

It took a moment, but finally Mustang was able to break his silence.

"Now wait just a damn minute!"

All the men froze once more as the General took a step back to regard them with a sharp look. If he had been wearing his ignition gloves in that moment, he would have cut quite an intimidating figure. Even as it was, the dark look on his features had the men swallowing hard and standing straight underneath his steadfast gaze.

"I don't know where you got the idea that Hawkeye and I had suddenly decided to procreate." He gestured wildly to the air, incredulity written all over his features. "But I can assure you that this letter was not meant for me!"

"Sir, you don't have to hide it." Havoc reasoned gently, his hands coming forward in a show of acceptance. "We know that this will change a lot of things – but maybe it's not as bad as it seems –"

"I don't know – being dishonorably discharged DOES sound pretty bad…"

"Breda" Havoc seethed, the name slipping from between his teeth in a hiss. "Not the time."

"Both of you – stop," The sharp quality of Mustang's voice had them both pausing, readjusting their posture once more. "I'm not hiding anything. This letter cannot belong to me."

"Boss, we under – "

"Breda," The General warned, cutting the man off. He held a hand up, leaving no room for argument. "Don't finish that sentence. The more we speak of this, the more likely it is that rumors will come from it. I don't want the Captain returning from her lunch break to find that her fellow officers have been slandering her name."

"But she's been acting weird, Chief," Havoc remarked, trying to get Mustang to accept that this was a genuine possibility. "We know that the two of you have always been close. We've known for a long time that something more was there."

"Havoc!" The General bellowed. His reaction was so violent that Havoc found himself taking a few steps back in fear. "What part of 'stop' do you not understand?!"

The men were silent as Mustang read the note again. His dark eyes took in the words once more before he looked up at his men in disbelief.

"You are a poor set of soldiers if you haven't realized by now that this is not the Captain's handwriting."

Those words had the men crowding around their commanding officer. Mustang tried his best not to look indignant as they bumped shoulders with him in an attempt to get a better look at the paper he still held in his hands.

"Hm I guess it's not." Fuery conceded, having seen the Captain's handwriting on many documents during his time as being a part of the unit.

"That little loopy right there kind of looks familiar," Havoc countered, squinting his eyes. "I don't think it's completely out of the realm of possibility."

"That is definitely not the Captain's handwriting, Jean," Breda shook his head, disappointed in himself for not noticing it sooner. "Talk about jumping to conclusions."

"But if this wasn't meant for the boss then who – ?"

"What's going on?"

As if they had been electrocuted, each of the men jumped away from the other. While three of them automatically fell into nervous salutes, their commanding officer stood with a smirk in the middle of them.

"Ah, Captain," The General drawled in his usual fashion, gesturing towards their subordinates. "Maybe you can reestablish some sense of order back into this group."

Riza Hawkeye furrowed her brow at the comment, looking at all their faces with rising suspicion. The blonde wasn't alone though – while Hayate sat obediently at her heels, a second figure popped out from behind her. Rebecca Catalina considered the room with more than just a little curiosity.

"Jean?" The brunette asked, stepping around her friend. Blatantly ignoring the tension in the room, she made her way to the man in question. "Why do you look so pale?"

Havoc let out a short laugh at his girlfriend's question. "Well, Becky – it's been a long morning!"

Distracted as he was by the girl's presence, he didn't notice the smirk on Hawkeye's face as she drew nearer, placing a set of folders down on her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she shared a look with General Mustang before sitting down in her chair and grabbing a pen.

At Havoc's words, Rebecca's eyes lit up. "So you got my letter?"

Havoc shook his head, feeling as though he had misheard. "Uh, no? What letter?"

Rebecca's eyes cut to the paper that now resided in Mustang's hand, looking between it and her boyfriend. There was confusion in the crease that appeared between her brows. "The one that your General is holding…I had Riza leave it on your desk this morning. You read it, right?"

If Jean Havoc didn't know any better, he would have thought that his legs were paralyzed once more. Behind his glasses, Fuery's eyes widened with shock while Breda looked an awful lot like a goldfish.

"Huh?" The word was the only one Havoc felt capable of saying. Not noticing his clammy skin and the slight tinge of green on his features, Rebecca gave him a bright smile.

"I got the idea from an article in The Amestrian Woman Magazine!" She brought her fisted hands to her chest in an excited fashion. "I thought it would be fun to tell you in a non-traditional fashion since we'll be bringing a baby into this world in a pretty non-traditional fashion ourselves!"

Jean felt like his world was spinning. Mustang clapped a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. The grin on the man's face was proof enough that he had been privy to the secret from the beginning. The bastard.

"I guess congratulations are in order! You're going to be a father, Havoc!"

~

Later that day, Roy Mustang could be found lounging on the single couch of his living room. Despite having had his townhome for two years now, the amount of furniture in his house was still minimal due to the large amount of time spent away in Ishval. Regardless, it still felt more home-y than any residence of his had felt in years.

Roy looked up as Riza rounded the corner, coming directly from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. The blonde hair that she had cut short upon their return to Ishval was just now beginning to reach below her shoulders again and the General could find himself smiling fondly at the sight. With a modest sweater and long skirt, she looked the absolute picture of domestic bliss.

He took the mug gratefully as she perched on the couch beside him, drawing her legs up beside her. Without any hesitation, the man wrapped a familiar arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. The woman obliged him, snuggling comfortably into his side.

They sat in silence for a few moments – simply enjoying the fire before them and soaking up the other's presence. However, Mustang's chuckle soon broke whatever mood appeared to be in the air.

"What?" Riza asked as she glanced up at him, noting the hint of mirth that danced behind his eyes. The smile had not yet left his features. "Feel like sharing?"

"I was just thinking about Havoc," The man answered honestly, squeezing her shoulders gently. "Of all the ways, I thought he was going to react – fainting was not one of them."

"His legs have been weak ever since his injury, so I'm not surprised."

"Sure…that's what it was," Mustang's mouth grew into an even larger grin. "To think, the bastard was trying so hard to get me to confess to some kind of illicit affair. When he handed me the note and then accused me of impregnating you, I almost felt my heart drop into my stomach. That whole surprise couldn't have gone any worse."

"It's not my fault that the envelope slipped off his desk." Riza took a sip of her tea, the steam dispersing as she breathed a tired sigh through her nose. "I told Rebecca it wasn't a good idea, but that's how she wanted to do it."

"I couldn't help but think," The General spoke, a smirk curling on his features. He waited for her to set her cup down before moving in for the kill. "How would you tell me if we were in the same kind of situation."

"Sir – "

"I know, Riza." He looked at her with eyes that still held all the mirth from before, but that were now tinged with sadness. It made the sniper's heart ache. "I know that it can't be like that for us, at least not now anyways – but, if it could be, what would you do?"

The woman thought about it for a moment, staring down at the mug on the table in front of her. The question brought forth a lot of emotions that she didn't feel like sorting through on a night like this, but the earnest look in her General's eyes made it impossible not to answer his question.

"I would probably tell you before I even found out for sure," She answered honestly, turning her amber gaze back to his own. "I don't think I could keep something like that to myself. I couldn't even keep Rebecca's pregnancy a secret from you. I would be so anxious; I'd probably make you go to the doctor with me."

Roy gave her a gentle smile, satisfied with the answer.

"I don't think I could ever willingly bring a child into this world though knowing what I have done," Riza continued quietly, effectively wiping the grin off his face. She regarded him with a dark look. "After taking the lives of children, how could I ever think I deserve to have one?"

The General didn't know what to say to that. Up until now, it wasn't even a question that he had taken the time to ponder. Until the romantic nature of their companionship had come forward, he had been content to remain a bachelor for the rest of his existence. But things had changed and now he didn't really know what to think.

Their relationship had blossomed steadily since 'The Promised Day.' Though there had always been a romantic undertone in the way they interacted with the other, it was much too strong to ignore after they almost lost each other. The Fraternization Laws were still in order, and though, Mustang had it on good authority that Grumman was going to try and abolish them, it didn't change the fact that – what they had right now – was still illegal.

They had been so careful. They only met once a week in one or the other's home and even then, they covered their tracks dutifully. They still had way too much to accomplish to allow an illicit relationship to rip it from their grasp.

Though they both understood the parameters of their relationship, it was not as easy as they had thought it would be to watch their friends openly declare their love for each other and start a family. Despite knowing that she didn't deserve it, Riza couldn't stamp down the ache that resided in her heart at the thought of a small child – half her, half Roy.

By the pained look on his face, she could tell her General felt much the same way.

"Once I'm Fuhrer," Roy cleared his throat, his voice wrought with conviction. At this point, it was a given that he would reach the top. Grumman had told them in no uncertain terms that Mustang was his first choice as a predecessor. Instead of speaking the words with hope, he spoke them now with confidence. "You'll be able to stand by my side, rather than behind me. When that day comes, we will leave it up to fate whether we deserve the simple pleasures of life or not."

The words were much the same as the ones he had said after Grumman's pardoning of them. Though they had been adamant that they wished to be tried for war crimes, both Grumman and the Ishvalan elders had agreed that their rebuilding efforts were enough to clear their names from the death sentence that surely would have hung over their heads otherwise. The only thing that was being asked of them was that they continue to dedicate themselves to Ishval for the rest of their days – a penance that they could very easily accept.

'We've lost too many in the ranks from the fall of Bradley,' Grumman had said, recognizing their looks of disbelief at such a light sentence. 'You two would do more good out leading the efforts to rebuild, than rotting away in some cell below ground. That is one thing the elders and I are in agreeance of.'

Although on paper they had both been forgiven of their sins, it was going to take a little longer for them to fully forgive themselves.

Riza hummed in agreeance – though he could still sense the doubt in her posture.

They sat in silence – satisfied to simply enjoy the presence of the other. These moments were still rare, so they always tried to enjoy them as much as they could.

"It would be nice." Riza said quietly, her eyes never leaving the fire before them.

Roy smiled.

"Yeah, it would be."

[teefa85]

Gonna be posting the second story I wrote.  This one’s a bit shorter and more on the hurt/comfort.  I’ve seen a lot of stuff set in Diin, generally Hawkeye’s reaction to killing Bil and Ben or his worries for Jessica.  But never about the entire situation of the desert.  His dialogue while in town makes me think of the very problem that started the whole mess and I decided to roll with that...because even beyond my own biases Riesz is a total sweetie.

           Under Hawkeye’s advice, the group had traveled through the Burning Sands in the evening.  Any earlier, it would have been too hot.  Any later, it would have been too cold.  Sure, he’d worked in the dead of night before, but normally they traveled to Sirhtan or Diin in the evening, then lay low in hiding within the town which held some protection from the cold.  Not to mention having an agent in hiding nearby with blankets for their trip back to Nevarl.  And they had not a safe hiding spot nor any blankets!

           “We’ll head for the oasis and take a rest there,” Hawkeye informed his friends. “With the time it’ll take to go, it might get really cold by the time we find the Firestone.  Then, if we wake up early enough, we won’t have to travel in the heat of the day.”

           “Well, you are the expert on deserts, so we will trust you,” Riesz stated.

           Kevin nodded.  “Lead on, Hawkeye!”

           With Hawkeye’s knowledge from growing up in Nevarl, he was able to take them through the safest route.  Though it was the most direct route for the most part, at times they did swerve in order to avoid detection from the local monsters.  Some fights were unavoidable, but at least that helped to warm the group up a little bit.

* * *

           By the time they reached Diin, it was not yet late enough to sleep but too late for them to get to Fiery Gorge and back.  So Riesz decided she’d do some shopping in preparation.  Of course, she quickly learned that the armor shop was closed at night, while the weapons merchant was up.  When she asked, he informed her that his partner would be open the next day.

           Vowing to return for the armor before they left, Riesz picked up a new spear, along with a pair of knives and gloves.  Every little bit would help considering how dangerous the creatures around there were.  Not only that, but they still had to head on to Altenish territory afterwards, and with the rumors of them activating their own Mana Stone, she had to show due precaution.

           ‘Now…I am feeling a bit thirsty.  I wonder how one goes about getting water out here…’

           Thankfully, her query was answered by the shop owner himself, telling them that there was a well in the back of town, near the rock formations behind the Inn and Item Shop.  Riesz thanked him and headed that way.  Once she was refreshed, she’d have to see if her companions had returned to their rooms so she could give them their new weapons…

           “You thirsty too, Riesz?”

           She looked up, noticing Hawkeye hanging around by the well.  He held up a finger as if to tell her to wait, then lowered the bucket down deep into the well.  Soon, a splash was heard, and he began pulling it upward.  When it got to the top, he filled both of their waterskins as well as putting some in a pair of small cups for immediate consumption.

           “So, this is how the people here get their water,” she stated, as if amazed.

           Hawkeye informed her,  “There’s more here at the oasis than in other places, but the stuff in the lake is for other purposes.  Deeper underground, there’s less evaporation under the heat of the sun, and less contamination from animals or foreign objects.”

           “It’s amazing just how the people have been able to adapt,” she stated. “The climate is harsh, and yet they are able to survive just fine.”

           At those words, the young thief looked down.  “The water in the oasis is lower than the last time I came through here. That’s bad news for these folks, but there’s nothing I can do.”

           Faerie came out at that moment, commenting how it was probably due to the fluctuations of Mana.  Hawkeye agreed with her on that point, saying that Belladonna had told the guild as such when she was still playing nice.  And while he knew she was a snake with a tongue full of lies, it wasn’t as if she was above using an actual crisis to her advantage.

           “What do you mean by that?” inquired Riesz.

           “Just what I said,” he replied.  “The reason given for invading Laurent was that the wells in Nevarl are starting to dry up.  It’s why only Eagle and I could tell something was rotten about the changes in Lord Flamekhan’s before it was too late!  Everyone else just assumed his sudden decision to be the very thing he hated was out of desperation for our lives, and his odd behaviors had been the result of him wrestling with the issue.  People were worried…and that witch took advantage of their emotions!”

           He hit the rocks behind him in frustration, ignoring the pain pulsing through his fist!  And Riesz didn’t quite know what to say.  In a way, Hawkeye too had lost his home due to Belladonna, just as she had.  And his people were still being used as puppets in that vile woman’s schemes…

           ‘She might still have Elliot, but at least there were survivors of the Amazon Army. At least Laurent is safe to return to in the end.  Belladonna has already killed Hawkeye’s best friend, and others who realized what she was doing.  And the longer she stays…the greater risk to whatever friends and family he has remaining…’

           “Sorry…didn’t mean to make this about my issues…,” he stated.

           But Riesz shook her head.  Placing her hands upon his shoulders, she replied, “No.  You have every right to feel this way.  It sounds funny, considering Nevarlan agents killed many of my countrymen.  However, what Belladonna did to them is most cruel.  I feel sad just thinking about the people who might wake up one day, wondering where friends or family have disappeared to…”

           She didn’t have to say the sentence for Hawkeye to get her gist.  “Yeah.  That’s partly on my mind too.  But for you to worry about me and my people…that’s awfully sweet of you.”

           “I was raised to never ignore the suffering of others,” she told him.  “In fact, if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.  I’m not sure how I can, but if you or I think of something…”

           Her words were cut off when Hawkeye brought her close in a tight embrace!  He whispered, “Thank you,” into her left ear as he gently rubbed her back.  Riesz could feel herself getting hot despite the cold night air around her.  Still, the feeling of being in another’s arms was very pleasant, something she would definitely like to do again.

           All too soon, however, he let go, apologizing for getting caught up in the moment.  She assured him it was fine, that he had a lot of heavy things on his mind.  And if he needed to let anything out, she was willing to listen.  At those words, a smile crossed Hawkeye’s face.

           “Well then, let’s head on back to the Inn,” he began.  “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

           Riesz nodded.  “Yes, we do.”

           He took her hand gently, causing her to blush once again.  But Hawkeye didn’t seem to notice, his sight focused on their destination.  That was good enough for her, though, really not wanting him to ask any questions about it.

           ‘I want to help in any way I can.  And that includes not getting in his way.  I don’t want my confused emotions to cause him any problems.’

           As they reached their destination, Hawkeye let go, opening the door and letting Riesz go in first.  Even including a playful bow into the mix.  She sighed, entering the building.  Hawkeye would always be himself, first and foremost.  But at least he was a gentleman about it this time!

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 24: MJ doesn’t even consider raising the alarm in ANY way

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Master Post

Last time I put to bed why MJ wouldn’t rely upon defeating Beck herself. In this part though I will dissect MJ’s decision to not alert anyone else to Mysterio’s threat.

In Part 20 I dived into many of MJ’s combat experiences and observed that in many/most of them she relied upon assistance from third parties (including Spider-Man).

With this in mind MJ’s failure to alert anyone to the presence of Beck or other current villains is extremely dangerous and irresponsible. She knows her limits from the years she’s dealt with her life being endangered and how often her survival depended upon the help of others. And she has incredibly flimsy reasons to place any trust in Beck, let alone his villainous crewmembers that haven’t got his sob story.

She doesn’t call the police, Spider-Man, her friends in the super hero community nor the (very nearby) West Coast Avenges.

One could argue that there could be perfectly reasonable explanations for why she fails to do this.

Bringing the authorities in could cause the villains to attack , take hostages or slip away once they are alerted. And in Beck’s case he could use his trickery to escape. As for Peter, bringing him in could endanger his career prospects couldn’t it?

I already shot down the latter idea back in part 18. But to expand upon it a bit, by alerting the regular or super human authorities Mary Jane would never have to worry about risking Peter’s well being at all. He’d likely hear about it after the fact, and maybe be upset that she didn’t tell him about Mysterio. But honestly that’s a small price to pay for the greater good and is something that could be pretty easily smoothed over between them. Sooner or later Peter would  get over MJ not talking to him if she explained she did it out of concern for him.

As for the regular authorities, MJ could simply inform them of whom they were dealing with and advise them to not go in guns blazing. That’d hopefully give them recourse to properly prepare for who they were dealing with, either by employing weapons designed to deal with super humans or by conducting an undercover investigation of some kind.

And of course they could call in super human assistance themselves. Indeed there is no reason MJ couldn’t contact the regular and super hero authorities.

The super human authorities like the Avengers would have the technology and fire power to deal with Beck. Most of the West Coast Avengers alone are out of his league and in the case of Hawkeye have advanced experience with organizations like SHIELD that would entail stealth. Even if they needed proof Beck was in disguise Reed Richards and Iron Man could likely whip up something to see through Beck’s illusions. They have the technology to see past Skrull impersonators I think he can handle some smoke and mirrors.

But let’s say that’s not the case. Let’s say it’s not fair to bring in canon from beyond the Spider-Man line of titles for our analysis. Or let’s say Mysterio’s technology is really that good, which is arguably proved by his fake alien invasion from ASM v5 #1.

We’d be in a position where the heroes would need to gather proof before they could strike. Well putting aside how many of them are capable of stealth/under cover work and know what they are looking for, couldn’t they simply take one or more of Beck’s crew members (criminal or otherwise) and interrogate them? Are all  of them so tight lipped that they would never give up Beck? That’s highly unlikely.

And then of course you have the simple fact that Mary Jane knows where the real Cage McKnight is!

Surely the realisation that there are two individuals who seem to be the same person is just cause to at least arrest Beck on the suspicion of identity theft/impersonation?*

In fact they could use the real McKnight to lay a trap for Beck by learning private information that only he would know and then engineering a scenario with Beck in the hopes of him contradicting this information, obviously whilst they record it.

But MJ doesn’t pay any mind to the real Cage McKnight once she’s told where he is. She doesn’t even consider asking the authorities to check Mysterio’s claims check out! She trusts the word and ‘evidence’ of a man who is notorious for making you see and hear whatever he wants!

And all that aside there are still other options the authorities could take.

Why couldn’t they just shut down the film’s production on some made up excuse and secretly investigate the set and crew?

Why couldn’t they shut down production or arrest ‘McKnight’ due to his illegal  employment of criminals?

Why couldn’t they go in gun’s blazing but also prepared to quickly subdue the criminals?

Why couldn’t they reveal they know Beck is McKnight prompting him to run and set a trap for him?

Why couldn’t they at least keep an eye on the production and be ready to leap into action in case anything goes down?

Frankly, given how some of MJ’s super hero friends are just straight up vigilantes and they trust her couldn’t they bend the law and simply ‘abduct’ Beck as McKnight knowing for a fact he’s broken/breaking many, many laws? I mean let’s be real here, Spider-Man has committed breaking and entering many times in the course of his career and whilst that’s awful from a real world POV, in context it’s been for the greater good and we readers understand that because we know the stakes.

Of course the counter argument to all of these is that Beck could’ve just planned for all of them. He could’ve planned a contingency for anyone snooping around McKnight. He could’ve planned a contingency to the authorities closing in on him.

And you know that wouldn’t be at all out of character for him. But it isn’t at all hinted at in AMJ #1, nor that MJ even considers it as a possibility.

And therein lies the problem. He could have done all that preparation…but has he? Does Mary Jane think  he might’ve?

The story never talks about that.

You know what else the story doesn’t talk about?

The idea that Beck might be monitoring MJ or that she suspects he might be monitoring her.

That’s another thing that’d be very in character for him. Not only has he got a contingency in place in case anyone comes snooping around or rumbles him but he also has a contingency in place to prevent or at least alert himself to anyone revealing hi secrets.

But this idea is also never even hinted at in the story whatsoever.

This is where we loop all the way back around to what I spoke about in part 2.

The idea that MJ’s failure to alert anyone is the result of her suspecting he’s monitoring her (or has contingencies in place) is a No. Prize attempt. It’s headcanon. It could arguably  fill-in a hole in the story but why is that hole there at all?**

AMJ #1 is the first issue. It’s the set up for the premise. Ideally it should put all the pieces on the board that are going to play a role in the story going forward (obviously this can include red herrings) and present the relevant motivations for the story going forward. This means the specifics of why Mary Jane (the lead character) does what she does should be clearly conveyed.

If MJ isn’t alerting the authorities because she is concerned about being monitored, of them being harmed, of bystanders being harmed or of any of the crooks slipping away then the story should at least hint at that if not be explicit about it.***

And you wanna know the real kicker?

It’s extremely debatable if MJ would even refrain from alerting the authorities about Mysterio even if she did suspect Beck had planned for that. If she suspects he is monitoring her she could use her ingenuity to sneak off set and then use a different phone to contact help. Or if that’s not a possibility she is smart enough to figure out a way to contact help without Beck knowing. She could talk to Peter in code. Or contact the Look Ups, the support group for super hero’s loved ones. ASM v5 #29 established they have a local branch in L.A.

And honestly, as heroic a soul as MJ is it Is incredibly unbelievable that she wouldn’t simply alert the authorities even if she had no way of ensuring her own safety.

Am I saying MJ would give her life to save others?

Yes.

Yes that is exactly what I am saying.

Her feats of bravery in part 20 are proof of that as is her respect for Peter’s role as a hero. I’m not saying she wouldn’t take a desperate or calculated risk to save herself (see ASM Ann #19 from part 20). If there are other options beyond noble self-sacrifice, however slim, it’s not immoral to go for those options. But at the end of the day MJ would put the lives of innocent civilians before her own life. 

Even her lack of action if she believes Beck has put contingencies in place is highly debatable. It’d depend upon what those contingencies might be. If they would come into action against other people (like the innocent crewmembers) then I could see her not doing anything. But if Mysterio is just going to fly the coop then, as bad as letting him get away might be, it’s better than allowing him to stick around and continue to commit crimes against the real McKnight, the movie studios and potentially civilians. And at least it’d hopefully result in the criminal crewmembers facing justice.

However you slice it MJ has options in this premise.

Leah Williams simply doesn’t address them whatsoever and makes MJ look just awful as a result.

Look, I’m not  trying to say Mary Jane should just be the damsel-in-distress, the poor little woman waiting patiently and docile for the big strong men to come and fix her problems for her.

What I am saying is that MJ is basically an unarmed person with limited knowledge of firearms casually hanging around armed and dangerous criminals (in a populated area) and she’s simply presuming they won’t do anything wrong at all. And she’s presuming that if they did she would be more than a match for them.

What I am saying is she knows she has limits. And she knows those limits do not reliably encompass this situation. They at best offer 50/50 odds on MJ ensuring the safety of herself, civilians, their properties, Cage McKnight, his career.

Those are downright irresponsible odds to undertake.

Mary Jane has no right to risk innocent people’s lives like that whatsoever.

And just like the unarmed person in the above analogy she should contact help!

And with that we are finally finished with the dissection of AMJ #1’s premise and can now move onto issue #2.

*Surely that could also convince any regular law enforcement that might doubt her story. It’s entirely possible that Beck could rely upon sexism and/or stereotypes of the ‘prima donna actress’ to delegitimize MJ’s claims to the police.

But her knowledge of the real Cage McKnight would vastly improve her legitimacy.

Not that she’d need to. She has Avengers who’d vouch for her to regular law enforcement and she could just ask them for help anyway.

**This also applies to just about any headcanon you could come up with for anything in the issue. MJ’s actions could be explained away by lingering grief from Flash’s death or a desire to assert her independence rather than be saved by a third party. Doesn’t matter though, not if there is nothing in the issue to support those ideas.

***This isn’t a 1-to-1 comparison I admit but it’s a lot like defences I’ve seen of Star Wars: the Last Jedi, specifically Admiral Holdo’s motivations.

The context is the good guys are being chased down by the bad guys and when questioned Holdo (the leader of the latter) remains tight lipped about there being any kind of escape plan.

Why is she tight lipped?

Well you see it’s because she was concerned about the presence of spies…according to several fan theories.

And that’s the key. It’s just a theory. The film provides literally no explanation whatsoever, not even a hint.

Whether that’s a logical explanation or not, it is not one supported by the text of the film.

The same applies in AMJ #1.

Previous Part

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Master Post

[jaebaebie]

Why Us? Why Now? Why Ever?

In a post apocalyptic world where walkers took over the living, Era realised that she was different from every one else. Wanting to uncover the reasons to her differences, she embarked on a journey to the West where she met a few Strays,, including a man named Hwang Hyun Jin who, just like her, was cold, hot headed, and full of distrust. She thought they would never get along, but what happens when the two cold hearts start to melt?

STRAY KIDS ZOMBIE AU // WUWNWE MASTERLIST 

Chapter 6 ~ “Run Run Run Run..”

prev // next

To say I was disgusted was an understatement. His voice echoed in my head, repeating it more than necessary and making my stomach turn into a nervous knot. He spoke to me as if he knew me, the familiarity in his eyes easily noticeable. But I didn’t know who he was. If I had met him in the past I would’ve easily recognised him simply because his face was just too hard to forget.

We carried on with our hunt once the three uninvited guests were out of our sight. Levi and I entered one of the smaller stores, separated from the rest as they explored another store nearby.

“What was that about?” He asked me, looking through a cabinet of medications. The pharmacy store we were in was surprisingly stocked with a decent amount of medical supplies,, including antibiotics and ibuprofen which tend to come in handy.

I shrugged my shoulders as he passed me a box of pills. Stuffing it into my bag, I replied, “I don’t know. I’ve never met him before.”

I’ve only heard stories about the Right Arm from one of my previous camps,, the one who threw me to a hoard of walkers. Horrifying stories that emphasised how inhumane and evil they were. Despite having the number advantage earlier on, I still felt intimidated by the smaller group.

Levi opened his jaw to say something, only for him to shut it when Minho’s shouts from outside startled us.

We raised our brows, confused as to what the commotion was about. Minho was out on the pavement, both his hands in his hair as he glared at the end of the street,, fuming in anger.

I stepped out of the store, following his gaze. He was staring at our army van driving off. All five of us were here, there was no one who could’ve possibly taken it.

“The assholes stole our fucking ride!” Minho cursed, ruffling his hair in frustration.

While Minho explained to the others, my focus remained on the army van which had made a U-turn at the end of the road, driving back in the direction towards us.  The thieves were coming back for us...?

All my hope was thrown out of the window when my eyes landed on the same man in the passenger seat. His lips curled into a smirk as his eyes playfully narrowed on me. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as they drove past us, the sound of the cars motor roaring in my ears. Hawkeye gave me a wave, bidding me goodbye as a rifle peeked out from the back window of a car.

“Get down!”

Before I could react to the repeating cracks of the gun being fired, I was knocked off of my feet and sent crashing into the shelves behind me. I cursed, feeling an ache spread on my lower back as I tried to catch my breath. When I opened my eyes, I met Hyunjin’s brown ones and he immediately dragged me behind the counter, barely avoiding a bullet to my leg.

Shot were being rained upon us, shattering the glass windows of the shop which sent glass shards dropping on us. Hyunjin buried me into his chest, shielding me from the flying shards as I covered my ears, hoping the block the immense volume of the gun shots.

It lasted for a long minute before the sounds of shots were finally silenced. Hyunjin pulled away, sending a short look towards my direction before he jumped out of our hiding. He sprinted back onto the road, holding his gun out as he prepared to shoot. But the army van had already gone too far, leaving us in a shaken and panicked state.

Hyunjin groaned in frustration, watching as the van drove away. Once I had calmed down enough, I straightened myself out, checking on everyone.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked, sighing in relief when I saw Han and Minho emerge from the back of a run down truck with a thumbs up.

“Well, that was fun.” Levi remarked, coming up from behind me. His face had a few, small cuts,, probably from the flying glass shards.

“Hyunjin, you’re bleeding.” Han pointed towards Hyunjin’s side, just below his rib cage, revealing a torn part of his shirt and the patch of red that seeped through it.

“It’s nothing. The bullet just skimmed it.” Hyun Jin replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly,

“Their aim was just as bad as Era’s reflexes.”

I bit my lower lip, giving him an apologetic and worried look. He got hurt pushing me out of the way because I was stuck in a trance, unable to react quick enough. But of course, Hyunjin wouldn’t be Hyunjin if he didn’t respond with his classic eye roll.

The multiplied groans of walkers filled our ears, snapping us out of our little conversation. Sounds attracted walkers out of their hiding no matter what time of the day it was. And the gun shots that were fired just minutes before were surely and effectively very loud. If their shots didn’t kill us, then the large hoard of walkers would.

“Run Run Run Run..” Han repeated as our legs took off into a sprint. The walkers snarled, following immediately judging by the thundering footsteps behind us.

Han grabbed my hand, forcing me to match my pace (nananananana na na na nana) with his much faster one and we slipped past the gates into an alley just before Hyunjin and Minho slammed it shut.

The cyclone gates rattled as the walkers rammed against it, slipping their arms through the small holes and clawing at Minho, Han and Hyunjin who tried their best to keep it shut. It wasn’t long until five walkers accumulated into many more, causing the three guys at the gate to struggle holding them back.

The walkers at the gate weren’t our only problem as more appeared from the corner of the alley we were in.

I dodged one with the help of Minho’s warning, driving my dagger through it without any hesitation. Levi did the same, shooting any of the walkers that ran towards us.

The guys were straining to keep the gate closed, their shoes dragging along the rough cemented floor. The walkers managed to create a small opening in between the gates, one of their heads popping through and snapping towards Hyunjin.

I raised my gun, panicked. I hadn’t shot a gun in months and Hyunjin’s head was just too close along my aim for my comfort. The walker managed to squeeze half of its body through, flailing its arms around.

Just as it managed to grab Hyunjin’s arm, I pulled the trigger unknowingly, only realising that I had finally taken a shot when I felt my arms buzzing from the recoil. It went directly through its head, causing the walker to go limp and allowing the three to close the gap.

“You guys have to go! We’ll hold them back for as long as we can!” Hyunjin yelled amidst the chaotic moans and screeches of the walkers.

My eyes widened, “Are you crazy? Hell no! That’s insane!” I exclaimed back, shooting another shot just beside Minho’s face as a walker’s teeth came into view.

“Now’s not the time to be nice, Era! Clear the way for us and fucking go! We’ll be right behind you!”

My jaw dropped, finding his idea unbelievable. We had a better chance fighting the walkers as five than three. My eyes met with Han’s and I was reminded of his promise. How they’ll protect me. How they’ll put their lives before others. This was what he meant, and I was just not used to it. Han broke our eye contact as he turned to Levi, “Take her with you. We’ll follow after.”

Levi nodded, grabbing my arm as he began pulling me with him. I stared at the three guys apologetically, shooting one last shot at the gate before Levi and I took off running deeper into the alley.

We did as we were told, shooting any walker that came along our way to make sure that the guys we left behind would have a clear path to run into. Once they let go of the gates, they would have no time to deal with other walkers in their path because they had a whole lot of other hungry corpses running after them.

I didn’t look back, making sure I didn’t lose sight of Levi and also because I didn’t want to see a deserted alley without the three we had just left behind for our own sakes.

Like I said, this world made you selfish.

So unbelievably selfish.

Just as we thought we cleared the path enough, Levi turned at a corner, immediately sliding into a stop with the sound of his shoes dragging onto the floor.

“Holyy Shit—“

[bigsnzstanacct]

Sneeze Headcanons But Giant Sneezes Part 1: MCU

Tony Stark: Not particularly huge sneezes, in context, blows papers and clothes and leaves and knick-knacks and such around. Seems to sneeze quite freely and openly (and often) but actually does a quick check to make sure he won’t cause any *real* damage before he lets fly. Itchy, active nose. Lots of rubbing. When he was still drinking, sneezed notably larger and with notably less control/aim/care for what he blew away when drunk, whence his reputation for being a rich asshole who sneezes all over the place cause his (daddy’s) company’s money can pay for it. But it was actually prolly just cause being drunk makes him have to sneeze really bad.

Steve Rodgers: Terrible allergies pre-serum, far less severe allergies post serum but if he *does* have to sneeze, watch out. Discovered how ginormous his sneezes had become shortly post-serum. Expected an annoying allergy attack, and still got a fit of sneezes, but it also pretty much demolished the room he was in. He later discovered that was a small one. *Intensely* focused on making sure he sneezes in a way that will minimize (unintentional) damage. Hates the loss of control. Has several battle plans that include sneezing.

Black Widow: Stifles are very rare in this world. Much more difficult to execute, given the greater pressure and force at play. Black Widow can forestall or stifle any sneeze at any time. When she does allow herself to sneeze it is usually three or four in a row, quite large. (Not as large as Cap but probably enough to topple furniture).

Bruce Banner: Teeny, barely a puff of air, wildly unsatisfying but he doesn’t allow himself any more.

Hulk: Explosion.

Thor: Alien, so the giant sneezes don’t work the same way, but he does have the loudest sneezes of the bunch and each sneeze is matched with lightning and thunder in proportion to the violence of the sneeze in question. Quite irritated to find that while his sneezes are the largest on Asgard and the loudest on Asgard and among his Earth friends, basically all of his earth friends have much more forceful sneezes than him.

Hawkeye: sneezes *extremely* rarely, only ever once at a time, big enough to rival Cap, if not Hulk. No one knows what makes him sneeze except Phil Coulson and Nick Fury. and probably Natasha he guesses. She knows everything.

Bucky: Has scary control over the size and power of his sneezes as Winter Soldier. You do *not* want to know how they trained him into that. (Or maybe you do.) As he recovers his Bucky persona he recovers the sneezes of his original life as Bucky: Tony, but louder and a little more forceful. As Bucky, he never fights off a sneeze, always has a rather lengthy but silent buildup, often used this to sneak up behind someone and suddenly sneeze them off their feet as a prank. Never did this to Stevie though. He’d never. (Steve asked him why once, though they both knew, and he made a joke about how Steve’s a punk who gets himself knocked down plenty on his own, then hugged him close).

Ant Man: Depends on what size he is but weirdly it’s the inverse of his size?

Pepper: Excellent control, has never sneezed in public, in part because she has wild, banshee-loud sneezing fits that leave her dazed and usually makes a mess of whatever room she’s in, and she’s not saying she’s blown a hole in a wall but she is saying she saw cracks and like... now she mostly sneezes in a reinforced soundproofed room in Avengers Tower. Ironically, quite allergic to pepper.

Dr. Strange: Sneezes make his magic go haywire. He tries not to sneeze. Weird dimensional shit. Very unpleasant.

Loki: Same but he loves sneezing for that very reason. Chaos god and all.

Phil Coulson: Fairly unremarkable, just a quick “h’CHOOOO!” he directs down towards the floor, does that thing where he kinda lifts up his jacket and ducks his head down behind it and it flaps out in the gust. Sneezes are rare, sudden, and decisive.

T’Challa: *really* long, itchy buildup, lots of talking through it, *terribly* big sneezes takes great care not to damage anything, which is made more difficult by the fact that it is considered good luck in Wakanda to see the King sneeze.

Okoye: she fights pretty hard to keep control but naturally her sneezes strike completely out of the blue and have blown both T’Challa and her husband off their feet many, many times. Very intense but brief buildups, has a couple really intense allergies that cause her to have watery eyes and a runny nose and sneeze (almost always singles with the RARE double) off and on for several minutes to hours or just until she gets away from the allergen.

Nakia: long itchy buildup during which time she either prepares to (painfully) stifle her sneeze into silence or find a place to aim her cannon fire sneeze. Has she intentionally induced a sneeze to blow down a tree, whether to clear a path or to cross some water? You can’t prove it even if she has.

Killmonger: quite small sneezes actually, not much wind or volume to them, rather enjoys having big sneezes for once, once he gets the Black Panther power. (Everyone with the Black Panther power sneezes more or less the same way, although they remain sensitive/allergic to whatever made them sneeze before).

Falcon: Feels it coming way in advance, wiggles his nose, talks through hitching breaths before turning away from whoever he’s speaking to (or excusing himself from the room, depending on where he is and how big the sneeze is) and unleashing a single sharp intensive violent “YIIESSHH” of a sneeze that somehow rivals Cap in power. “Sorry. I’ve always had big sneezes. That’s why I like to spend time outside.” Occasionally uses his sneezes to help with the flying.

Captain Marvel: GINORMOUS. Rivaling the Hulk? Bigger than the Hulk. Always sneezed huge but when she got full control of her powers? GINORMOUS. Just blasts out more and more and more air. Long sneezes. Usually flies out into space or the upper atmosphere real quick to let it out. They’re that big. (And also flying is super easy for her, to be fair).

Nick Fury: Is allergic to about two things in the universe, both of which send him into wild incapacitating sneezing fits that usually cause considerable property damage, if only from the repetitive nature of the sneezes. There are two people left alive that know how he sneezes. Everyone who knows what makes him sneeze is dead. That’s just a coincidence, though.

Okay that’s enough I guess lol. I know I forgot some characters but I lowkey haven’t seen all the movies and don’t care about all the characters soooooo...

[re-readingcomics]

NYCC 2014 Day 3

I was still doing the re-reading Batwoman thing and trying to defend the book while it was on a downswing. I got confused for Batgirl frequently. I think this was around the time the Bombshells started coming out. I think I’ve seen more people cosplay that version of Batwoman. I expect since the TV show is coming out that will change.

Image Comics has been the publisher I’ve read the most for several years. I went to several of their panels that year. Towards the end of the convention I found the moderator of more than one at the Image booth towards the end of the Con and congratulated him on doing a good job.

I swear, I didn’t remember I wrote this down when I wrote about it in a previous post. I would like to say that a thing Saga and Game of Thrones have in common is that  both have sprawling ensembles whose characters you enjoy on their own only to be shocked by how painful and violent things get when they actually meet. They’re both also anti-war stories set in war times, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say Saga does a better job in not glamorizing the war.

I’m a huge Sex Criminals fan. I have two shirts related to the series, a Sexual Gary one (which you may have noticed I was wearing in the selfies) and more recently a “DON’T WORRY BE WORRY” one that I wore to the first day of Book Con this year specifically to impress Kelly Sue DeConnick. (It worked.)

I only read the first issue of Deadly Class. I had recently read the first trade paperback of writer Rick Remender’s Black Science and hated it.  I thought it was needlessly mean, doing things like killing off a character in the first issue only to have her show up in flashback a few issues later all excited about the mission that already killed her. (There was also something degrading about a dancing humanoid female amphibian.) Nothing in that first issue of Deadly Class made me feel like “this might be better.” I’m just really excited to learn about artists’ models.

Right now that everyone seems underwhelmed by Hawkeye’s role in the MCU, it may be hard to understand, but the Matt Fraction penned Hawkeye series was very hot at the time. It had very little to do with the film version of the character. It was a fairly low key tale of the least powerful Avenger being a mentor and a good neighbor in some trying circumstances. I have a shirt based on this run too.

Part of the regular response is that Vaughan wanted The Will to be a Jason Stathem type. Vaughan also jokes about this being an “all white bald men look the same” describing himself as confusable with fellow comic scribes Grant Morrison and Brian Michael Bendis. I actually agree that he and Morrison do look very similar.

Now I’m wondering how much this inspired the flash forward in which The Will is drug-addled and has gained a lot of weight.

This came up with the example of someone on YouTube reading out loud a then recent issue of Thor to point out how bad the dialogue sounded. I wonder if this caused a controversy that I missed.

So this is the point where I have to write about having a pleasant encounter with someone at NYCC and then finding out about that they’re awful. Shortly after this convention in which Upchurch told charming stories about the difficulties of working from home with small children, he got arrested for domestic violence. He served his sentence, had the crime removed from his record, but was still let go from Rat Queens. (His wife claims the abuse was worse than in the police report and that after completing his sentence he abandoned her and the children, both physically and fiscally.) Stjepan Šejić finished out the arc they we’re working on and Tess Fowler became the series artist. She was fired after one five issue arc and a spin off special. At the time she was let go, she was under the impression that she was going to be replaced by Upchurch. That didn’t end up happening, but the whole thing was pretty devastating. I gave up on Rat Queens, but I still follow Fowler and Šejić. Upchurch recently announced a new series. I won’t be reading that.

I didn’t remember writing this as a tweet when I wrote about this in the previous entry. It’s a sign that one remembers things better if you write about them, even if you don’t remember writing about them.

I really do feel like my autograph hounding has led me to being in a rut while attending conventions.

Let’s talk about Dare2Draw. I’ve spent a lot of time with them, though not recently. It’s an organization that promotes people interested in cartooning and drawing for comics. For a while they would have monthly meetings which consisted of an opportunity to draw cosplaying models doing quick poses, a competition involving how to draw some high concept that you associate with comics. (There was a Godzilla inspired one the first time I went, some other time there was what your pet does when you’re not around. Then there’d be types of gods or villains. It’s a very demanding contest.) There’d be a lecture by a guest artist, examples of whom include Cliff Chiang, Bill Plymton and Russ Braun. There wasn’t a lecture part, just the competition. The category was creating heroic types. I had no idea what to do, did a variation of Casper David Friedrich “Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog.” I didn’t place, all three of the people who did were women and had much better, more dynamic drawings then I did. I only ever placed, once. I actually won that time. I haven’t been back. I miss it, even the constant losing.

I would have liked to have met Marc Andreyko. I really wanted to publicly support his Batwoman run. It is as much about me being a contrarian as about me being nice. I also like him as a Twitter follower.

I missed a birthday party for my cousin’s son. I don’t remember anything else that I missed. Maybe a semi-regular baby sitting gig?

[authenticaussie]

Hmm... 18 (soul eater au), 52 (roommate), 42 (marvel), 98 (leverage), and or 14 (lantern lights)

babe……….you’re my Favourite™

also, under a readmore because this got LONG as SHIT

8. Soul Eater au

the soul eater au is really scattered because my wifi sucked on that particular day and I was posting it in the mas chat (sunshinepunks) BUT the basis is weapons ace & sabo and meister Marco. It’s a lot of “dumbasses refuse to accept New Friends (because TraumaTM)” and Ace/Sabo being dicks to Marco because he refuses to give up on them. (ahhh my favourite dynamic //swoons)

Part of the plot - my favourite part of the plot - is that Sabo spends a lot of time spying on Marco to try and catch him out as Secretly A Dick and Manipulating Them, and ends up finding out that Marco really really cares about him and Ace? And the way to Sabo’s heart is thrrrroooough his besssstieeeee lmao. So Sabo ends up crushin’ hard first, but then SPYING BACKFIRES and paranoia kicks his butt and he Feels Bad because he was ONLY MEANT TO TRUST ACE and Marco HURT HIS FEELINGS (sabo you moron it’s your own fault). Anyway Ace and Marco pair up to try and make Sabo feel better and it drives Sabo even Nuttier until there is battle couple stuff and a mid-fight Feelings Fight and then a confession and then they become the DMCA power couple. Ta-da!

Ace was a pipe and Sabo was a knife! Or…..you know, something in that realm pft. Basically hitty-stick and stabby-stabby, because you could make a) an argument for their personalities Being Like That (ace is blunt and strong and easy to just hit with but if you’re clever about it he’s awesome, and has the reach to be a longer weapon, sabo is more…well a knife can be used for a lot but also it’s very….vicious. There is very little you can do to Incapacitate with a knife that is not Wow Stabbed. Which I feel is very Sabo, he’s kinda…harsh??? in his way of handling battle, I think.) and b) because in canon, Sabo’s weapon is a pipe and Ace has that knife, and I thought it’d be cool to match that.

42. New Roommate Wanted

an OC-based commission!! James moves in with a shape-shifting thief and her GF and accidentally Falls In Love snickers

It is………..I wrote it a while ago so you can definitely see the self-projection of “I want cute rich gfs to love and adore me so I don’t have to stress about a job”

52. 5+1 Marvel AU

in the actual word document the title is “If you’re broken I will mend you” (Or 5 Times Sabo was There for his Team (and one time histeam was there for him). Sabo is Coulson and Marco is Hawkeye and Ace is a Black Widow (codename: Redback). It fluctuates between sorta implying MAS (but with a definite focus on Marco/Ace) and Coby/Sabo mainly because I made Coby Captain America (YOU CAN’T!!! ARGUE!!! WITH ME!!! HE IS!!!! PERFECT!!! AS CAP!!!) and I love fics that have the lowkey “Coulson has a fanboy crush on Cap.” lol. 

(also coby/sabo is. fun? crackship but So Fun.) 

Here’s the shortest one haha

It takes about five minutes after the comms. go silent forSabo to know that something is wrong, and two minutes afterwards to gear up.

It takes him approximately four seconds to tear through the people trying to keep him from helping Ace and Marco.

(It takes two weeks for them to heal, no matter how fastSabo was, and a month for Sabo to get off desk duty, but Ace and Marco refuseto do missions when he’s not their handler. They refuse to do anything thatinvolves leaving his side until after he assures them he’s fine, and that hewasn’t just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent because he had a pretty face - though that hadprompted an argument about Sabo’s ‘pretty face’ that he’d had to steadfastlyignore.)

88. LEVERAGE AU MOTHERFUCKER

THIEVES! CON ARTISTS! So this one is actually three different aus in one file - there’s a “MAS but as Leverage” and it starts out as “Ace and Sabo who fill in Every Job They Can (but their specialties are Ace = grifter/hacker and Sabo = hitter/thief and I have reasons, okay) and then they try and run a con on Marco but he’s like Um Excuse Me? And then he gets dragged into their Bullshit snickers. Oh ALSO they ONE THOUSAND PERCENT do not realise they are Madly In Love With Him (but he does. And he’s trying to be patient. But also. Dying. Because wow it’s kinda awkward being in love with. two daredevil thieves)

The second one in the doc is the Leverage trio in the OP world, ‘cause duh, and Parker starts off like…trying to steal kids from being SMILE experiments? and hires Eliot and Hardison to help her. Um I think I wanted to give Hardison a DF?? But I had a whole list: there was altering people’s sight/perceptions, being able to edit vision/specifics of reality in lines of like, code?? (aka he could do Little Changes but they could affect Big Things, a butterfly effect sort of DF). A lot of them were trying to give him a way to…manipulate stuff in a world where tech wasn’t as big a thing.  

And the third one is ASL leverage! Marco still gets dragged into the disaster but it’s more found family stuff. 

14. Lantern Lights

Lantern Lights is technically posted [here] under “all the light we cannot hold” BUT I have MORE. I wanted to make it longer when I originally posted it - mainly because Lea asked for angst - but I ended up running out of time (I am………so bad at deadlines, jfc). Plus, with all the things I wanted to include it honestly would’ve turned into something RIDICULOUSLY long and I was already pushing 5k when gifts were a minimum of 1k.

This was the original start / end bracketing.

START:

HiAce.

Hispencil hesitated above the empty page, only a single lead smudge marring theotherwise blank paper, and Sabo sighed softly. Eraser nub ticking against thedesk, he bit his lower lip and tried to think of what else to write. He had somuch to say – about Marco, and the Whitebeards, and about the new friends he’dslowly been making, like Koala and Hack and even the standoffish, arrogant Law,but it’d been so long since he sat down to write Ace a letter that the wordsseemed to have vanished.

Hi Ace, heread, as though the greeting would organise what he wanted to say intoneat lines for him to write. He heaved another sigh, resting his chin in hispalm. Casting his eyes up to the window above his desk he watched as theburning dusk faded into twilight blue and the stars began to shine, silverglints of light that were mirrored by the compound’s lanterns flaring to life.The gleamed against the darkness and Sabo couldn’t help but be reminded ofAce’s fire. How it glowed beneath his skin, lighting him bright red in fury orembarrassment or glorious gold in his joy. Sometimes Sabo couldn’t help butwish – but hope – that Ace was still burning, somewhere out there. In the sky,with the stars-

Hecouldn’t help but selfishly hope that Ace had given part of his fire to Sabo’sheart, to burn within him.

Sabogrowled, burying his face in his hands to try and stop the subtle sting formingin his eyes. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that so many simple things couldremind him of Ace, that undeniable frustration at his uselessness still restedheavy in his every thought, that the feelings he wanted to put to paper wereimpossible to articulate.

Thesharp tip of his pencil cracked as he pressed it into the paper, and the threewords he wrote turned from his usual neat cursive into a jagged scrawl.

I miss you.

END:

-Marco thinks that ouranniversary is the battle, but I don’t like it there. Besides, having ouranniversary on your birthday? You’d expect double gifts, and we can’t havethat.

Sabo’slips quirked into a bitter smile, his eyes drawn up to the small gift stillwrapped on his desk, bow deflated from his constant touches but nonethelessstill stubbornly holding onto the silver wrapping. He’d never had a chance togive Ace his birthday gift, and was sure that Ace wouldn’t have expected it.Would he have even been given gifts, when he’d been kept on the candle wick? Orwould the gift have been an extra moment of freedom, so painfully perfect in its rarity?

Pullinghis hair away from his face, Sabo gently bit his lip and scanned what he’dalready written, trying to figure out what else to say. His fringe curled infront of his eyes when he took up his pen again, but he barely paid attentionto the soft brush of hair against his scar tissue. Two years of having them hadgotten him used to his limited vision and things in front of his face that hecouldn’t see. 

He’d never seen Ace’sflustered thoughts, nor known what each fleeting touch had meant until it had beenfar too late, and couldn’t help but wonder just how blind he’d been back then.

Did I tell you thatMarco finally stopped being chickenshit and used the word ‘boyfriend’? I feellike that counts more as our anniversary than the battle, especially consideringI wasn’t much better about speaking up about “feelings” after you left. Twomonths of not talking over the topic because one third of the topic up and-

It’s pretty stupid ofus, huh?

I mean, you werepretty fucking stupid when you-

Sabocrossed out the last few words with two strokes of thick black ink, his teethgrit in a way that made his head pound.

Regardless, everythingis going fine, now. I’m sure you’d be happy to know that Marco and I havegotten past awkwardly refusing to admit to holding hands and have nowprogressed to awkwardly kissing each other on the cheek (and then refusing toadmit to it, of course. Got to keep consistency). You’d think that as someoneso attention-starved I’d be better at this, but it always feels…not wrong, persay, but, like something is missing because you’re not here.

You’re a dick forthat, Ace.

Anyway, this will bemy last letter for a while. I’m sorry it’s short, but I’m already running late;Koala and I are set to sail with the afternoon tide, for Flevance, and Marco isgoing troll hunting. Whitebeard heard there was trouble with the gnomes in thefar north mountains, so he’s going to check them out and I want to say goodbyebefore we part ways.

As always;

With love, Sabo.