#made from incomplete information. and 2. did i stutter

[rbtlvr]

kris trying to stop us from knowing what theyre doing but what they dont realize is that i personally would help them with literally anything. like say the word kris i will help you burn down a building. let me help. please

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt.2

previous

TW: Torture, Kidnapping, Drugging

This is shaping up to be looonggg.

Also on AO3

Next

The control room is a hive of activity; Men and women speaking frantically to one another as they crowd around screens. There are people running messages back and forth across the base, each one seemingly vital for the Federation's continued success. 

You find yourself standing alone, staring up at one of the boards in the command centre that is regularly updated with anything even remotely related to the Ghosts. It's dedicated to the most recent images and reports of the task force, some of the notes tacked onto the wall are just simple descriptors. 

It always takes you a second to muster up the courage to look at the board. It's Gabriel's shrine to them, and recently you'd adopted his mission; To understand these men to the best of your ability and hunt them down. You know you should hate them, fear them after what they did to you. But the memories of your time with them were mostly in the dark, their faces were blurry and secondary to the pain they inflicted. 

You'd read every file that Gabriel gave you regarding the ghosts. Most of them were heavily redacted or had large portions missing, individual pages torn away from the document. You had thought that going over these files would jog something in your memory, but as of yet, nothing. As such, you must have read every piece of information on the board in front of you several times over, you've made it a ritual since being allowed back to work. 

You recite the information silently. 

Two of the Ghosts are brothers, the Walkers. There was a third Walker amongst the Ghosts, Elias Walker, but Gabriel had killed him over two years ago. They -

They're ------. 

"----! You're school re----, your brot--- --- -----! -----! Leave h-- -l---" It's a voice you recognise, but from where? An older voice-

You turn to the other images, Merrick and Keegan. 

"Look at ---"

You're kissing someone, holding their head against the crook of your neck. You hear them whisper "mine," before you feel his teeth move against- it's that deep gravelly voice, it's-?

You audibly gasp at the memory and quickly cover your mouth, shaking the thought away. Inappropriate, incomplete. Shut up. 

Looking back towards the board, you take a shaky breath. These men hurt you and took everything from you and yet you hardly even remember them. A part of you worries about what damage it'll do to remember everything they inflicted upon you. 

"Oh ---" is it your name? A callsign? It's fuzzy and sounds-?

Your head is pounding. 

"NO! -----! I'll kill you! LOGAN! LO-"  It's another male voice, do you know who it is? It sounds so far away and yet...

Your feet are bleeding but you stalk forwards anyway.

Your feet are bleeding. 

You know that name, you know that voice. 

"Logan!" you're screaming, you can hear the panic in your voice.  

Your eyes flit upwards, towards the pictures of the Ghosts. 

LOGAN WALKER - M - 2001

Oh God. 

Your heart sinks and suddenly you dread the idea of remembering. You hate that one of the Ghosts is now more than a name on the wall. You suppress a sob, steeling yourself momentarily before moving towards Gabriel and the commanding officer. Despite being engrossed in their conversation, Gabriel must sense your discomfort as his hand moves to hover over the small of your back. His eyes never leave the man in front of him. 

Had you hurt Logan Walker? Is that why the Ghosts wanted you? The man's voice was furious, sincere, and threatening.

"Did you get that?" Gabriel asks, disturbing your train of thought. 

You shake your head, "I-" 

"There's been a sighting of them, New Mexico, we'll be flying out towards the border in three days, you're with me," he repeats. His tone is hard and unwavering, you know better than to argue but you can hardly help yourself. 

"With-? I don't have any field training, Sir," you stutter, taken aback at his proposition. Rorke was a man who almost exclusively lured his prey on foot, out in the open. He had told you that you were involved in the intelligence-based side of operations once upon a time. 

Rage. Blinding rage. You had shrugged your water-logged shoes off, stalking quickly towards the broad back in front of you. You held your knife tightly in your hand. You had the singular goal of eviscerating and killing -----. In the last few feet you launched -- ----- and -- -o---- --"

The memory is interrupted as Gabriel laughs, "Oh, don't you worry, we just want 'em to see you". 

It's dark. It's always dark. 

Someone had drugged you, you kept repeating this under your breath, trying to remind yourself that the shadows and noises you can hear moving around in the room aren't real. They're just hallucinations. 

Not real. Don't look at them. 

It becomes harder to ignore the bright eyes that blink at you from across the room sporadically. Figures would move in front of you, at inhuman speed. They weren't real. They weren't real.

You yell into the abyss, "Hey! I can see you! You're not real! You. Are. Not. REAL!" your voice is hoarse. It hurts to scream but you do so anyway.

Your chair spins and suddenly you're face-to-face with a skull.

No. A man wearing one of the Ghost masks. You couldn't make out which one they were. The stains on the mask were moving and shifting.

He grips your face hard between his gloved fingers, his voice sounds warbled and is almost static-y in quality. Colours shift around him as he moves, creeping into the holes of his mask. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

Which one was he? 

His voice is cruel, "I'm real though, ain't I?" A hand creeps over your shoulder, digging into your skin before vanishing in the next second. You flinch at the sensation and the hand holding your jaw tightens. 

"AIN'T I?" He yells against the shell of your ear, a scream erupts from your chest. Your bones are shattering and knitting themselves together all at once. His voice is underwater and it's drowning you. 

The air around you splinters into blinding flashes. You're blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the onslaught of light.

"Yes. You're real, you're real," you whisper, trying to draw all the air you can into your lungs. Your broken ribs prevent a full inhale. 

He's behind you, you hadn't seen him move. His mouth pressed against the shell of your ear and you sob at the sensation. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, the vibrations are needles of sound that pierce you, "are you afraid of the Ghosts now?"

You hear his laugh echo around the room, as a knife carves its way through the flesh of your sternum.

You hear someone screaming, it sounds like you. 

You wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. You launch yourself across the room and hit the wall hard, scrambling for purchase. You crumple to the floor, sobbing into the darkness as you rapidly assess the room around you. You're not in the hole. You're not back with the Ghosts. 

You're safe. You are safe. Safe.

Your hands come up to your chest, checking for open wounds but all that remains are the silvery, raised scars. It's the middle of the night, you've likely woken someone up. 

Your door crashes open and you throw yourself backwards once again, sliding across the wall. A cry leaves you and you hate how pathetic you sound. 

"It's okay, I've got you, baby. Daddy's always got you," your heart ached, your dad loved you. 

You wanted your Dad. You wanted to go home. You wanted to remember.

Gabriel stands in front of you for a moment before rushing to your side, assessing you. 

"Ssh. Ssh, I've got you" he whispers, pulling you towards him and you finally break, crying into his arms. Your hands rush to cover your face, legs tucking themselves closer to your body. 

"What did you see?" His voice is soothing, he runs a hand over your head, holding you close to him. 

"It was them - I was back in the room with-" You're sobbing freely, grateful he's here. 

"I know, I know. You're safe now. You're with me" He easily lifts you and places you gently on the bed, tucking you under the covers as he continues to hold you. 

You're uncomfortably warm in his embrace but for once, you're being held tenderly. Whilst your time in the hole isn't always clear, you can always remember the pain. 

That's how you fell asleep that night, in Gabriel's arms. 

You don't dream again for the rest of the evening. 

—

You’re terrified to be in the air, to be flying towards the conflict. Towards the ghosts. 

You’re doing all you can to not physically shake at the thought. You want to lash out and scream at Gabriel and yet you're relying on him to get you through this. How could he do this to you? He knew what this must be costing you, but he trusted you and saw your value. 

Fuck. 

“Sir, 10 minutes out” the pilot states across the comms. 

You might see them in just ten minutes and you hate how vulnerable you feel. You're absently thumbing at the sleeves of your dress, some thin grey thing that went passed your ankles. The rest of the team were in their uniforms, armed to the teeth whilst you sat there idly, entirely dependent upon them to protect you. Gabriel had disarmed you, made you weak. 

He argued that you were there for intel and behind-the-scenes work, so civilian clothes were appropriate. You wished that this was the only reason he'd given you, he'd gone on to explain that you were going to be used to draw them out. Gabriel wanted to entice them to act irrationally, apparently, they were furious you had gotten away from them. He was going to lure them out, and you didn't need weapons for that. 

You weren’t sure why he thought you’d be that important to them, or why they’d go against all their training to take you and Gabe down. But you trusted him, he was the Ghost Hunter, the best of the best. 

He was also your commanding officer. So, what he said was law. 

—

The landing pad was out in the open, in front of the base that overlooked the dry mountainous region it was nestled within. Gabriel wouldn’t tell you anything, not why he thought they might be overlooking the base at that time, why he didn’t want to engage with them face to face. How was he so sure they'd see you as you alighted the helicopter? How could he be so blase about the situation? They might just decide to fire some RPG as soon as you ste-

Shut up. 

You suppress a yelp as the helo touches down, taking Gabriel's hand as you move to step off the aircraft. Your stomach turns as his hands move to your waist to help you down.

Your dress whips around your ankles as the helo thrums back to full power, taking off almost immediately after the last soldier's boot touches down. 

“Dad’ll kill you – he catches you —eaking out – meet some b—-. Let al—- if Hes- ca—-- you —. You’re still the ba—-. Quick! Go– I’ll co—-” A kind voice, muffled still but there was laughing, smiles, comradery. Your teenage years? Your brother? Your father? 

You had a brother?

A family? Why couldn't-

You didn’t like how frequently these memories were coming back, how they were less fragmented and easier to understand. What else would come back-?

Before you could properly dissect the new memory, Gabriel had a hand on your shoulder, urging you to duck slightly as the helo took off. He began leading you to some of the men who’d been waiting for your arrival. They were smartly dressed and flanked by men on both sides. 

“Higher!” It was your voice, happy, laughing, young.

“You’ll fall!” A boy laughed at you, his voice deeper, older. 

“I’ll catch you!” another boy, younger, arms raised. 

The sun is in your eyes. 

You shook your head, dispelling the tears that rose to your eyes and you greeted the men alongside Gabriel. His hand had slid from your shoulder to your lower back.  

You smiled and nodded politely, thoughts torn between piecing together the revelation that you had a brother, someone else who called the same man, “Dad” and the uncomfortable feeling of Gabriel's hand on you, as though he was all that anchored you to Earth. 

After what felt like a lifetime, you felt yourself being manoeuvred across the landing pad, towards the very edge of the rooftop. It was a sheer drop, this base carved into the side of a mountain. He pushed you until your toes were over the edge, hovering over nothing. Your arms moved to grip him, "Gabriel?" You didn't plead with him to stop, you trusted him. His hands tighten their hold on you. 

You trusted him. You trusted him? 

“One of us” 

His voice was low as he whispered, “Can you feel them?”

“What?” you whispered, unable to understand his meaning. You felt completely out of your depth and terrified of the drop in front of you. 

“They’re out there, can’t you feel their eyes on you?” His hold tightens even further before he leans forward, over the edge. Your heart plummets and you gasp at the sight, whipping your head skywards, as though you could counterbalance him. You were leaning over a drop of at least 10 floors. It wasn’t his actions that terrified you though. 

He’s talking about the Ghosts. He was saying they were right there, watching you. 

“Sir, please - what if-” your heart rate is frantic. You were out in the open. They were out there. Watching you. 

“You’re good, they ain’t gonna shoot us out here, they’ll want to get closer for that”. His voice reverberating from your collarbone where his chin was resting. It was inappropriate, wrong.

“Only I get to —-” a hand was around your throat, his mouth was- 

He laughs at your breathy inhale, slapping his arm onto your shoulder and roughly turning you back to the compound. His change in demeanour was startling, but you realise that the Gabriel you know at the base and the Gabriel who thrived during the hunt were two very different people. 

He was right though, you could feel their eyes on you.

Next

[ofstarsandfireflies]

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this movie, but how could I not put it on the list?

Addams Family

A creepy and kooky family get a surprise visitor.

Stephen’s family takes after his last name.

Truly, in every sense of the word.

Peter would seem like the only normal one if he wasn’t climbing on the walls half the time to avoid Harley shooting his potato gun at him, which he often swaps out the potatoes for bombs half the time.

The explosions he can deal with, and the mess they make is quickly cleaned up again.

They’re still kids and he wants them to have as much fun as they possibly can.

They’re just energetic and highly spirited, like their father.

Speaking of Tony...Stephen is just as much head over heels for him today as the first time they met and destroyed a planet together almost twenty years ago.

Sparks literally flew that day, and it was a wonder they even survived it with how they couldn’t keep their eyes off one another.

Stephen proposed that very night and they’d been in wedded bliss ever since.

He would die for him.

He would kill for him.

And every morning he lets Tony sleep in because the man deserves it.

Especially since every night leaves him exhausted.

And sometimes during the day too.

Most time’s during the day.

They can’t get enough of one another.

And Tony is more than happy to deal out just as much as he receives, always kissing Stephen’s hands first and working his way up his arms to his mouth so Stephen knows Tony loves those scars just as much as the man who wears them.

But today, after the kids have gone to school, Stephen can’t help but become distracted.

Today is the anniversary of when the Ancient One left the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme, this Sanctum and all its secrets, to Stephen Strange.

He’s guilt ridden at not being able to save her from that portal that swallowed her up, distracted and angry that he knew so little of his magic back then.

Tony misses her too, for without her, he would never have met Stephen in the first place.

Tony knows he is Stephen’s anchor, every year on this day.

And without Tony, Stephen knows he would have drifted a long time ago.

They get regular visits from Shield agents, just checking in to make sure their little family doesn’t want to rejoin the Avengers, but Tony’s made his decision to leave all that behind and he’s not changing his mind.

However, some of these agents actually work for Hydra, and when Sitwell comes knocking one day, he knows they all have to be crossed off the list.

And exactly how to do it.

That night, a woman looking exactly like his old teacher comes to the Sanctum.

While Tony is a little skeptical about her sudden appearance, and his kids seem to be too, Stephen has gotten out of the slump he’d been in for so long, so Tony decides to take this as a win.

But when everyone’s getting ready for bed, Tony lets himself into her room to warn her.

If she isn’t who she claims to be, and Stephen gets hurt because of it, there won’t be any cave, crevice or crack she can squirm her way into that Tony won’t find.

And once he’s found her, he’ll make sure she’s never found again.

Then he wishes her goodnight and closes the door behind him.

It’s a little rocky at the beginning when Stephen keeps asking questions she doesn’t have the answers to, even agent Sitwell doesn’t have anything satisfactory to say about where she’s been all this time.

But Sitwell can’t let them throw this ‘Ancient One’ out.

She’s a Winter Soldier.

One trained to adapt to its surroundings and gather intel on its targets before killing them.

So he tells them to give her some time to adjust. Maybe after a couple of days or so, she’ll fit right in.

But by the very next day, everyone in the Sanctum isn’t so sure this woman is their old friend.

The cloak of Levitation and Wong both seem to be confused as to why her memory is so incomplete.

Surely something would have come back by now?

Even if she can’t remember who they are, she only ever drunk one kind of tea.

Even if she can’t remember all of her training, surely she must remember some of it

But no.

There’s nothing.

Stephen even gives her a sling ring to make a portal with and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

He has half a mind to do what she did to him to make her create one, but he’s too upset to think straight.

He has to come to terms with the knowledge that it might not be his old teacher after all.

Sitwell tries to change his mind, twenty years is a long time to be trapped wherever she was, but Stephen isn’t having it.

That woman is an imposter and he won’t have her in this Sanctum.

Even though she doesn’t feel as welcome as she had been in the beginning, she finds that the kids have really warmed up to her.

They had been brought up on stories about her, and had always refered to her as their aunt.

And she’s never been called aunt before.

But she has a mission.

But she doesn’t want to harm them. Seeing them all, the love that they have for one another (excessive in Stephen and Tony’s case) is unlike anything she’s ever seen before.

And, while she may not remember them completely, she knows their faces, knows they had something to do with her past, and wants to stay to uncover that truth about herself.

She begins drinking the tea she loved.

She begins paying more attention to what she can remember.

And when Stephen hands her a sling ring one last time before he makes his decision, she makes a portal to the very mountain she left him stranded on.

Stephen can’t believe it.

It’s actually her.

So he decides to invite everyone who knew her, everyone who has missed her just as much as he had, to a party at the Sanctum.

But before the big night, Sitwell has had enough of the delay.

He doesn’t know why she hasn’t killed them all yet.

She tells him it’s not time yet, but Sitwell has lost all patience with her.

If she won’t kill them, then he has to move them somewhere where they can be killed easier.

And he knows just how to do it.

This Sanctum would come in very handy training Sorcerers for Hydra, and seeming how he has the Ancient One, the one who rightfully owns this Sanctum, he can move this family of freaks out and deal with them later.

But wrath hath no fury like a Tony scorned, who’s heard everything Sitwell just said.

He’s not going to allow his husband to go through that horrible depression again, and he’s not going to allow his children to live anywhere else but where they’ve called home all their lives.

So he calls Sitwell out on this bs, and Sitwell orders the Ancient One to open a portal.

She doesn’t want to.

She likes living here with this family, but her hands move on their own and they all step through to the Hydra base.

And the cloak sees this and immediately goes to get Stephen.

But the cloak has no idea how to relay this information to him, having no hands to sign and only managing to grab a photo of the family and point erratically to Tony.

Stephen has no clue what it’s trying to say until it takes up his sling ring and begin tapping morse code on the bedside table.

Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he goes to save his damsel, who is strapped to the very chair where Hydra erase the memories of their Winter Soldiers.

He takes a step to him immediately and freezes when Sitwell emerges from the shadows, pointing a gun at Tony.

He’s going to turn them both into Winter Soldiers to serve Hydra, and then do the same to their kids.

Then he orders the Ancient One to strap Stephen down.

Stephen requests a moment to talk with Tony and Sitwell agrees although he quickly ends it when it becomes disturbingly sexual.

The Ancient One takes Stephen to the next chair, but then notices the cloak.

And takes it from him.

Sitting Stephen down in the chair, she offers him a reassuring smile and sends the cloak at Sitwell, which wraps around him tightly.

Stephen runs to Tony to free him, almost wanting to leave Tony tied up like this, and they get back home safely.

A moment later, the cloak and the Ancient One walk into the Sanctum, quite pleased with how they banished Sitwell to the Dark Dimension.

The day after the party, as Stephen and Tony listen to the explosions almost rocking the Sanctum as if it were classical music, Tony has some good news.

Their adoption papers have finally come through.

They can add a new addition to their family.

Stephen would adopt every single child in the cosmos if it made Tony happy, and Tony expects Stephen to hold that promise.

One child at a time, of course.

Quotes -

“Last night, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me...do it again.”

You all know I’m only doing this movie for this quote right here!

“Don’t torture yourself, Gomez. That’s my job.”

Shouldn’t it be They’re kinky and they’re kooky?

“Tish. How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?”

“Hours.”

Tony takes pride in the fact that he and Stephen can waltz anywhere at anytime and they’d both be up for it.

“Morticia. Morticia...what? Slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter! Morticia. In. Danger. Stop. Send. Help. At once. Stop!”

Stephen finally understands what his cloak is trying to tell him.

“Tish. Seeing you like this...my blood boils.”

“As does mine.”

“This wheel of pain...”

“Our wheel.”

“To live without you only that would be torture.”

“A day alone. Only that would be death.”

“Knock it off!”

Your resolved-borderline-obsessed sexual tension is making Sitwell uncomfortable!

“Leather straps...red hot pokers...”

“Later, my dearest.”

Stephen fights against his urges when he sees Tony tied up.

Ancient Lies

Stephen has everything.

A loving husband, two wonderful children, a life where they don’t need to worry about missions and intergalactic threats anymore.

But for as complete as his life, someone is missing from it.

And then she turns up.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

[theetangerine]

What it’s real like being a Dyslexic

Today's  post shall be about Dyslexia from  "Dyslexia the Gift". Well I didn't know that I was blessed with such an omnipotent power. Thank you Dyslexia the Gift for Awakening my abilities. Anyways this post is just my rebuttal to this list as an Anthropomorphic Tangerine with severe dyslexia. Here we go: General:

1. Appears bright, highly intelligent, and articulate but unable to read, write, or spell at grade level.

Ahhhhh.......... so I am all those big words that I can't spell or pronounce.

BTW who ever came up with the word Dyslexia is a troll cause you knew damn well I can't spell that.

2. Labelled lazy, dumb, careless, immature, “not trying hard enough,” or “behavior problem.”

Hey I am not lazy just because Suzie spends her the night figuring out Algebra questions and I on the other hand will look at her formula, "Copy and Paste" for myself and even then at the end of the day I stilled will have learned it. Einstein did say there are different types of genius.

3.Isn’t “behind enough” or “bad enough” to be helped in the school setting.

Let's just pretend it didn't take me 3 times to read this inorder to understand it. Anywhose.

The school suggested to my parents to take me to get tested. Although I think it was because they wanted justify their discrimination against me.

 4.   High in IQ, yet may not test well academically; tests well orally, but not written.

Lies. I failed in both.

5.Feels dumb; has poor self-esteem; hides or covers up weaknesses with ingenious compensatory strategies; easily frustrated and emotional about school reading or testing.

*clear throat* In best Beyonce voice "I'm survivor................"

6.Talented in art, drama, music, sports, mechanics, story-telling, sales, business, designing, building, or engineering.

 Ohh.......come on I suppose to be talented in these fields why didn't Dyslexia tell me this.

7.Seems to “Zone out” or daydream often; gets lost easily or loses track of time.

They were in the Zone like in Soul

woahh..... that was a bar.

8.Difficulty sustaining attention; seems “hyper” or “daydreamer.”

 As I type this I peer out through the window wondering if clouds really are made of precipitation or that is what the Illuminati wants you to think.

 9. Learns best through hands-on experience, demonstrations, experimentation, observation, and visual aids.

Crash Course history is my religion.

Vision, Reading, and Spelling:

10.Complains of dizziness, headaches or stomach aches while reading.

 Starts going in the 4th dimension if I pick up a book.  

11.Confused by letters, numbers, words, sequences, or verbal explanations.

Algebra is not for dyslexics. You mix letters and numbers together. Mathematicians were not thinking of dyslexics when Algebra was created.

 12. Reading or writing shows repetitions, additions, transpositions, omissions, substitutions, and reversals in letters, numbers and/or words.

Yes Yes . Truly feal for all of of my teacher who read my essays.

13.Complains of feeling or seeing non-existent movement while reading, writing, or copying.

I am Percy Jackson so I am a god.

 14.Seems to have difficulty with vision, yet eye exams don’t reveal a problem.

 I actually had glasses.

15.Extremely keen sighted and observant, or lacks depth perception and peripheral vision.

Yet another sentence I can't understand. Hold up let me go and look up “depth perception” so I can understand this sentence, real quick.........................This is true.  

 16.Reads and rereads with little comprehension.

Reading number fifteen (15) proves this.

 17.Spells phonetically and inconsistently.

 Hooked on Phonics told me otherwise.

Hearing and Speech:

18.Has extended hearing; hears things not said or apparent to others; easily distracted by sounds.

Being an only child while being home alone this ability doesn't have any benefits.

 19.Difficulty putting thoughts into words; speaks in halting phrases; leaves sentences incomplete; stutters under stress; mispronounces long words, or transposes phrases, words, and syllables when speaking.

 I feel called out.

Writing and Motor Skills:

20.Trouble with writing or copying; pencil grip is unusual; handwriting varies or is illegible.

 I may have changed my writing style multiple times. Some legible, some not.

 21.Clumsy, uncoordinated, poor at ball or team sports; difficulties with fine and/or gross motor skills and tasks; prone to motion-sickness.

But if I am supposed to be talented at sports in the afro-mention point why can't I catch a ball.

Dyslexia being confused since 1877.

 22.Can be ambidextrous, and often confuses left/right, over/under.

Yip...A 20 something that doesn't know their left from their right.

 Math and Time Management:

23.Has difficulty telling time, managing time, learning sequenced information or tasks, or being on time.

Well if I can't tell time I can't manage my time thus I don't have enough time to do tasks so that is why I am never on time.

 24.Computing math shows dependence on finger counting and other tricks; knows answers, but can’t do it on paper.

 Only if Math exam were oral I would have accolades in Math.

 25.Can count, but has difficulty counting objects and dealing with money.

 Y'all I have nightmares about being a cashier.  

 26.Can do arithmetic, but fails word problems; cannot grasp algebra or higher math.

As I said before Algebra not, for dyslexics.

Memory and Cognition:

27:Excellent long-term memory for experiences, locations, and faces.

I wish could forget about that time I fell down in front the entire school. And yes this is not an exaggeration. The ENTIRE school saw this.  

28.Poor memory for sequences, facts and information that has not been experienced.

Subjects dyslexics shouldn't do:

Science: too many big words you can't spell.

History or Literature: reading is detrimental to your health.

Math:  A-L-G-E-B-R-A

 29.Thinks primarily with images and feeling, not sounds or words (little internal dialogue).

Sad truth I wear my heart on my sleeves. It's fricking annoying cause I want to be mad in peace without anyone knowing Goddamn it .

 Behavior, Health, Development, and Personality: 

30.Extremely disorderly or compulsively orderly.

I am Death the Kid.

(If you don't get that reference you are uncultured)

 31.Can be class clown, trouble-maker, or too quiet.

Like I was disliked in school for being too quiet. You would think that it was students oh no no no Patricia it was teachers.

Sorry Mrs. Emily for not giving you grey hairs, so you have the opportunity to go home to your loving husband to complain about how much you hate your job and kids. While you thinking about your affair with the young nextdoor neighbour, who you would end up marrying only to then leave them for a hot 20 yea.............................Ummmm that got a bit personal there lets continue shall we  

32.Had unusually early or late developmental stages (talking, crawling, walking, tying shoes).

 It took a while to learn how to tie my laces.

 33.Prone to ear infections; sensitive to foods, additives, and chemical products.

So wait not only did Dyslexia inhibit my ability to read, comprehend and to tell my right from my left to function normally in society but it caused my ear infections too. That is it I'm done

Moving to Siberia.

 34.Can be an extra deep or light sleeper; bedwetting beyond appropriate age.

 I was a very well trained tangerine.

 35.Unusually high or low tolerance for pain.

Everytime I stub my pinky toes it feels like an aeroplane wheel rolled over it.

36.Strong sense of justice; emotionally sensitive; strives for perfection.

 Facts!

37.Mistakes and symptoms increase dramatically with confusion, time pressure, emotional stress, or poor     health.

2 second Rant

Examiners don't think of dyslexic people, even with extra time. The sheer amount of times it takes just to understand the question then to answer with the best possible Grammar is straight cruelty.

You automatically want me to fail and not finish don't you.

You Demon.

  Mini sidestory:

While writing this I asked my significant other to spell "Exaggerate", dude looked at me and told me to sound it out. Past me knew he was going to say this and I did sound it out  before he asked me to sound it out. I told him that I did and that I don't know what letter comes after "Ex", he was like babe sound it out..................................

Tangerine internal thoughts: (Exsqueeze me) Every time try that a ""H" is coming up in my head. I thought this through ya know.

In conclusion I sound it out to my phone.

 To anyone who don't understand Dyslexia fully I do suggest researching.  

My commentary is completely subjective but if you relate that is good :)

 That's all my Fruits until next time

- TheeTangerine

Proof read by TheeApple<3

https://www.dyslexia.com/about-dyslexia/signs-of-dyslexia/test-for-dyslexia-37-signs/

[flowers-creativity]

An unfinished thing - Feb-whump-ary #2 - Broken bones

Fandom: The Musketeers Characters: Porthos du Vallon, Athos (Comte de la Fere), Aramis (René d’Herblay, d’Artagnan (Charles) Warnings: Violence Summary: There’s no such thing as a routine mission ... Especially not when there’s unsafe terrain about.

Notes: I’m trying to take part in Feb-whump-ary (organised by @yuckwhump) but struggling. So just to get this out there and be able to concentrate on something else, here’s my piece for day 2, broken bones, in all its unpolished, incomplete glory. I might finish it later - for now, it’s just what it is.

They really needed to accept that there was no such thing as a routine mission, Athos thought sourly. Or else they needed to expand the definition to schedule in at least one ambush per mission. When was the last time they had made it home without being attacked once?

That was about all the time he had to think before his feet found the ground, dropping down from Roger's back, and his sword was already in his hand to begin its dance. He did not need to  look to know that to his right and left, his brothers did the same, after they had all loosened a shot at the attackers, two in Aramis' case. The first of the men found himself at the business end of Athos' blade, and the deadly dance began. 

Though his main attention was on his opponent - skilled but not overly so -, Athos attempted to maintain some overview over the group of attackers and his fellow Musketeers, made more difficult by the trees surrounding them and the craggy ground. d'Artagnan to his right seemed to have no trouble holding his own against two men, his own trademark whirlwind fighting style having been tempered and given direction in his months of tutelage under Athos. To his left, Aramis was fighting with his usual elegance and an air of enjoyment that was rather inappropriate for the situation. Athos could not resist the twitch of the corners of his mouth upwards in response, though. None of them could deny their love of a good fight, so maybe they should be grateful to the bandits for indulging them.

He frowned when he realised that he could not see Porthos. However, he picked up the sounds of clashing blades behind him, and after a short look behind his adversary to ensure no one else was coming at him from that direction, he quickly sidestepped and whirled around, forcing the other man to give ground and take a few steps back.

There! Porthos' unmistakable large frame loomed through the half-light beneath the trees as two attackers were coming at him from different directions. The Musketeer growled and drew his maine gauche, using both blades to block the slashes coming at him from left and right. Athos returned his attention to his own opponent, intent on finishing him off quickly to go help either Porthos or d'Artagnan. 

The man went on the offensive again, pushing roughly against their crossed blades until Athos had to take a step back. He bit back a curse and backed off to let the other's blade slip off his own, then turned his wrist and swung upwards. But the bandit pulled a main gauche and blocked the strike at his midsection. Athos frowned and adjusted his estimation of the man’s skill upwards by a notch. These didn’t seem to be run-of-the-mill bandits - were they after the papers the Musketeers were carrying?

He opened his mouth to ask the man he was fighting - not that he was seriously entertaining the hope to get an answer - but was interrupted by Aramis crying out: “Porthos!” His head flew up to look at where he had last seen his friend, and his heart froze at the sight: The two men Porthos had been fighting were closing rank before him and pressed forward, and the large Musketeer’s body bent backwards to evade the first sword thrust but the second found his side as he impossibly bent even further backwards. And then he was suddenly gone, as if the ground had swallowed him. Athos’ brain stuttered, struggling to comprehend what had happened, and he marshalled his thoughts back into line by willpower alone. One thing was clear: Porthos needed help.

He unleashed his worry for his brother and his fury like a storm against his opponent, and three strikes later, the man sank to the ground in a bloody heap. Athos withdrew his sword just as another man charged at him with an angry cry, and he recognised one of Porthos’ attackers. With a growl that would have made his friend proud, he met the man head-on, twisting his sword at the last minute to bind the blade coming at him, then pulling his main gauche and slashing out at the man’s throat with his left hand. A spray of blood hit his face, and the pressure against his sword vanished instantly but he barely registered it, already sprinting past the other man towards the spot where Porthos had vanished.

It was only his quick reflexes that saved him as his brain registered what had happened, and he skidded to stop himself on the loose forest soil and turned to throw himself sideways. He slid another few steps and grabbed desperately at a tree root to arrest his motion. With a jerk, he came to a stop, only his lower legs dangling over the edge of the ravine that had suddenly opened up before him.

Athos blew out a breath, then used his hold on the tree root to pull himself back on solid ground. Letting go, he turned back around and on his hands and knees, he approached the edge where the earth fell away. He leaned over and looked down. The forest’s light seemed to dim further down but with some squinting, he could make out the shape of a man just a few metres below him. There was no doubt that it was Porthos - Athos would have recognised his shape anywhere. But he was lying still, absolutely motionless, and Athos’ heart clenched with fear.

“Athos,” someone breathed out next to him, and then Aramis dropped down at his side. “Where--?” he started to ask but then seemed to catch sight of Porthos below them and broke off. “Is he--”

Athos bit down the sharp retort that sat at the tip of his tongue. “d’Artagnan?” he asked instead.

Aramis quickly looked back over his shoulder. “Finishing up,” he told him.

Athos nodded, then looked up and down the edge of the chasm cut into the forest floor. It was not deep, five or six metres perhaps, but an unlucky fall could still do untold damage. “We need a rope,” he told the marksman, and Aramis was on his feet in a flash, striding back towards where they had left the horses.

By the time he was back, d’Artagnan had joined them, breathing heavily as he sheathed his sword. “Where’s Porthos?” the young man asked. His eyes widened when Athos mutely pointed downwards. “Is he alive?!”

Athos hated that the only answer he could give was: “I don’t know.” He turned towards Aramis and gestured for him to hand over the rope he wore coiled over one shoulder. “We’ll lower you down,” he told him.

Aramis just nodded and gave Athos the rope, then accepted back one end and started tying it around his middle. Working quickly, they were letting him down into the ravine only moments later. It was another few tense moments until he called up: “I’ve reached the floor.”

Athos used the root that had previously been his saviour to tie off the rope, then fell to his knees next to d’Artagnan to look down on their friends below them. “How is he?”

Aramis was crouched at Porthos’ side, his hands searching for injuries as his eyes critically assessed the large man’s condition. At Athos’ question, he looked up and called curtly: “Alive.”

Athos breathed a sigh of relief. Alive was the most important thing, everything else was secondary. He could feel d’Artagnan practically vibrating with tension at his side but willed himself and their youngest to stay still until the medic had finished his examination.

Finally, Aramis sat back on his haunches and looked up at them again. “I think he broke a few bones - two ribs on his back and his right arm, a head wound and that sword wound in his side,” he listed. “Throw me down my kit so I can wrap the wounds, will you?”

d’Artagnan was on his feet immediately. “I’ll get it!” he called and disappeared.

Athos looked down again. Aramis had bent back over his friend, murmuring words too low for Athos to understand - if he was to guess, he was trying to rouse Porthos from his unconsciousness. “Aramis!” he called and waited for a moment to meet the sharpshooter’s gaze. “I’ll walk the edge of this thing and see if there is a better place for us to bring you two back up,” he informed him. Upon receiving his answering nod, he got to his feet and started off, letting his gaze wander from the bottom of the ravine to the trees lining its edge.

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (9/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Girl Fridays, Part 2

The party was over by the time they got back and Rhodey was waiting for them.

“Uncle Rhodey!” Teresa cheered, jumping out of the car.

“Where have you been?”

“Uh oh,” Tony chuckled, coming around to her side. “I think it’s bedtime, Resa. Head upstairs and I’ll come tuck you in.”

She pouted, but left.

“Rhodey -”

“I stuck my neck out for you and you just up and disappear,” the man snapped.

“It was just one party,” Tony scoffed, moving around the car to grab a piece of the model.

“It’s not just the party, you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth. Iron Man needs to be out there.”

“Can’t right now, busy,” he said, eyeing the piece then shrugging. “Dum-E, U, come take care of this.”

The twins gave cheerful whirs and raced over.

“I’m serious,” Rhodey growled, coming to his side and grabbing his arm.

“And I need to go tuck in my kid.” Tony pulled away.

“You head up those stairs, and I’ll take the suits myself.”

“Sure buddy,” he laughed opening the door.

“You think I won’t?”

Tony let the door swing shut behind him.

When he reached the main floor, he took a moment to take in the mess left over from the party.

“Hey Jay, where’d Pepper and Nebula get to?”

“Ms. Potts has returned home for the night. She seemed upset that you left early, but was relieved that you at least did not make a scene. Miss Nebula is in her room with the door locked and is currently on the phone with the cleaning company. She is far more upset and has decided that you will be cleaning up instead.”

Tony rolled his eyes and continued on to the second floor. “Make sure they’re compensated for the change of plans.”

“Miss Nebula is already on it. I should also inform you Colonel Rhodes has just left with the Mark II.”

Tony was slightly shocked that’s all he was leaving with. At the very least, he could have taken the Mark IV. He chuckled at the idea of taking remote control of the suit and dragging his best friend back just to remind Rhodey he could before properly considering the situation.

The world needed the suit and Tony… he didn’t have much longer and he’d rather spend that time with the kids. If anyone could be trusted with the suit, it was Rhodey.

On the other hand, there was the model to consider. If Iron Man was still around in the end…

“Jay, call up legal. Let them know the Air Force is about to get a gift and we need to get a contract together fast. Tell them I’ll be on the phone with them to discuss terms as soon as I’ve finished a quick task.”

“Of course, Sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What am I going to do for you? Well, the first thing I’m gonna do for you is I’m gonna upgrade your software -”

“No you won’t,” Rhodey cut in.

“Stark’s conditions,” Major Allen explained. “We get the Mark II, or War Machine as he has designated it, but only so long as he has complete control over software updates and modifications as well as a few physical components.”

“The armor is still Stark Industries property, it’s just on loan to the Air Force,” Rhodey restated. “No pulling it apart to try to reverse engineer it.”

“Then why am I here,” Hammer asked, clearly annoyed no matter how he tried to hide it.

“You’re here to weaponize it. Stark Industries won’t do it due to their no weapons policy.”

“You want firepower, huh? Well, you’re talking to the right guy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rhodes has the armor?”

“One of them.”

“What’s Stark doing about it?”

“Nothing. He’s claiming he let Rhodes take it. He said he’s loaning it out to the Air Force as a peace offering despite the fact the general claims they seized the suit. According to Stark, he has measures in place to prevent unauthorized use so it would be impossible for Rhodes to have taken it without his permission and the colonel backed him up. I can’t say for sure if it’s the truth or just him and Rhodes covering his ass.”

“What are they planning to do with the suit?”

“Just weaponize it. There’s not much more they can do with all of Stark’s conditions. He made sure they wouldn’t be able to modify it too much or let anyone other than Rhodes use it. He even ensured the suit would go by a call sign of his own invention.”

“Of course he did. Anyone planning to fight him on it?”

“Stern’s been making his opinion known and the other branches of the military seem just short of calling nepotism, but the contract was signed as is. The Air Force are thrilled enough to have the suit in their ranks that they’ll take anything. Not to mention that Stark’s being firm, either they take his terms or he’ll just recall the suit right out of their hanger. If it’s a bluff, no one’s calling it.”

“Well Stark’s certainly got this all in hand.”

“Agreed. There doesn’t appear to be anyway to step in without showing our hand.”

“Alright. Keep your head down and ears open. We’ve still got something in the works.”

“Yessir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What did you do?” Nebula asked, taking in the destruction that surrounded the workshop.

“Built a prismatic accelerator,” her father explained. “Where have you been?”

“At the office, doing my job.”

“Sounds boring,” Teresa said, shoving another book under the metal coil Father was holding up. “How’s that?”

He set the coil down then set a level on top. “Perfect!”

Nebula stared at the two before shaking her head. “I don’t want to know. Please don’t blow the house up while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” her father asked, finally looking at her and Teresa followed suit.

“Hammer’s giving a presentation tomorrow evening at the Expo. Aunt Pepper wants me to come with her. Giving Uncle Rhodey the Mark II has helped put out some fires, but we need to be there to keep control of the situation. I suppose it would be too much to ask that you come along.”

“How long until wheels up?”

“About an hour,” she answered, glancing at her watch.

“Sorry busy. Besides, who’d stay with Resa? Happy’s going to be there too and I heard Rhodey’s part of the presentation.”

“Uncle Happy can take her around the Expo. She’d love it,” she answered easily already knowing her sister had been hoping to go since it had been announced. “I can act as your bodyguard.”

To her surprise, Teresa objected. “No, we have to finish daddy’s project. The Expo can wait!”

“You heard the girl,” he said, ruffling her hair.

Nebula sighed, but it was the answer she expected to hear. “Try not set anymore fires, literally or figuratively.”

“Will do on the figurative, no promises on the literal.”

She marched out before she could decide to argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Call trace incomplete.”

Tony and Teresa shared a look before glancing over at the Expo model.

“Nebs,” she whispered.

“There’s no way he knows about any of you,” Tony said, but that didn’t settle the panic that was sinking in.

Vanko was in New York, just like Nebula, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey.

He turned and saw a promotion for Hammer’s presentation on one of his screens.

“Okay, sweetie, daddy’s got to go to work,” he said, moving towards the new arc reactor. “Stay here with your brothers and U.”

“I wanna come!” she announced and he turned to her instead.

“Baby,” he said, setting his hands on her shoulders. “This could turn out to be very dangerous. I need you to stay here so I know your safe.”

“But -”

“Also, the suit won’t fit you,” he added with a smirk and she pouted. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and grabbed the arc reactor.

“Sir -”

“You want to run some tests, run them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nebula glared at the man who had placed her father and so many others in danger. Before Aunt Pepper could stop her, she grabbed him and slammed him against the desk he was standing near. “You will tell us who did this now or I will make you.”

“Ivan. Ivan Vanko,” the worm stuttered out quickly.

“Where is he?”

“At my facility.”

Nebula shoved him aside and glared at the man at the computer. “Move.”

He tripped over his feet as he rushed to comply.

“Call the police,” she told Aunt Pepper as she pulled out her phone and connected it to the laptop, allowing her access to the device. “J.A.R.V.I.S. and I will do what we can from here.”

“No, no, honey. Don’t call the authorities.”

“Call her honey or touch her again and I will break your nose,” Nebula hissed and Hammer immediately jumped away from Aunt Pepper.

“How are we looking?” Aunt Pepper asked shortly later.

“Not good. None of them are on the same system. Without access to the main command center, we’re only able to shut them down one at a time. Well, two at a time since J.A.R.V.I.S. and I can each take one.”

“How are you doing that?” Hammer’s helper asked, looking at the screen and she shoved him away.

“Unlike your boss, Mr. Stark only hires the best,” she said, taking out one of the Marine drones. “Now leave.”

Everyone fled except Nebula and Aunt Pepper.

Suddenly the connection to the command center unlocked. Two video feeds opened up, one showing her father’s face from his heads up display, the other showing the redhead from legal her father had wanted to make his PA.

“Reboot complete. You’ve got your best friend back,” the redhead said.

“And you are?” he asked and the woman frowned.

“I’m Agent Romanoff. I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D. shadow. I -”

“Am fired,” Nebula finished, using her newfound freedom to shut down all the drones.

“That’s not up to you,” the spy said.

“But it’s up to me,” Aunt Pepper growled, stepping up behind Nebula. “Why is Fury sending spies into my company?”

“That’s something I would prefer to speak to Mr. Stark about in private.”

“If this is about Fury’s super-secret boy band, I already gave him my refusal. Also, Pep, remind me to sue Hammer for messing with Rhodey’s programming.”

“How -”

“Fury dropped a data file on his way out. I had a team go over it.”

Said team was himself, Nebula, and J.A.R.V.I.S., but that wasn’t something the spy needed to know.

“Mr. Stark, that was confidential information for your eyes only.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the drive behind,” Nebula snorted. “Everyone present is aware of the Avengers Initiative, Agent, and as Mr. Stark said, he turned S.H.I.E.L.D. down.”

“Stark -”

“Can we talk about this when I’m not fending off a Hammeroid attack?”

“The drones are down,” Nebula said. “J.A.R.V.I.S. and I just shut down the last one.”

“Great, you’re the best!”

“Stark, we need to -”

“You know what, you’ve got my PA on the line, schedule an appointment. I think Fury and I need to have a talk about boundaries anyways. In the meantime, you can clean out your desk. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my buddy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All these drones are rigged to blow. We gotta get out of here man.”

“Pepper and Nebula!”

Rhodey sucked in a breath and followed after Tony. They reached the girls just in time, Tony grabbing Pepper while he grabbed Nebula.

As the explosions went off, Rhodey found a roof to land on and set Nebula down.

Tony did the same and he and Pepper immediately started bickering.

And then they were kissing.

“They are ridiculous,” Nebula sighed.

“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed, sitting down on a box.

They broke apart and Tony said, “Weird.”

“No, it’s not weird,” Pepper disagreed.

“It’s okay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Run that by me again.”

When they started kissing again, Rhodey said, “I think it was weird. You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape.”

“I had just quit, actually,” Pepper said as they broke apart and Tony started to speak over her.

“Yeah, so we’re not…”

Rhodey waved them off. “You don’t have to do that. We heard the whole thing.”

“Are you done now?” Nebula asked.

“You two should get lost,” Tony said, pointing between them.

“I was here first. Get a roof,” Rhodey said, but Nebula just turned and started to walk off.

“I quit.”

The three watched her march off.

Tony snorted. “Well, she lasted longer than some.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes and stood up.

“Hey, buddy, I’m going to need the suit back. Gotta fix all that Hammer nonsense. Maybe even give you an upgrade. Maybe. We’ll see if I’m feeling nice.”

“Sure, but my car got taken out in the explosion, so I’m gonna have to hang on to it for a minute, okay?”

Tony hummed. “Not okay. Not okay with that.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony glanced around the warehouse Fury had set up for their meeting. His eyes landed on a folder for the Avengers Initiative Preliminary Report and he slid it towards himself.

Fury’s hand fell over it. “I don’t think I want you looking at that. I’m not sure it pertains to you anymore.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Tony said before the man could continue. “I told you before I’ve got no interest. Now, about you sending your little spy into my company.”

“Romanoff was sent in to assess you -”

“After I already said no.”

“Which is why you were under consideration to be a consultant.”

Tony stared at the man before looking away. He stood up and held out his hand. When Fury took it, he clasped them man’s hand between both of his own. “You can’t afford me.”

He walked away.

“Stark -”

“Oh, and I’d be willing to drop the corporate espionage charges for a small favor,” Tony added, turning back to him. “Rhodey and I are being honoured in Washington and we need a presenter.”

Fury glared at him and he shrugged.

“Unless you want me to take your little secret spy ring to court. I’m sure the press would have a field day with that.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fury growled.

Tony gave him a smirk. “Just be glad nothing confidential passed her desk or legal would be tearing into you harder than they are Hammer. They don’t like it when they’re infiltrated. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with the cutest girl in the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what are you going to do now that Nebs quit?” Teresa asked playing with the fake repulsor on her glove as Tony paid for their churros.

“No idea,” he said. “Keep the change.”

“Sir!” the churro girl exclaimed. “This is a hundred dollar bill!”

Tony waved it off and led Teresa away. “Guess I’ll have to hire one of Aunt Pepper’s choices. Or go without.”

“Why can’t Jay be your new PA?” she asked, pulling off her gloves and tucking them into her pocket so she could take her churro from him. The faceplate of her Iron Man helmet slid up and she took a bite. “He’s always helping you with stuff.”

“Mouth closed you goblin. And Jay’s a pushover. A snippy one, but still. He’d never nag me to do stuff like Aunt Pepper does.”

She swallowed and wiped her face before saying, “Why can’t you make a PA bot then?”

“That’s…” Tony paused, thinking it over. “That’s actually a really good idea, Gummy Bear.”

She gave him a wide smile before taking a big bite.

“Yeah, I can make her feisty. A redhead like your sister and Aunt Pepper.”

“Nebs doesn’t have red hair,” Teresa giggled.

“She’s got a few wigs that are red. I can make her Scottish, or maybe Irish? What do you think?”

“Irish!”

“Irish it is. See, this is why you’re my girl Friday, Baby!”

Teresa stopped, frowning at her churro.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She kept staring for a moment before looking up at him warily. She grabbed his hand and tugged him off to the side. “Can-can I talk to you about something?”

He knelt down and let go of her hand to cup her cheek. “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

She bit her lip, but nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a flicker of light, then another, before a form materialized in the lab. It was a young woman in her early twenties. She was pale and slim with red hair cut into a stylish asymmetrical bob and a sleek jacket and pencil skirt.

“Happy birthday, Friday!”

The AI turned her blue holographic eyes to Tony and Teresa.

“Thanks Boss, Baby-Bro.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday's here a bit early because Tony deserves a PA and I love the idea from the comics where she's his holographic secretary.

Next up: Big Buff Uncle

That feel when I actually stop to count and realize I've given Tony fourteen children and two grandchildren in this fic. I might have gone a little overboard. In my defense, over half the kids are either AI's or robots. Have fun guessing who the sixteen are! Reblog or message me with your ideas. Hint: Two kids and one grandkid come from the comics, the rest are MCU based.

[inmyownmhis]

The Morning After - Part 2 (with @BuyMyBlood & @HowBoutDemWings)

- When Lassiter’s hand dropped, I wasted no time in taking him up on the assist, surprised again when he didn’t let go. Of course, given my anti social lifestyle, maybe this was the norm.  

Those eyes, they grounded me but they were also appraising, like he was searching for some kind of in with me. Normally the scrutiny would have me bolting.

But this wasn’t normal. I had a damn angel in my yard, a back from the dead female in my house and I had fed her. When Dorothy woke up, she was short a tin man and rancid was the first word that fell from her lips.

Fuck. Fuck.

I was about to fall into the abyss but then Lassiter’s words pulled me back up for air. There was something in his tone that had me at attention, it held command but the undercurrent was soothing.

Angel Mojo for a thousand, Alex.

I listened to what he said, even though I’d heard it before, but this time the words started to take root. The seeds of doubt had been planted, watered, fertilized and been exposed to a hearty dose of Vitamin D when it came to thoughts on my blood. My eyes closed without my permission but only in brief when Lassiter brushed over the spot he had healed with that suffusing warmth, and then without explanation, he took me into his arms. His whispered words brought back those things I had just shut down when I was ass to grass.

I had helped him. Maybe it wasn’t as weighted as I’d first imagined it to be, but only a fool would think a short exchange could make up for decades of damage due to daddy’s rejection.

Was there hope for more of that in life if I stuck around on this rotating sphere in the sky?

Let’s not go that far, Jagger.    

I nearly forgot I was in his arms until he snapped back to go-mode, releasing me then indicating he was about to head into the house. When he disappeared, my thoughts roamed over our entire exchange. I was confounded by my own responses to him, not really getting why I submitted so easily to the physical advances, when normally...

Right. Not normal.

I made sure my wits were firmly planted in my shitkickers before making my own return to the house after a bit. One way or another, things were about to be laid bare in black and white.  The oddest thing striking me before I walked in the door.

I wanted Lassiter to be right.-

Ambellina:

~So much happened in but a few moments, I found I was unable to keep up with the weight of it all as my mental faculties continued to come back online. In the time it took me to push myself to an upright position on the couch I had been placed upon, many more things happened. The male vampire whose blood the flavour of dark chocolate still lingered upon mine lips and tongue began to lose his own mind while the other with WINGS?! was yelling for me to reassure him. I wasn’t sure how and frankly, it was all too much for someone in my current state. I needed processing time. I opened my mouth to say as much but all that came out was a weak excuse of a croak, further displaying my current bout of incompetence.~ I… I’m sorry. I need...

~As I struggled to speak, time for processing came to me without having requested it when the male I realized was called Jagger abruptly left the house. A bright stream of sunlight poured inside only briefly but it landed directly in the spot my head had laid only moments ago. The astonished angel followed Jagger outside, slamming the door shut behind him. Is that what he was? I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms in an attempt to scrub away the cobwebs. That’s when the panic of what had just happened before my eyes registered. Had Jagger just taken his own life?! Certainly not. I hoped. The strength his blood afforded to my battered body sung within my veins and I could feel he remained very much alive just on the other side of the door. How blessed by the Scribe Virgin he was to be capable of daywalking.

A pang of jealousy rose up, but not for long. Realization slammed into me like Rhancid had when he took me down in that hotel. I hadn’t checked in... with either Ghiselle nor my doggen. Both parties would be worried by now, undeniably. I needed to call them immediately. Shaky hands dug into the pockets of my overcoat, searching for my cell phone. All I could find was my beloved ornate compact, and I didn’t dare open it to see the state my appearance was in. Absolutely not. I could feel I was far worse for wear.

In the other pocket, the card Ghiselle had given me with Jagger’s name and address written in her loopy cursive was staring up at me. What a twist of fate things had turned into. I didn’t know a single Jagger Rhuin which I reasoned the one of the card was the same who had saved my life. That only meant his blood sacrifice had put him in even more of a defect if Ghiselle’s friend had given her the correct information about him refusing to feed. And I had taken from him. Far too much.~

Oh, Scribe Virgin in the fade...what have I done?!

~Panic rose and bile burned my throat as I dry heaved under the weight of the situation. All the while, anger continued to boil my insides. All of this could have been prevented if I had only succeeded at doling out my revenge. Failure had never been something I allowed to be associated with myself. But that would be my burden to bear moving forward. Correcting my mistakes would start in the now.

Just as I managed to get a grip of all that had happened the angel reappeared as if he could dematerialize. Time to show him exactly who Ambellina Newo was, my first impression was not what I’d prefer so the second was going to have to make due. On weak legs, I stood and lifted my chin, finally finding my voice.~ He needs to feed. Jagger. The card in my pocket...I sell my blood...he needs to feed! ~Stuttering thoughts and incomplete sentences was not something I had ever been accustomed to displaying so the second attempt at a good impression wasn’t up to par however, the winged male fortunately seemed to pick up on what I was trying to get across.~

Lassiter:

<As I reformed inside Jagger’s house, the female still appeared weak despite the blood she had taken from Jagger. Her determination when she spoke and the effort it appeared to take for her to get vertical was admirable and helped to tamp down the irate lecture I had prepared only moments ago. Thankfully, while I had been outside dealing with Jagger she apparently found her wits as well. Small miracles, they were a real thing.

Early celebrating was cut off by some holy shit news when she shared what she did for a living and that Jagger needed to feed. I didn’t know all that much about how the whole vamp feeding business worked so I nodded to appease her and assumed she was simply referring to his loss at having saved her. In my mind, I had a bigger Big Mac to fry up and spoke quickly to her before Jagger joined us, more concerned over the apology she needed to make.> Look, he thinks his blood was foul and rancid as you called it. You need to tell him-

<My words cut off as Jagger opened the door and immediately a silence filled the triangle of space between us for only a couple of seconds, just long enough for what I hoped the female needed to realize what I had been trying to convey to her but could no longer finish saying. I nudged her in his direction with my wing, nodding in encouragement and praying silently that she was able to correct the damage her careless words had caused earlier.> Jagger, Blondie has something to tell you.

Jagger

-The scene had changed again. Same players. Same set. Whole different act. The female was upright and they both had been talking before I came in the door but promptly shut up on my entry.

Strategizing session over.

She definitely looked better, albeit wobbly, and on cue I was hit with a wave of my own dizziness to mirror her unsteady.

Shit.

Shrugging off my own sitch, I took long strides over to her, bypassing Lassiter because I was worried she wasn’t long for the vertical world. Seeing her like that was too reminiscent of my mother and the countless times she had relied on my aid, though she fought against it heartily. She never wanted the appearance of being weak or reliant, and I had learned to accommodate that. This was some kind of déjà-screw-you because I’d tried my best to forget those times, focusing instead on the better shades of my past with her. This female, though, she was a living, breathing flashback with all of her willowy beauty and the colors of fading bruises that marred her otherwise flawless skin. Too many times I had bore witness to the evidence of my father’s temper. Too many times I cursed my physical inability to confront him and protect my mother. My only solace was found in helping her and the desire to do so with this female welled from those same depths, the ones personal experience had fostered.  I did my damndest to remain unimposing while I loomed next to her then spoke quietly between the three of us.-

Please. Sit. Please. -I breathed a sigh of relief when she relented without putting up a fight, but there was a telling flicker in her eyes to give the impression she’d thought about resistance.-

Tell me your name? Unless it’s actually Blondie, in which case we may have something in common.

-Where’d that come from? I’d never been one to make myself relatable or quip.  I shot a glance Lassiter’s way, completely convinced it was the short time in which we’d been hanging out that I’d picked it up. Kneeling down, my gaze landed back on the female, giving her the chance to say what she had to say. I hoped like hell I could stomach the repercussions of saving her life.-

Ambellina:

~Dread and upset had taken up residence within my stomach, replacing the bile that had previously moved out. How could I not realize the mistake I had made. Granted, at the time I was only just coming back to awareness and I was simply speaking that which was fresh upon my mind, however, I had insulted the male who had saved mine life. As Ghiselle called it, I had plenty of damage control to do, and in a bad way, particularly if I was going to be able to convince this same male to allow me to return the favour of my vein.

I had my work cut out for me. I had not a clue where to start fortunately, the angel seemed to pick up on my delay and nudged me toward Jagger, he in turn guided me back to the couch asking that I sit. All the places I could have been back in control and correcting my missteps were a fail.

Jagger’s question and subsequent joke were what snapped me back from the spiralling mess of self-critique and back into the present. Back to where I could have another chance at returning to the Ambellina Newo I had carefully crafted over the years. As he knelt in front of me and the angel kept a safe distance, I assumed to not impose, I straightened my spine and held my head high while cautiously brushing my matted and dirty hair from my face. I refused to wince when my fingers ran over a particularly painful bruise at my eye and found myself grateful Jagger’s blood had begun to help the swelling enough that I could see his face through both eyes. I didn’t dare to let my fingers dip lower to the bite mark that still smarted on my throat.

Closer inspection clued me into the uncertainty of the situation that he was trying so very hard to not get lost in. Boy wasn’t he right in us having something in common. A weak laugh bubbled up at that thought before I got back on track. Time to do what I did best, take control.~ No, that is not my name. ~My eyes darted over to the angel only for but a second so that he knew the nickname had been accepted, begrudgingly.~

My name is Ambellina Newo. And your blood is in no way rancid. It was quite the opposite and rather hearty for someone who hasn’t fed in quite some time. ~My brow lifted knowingly before continuing on to explain, hoping he wouldn’t feel so bad when I was finished.~

The male who attacked me. Rhancid. That is his name. I had gone to his hotel to… it matters not. ~My head shook to rid the images that flashed behind closed lids.~ Things went bad then he got the upper hand and...I am not sure how but, here I am. You have saved me from the Fade and I will forever be grateful to your blood sacrifice, especially for someone you did not know. I wish to repay my debt. Please, allow me. ~my gaze dropped down to my wrist where I began to push back the sleeve of my coat, lifting it in offering to Jagger.~

Jagger

-It took her a minute but then she spoke, giving up the name. It was a damn good fit for her. Ambellina Newo. Strong but something delicate lurking under the smooth and refined surface. Even with the marks that looked like she'd been bested but only after exhausting every round in the ring, she was poised. Porcelain personified. Everything else rolled down like an avalanche. Relief like a cold splash of water to the face when she said my blood wasn't rancid and...other things that I shrugged off as circumstantial considering the taste of death she'd had. Amusement at her raised brow, clearly an "I've got your number" kind of thing, but she didn't know I'd already figured that one. She also didn't know that I'd gotten Lassiter's own version several times over. All it took were leading words of "the male who attacked me," for the world to flip on its axis. The shift was rapid. Anger searing through my veins in the form of boiling blood. Her elegant tone poured past her lips, recounting a few details undeserving of her manner of speaking. Rhancid. I shot Lassiter a look meant to be one of concession to his assumption. He earned whatever ego pump it gave him. No time to celebrate relief. Nope. The momentary sample was swallowed up by hearing that she had been savagely attacked. I didn't give one flying fuck what she'd been there for. No female should have that to pen into their memories. None. My growl was unintended but offered up its presence anyway. The male deserved death served up cold. Slow. Merciless. I registered an ache in my knuckles only to look down and... Hello fist. Relief. Amusement. Anger. But she wasn't done yet. Before there was any time for me to launch into any kind of demanding more so I could find the piece of shit, she was onto her gratitude and wanting to return the favor. Panic. I recoiled from her wrist before she had even pulled up the curtain. She intend to put an end to my steady diet of nothing. I scurried backwards, stuttering as I tried to find words and came up fail.- I can't... Thank you, Ambellina, for your gracious offer. But I can't. -I didn't dare look over at the angel. My blood wasn't rancid...but that didn't fix the fuck ton of history that I was saddled with. Mine all mine. I couldn't do this. Not now, maybe not ever.-

Ambellina:

~Jagger’s reaction came as a surprise to me, his fierce anger and accompanying growl was a match to that of mine own only days ago after I had left that horrific night where Rhancid tried to use me as arm candy. It was interesting that he took such immediate offence on my behalf when he didn’t even know me. My eyes darted over to the angel who happened to be staring at a space between Jagger and myself, a look of something akin to what I could only guess as hesitant surprise. I followed the path of his gaze to find Jagger’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had lost all blood flow and were a white comparable to the angel’s eyes.

Then things fell apart. I offered my wrist and he fell back, trying to get away from me faster than the Glymera disowned a female who was past her mating prime. Insult felt heavy in my stomach along with confusion. I was unused to this brand of rejection. My bloodline was strong and while that was still my secret, I was the one all the males sought out to feed from.

Sure, I wasn’t looking my usual pristine. Perhaps Jagger had a shower I could borrow to help with that and wash away the scent of Rhancid on my skin. Maybe then my offer wouldn’t be as offensive as Jagger was making it out to be.

After collecting my thoughts and clearing my throat,

I dropped my hand that remained still hanging in the air between us back into my lap. My voice was soft but not without conviction.~ You can’t? I do not understand. I am not accustomed to being declined and I realize I’m not in my best state currently. Perhaps I can use your restroom to freshen up?

~I smoothed my hands over my coat, trying to straighten it on my shoulders then attempted to help the lost cause of my matted and blood-stained hair before looking to the angel for help. Why was he so quiet when only moments ago he had no problem telling me exactly what I needed to do. When it was clear he wasn’t coming to my rescue again, I chalked it up to having used my single Saved-by-an-Angel card. Sighing in exhaustion, I looked back over at Jagger.~ No need to escort me. I can find the facilities myself.

Jagger:

-Freshen up, yes! That would buy me some minutes to condense my family history, package it up and present it in a way she’d understand. The pang of confusion on Ambellina’s face was clearly laced with hurt of some variety. I hadn’t meant to offend. The male population was really serving up this female and not in the way she deserved.

Scrambling again, this time to my feet, my strides were quick, while I untied my tongue in an effort to do some damage control.-

Ambellina I-- meant no offense. It is not your appearance, it’s not you. I’m just not worthy of the vein. Not yours, not any female’s. My bloodline… is no good.

I’ll explain… but please, you’ve only just awoken from a nightmare. Would you like a bath? I’ve got a clawfoot in the master. -raising my hand to scrub over the top of my head and back to where tension gathered in my neck, out of my element would be putting it lightly and I didn’t know if the suggestion toed the line of appropriate, bloody hell.-  I could get you a change of clothes, or set you up in one of the guest rooms for some shut eye.

We are on lockdown until the moon rolls in, so we’ve got time.

-It felt wrong that even if she wanted to, Ambellina couldn’t leave thanks to daylight, sunshine had to be a dude. Speaking of, Lassiter’s silence was unnerving as fuck. Where was his mouth when I needed it? I was doing a bang up job with my ramble of suggestions and it sure as hell showed that my comfort zone was nowhere to be found. Anxiety had decided to hitch a ride on my wagon to hell; the more the merrier my ass. If Rod Serling didn’t show up to announce my entry into the Twilight Zone soon, we were headed into another episode because the time slot was almost up.-

[soundofawesomeblog]

Starting next Monday, Sound of Awesome will reveal its picks for the 100 best tracks from the 2000s in a new weekly column. Get ready for the countdown as we explore the genesis of the project and how the naughties became the most eclectic decade of the pop era. As a bonus, you will also find out a few honorable mentions from great artists who just couldn’t make the cut.

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The 1950s saw rock n’ roll becoming a major part of the cultural landscape. In the 1960s psychedelic rock was the new craze. The 1970s had disco, the 80s were about new wave, and the 90s saw grunge and hip-hop sell millions of CDs. It’s a flawed, simplistic and incomplete way to describe each decade, sure, but the fact remains that these are the genres most associated with every one of them.

When it comes to the 2000s though, the portrait is a lot harder to decipher. Sure, there were trends, but each time one died, four new ones emerged.

More than a single genre, what truly defined the 2000s was the growing presence of the internet. Slowly but surely, this new found connectivity helped usher a completely new paradigm of how music would find its way from the artists to the masses. Suddenly, radio stations and music television were not the only ones in control, dictating what is hot and what is not. Platforms like Facebook, Soundcloud and Bandcamp had yet to become the go-to destinations for new acts, but MySpace quickly established itself as a major factor in the musical landscape. It gave new, hip artists a platform to reach big audiences and create a massive buzz without having to play in every city or rely on giant label-heads (see: Arctic Monkeys, Lily Allen, Owl City, etc.) Later in the decade, the arrival of YouTube meant that creative, viral music videos could bring a lot of attention to an otherwise average band with little money (see: Ok Go). A sign of music’s importance to Youtube, ever since Bad Romance reached 178,4 million views in late 2009, the record for most views by a video on the popular website has always belonged to a music video. Meanwhile, programs and sites like Napster and Limewire meant that teenagers didn’t have to rely on pocket money and 20$ CDs to enjoy their favorite songs, as their iPods and computers’ libraries were expanding in both size and diversity. 

Looking back, it’s easy to believe that, even as the music industry was showing its first signs of weakness on a financial level, music fans were listening to more music than ever. It is precisely this trend that made the music so interesting in the 2000s. With so many different artists from different backgrounds just one shuffle away - from bedroom electroclash experimentation à la M.I.A. or Peaches to garage rockers like The White Stripes or The Strokes, to high profile, incredibly rich (and horny) rappers like 50 Cent or Lil Wayne - it was only a matter of time before genre labels became almost useless. In 2007, Rihanna went from R&B on Umbrella to new wave-informed rock on Shut Up And Drive in the span of few months. The same year, hip-hop’s new sensation Kanye West injected glam rock ambition on his third album Graduation before leaving rap almost completely a year later on 808s and Heartbreaks. The DFA label made punk music for the dance floor while dance artists programmed synths with so much distortion you could throw the devil sign in the air. Scenes were no longer limited to a geographical location and artists were more and more influenced by sounds from across the globe.

If the legacy of acts from the 1960′s and 1970′s is well established, the visionaries of the 2000s are yet to find that praise. Discussions about the best songs of all time steer quickly to The Beatles, Led Zeppelin or Michael Jackson, but it’s only a matter of time before the 00 artists get their part of the cake too. It is with this in mind that I am proud to present to you, through the next 10 weeks, a completely incomplete, ludicrous, but also very passionate and thoughtful countdown of the 100 best singles of the 2000s.

This is not necessarily a list of the most popular, influential or groundbreaking tracks of the decade, rather a commentary on the most effective tracks; those who aimed for the moon and landed right on top of it, those who induced goosebumps and those who should still fill dance floors in a few decades without any cringe. It will contain smash hits and underground phenomena. Indie darlings and hard-hitting hip-hop. Loud guitars and quiet electronic flourishes. It will be varied and all over the place, just like the decade that we’re celebrating here. It is not a definitive answer, rather the start of a discussion and a good way to discover some great music you might have been sleeping on, back when it was trending and buzzing.

Each article will present you, in decreasing order, 10 essential songs of the aughts from the countdown, with a quick description to place each track back in context and/or justify its inclusion. In order to keep the countdown as varied as possible, acts were limited to three appearances as lead artists. Each article will also include a Spotify playlist of all the songs revealed so far, when available.

100 tracks might seem like a huge number, but it’s impossible to contain 10 years of music in such a list. This is why, as an appetizer for the series to come, you will find below 10 tracks from artists who, despite leaving their mark on the decade, fell incredibly short of making it to the countdown. These do not necessarily correspond to positions 110 to 101; they are just bands and singers who deserved a quick shout-out so that you cannot act like they have been forgotten later on.

50 Cent - In Da Club

The title of Curtis’ greatest hit reveals exactly in which kingdom he was the ruler in the early to mid-decade.

Aaliyah - Try Again

With the help of mega producer Timbaland, Aaliyah brought R&B to the 22nd Century 100 years early with Try Again and its mix of EDM and hip-hop.

Black Kids - I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

This MySpace gem remains one of the best footprints of the late 2000’s indie pop rush, cheerleaders included. 1! 2! 3!

Britney Spears - Toxic

Thanks to a killer hook built on Bollywood strings and a killer, sexy performance, Britney Spears’ biggest hit was also her best.

The Cribs - Men’s Needs

If a rock song is only as good as its riff, Men’s Needs is a track for the ages. Frantic and moving, the guitar line drives this UK staple of dance-rock.

Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal

Sure, it opened the way for tons of half-assed, insipid and useless acapella covers, but Fleet Foxes’ début single also introduced in just 147 seconds the genius flair the band had for crafting amazing melodies, harmonies, and ageless folk.

Junior Senior - Move Your Feet

With its cowbells, horns, bouncing synths and stutter-like verses, Junior Senior never tries to be “cool” in Move Your Feet. Instead, the band decides to focus on having a good time on a track that feels as fresh after 1000 listens than it did on the first time. 

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance

The exact moment when we realized that Gaga was a monster that was too big to be contained, Bad Romance features about three different hooks, each more effective than the one before.

Maximo Park - Apply Some Pressure

It would be cheap and wrong to reduce Maximo Park as some Strokes/Bloc Party knock-off; as proven by the energy and creativity of this track.

Uffie - Pop The Glock

Part bratty thrash of a white teen, part genius, 17-year-old Uffie builds her own indie rap empire from scratch and rules it on Pop The Glock.

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