#so ive got a heating pad on while i elevate it and do all this blog stuff

[whitesuited]

now that's 5's birthday month is in the rear view, i can hopefully get back to keeping a little more of my mental capacity here and actually focused for more than 5 minutes at a time ...

so the plan of attack is as follows ------ i'm going to go through my follows and shed some inactives / archives i'm still following. i'm going to go through my Mariana Trench of an inbox as well and clear out what i can, and keep what i feel like is still answerable ( this also means you might be seeing replies to memes that you don't even remember sending and for that i apologize unless you like surprises then ... yay? ) same will happen with drafts, and i'm going to make a physical list of both because somehow i tend to follow through on physical lists i can touch and cross off myself better than a digital tracker.

aaaand go!

[disableism]

TLDR at the bottom:

Thursday at PT I started feeling kinda nauseous & lightheaded. I texted my sister to come get me. By the time she showed up 15 minutes later, I was dead white and so cold that I was extremely shaking which was causing joint contractures. With arthritis, no cartilage & locked joints, this was very painful. It was weird, because I didn’t feel cold to the touch. No fever either.

We called 911. By the time the ambulance arrived I was crying out in pain. They took me away but because my vitals were all fine —except for a slightly elevated blood pressure, which I don’t know how that’s possible— they refused to treat me & said they had to leave me for the doctors. I begged for blankets & got one flimsy one. In the ER they wouldn’t treat me until the doctor saw me, even though I was begging for heated blankets. Eventually I got one flimsy one there too. I also was crying for them to go out in the waiting room and get my sister. I was told that when she arrived she’d be let back. I kept having to explain she’d been right behind the ambulance. They left her in the waiting room for an hour. Meanwhile I’m in the exam room alone, unable to do more than roll over without assistance because said sister is my caregiver. I’m also in horrible pain, shaking so bad everything is contracting. I couldn’t answer their questions except one word pushed out with every breath because of the shaking. I kept telling them my sister could answer everything and that she had my med card. I had to do the whole check in process one…word…at…a…time. Finally I saw a doctor who said “sure” to my request for a stack of heated blankets & a flush of IV fluids. Then Sis was allowed back & I got a room nurse assigned to me who was a godsend. The blankets stopped me shaking enough that I slept and when I woke up 3 hours later, I felt exhausted & a lil shaky, but no longer cold, even a bit sweaty. And my face color had come back. My labs & urine came back fine. So they sent me home.

The only thing anyone could think of was I had a weed gummy that day, an hour before my appointment. I have not had weed in 20 years but my doctor finally cleared me for it to have even though I also take Norco. This was my 4th gummy in the past week. The doctor said maybe it was a bad reaction. Why not with the first one? I know sometimes allergies can take a while to build up. With my Sulfa allergy I was on it a week before I had my very awful reaction of muscle seizures. So maybe that’s what this was? Except today I was outside & the temp was dropping, a storm in the air and I started to feel cold. And had a bit of a cold flush run through me. I thought it was outside air making me cold which caused a spike of anxiety because of the earlier experience. So I went inside but I kept feeling colder & started shaking, so I got under the covers, turned on the heating pad & turned off the fans. My color stayed fine and after 30 minutes of lowkey cold & shaking I was warm enough, I slept for an hour and woke up drained but fine. Even hot. (My sweet kitty had come to lay on the top of my head because he takes care of his Mommy Lady).

Was this last bout anxiety? I don’t know. I just wanna sob & sob because I can’t handle yet another thing being wrong with me, especially one that comes on so sudden and requires me to drop what I’m doing immediately and get under ALL the blankets. Also my family is here from Canada & I only get so much face to face time with them each year, I do not wanna miss a single second with my niblings.

Anyway, anyone ever have something like this happen? Other issues I have that might be relevant is medication allergies which is why I thought “reaction to gummy”, rheumatoid arthritis, autoimmune liver disorder, kidney stones, fibromyalgia and I had the Inspire implant surgically put in a month ago but I have healed fine & it has not been activated yet. Thoughts?

Tl;dr: I went cold & dead white all over causing me to shake so hard I had joint contractures. Lasted about 2 hours & only went away with many heated blankets. Vitals stayed fine, labs/urine were fine, no fever, was not cold to the touch, doctor was not sure what happened. Anybody have something similar?

[bitchassbucky]

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

[cpd5021]

Unexpected - Chapter 17

Welcome to the final installment of this Upstead pregnancy fic! Honestly, this story could continue on indefinitely but I feel the need to bring some closure to this particular story line. I may revisit this world at a later point and explore Upstead parenting, but for now our time here is done. Thank you to each and every person who liked, re-blogged or commented on this story. It is truly appreciated and was a huge motivating factor for me continuing this story. So without further ado...Chapter 17!

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and Hailey and Jay had spent most of the morning relaxing. Hailey, despite her lack of energy thanks to being at the end of her pregnancy, was itching to get the last few items on her to do list done. She had accomplished quiet a bit over the last few weeks of being stuck at home and really she should be satisfied with the list but there were just a few more things she wanted to do. Jay, being the patient boyfriend he was, had agreed to help her get them done. Although it wasn’t without a few well deserved eye rolls along the way. Now, they were on the last item, which was to put up some totes of odds and ends up into her tiny attic space. Jay had reluctantly pulled down the trap door, unfolding the questionable looking ladder and sneezing with the cloud of dust that fell down around him. Hailey stepped up to him, brushing a few cob webs off his shoulder and gave him a grateful smile. 

“It’s been a minute since I’ve been up there.” She sheepishly admitted, earning another eye roll. 

“No!” Jay exaggerated his response. “You don’t say.” He feigned irritation but Hailey saw right through him.

“It’s my last to do list item and then we can go back to your Netflix marathon.” Hailey promised, sending him another smile. 

“Yeah yeah.” Jay replied, grimacing at the rickety ladder. 

“I’ll go up there if you want.” Hailey offered with a shrug, earning yet another eye roll from Jay. He let out a huff and placed his hand on the first rung of the ladder. Hailey handed him one of the lighter bags and he clambered up into the ceiling. 

“Leave that big one for last, I’ll come back down and get it.” Jay said from above, concerned it would be too heavy for her. Hailey nodded and went about passing him the lighter items. After everything but the large plastic bin was stashed away, Jay shifted around to come back down. Hailey protested, saying that she could lift it up to him and went to kneel by the bin. As she stood up, bin in arms, she let out a gasp as a gush of warmth cascaded down her legs. Jay stuck his head down, looking mildly impatient as he waited for her to hand it over, and his eyes bulged slightly at the site below him. 

“Hailey?” He asked, voice cracking slightly. She stood rooted in the same spot, eyes glazed over and mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Jay quickly scrambled down the ladder and took the bin from her, setting it on the floor beside them. “Hailey..” He repeated, placing a hand on her shoulders. 

“I think my water just broke.” She all but whispered, eyes darting down to her soaked leggings. 

“I would say so. That or you just peed.” Jay teased and that earned him a scowl from Hailey. 

“I did not pee, thanks.” She huffed, glancing down at her legs again. “I need to shower.” She announced, pivoting in place before darting into the bedroom.

“Uh Hailey..” Jay started to protest, hot on her heels. “I think we should head to Med.” She ignored him, stripping her clothes as she made her way into the bathroom. He was as she turned on the water, stepping in without waiting for it to heat up and whipping the curtain shut behind her. Jay stood there, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and suddenly feeling at a loss for what to do next. “Is there anything I can do?” He asked, taking a hesitant step towards her shower but only being met with silence. He carefully closed the distance and slowly pulled the curtain open just enough to peak in. His heart clenched at the sight before him. Hailey stood, unmoving under the stream of water, face pale and eyes red from the silent tears running down her face. “Hey...” He whispered, reaching in to place his palm against her cheek. “Talk to me, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t do it.” She whispered, eyes darting to meet his and looking terrified and frantic despite her body being frozen in place. 

“Do what?” Jay pushed gently. 

“Be a mother.” She closed her eyes as the words left her mouth, not wanting to see his response. 

“Hailey..” He spoke softly and his voice sounded full of love. “You can and you will. You’re going to be amazing. I know this is scary because it’s real now. But we got this.” Jay leaned into the shower, not caring that his shirt was getting wet from the spray coming off her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He helped her to wash up quickly and then helped to dry her off with the towel once she was done. She padded behind him into the bedroom, clad in nothing but her towel as Jay raced around the room, gathering her some clean clothes. Once she was dressed, Hailey say on the edge of the bed, the frantic look still evident in her eyes. Jay had grabbed their bags while she was dressing and now came to kneel in front of her. 

“Don’t leave me.” Hailey whispered, tears brimming her eyes once again. 

“Hailey I will be here every step of the way. I won’t ever leave you, I promise.” Jay held her hands tightly, emphasizing his words. Hailey simply nodded and tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He helped her down the stairs and quickly tossed their bags into the truck before returning to the entryway and leading her outside. He held her hand the entire way, breaking apart only to get into the drivers seat. The ride to Med was silent and felt like it took an eternity but eventually they pulled into the lot. 

“Can we just take a minute before we go in?” Hailey asked quietly, eyes closed and trying to focus on her breathes, a tell tale sign she was having a contraction. Jay rubbed her back gently as she dipped her head down, waiting for the discomfort to end. 

“Do you want me to let anyone know we’re here?” Jay asked, wondering if he should tell the unit. 

“You can tell Will if you want, but lets wait before we call the cavalry.” Hailey smiled and he was glad to see her teasing tone was momentarily back. Jay pulled out his phone, composing a quick text to Will and then got out to help her down from the truck. Hands clasped once again, they made their way through the doors and over to the elevators leading them to the Obstetrics floor. They shared the elevator with an older woman who gave them both a warm smile as she took them in. 

“Good luck.” The woman grinned at them, before stepping out onto the floor just before theirs. Once the doors closed Hailey let out another breath and Jay rubbed her arm softly. The doors opened with a ding and Hailey hesitantly stepped out onto the birthing floor. The nurse sitting at the desk waved them over with a smile, taking Hailey’s information and then standing to lead them to a private room. She instructed Hailey to change into a gown and went to grab some equipment. Once dressed, Hailey settled onto the bed, suffering another contraction before she could lay back. Jay held her hand, sitting beside her as the nurse came back in. She hooked a monitor onto Hailey’s stomach and then did a quick pelvic check to see if she was dilated. Another nurse came in and hooked her up to an IV, Hailey watching Jay closely the entire time. 

“And now we wait.” The nurse announced, looking happy with her exam. “You’re actually dilating quickly for a first timer, already about half way there. We can give you something for pain if you’d like it and we’ll bring in anesthesia for the epidural if that’s still part of your plan?” Hailey nodded, recalling her last doctors appointment where they had went over her birth plan. Hailey wasn’t one for taking any extra medications but she had decided on an epidural after having a long discussion with her doctor. “Okay, we’ll be back in shortly then to check on you.” With that, the nurse left them alone. Jay’s phone dinged with a message and he glanced down with a smile. 

“That was Will. He says he’s working and to let him know if we need anything. And to let him know when his nephew arrives.” Jay glanced up at Hailey and was happy to see a smile on her face. 

They spent the next few hours trying their best to relax and rest for what was about to come. Nurses and other hospital staff were in and out, constantly checking on her status and sending updates to the doctors as needed. Hailey eventually did let Vanessa know she was here and had to fight her off over coming to visit before the baby was born. Hailey smiled at her old room mates excitement but she wasn’t in the mental state for company right now. She was feeling a huge mix of emotions the closer her contractions got, from fear to excitement and back to anxiety all within a matter of minutes. Jay, despite his fear of hospitals, was doing an excellent job keeping her calm and happy and she was beyond grateful for his presence. It had been long enough now that the sun was set outside their window and Hailey was starting to have some really intense contractions. The pain had gotten so bad it had made her sick, Jay right by her side, holding back her hair and comforting her. After that, the nurse and anesthesiologist had come in to set up her epidural. Once that was in place, Hailey was able to relax a little as the pain eased. Jay sat beside her, gently stroking her cheek as she laid on her side facing him. 

“I love you.” He whispered, bringing a small smile to her face. 

“Love you too.” She replied, nuzzling up into his hand. “You really think this will be okay? She asked, face turning serious. 

“Honestly? I have no idea what to expect but I do know that you are amazing and I will be here the whole way.” Jay leaned in and gave her a reassuring kiss.

Things picked up quickly, Hailey’s contractions coming faster and faster and soon she was fully dilated. Her once peaceful room now held two nurses and her doctor, all gowned up and ready to go. They had helped her get into the proper position and coached Jay on what he could do. Hailey was laid back, propped up slightly by a pillow with her legs spread open, feet resting in the stirrups. The epidural had greatly improved her pain but the pressure she felt was overwhelming. Jay had one arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other held her hand tightly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against her temple as the doctor instructed her to start pushing. After a few tries, the pressure began to increase and Hailey let out a cry of pain. Jay spoke softly in her ear, trying his best to help her through this. Her hand gripped his so tightly he wasn’t sure he would regain feeling after this. Hailey let out another cry as she pushed again. 

“Jay..” She gasped, tears running down her face. “I can-...I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing great. Just take a breath.” He encouraged her, pressing a kiss against her temple. She bared down for another push, clamping her lips and closing her eyes, and then releasing when the doctor instructed her to do so. 

“One more big push Hailey, we’re almost there.” The doctor encourged. Hailey took another deep breath, giving another push and letting out a gut wrenching scream as the pressure peaked and then she felt a gush of release. Suddenly the sound of a crying baby filled the room and Hailey couldn’t help the sob from escaping her mouth. 

“Here he is.” The nurse came to the other side of her bed and placed the tiny baby on her bare chest. Hailey was full on sobbing now as she took in the small body atop hers. She reached a hand up, caressing his head as he continued to cry. 

“Jay...” Hailey sobbed out, glancing up to meet his eyes and seeing that tears had gathered within them. Jay placed his own hand over hers on the babies head and then bent down to give Hailey a kiss. 

“You did awesome.” The nurse said as she began wiping the baby down and swaddling him into a blanket on top of Hailey. 

“Yeah she did.” Jay said, looking at Hailey again before returning his stare to his son. They were allowed to enjoy the moment for a little while before the nurse came back and said she needed to do a few things with the baby. Another nurse came to her bedside and said she was going to help clean Hailey up. 

“Go tell Will. And I guess everyone else.” Hailey said, letting out a laugh from the rush of happiness she was experiencing. 

“Okay. Are you sure you’re good? I can stay?” Jay asked, not wanting to leave her side. 

“I promise. Go. I love you.” Hailey encouraged him. Jay bent down and gave her another kiss before heading out the door. 

Jay stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the last few hours finally settle in before he set off to find Will. Jay had sent him a quick text and Will said he would meet him in the lobby. Stepping out of the door that lead to the patient rooms, Jay found Will pacing between a row of chairs in the waiting room. As soon as Will saw him, he headed over and pulled him into an uncharacteristic hug. Jay reciprocated before pulling back to take out his phone.

“Here, look at him!” Jay grinned as he pulled up the picture he had snapped of Hailey and the baby. 

“Jay...” Will smiled, taking the phone and staring at the picture. “He’s perfect.” 

“Yeah. They both are.” Jay smiled, feeling moisture return to his eyes. The elevator doors dinged from behind them and suddenly loud commotion filled the waiting room. Jay turned and was surprised to see their entire unit filing into the room. He glanced at Will who shrugged, feigning innocence. 

“They were in the ER for a case when you text. I told them to play it cool but I don’t think that’s possible with that one involved.” Will sighed, nodding towards Vanessa. Jay looked over just as she closed the gap between them, throwing her arms around him in a hug. 

“Let me see that baby Halstead!” She exclaimed, bouncing up and down with excitement. He handed her the phone and jumped when she let out an excited squeal. Kevin came up behind her, glancing at the photo before giving Jay a fist bump. Voight came over then and gave him a hug, surprising almost everyone there. 

“Congratulations Jay. I’ve always felt like you were another son and now...well this is good Jay.” Voights gravelly voice spoke softly and Jay felt a rush of emotion at his sergeants words. He didn’t trust his voice so he simply nodded and smiled at Voight. Jay looked up then to see Adam and Kim lingering on the outskirts of the small crowd. When they saw him looking the slowly approached. Jay felt a slight pang, knowing what they must be thinking about right now and how this should have been them. Adam gave him a quick hug before taking the phone to see the picture. 

“Aw man, look at that little dude. He’s got your nose bro...not sure if that’s good or bad.” Adam teased, flinching when Jay punched his shoulder. Kim took the phone finally, a sad smile reaching her eyes as she took the picture in. 

“Congrats Jay. He looks wonderful.” She smiled up at him but he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. She blinked quickly and tried to blow it off. Jay didn’t draw attention to it and turned to face the group. 

“I better get back to Hailey. I’ll let you all know when she’s up for visitors.” Jay smiled and headed back towards the room containing his perfect new family. He walked into the room and couldn’t help the smile that was beaming across his face. Hailey was in bed, looking a little more put together with the nurses help and was holding the tiny bundle of blankets that was their son. Jay came to sit on the bed beside her, kissing the top of her head as he draped an arm over her shoulders. Hailey smiled up at him before gently rubbing her nose against the baby’s tiny one.

“Are we still settled on the name now that we’ve met him?” Jay asked quietly, taking in the tiny boy laying in her arms. 

“Yes. Elias Alexander Halstead.” Hailey whispered, gently kissing the babies head. 

“It’s perfect.” Jay said, smiling once again at his family.  

[jessahmewren]

“John Doe,” Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction--Poly!Queen Week Day One

Summary: Intrigued by a lonely patient, Nurse John sets out to help him.  

Rating T: For some disturbing themes and imagery

Words: 2964

Pairing: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor

TW: for suicide attempt mention

Also on Ao3 

-0-0-0-

"How is he today?"

John took the chart from the nightshift nurse and thumbed through the last few hours of data. He was tall and trim in his white uniform, with long wavy brown hair and green almost grey eyes. The words on the page confirmed what his co-worker would say next.

"No change. Won't eat, barely speaks.”  The other nurse shrugged and shook her head. Her eyes were ringed and bloodshot in the harsh fluorescent light. "I'm going home," she said tiredly, turning for the elevator. She waited there, rubbing her neck and shoulders until the elevator settled on the floor and she stepped inside.

The psychiatric ward at one of London’s busiest hospitals was not the easiest place to work, but John liked it. His last assignment, Labor and Delivery, was not all that different from what he did now. When you've had a (thankfully) empty bedpan thrown at your head by a spitting, foaming, mother-to-be in the throes of labor pains, a few death wishes and a couple of personality disorders seem to pale in comparison.

John perused John Doe’s file a bit further. No calls. No visitors. It had been two days since his admittance.  He was brought in on a suicide attempt, but that was all he knew.

He knocked experimentally at the door and waited. Nothing. While he didn't have to knock, he often found that it made patients feel more at ease.

“May I come in?" Silence answered, so he eased the door open anyway. His shoes squeaked on the polished floor, abrupt and vulgar in the empty room. It was cavernous within, and quiet. A muted television flashed garish images over the hump of covers in the bed, bathing him in strobing, artificial light.  The man lay on his side facing the wall and did not move. Aside from the patient, there was no other evidence that anyone had been there. No coat over a chair, no stale cup of coffee, no wilting daisies. It was as stark as a tomb.

"Well," John said good-naturedly, "I see you’ve slept some. That's good." When he made no effort to acknowledge him, John crossed and turned on the light over the bed. "But you still haven't eaten," he continued to his captive audience, "we're going to have to do something to change that today, okay?"

The man squinted a bit at the light's assault, raising his arm to shield his eyes. A thick white bandage around his wrist and halfway up his arm bloomed a crimson Rorschach at the sudden movement. It did not go unnoticed. "Let me get that changed for you," John remarked calmly, and set to work.

John performed his ministrations in silence. The man remained mute and limp, allowing him to move and dress his arm with no resistance. If tending the deep slashes in the man's wrist caused him any pain at all, he gave no indication. The striking man stared purposefully at the ceiling, a dispassionate mask firmly in place, refusing to look at the nurse.

John finished his other duties and recorded the data. "Ok, that'll do it then," he said pleasantly. He was careful to not be overtly cheery. "Is there anything you need?"  John waited in the silence.  “You wanna tell me your name?  Would make this a whole lot easier.” 

A curious shadow seemed to pass over the man’s face as he actually turned and regarded John, dark curls framing his face. Beautiful hazel eyes, pupils black and distant, seemed to consider the question. John waited. "Turn off the TV," he said at last.

The therapist had left it on, John was sure, in order for the patient to stay connected to the outside world. There was no bedside control, either. It was standard operating procedure and was therefore supposed to stay on. However, this was the first time the man had spoken to John, so he decided to extend the olive branch a little further and comply.

He reached up and turned it off. The very thin, very sad man with the large, wet eyes looked as though he would say more, so much more, but remained silent. John left him there in the room with the light now extinguished without another word.

---

John’s keys jingled in the lock as he opened the door to his shared flat. He was met by his boyfriend Roger who slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“I missed you doll,” Roger said, a sweet smile on his face. 

When John didn’t say anything at first, Roger frowned.  “Rough day?” 

John hung his head.  “Sort of, yeah.  Where’s Freddie?” 

“In here darling!  We’re having Spaghetti Pomodoro tonight.  I hope that’s ok.” 

John toed off his shoes, leaving them by the door.  “That’s perfect,” he sighed as Roger led him to the couch.  He looked up at him sheepishly.  “Rog, can I have the magic fingers?” 

Roger grinned mischievously, waggling his fingers in the air.  “Ooh, you want these magic fingers, do you?” 

John looked up at him hopefully, his green eyes flashing.  “Please?  My shoulders are killing me.” 

Roger descended upon John’s knotted muscles, digging into the flesh with smooth, kneading motions. 

John moaned in pure pleasure, his head lolling. 

“What are you two getting up to over there?” Freddie called from the kitchen.  “I feel like I’m missing out.” 

 “John wanted the magic fingers,” Roger said between giggles.  “And he’s going to pay me back, aren’t you my love?” 

John reached up to squeeze his hand.  “I always do, don’t I?”

Roger smiled, digging into his shoulder with the pads of his thumb.  “Mmm, you do.  So are you going to tell us about your shitty day?”

John pressed his lips together.  “There’s this patient.” 

Roger kissed the top of his head, his massage finished, and walked around the couch to nuzzle into John’s side.  Freddie had lowered the heat on the pasta sauce, and was now approaching the couch, too. 

“Go on love,” he said as he settled on John’s other side. 

John passed a hand over his face.  “Just one of the suicides.  He doesn’t have anyone, apparently.  But there’s something about him.” 

“What do you think it is?”  Roger inquired, his blue eyes alight with interest. 

“I don’t really know,” John said, shaking his head in frustration.  “But I want to help him.  More than I’ve ever wanted to help anyone.” 

---

John arrived at work earlier than usual, anxious to check on Brian.  He caught up on the nightshift’s report, a deep frown on his face. 

“He tried to take out his iv? 

The nurse at the nurse’s station nodded.  “Panic attack.  The doctor put him under heavy sedation.  He should be up by now, though.  Oh, and he’s in soft restraints.” 

John put a hand on his hip, a headache already starting to form.  He set his lunchbag on the counter, stashing the rest of his stuff behind the desk.  “Hand me his chart; I’ll start with him.” 

John knocked softly, and when he got no response, eased his way inside the room. 

It was so dark.  He could just make out the graceful outline of the man’s body, the billowy gown that swallowed him up, and those generous curls that formed a corona around his head as he reclined in bed.  The sickly glow from the iv pump cast his face in a ghostly pallor, and if John squinted he could just make out his deceptively peaceful features…dark lashes cresting the gentle slope of his cheeks.

John soundlessly made his way to the bed, and only then did he notice the restraints.  Without a word, he reached up and turned on the overhead light, flooding the bed in a fluorescent glow. 

Two hazel eyes blinked at the intrusion, his face a little softer than the day before.  He had a thin, beautiful face, delicate in its own way. 

John smiled.  “Good morning, you.  It’s good to see those eyes open.”

“Brian,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from disuse.  “Call me Brian.” His voice was unexpectedly soft, yet elegant, and John found he liked it very much.  

John stood, his arms folded around his chart and a big smile on his face.  “Well, Brian it is then.  And I’m John.  It’s really nice to meet you.” 

Brian said nothing, but reached a hand up to scratch his nose, only to find them stubbornly bound in the Velcro restraints.  John noticed immediately. 

“You need some help with that?  I’m a professional nose scratcher, among other things.” 

Brian’s mouth quirked in what could be called a smile, and John thrilled inwardly at the victory.  He scratched Brian’s nose for him, and the man sighed in relief. 

John then poured him a glass of water and held it up to his lips for him to drink, which he took a few sip of before John proceeded to check his iv fluids and the rest of his vital signs. 

Then John pulled up that empty chair and leaned in conspiratorially.  “I brought you something today,” he whispered needlessly.  “Lunch.  One of my boyfriends made Spaghetti Pomodoro last night and I thought you might enjoy some.” 

Brian’s eyebrows raised.  “One of your boyfriends?” 

John blushed.  “Yeah, well I have two.” 

“You have two boyfriends and you work in a psychiatric ward.  You must like chaos.” 

John couldn’t hold back his laughter.  “You’re funny, Brian.  Tell you what.  You have lunch with me today, and you can tell me some more jokes.  I’ll even remove those restraints so you can hold your own fork.” 

Brian pursed his lips, and then gave him a genuine little smile.  “Ok,” he said. 

---

When Freddie found out that Brian had liked his cooking, he insisted on visiting him himself…with flowers and a basket of blueberry muffins. 

John was over his head in paperwork when he saw his boyfriend breeze by the nurse’s station, a sunny arrangement of lilies and roses in his arms. 

“Freddie!  Darling, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh! Hello my love!”  He greeted John with a quick kiss, smelling so perfectly of spice and perfume and home that it made John ache. 

When John’s question went unanswered, he gestured to the picnic basket. 

“I thought I would visit your patient, seeing as he hasn’t had any visitors and he already likes my cooking,” he said sweetly.

John could have cried.  This is why he loved the men he did. 

“That’s…that’s so lovely Freddie.  I’m sure Brian will be happy to see you.”

Freddie thrilled.  “I hope so.  Let’s find out.  Point me to his room?”

John did, asking Freddie if he wanted him to go in with him. 

“No darling, I want to go in by myself.  I’m a visitor, not a nurse.  No needles from me, just treats!” 

John wondered briefly what all he had in that basket. 

Freddie knocked on the door and received a hesitant “come in” in reply.

Brian was sat up in bed.  His restraints were off and a pitcher of water was beside him on the table.  Nothing else was in the room. 

“Um, hi darling.  My name is Freddie.  I’ve been making your lunches.  I thought maybe I might visit you for a bit?” 

Brian’s eyes lit as though he already knew him. “A visitor,” he exclaimed, and his eyes misted over.  “Please, come sit down Freddie.”

Freddie crossed to the table and pushed the water pitcher over to make room for the flowers.  “These are for you love,” he said softly.  “They really brighten up the place, I think.” 

Brian swallowed.  “They’re really beautiful,” Brian said almost to himself.  “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Freddie lay the picnic basket on the edge of the bed.  “Well I do!  Have one of these muffins.  I made them just for you.  We can eat and have a chat!”

Brian’s eyes lit at the muffins, still warm from the oven.  He took one gingerly in his hand and held it to his nose.

“Go on,” Freddie encouraged, “take a bite.” 

“Mmm,” Brian hummed around a mouthful of muffin.  “Can I have another after this one?” 

Freddie laughed.  “The whole basket is yours darling.  Plus I brought you some other things,” and Freddie began pulling out slippers, pajamas, candy and puzzle books. 

Brian frowned.  “They won’t let me have a pen or pencil,” he said, a little embarrassed. 

Freddie waved it off.  “Next time I’ll bring crayons.” 

“You’re coming back?” 

Freddie smiled.  “Of course I am.” 

---

“He’s into astronomy,” Freddie replied excitedly.  “He’s studying astrophysics in school. Very bright.  He loves music too.”

Roger spoke around a mouthful of food.  “Do you have any idea why he uh…you know.” 

“We don’t ask,” John said matter-of-factly.  “We leave that to the therapists.” 

“I know,” Roger said.  “I’m just curious.” 

Freddie cocked his head.  “Well…he told me he came out to his parents and they rejected him.  That couldn’t have helped.”

Groans reverberated all around the table. 

“He literally has no one, John,” Freddie said gravely, “and he’s just lovely.” 

Roger chased his food around his plate with his fork.  “I’m going to see him then,” Roger said finally.  “Take him some things.  Give him someone else to look at besides Freddie.” 

Freddie stuck his tongue out at him and they all laughed. 

---

Roger arrived at Brian’s door with a stack of books in his hand.  He knocked quietly and received the same hesitant “come in,” that Freddie did, so he pushed his way inside. 

Brian was standing at the window wearing the pajamas Freddie had bought him.  They had all guessed at the size using John’s observations, but they were still a little short on him.  Roger cleared his throat. 

“Hey Brian, I’m Roger.  John and Freddie’s boyfriend?  I’ve heard so much about you that I thought I’d like to meet you…maybe spend some time with you if that’s ok.”

Brian huffed a little laugh, an odd look on his face.  “You guys just keep getting better looking,” and smiled when Roger actually blushed. 

Freddie made sure the flowers stayed fresh, so there were freesias this week and the room smelled divine.  Roger placed his stack of books on the table and kept his hand there, nervously tapping his fingers. 

Roger really hadn’t expected Brian to be so tall and well, handsome. 

“I brought you some books and magazines,” he began.  “Freddie told us you like astronomy and music, so I picked carefully.  I hope you like them.” 

Brian began to thumb through his choices, smiling broadly.  “What kind of music do you like?”

---

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go after he gets out,” Roger stated flatly as they sat watching the telly.  “His parents have abandoned him and his flatmate kicked him out.  All because he’s gay.  Unbelievable.” 

John shook his head.  “It’s not really.  We’re just really lucky.  A lot of people think that way.” 

Freddie frowned.  “It’s fucking disgusting.” 

“Well what’s going to happen to Brian?” Roger continued. 

John pursed his lips.  “Why can’t he stay with us for a while?  Just until he gets on his feet?”

Freddie clapped his hands.  “Oh, that’s a marvelous idea dear.  We have the spare room.”

Roger nodded.  “Freddie and I will get to work getting it ready.  When is he released?” 

John thought for a moment.  “Next week I believe.  That should be plenty of time.” 

John kissed both of his boyfriends.  This situation was turning out better than he’d hoped. 

---

The next day Roger and Freddie showed up at the hospital so all three could go in and ask Brian about their plans.  When the time came, they went in to find Brian sitting up in one of the chairs reading a book.  He smiled at them.

“All three of you?  This is a surprise.”  He eyed John.  “Is this official nurse business or just a visit?” 

John smiled.  “Just a visit this time.” 

“We actually had a question we wanted to ask you,” Freddie said.  “You’ll be released soon, and we wondered where you might go.”

Brian blinked, looking down.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

John spoke up.  “Would you consider coming home with us?  You know, just until you get things figured out?” 

A bright smile lit Brian’s face, then disappeared just as quickly.  “I can’t let you do that, John.  I’ve been too much of an imposition already.” 

Roger piped up.  “No you haven’t!  We enjoy your company, Brian.  We want you to stay with us.  Don’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Freddie agreed. 

“Yes,” John added.  “Would you please consider coming home with us?  Your room is all ready.  All you have to do is say yes.” 

 Brian swallowed, but there was a longing in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ll consider it,” he said.

“Good darling,” Freddie said as they turned to leave.  “No more muffins until you say yes,” he said with a wink.

---

Brian said nothing more about his decision until it was time for his discharge from the hospital.  John quietly got the paperwork ready, helped him put his meager belongings in a bag, and put him in a wheelchair per hospital policy.  John knelt in front of him, eyes imploring. 

“So, Brian…where are you off too today?” 

Brian sat for a moment.  “I think I’m ready to go home,” he said thoughtfully. 

It took John by surprise.  “Really.” 

“Yeah,” Brian said with a slow smile lighting his face.  “It’s Tuesday, and Freddie makes Spaghetti Pomodoro on Tuesday.” 

John reached out to ruffle the man’s dark curls, noticing how he leaned into the touch.  “Indeed he does, Brian.  Let’s go home then.” 

-0-0-0-

[marvel-nerd-87]

Haunting Me (3/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, PTSD, torture.

Words: 996 (how’s that for a comeback!)

Italics are flashbacks

AN:I PROMISE I PUT THIS UP ON THE RIGHT DAY, IM JUST A WHOLE ASS IDIOT AND FORGOT TAGS AND THE TAGLIST LMAOOOOOO

TAGLIST OPEN

Bucky stayed with you all night, his chest to your back, all of this felt like a hazy dream. You had spent the past year without him, without the only thing that made your prison life slightly bearable. You woke up the next morning to Bruce checking your chart and adjusting your medication, years spent in a cold, damp cell had done a number on your immune system.

“Good morning (Name), Bucky will be here shortly to show you to your room. You’re still gonna need to take antibiotics for the next two weeks but there’s no need to keep you under my watch anymore.”

“Hey uh-Bruce, I was wondering if I could shower?”

“Oh, well Bucky’s out on a run with Steve and Sam but if you’re comfortable I’m sure Wanda or Natasha could come help if you’d like.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“FRIDAY, Send Wanda or Natasha to the clinic please.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

After Bruce had disconnected all the monitors and IVs 2 women walked into the room.

“This is Natasha”, Bruce gestured to a woman with short red hair, “and this is Wanda” he addressed the brunette.

“You needed us?” Wanda questioned in a vaguely Europen accent.

“Yes, (Name) wanted to shower and I was wondering if you guys would be willing to help?”

“Of course.” Natasha smiled and helped you out of the bed. You wobbled a little because it had been a while since you actually walked. She supported you until you could walk on your own. They led you to a door on the other side of the clinic, “Get undressed and get in and we’ll go grab you some clothes and shower stuff.”

You slipped the loose fitting hospital gown off and looked at yourself in the mirror. How long had it been since you’d seen your own reflection?

Day 73 without B

They locked you in a room of mirrors. Some type of psychological test they said. The silence was deafening. You could hear the blood rushing through your body. The first hour or so was filled with screams for help, begging them to let you out. How long had it been? You didn’t know. It was always bright in the room, you couldn’t tell night from day. All you could do was stare at your own reflection. Your once (skin tone) had lost all life, taking a sort of grey undertone. Your (hair type & color) was unkempt and dirty. Your (eye color) eyes were basically hollow. You were losing whatever sanity they hadn’t already robbed you off.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder and you jumped back.

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring at yourself for a long time.” Wanda looked at you with concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m, I’m fine. Just guess I haven’t seen my reflection in a while. I forgot what I looked like.”

“Well here are your clothes and a towel ”, She sat down what she was carrying with a smile, “and this is your shampoo, body wash, and conditioner. Anything else you need have FRIDAY put it on the shopping list and I’m sure Happy can pick it up next time he goes shopping. Bucky will be here soon.”

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“No problem, (Name). I’m here if you need me.”

As you stepped under the stream off water your muscles immediately relaxed on contact with the heat. You hadn’t had a hot shower or a shower in years. The shampoo had a relaxing lavender scent. As you washed your hair you could feel the years of built up dirt fading away. It almost felt like they years of abuse were being washed out of your brain but it could never be that easy.

You stepped out of the shower and dried your body off before putting on the clothes Wanda brought. A pair of black leggings and a red Henley shirt. You walked out of the bathroom and were greeted by Bucky sitting on your bed smiling at you.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Uh-Maybe? Wanda brought it to me. Do you want it back?”

“No keep it, it looked better on you anyways. Ready to go to your room?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He took your hand and led you down the hall to an elevator.

“We’re on the same floor, so I’m nearby if you need me.” He pressed the button to the 6th floor.

“We have a kitchen, Den, and a bathroom on our floor but we usually hangout in the main living room and kitchen. Wanda is the best cook so she usually handles dinner.”

The elevator door opened to a beautiful den with a giant floor to ceiling window with a beautiful view of the city.

“There are lots of snacks in the kitchen and if you don’t like any of those FRIDAY can put whatever you do want on Happy’s list.”

“Who’s FRIDAY?”

“She’s Tony’s weird robot assistant thing. It was Jarvis at one point but Jarvis is kind of a living person thing robot now and he’s dating Wanda. It’s a little weird but you get used to it. This is your room.”

The walls were empty and there was a huge bed in the middle and a desk in the corner.

“I know it’s not much but tomorrow I’ll take you to buy some clothes and stuff to decorate it.”

“Anything’s better than that cell.” You sat on your bed. It was soft, maybe to soft after spending the last few years sleeping on a pad on the floor.

“You get used to it, I think Wanda and Steve are cooking breakfast if you'd like to get something to eat?”

“I’m starving.” You got up and stood in front of Bucky looking into his blue eyes.

“I missed you so much, thank you for coming back for me.”

“I never stopped looking for you. I needed you back in my arms and now that I have you back, I’m not losing you again.”

TAGLIST: @honeyyhugs @ifantasizeromance @dumblani @technolilly @magiclolipopqueen @girlwith100names @aveatquevale- @tarithenurse @derekxsammy @callie-bear15 @iris-suoh @mcu-master @pennyinthewell @loki-hurt @loki-loving @chloe-geoghegan1 @psychicway @veganfangirl5 @blu-eyed-devil

[cyberwolfwrites]

Peter Meets the Avengers (V. 2)

“Mr. Stark, I’m fine!” Peter says, reaching towards his backpack that Tony is currently holding.   Tony pulls it out of his reach and Peter winces as his side stings in pain.  Tony raises an eyebrow at the wince.

“I’m not letting you carry the bag, Pete,” Tony says, walking into the elevator, Peter stepping in beside him.  “You just got out of the medbay because you decided to go and get yourself shot.  You’re so lucky that I didn’t call May about this."  Peter visibly deflates at that, hissing as his ribs throb in pain.

"It only skimmed me,” he utters, crossing his arms over his chest.  “And besides!  It’s not I haven’t been shot before!"  Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, because how could I not remember when Karen–not you–called me because you decided not to inform me that you were digging a bullet out of your leg with your eyebrow tweezers," Tony says sarcastically as the elevator stops.

"They weren’t mine!” Peter stressesm as he follows Tony out of the elevator and into the common room of the Avengers Facility.  “They were Aunt May’s!”

“That doesn’t make it better, kid,” Tony mutters, tossing Peter’s bookbag onto the couch.  “Go ahead and get started on your homework,” Tony looks up at the ceiling, “Friday, can you put Star Wars Episode IV on?”

“Of course, sir,” Friday says, the TV flicking on not even a second later.  Tony bustles around the room, brewing a new pot of coffee and tossing a few bags of popcorn in the microwave.  He grabs some blankets out of the cupboard by the TV–a new addition after learning that Peter gets cold easily since he can’t thermoregulate anymore–and grabs the popcorn from the two microwaves and a cup of coffee.

Tony joins Peter on the couch where he’s in the middle of some complicated looking chemistry homework.  “Need any help, kid?” Tony asks, watching as Peter fills out his worksheet.  Not to his surprise, Peter shakes his head.

“I’m good, Dad,” Peter says, not even realizing that he’s said dad as he tends to do every once and a while.  “I’ve got it covered."  Tony just hums and covers the two of them in blankets before focusing on the movie.

It’s not even halfway into the movie until Peter’s finished with his homework.  There wasn’t too much assigned this weekend and he got most of it done on the four-hour drive up here, despite the fact that he got shot a little before Happy came to pick him up.  Peter had managed to hide his bleeding side from the man easily and it had actually scabbed over by the time that he arrived at the Facility, but apparently, he can’t hide anything from Tony, who met him at the Facility door.

Peter tosses his things to the side and scoots a little closer to Tony, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to feel his body heat.  Tony just sighs as he feels the spiderling sidle up beside him and wraps his arm around the kid, pulling Peter into his side.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs, his head resting on the man’s shoulder.  Tony just brings a hand up and cards his fingers through Peter’s curls and hums contentedly.  The kid’s started to leave his curls alone after Tony mentioned that it calms him when they’re watching a movie together and end up cuddling.

It’s not long until Peter’s yawning and fighting off sleep.  The movie’s got about half an hour left but the methodical way that Tony runs his hand through Peter’s curls and the arc reactor’s soft buzzing begins to lull him to sleep.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Tony mutters catching sight of the time.  It’s been a long day for the both of them–it’s nearly nine at night–and that wound has to be zapping Peter’s energy.

Peter nods off with Tony’s reassurance and Tony just sits there, enjoying the moment with his kid.  That is until Friday interrupts him with less than favorable news.

“Sir, it appears that the ‘rogue’ Avengers are on their way up,” she says, causing Tony to curse under his breath.  He stills as Peter shuffles a little.  There isn’t enough time to even wake the kid, let alone get him a floor up where his and Tony’s bedrooms are, not that far away from the rest of the groups’.  And honestly, Tony doesn’t want to wake Peter up.

He’s noticed that the kid has been going out at random hours for patrol that is pass curfew–which they will be talking about–but he’s also noticed how the kid’s been a little more quiet and tired lately.  That only leads to one conclusion and that means that he’s been having nightmares, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin the little bit of uninterrupted sleep his kid seems to be getting.

Tony grimaces and decides to just let the group up and not disrupt Peter.  He knew that they’d be returning, the Accords had been revised for a few months and they’ve been pardoned for just as long.  He just hates that they’ve decided to come now when his kid is hurt.

The dreaded ding of the elevator announces the arrival of the group and what they’re met with is Tony’s glare.  They haven’t seen Peter yet, but as they shuffle in sheepishly, they notice the bookbag, the movie, and the kid tucked into Tony’s side.  Clint opens his mouth to make a remark but Tony beats him to it.

“If any of you wake the kid, I will kill you."  Clint promptly closes his mouth and Tony continues in a whisper.  "Your rooms are where you remember them and they’re untouched, but they might be a little bit dusty.  Now, get lost."  Steve looks like he wants to say something but the muttering of the mystery kid cuts him off.

"Dad?"  The word’s a soft mutter, but with how quiet it is in the room–the TV had been muted–everyone heard it.  Everyone’s faces color in disbelief and shock and Tony sends them a stern glare before softening his gaze as he looks down at the kid cuddled into his chest.

"Yeah, Pete?” Tony asks, his voice low enough that only Peter can catch it.  His kid moves around a little before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.  Peter reaches for something, possibly a blanket that fell on the ground, before pulling back with a sharp hiss.

“Ow,” Peter groans, not yet noticing the group of stock-still superheroes.  “I think I tore my stitches."  He rubs at his eyes a little more before looking around the room, almost immediately locking eyes with the rogue Avengers.  "Uh, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighs.  “They just got up here, bud, don’t worry.  Blows aren’t going to be thrown around tonight,” Tony says, leaning up and looking at Peter’s side.  “Now, let me see if you actually tore your stitches.”

The rogue Avengers watch in shock and disbelief as the mystery kid lifts up his shirt and peels back a slightly bloodied bandage while Tony pulls a first-aid kit seemingly out of nowhere.  Even more shock is bestowed upon the group as they all realize the wound for what it is, a gunshot wound.  Peter and Tony don’t pay them any mind as Tony changes the bloodied gauze and tapes the wound up.  They may have gotten the wound checked out not even two hours ago, but Peter already managed to get quite a bit of blood on the gauze pad he had since apparently, the stitches pulled a bit when he was laying against Tony.

“Go on up to bed, kiddo,” Tony says, packing up the first-aid kit and putting it away.  “You can meet everyone tomorrow."  Peter seems to want to say something but one stern look from Tony leaves him reaching for his bag.  "You can leave the bag down here, Pete,” Tony says, worried about Peter’s wound.  “I’ll bring it up in a bit.”

“Okay,” Peter says softly, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way past the group of still shocked superheroes.  “Night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, sending a look to the group as they go to say something to Peter.  Tony waits until the elevator’s closed before sighing and beginning to clean up the mess that he and Peter made.  “Are you guys going to head up to your rooms or what?”

“You can’t just expect us to leave without asking you about the kid!” Clint sputters, gesturing wildly towards the elevator doors.  “I thought I was the only one with a secret family!”

Tony glares at Clint, clenching his jaw as he throws the blankets into the cupboard, not even bothering to fold them.  He tosses the popcorn away and grabs his cup of coffee.  “Tony, who is that kid?” Steve says cautiously, a frown marring his face.

“He’s none of your business, Rogers,” Tony grounds out, making his way to the elevator.  “Now if you need me, I’ll be in my lab."  Another question makes him halt.

"He yours?” Natasha asks softly.  Tony grinds his teeth.

“Yeah,” he says finally.  “He’s mine."  At that, he walks into the elevator, ignoring their questions as he makes his way to his lab for some well-deserved tinkering.

[dawnowar]

Rambling about racist uncles and HBO and my glasses.

and my foot, which i broke like over 3 yrs ago which they told me probably wont ever be right again and it took like 2 yrs but then it pretty much was so I was busy carrying on a normal active life when it swelled up again a couple weeks ago.

Not a big deal, I’ve been through this before and I know what to do but this time I don’t want to slow down and elevate it and spend a lot of time in a heating pad. Dammit.

I was VERY active the whole week it finally swelled up. From doing several workouts daily to going out nightly to rock and roll mosh pits and literally standing around for hours every day when it finally revolted. I’ve been not babying it enough and its not getting better so this week I decided to take some time. I have time this week. My work schedule is literally half normal this week. Coincidentally. 

So i got HBO this month and decided to get myself engrossed in The Leftovers, which I don’t know anything about except that I’m sure to love it by the reactions of podcasters I trust. Just finished Ep 1 and so far Im excited. Also ive been off my foot which is elevated and in a heating pad for over an hour. Which is probably the most time off its had since before it swelled up.

I havent’ had to deal w/my foot swelling in probably over a year now and I really thought I was good to go forever. But I guess not. Still i think I was active beyond the demands of most average people when it happened so I’m gonna nurse it back to normal and probably/hopefully have another good year or so before it happens again.

I’ve been making the mistake of arguing w people on facebook. Cause I’m tired of all these fucking racist uncles I seem to have. How is every rocker dude my age that grew up with me doing the same shit I did suddenly turned into My Trump supporting racist uncle? 

No wonder I’ve not been in a hurry to date lately. 

I’ve not been in any hurry to do anything lately. The shows are mostly crappy. Stoner rock or Black Metal. Thats all the choices. Stoners are boring af and Black Metal has a Nazi problem. These shows just arent fun for me anymore. May as well save my money and buy more glasses.

Thats my #1 hobby right now. I have a pair currently lost in the post office system somewhere. They can’t tell me when but they say it’ll probably arrive one day. I told myself id stop buying glasses till i get this pair, since they *should* be a pair I can see everything in and that matches what my other pair doesn’t. That *should* be enough pairs. But here i am waiting perpetually for what may or may not be the last pair I need. 

While I hold myself back from ordering more. Because I don’t have that pair and I need one more pair. and it may never come. I don’t know.... Maybe i should just order another pair.

Anyway. Fuck all these racist uncles on fb. Theyre all getting the big boot. Thought i got rid of most of them but it turns out theres still racist uncles on my friends list. Now and again they surface.

Today on a thread about how “Obama was the most corrupt president ever” I was told what a joke my political opinions are.... said something like old white dudes acting like racists uncles talking amongst themselves does not make fiction true. 

Actually i think i said something like youll all die one day and your opinions will die with you. Cause im convinced all the kids in america are all openly bisexual and in mixed-race relationships. I’ve just really had enough of old white dudes telling me Fox News is the only one that “tells it like it is” and I’ve decided I’m not putting up with any of this shit to keep peace anymore and I don’t care what bridges get burned in the process.

It’s not worth it to me. I don’t need any more Racist Uncles. Its been a process for me... how im gonna deal with these people in my life who have differing politics. I started out just not discussing news with them. But what happened was i didnt notice they were turning more racist/sexist/etcist daily until years later when I’m HORRIFIED to see the things they say.

Were these people like this always and I didn’t notice or did they just get this way recently? So i made peace with it for the last year or so I think basically by telling myself yeah well.. everyone has racist uncles... me too i guess even though they arent actual family.

But now, a year later.. im like.. i dont need any racist uncles. I’m good. Fuck these assholes. Burning that bridge. 

Maybe I’ll order another pair of glasses anyway. 

Or maybe Ill just watch another episode of The Leftovers. 

[apsbicepstraining]

Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’

The 41 -year-olds training camp in the Alps consider this to be the fixed for a repugnance film and he tells Sachin Nakrani he is in the mood to give Anthony Joshua a scare when they meet on 29 April at Wembley

Stanglwirt is a sprawling bio-hotel located in the Austrian Alps and which at first glance looks like the setting for a slow-burning, creepy-crawly horror movie. With its rocky background and somewhat kitsch interior heavy grove panelling, stripy sofas it brings about reminiscences of the Overlook Hotel from Stephen Kings The Shining. Walk through the foyer, past the staff garmented in lederhosen, and it is like simply a matter of time until a clock goes off, a jackas springs out and a organization falls down the stairs.

But on this spring visit there is no repugnance to be had. Instead, amid the restaurants and saloons, the spas, saunas and swimming pool, resides a storey of saving. Or, as Wladimir Klitschko puts it, fulfilling an obsession.

The heavyweight is here to prepare for his bout with Anthony Joshua at Wembley Stadium on 29 April. Stanglwirt has been his pre-fight base since 2003 and a lieu he describes as a dwelling away from residence. It is easy to see the appeal for all its Heres Johnny! excellences, the complex , now more than 250 years old, is a beautiful neighbourhood to invest some time. Pristine, picturesque, heated, friendly and with plenty to do and destroy. For Klitschko it is somewhere to get his attention and mas right, which now now more than ever is important for a boxing great who, as he declares, is about to take over a career-defining challenge.

Klitschko has not fought since his shock defeat to Tyson Fury in Dsseldorf 17 months ago. It was an outcome that not only deprived the Ukrainian of his WBA, IBF and WBO designations but also of his coat of near-invincibility. Dr Steelhammer, a fighter who had self-assured 53 of his 64 success across a 27 -year career by knockout, was outgunned by a man who dressed as Batman for one of their pre-fight press conference. Fury was a gag, yet after a unanimous qualities decision on 28 November 2015 he was the one laughing.

Much has happened to Fury since that night and one of the consequences has been Klitschko missing out on a rematch that would have rendered him with a chance to prove he is no busted blush after a fourth demolish since shifting professional in 1996. Unfinished business, as he sets it. Now, eventually, comes the chance for him to go again against a British fighter.

Wladimir Klitschko and his physio Aldo Vetere at the Stanglwirt hotel. Photograph: Johann Groder/ AFP/ Getty Images

Joshua, the IBF champion, poses a different menace to Fury a year younger at 27, greater and more deadly. Then there is the settled: a stadium Klitschko has never fought at, in front of a 90,000 sellout crowd. He is over there on the back of his longest period of inactivity since first fastening up a duo of gloves, and having exactly rotated 41. Little wonder this most assured of men is full of questions, full of doubts, as he spoke at Stanglwirt.

This fight is 50 -5 0, Klitschko said. Can the younger guy make it? Has the older person still got it? Doubt scores are making this event really interesting. Ive never had a pause for a year and a half. Is it bad? Is it good? Will I have rust? I want the answers myself.

One thing I believe is I dont find my age. Its not empty words. I am getting in the best influence of my life, physically and mentally. I dont investigate Im fasten and not improving, even in a athletic Ive been involved with for so long. Thats what interests and elicits me.

Klitschko surely ogled well as he addrest, flanked by his manager, Bernd Bnte, and his coach, Johnathon Banks.

The body remains enforcing and defined, his appearance chiselled and those sides continue to look like weapons of mass destruction. Expected to predict how the fight with Joshua will go, Klitschko elevated his fists and nodded towards them in turn. Funeral or hospital? Hospital or funeral? I dont need many punches to knock person or persons out.

That was a uncommon moment of trash-talking swagger from the ex-serviceman( alongside the moment he claimed Joshua get confidence from his muscles and is better suited to bodybuilding ).

Generally Klitschko was respectful of his rival, assume partly out of the fact Joshua goes into their fight on the back of a perfect professional record 18 acquires from 18 opposes, all achieved via knockout and partly because of the respect Klitschko developed for “the mens” from Watford, having invited him to be a sparring partner in November 2014, before taking on the Bulgarian Kubrat Pulev.

He amazed me with his attitude, Klitschko says. He was in the background and memorizing. Sometimes you need to be quiet and just watch, and he was observing everything. He could also chest, so I dedicated him credit and I was there in the arena when he won gold[ at London 2012 ]~ ATAGEND. Every medallist in the super-heavyweight department at the Olympics has to be considered successful. He has a lot of possibilities and so far has done good.

Unlike Fury, Joshua is likely to engage with Klitschko from the first bell, looking to flora his paws and unload bombards as often as possible. On one mitt that provides the challenger with a digesting target not to mention a supposedly vulnerable chins but on the other it represents he will have to engage himself, something Klitschko did only in the 12 th round of the Fury fight when his uncharacteristic hesitancy against a moving target had given him no choice but to go for break-dance. Eventually it was too little, too late.

Klitschko insists he has learned from his mistakes and will be fully prepared for current challenges by the time he arrives in London on 26 April. Until then it is a suit of working on and biding focused, something that was there to learnt at Stanglwirt.

The scene was a proselytized tennis courtroom in the bowels of the inn. In the middle held a sound while at one back were three punchbags hung in ascending prescribe and at another a basketball cyberspace where, at around 8am, Banks filmed bands with another member of backroom unit as Klitschko went through a series of elongating rehearsals. Two television screens had been put in demonstrating Joshuas previous engages, everything taking place to the clang of Motown classics. It was a tighten start.

Banks and Klitschko eventually underwent some pad work inside the ring. It was, in keeping with the mood of the morning, a relatively soothing conference but the din of thudding fists carried enough of an resemble to remind spectators of the supremacy coming Joshuas way later this month. The 27 -year-old is the favourite with most bookmakers but complacency would be foolhardy against a husband who has been there, said and done, and is penetrating the ring not because he needs the money but because he is determined to remind the world he remains one of “the worlds largest” durable heavyweights and, yet again, has what it takes to be a champion.

Wladimir Klitschko was uncharacteristically hesitant against Tyson Fury in 2015. Photograph: Kai Pfaffenbach/ Reuters

Failure is an experience and Im coming after a defeat[ against Fury] with a totally different outlook, Klitschko says. I learned more about myself, about boxing, through that win. Regrettably I cannot change it, or have a second film like in golf theres no mulligan for me. But Im not a destroyed man.

This may sound arrogant but I am like Mount Everest. You can clamber it during a certain period during two weeks in April I guess and say: I curbed Everest. Then youve got to run down because its going to take you down if you miss the time.

Some make it back but a lot of people die, so is Mount Everest demolished? No, its still here and its going to take another life this April.

Sky Sports Box Office just goes to show Joshua v Klitschko exclusively live on 29 April. To notebook going to see www.skysports.com/ joshua

The post Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[cyberwolfwrites]

#18--May 1, 2019

Interrogating his son won’t help

“Mr. Stark, I’m fine!” Peter says, reaching towards his backpack that Tony is currently holding.   Tony pulls it out of his reach and Peter winces as his side stings in pain.  Tony raises an eyebrow at the wince.

“I’m not letting you carry the bag, Pete,” Tony says, walking into the elevator, Peter stepping in beside him.  “You just got out of the medbay because you decided to go and get yourself shot.  You’re so lucky that I didn’t call May about this.“  Peter visibly deflates at that, hissing as his ribs throb in pain.

"It only skimmed me,” he utters, crossing his arms over his chest.  “And besides!  It’s not I haven’t been shot before!”  Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, because how could I not remember when Karen–not you–called me because you decided not to inform me that you were digging a bullet out of your leg with your eyebrow tweezers," Tony says sarcastically as the elevator stops.

"They weren’t mine!” Peter stresses as he follows Tony out of the elevator and into the common room of the Avengers Facility.  “They were Aunt May’s!”

“That doesn’t make it better, kid,” Tony mutters, tossing Peter’s bookbag onto the couch.  “Go ahead and get started on your homework,” Tony looks up at the ceiling, “Friday, can you put Star Wars Episode IV on?”

“Of course, sir,” Friday says, the TV flicking on not even a second later.  Tony bustles around the room, brewing a new pot of coffee and tossing a few bags of popcorn in the microwave.  He grabs +some blankets out of the cupboard by the TV–a new addition after learning that Peter gets cold easily since he can’t thermoregulate anymore–and grabs the popcorn from the two microwaves and a cup of coffee.

Tony joins Peter on the couch where he’s in the middle of some complicated looking chemistry homework.  “Need any help, kid?” Tony asks, watching as Peter fills out his worksheet.  Not to his surprise, Peter shakes his head.

“I’m good, Dad,” Peter says, not even realizing that he’s said dad as he tends to do every once and a while.  “I’ve got it covered."  Tony just hums and covers the two of them in blankets before focusing on the movie.

It’s not even halfway into the movie until Peter’s finished with his homework.  There wasn’t too much assigned this weekend and he got most of it done on the four-hour drive up here, despite the fact that he got shot a little before Happy came to pick him up.  Peter had managed to hide his bleeding side from the man easily and it had actually scabbed over by the time that he arrived at the Facility, but apparently, he can’t hide anything from Tony, who met him at the Facility door.

Peter tosses his things to the side and scoots a little closer to Tony, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to feel his body heat.  Tony just sighs as he feels the spiderling sidle up beside him and wraps his arm around the kid, pulling Peter into his side.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs, his head resting on the man’s shoulder.  Tony just brings a hand up and cards his fingers through Peter’s curls and hums contentedly.  The kid’s started to leave his curls alone after Tony mentioned that it calms him when they’re watching a movie together and end up cuddling.

It’s not long until Peter’s yawning and fighting off sleep.  The movie’s got about half an hour left but the methodical way that Tony runs his hand through Peter’s curls and the arc reactor’s soft buzzing begins to lull him to sleep.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Tony mutters catching sight of the time.  It’s been a long day for the both of them–it’s nearly nine at night–and that wound has to be zapping Peter’s energy.

Peter nods off with Tony’s reassurance and Tony just sits there, enjoying the moment with his kid.  That is until Friday interrupts him with less than favorable news.

“Sir, it appears that the ‘rogue’ Avengers are on their way up,” she says, causing Tony to curse under his breath.  He stills as Peter shuffles a little.  There isn’t enough time to even wake the kid, let alone get him a floor up where his and Tony’s bedrooms are, not that far away from the rest of the groups’.  And honestly, Tony doesn’t want to wake Peter up.

He’s noticed that the kid has been going out at random hours for patrol that is pass curfew–which they will be talking about–but he’s also noticed how the kid’s been a little more quiet and tired lately.  That only leads to one conclusion and that means that he’s been having nightmares, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin the little bit of uninterrupted sleep his kid seems to be getting.

Tony grimaces and decides to just let the group up and not disrupt Peter.  He knew that they’d be returning, the Accords had been revised for a few months and they’ve been pardoned for just as long.  He just hates that they’ve decided to come now when his kid is hurt.

The dreaded ding of the elevator announces the arrival of the group and what they’re met with is Tony’s glare.  They haven’t seen Peter yet, but as they shuffle in sheepishly, they notice the bookbag, the movie, and the kid tucked into Tony’s side.  Clint opens his mouth to make a remark but Tony beats him to it.

“If any of you wake the kid, I will kill you.”  Clint promptly closes his mouth and Tony continues in a whisper.  "Your rooms are where you remember them and they’re untouched, but they might be a little bit dusty.  Now, get lost.“  Steve looks like he wants to say something but the muttering of the mystery kid cuts him off.

"Dad?”  The word’s a soft mutter, but with how quiet it is in the room–the TV had been muted–everyone heard it.  Everyone’s faces color in disbelief and shock and Tony sends them a stern glare before softening his gaze as he looks down at the kid cuddled into his chest.

“Yeah, Pete?” Tony asks, his voice low enough that only Peter can catch it.  His kid moves around a little before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.  Peter reaches for something, possibly a blanket that fell on the ground, before pulling back with a sharp hiss.

“Ow,” Peter groans, not yet noticing the group of stock-still superheroes.  “I think I tore my stitches.” ��He rubs at his eyes a little more before looking around the room, almost immediately locking eyes with the rogue Avengers.  "Uh, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighs.  “They just got up here, bud, don’t worry.  Blows aren’t going to be thrown around tonight,” Tony says, leaning up and looking at Peter’s side.  “Now, let me see if you actually tore your stitches.”

The rogue Avengers watch in shock and disbelief as the mystery kid lifts up his shirt and peels back a slightly bloodied bandage while Tony pulls a first-aid kit seemingly out of nowhere.  Even more shock is bestowed upon the group as they all realize the wound for what it is, a gunshot wound.  Peter and Tony don’t pay them any mind as Tony changes the bloodied gauze and tapes the wound up.  They may have gotten the wound checked out not even two hours ago, but Peter already managed to get quite a bit of blood on the gauze pad he had since apparently, the stitches pulled a bit when he was laying against Tony.

“Go on up to bed, kiddo,” Tony says, packing up the first-aid kit and putting it away.  “You can meet everyone tomorrow.“  Peter seems to want to say something but one stern look from Tony leaves him reaching for his bag.  "You can leave the bag down here, Pete,” Tony says, worried about Peter’s wound.  “I’ll bring it up in a bit.”

“Okay,” Peter says softly, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way past the group of still shocked superheroes.  “Night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, sending a look to the group as they go to say something to Peter.  Tony waits until the elevator’s closed before sighing and beginning to clean up the mess that he and Peter made.  “Are you guys going to head up to your rooms or what?”

“You can’t just expect us to leave without asking you about the kid!” Clint sputters, gesturing wildly towards the elevator doors.  “I thought I was the only one with a secret family!”

Tony glares at Clint, clenching his jaw as he throws the blankets into the cupboard, not even bothering to fold them.  He tosses the popcorn away and grabs his cup of coffee.  “Tony, who is that kid?” Steve says cautiously, a frown marring his face.

“He’s none of your business, Rogers,” Tony grounds out, making his way to the elevator.  “Now if you need me, I’ll be in my lab.”  Another question makes him halt.

“He yours?” Natasha asks softly.  Tony grinds his teeth.

“Yeah,” he says finally.  “He’s mine.”  At that, he walks into the elevator, ignoring their questions as he makes his way to his lab for some well-deserved tinkering.

Peter rubs at his eyes as he sits up, blinking against the minimal light shining through the blinds.  He tenderly stretches to see if his side has healed and is delighted when there’s only a little ache.  Lifting up his shirt, which Peter recognizes to be an old Black Sabbath shirt that belongs to Mr. Stark, Peter looks down at his bandage.

There’s no blood on it, and when Peter slowly peels away the gauze pad, he’s faced with a nearly fully healed gunshot wound.  He estimates that the stitches can come out today and he’ll have to ask Mr. Stark if he can remove them for him.  Peter would remove them himself but he got a very long talk the last time he did so by both his nurse Aunt and Mr. Stark.

Letting the shirt fall back down, Peter jumps off his bed and heads into his bathroom.  After doing his business, and brushing his teeth because Mr. Stark commented on it the last time he didn’t, Peter heads down to the kitchen-slash-common room.

Friday takes him down without saying anything.  Peter’s stayed over enough that she knows the drill and only a few seconds later the elevator doors open, revealing the pardoned Avengers.  Peter freezes as half of them look over at him and Peter’s eyes shoot over to where Mr. Stark sits at the counter with a cup of coffee, and by how tired the man looks, Peter estimates that it’s only been his first or second cup.

Mr. Stark’s encouraging smile is all it takes for the teen to shuffle out of the elevator and into the organized chaos that is the Avengers’ morning routine.  Peter practically runs over to Tony, who lifts an eyebrow at his fast pace.  Or maybe it’s the Hello Kitty pajama pants that the man bought him as a gag present that makes the man lift his eyebrow.

Peter’s cheeks flush as he grabs himself a mug of coffee, using his Iron Man mug.  Peter studiously ignores the rest of the Avengers as he goes through his own morning routine.  Usually, he’d have cereal for breakfast, but during the weekends him and Mr. Stark have made a habit of cooking their own food.

As Peter begins to gather the ingredients and materials needed to make hash browns, Tony grabs the ingredients needed to make omelets.  Where it used to make him three hours to make one of them, Peter’s helped him turn that time into three minutes.  When Peter goes to shred the first potato, Tony stops him.

“No, gimme that,” Tony says, putting down his bowl of beaten eggs, “you lost your shredding privileges after you cut yourself last time."  Tony makes a grabbing motion and Peter pouts.

"But, Mr. Stark–!” Peter starts, only to be cut off by Tony.

“Uh, uh, nope.  No whining.  Gimme the shredder, you can make the omelets for a change,” Tony says, lifting an eyebrow when Peter continues holding onto it.  The Avengers look on as the two go into a staring match, and just like it started, it ends.  Peter hands over the cheese grater with a huff and a put and grabs the bowl of half-beaten egg and the fork.  With surprising expertise, Peter finishes whisking the egg up and makes his way over to one of the two skillets on the stove.

“I can still cook it, right?” Peter asks Tony with puppy dog eyes.  Tony just rolls his eyes, making Peter grin.  The teen pours the egg into the skillet, jumping back as it crackles loudly.  Adding things to skillets have never been his favorite part of cooking.

Tony ends up next to him in a few minutes with a plate stacked with shredded potatoes, adding another skillet to the stove.  The two cook side by side, Tony continuously checking the hash browns to make sure they don’t burn, and Peter adding cheese, pepper, and some other things to his omelet.  He’ll end up making about five or six more, four for him, two for Mr. Stark.  Mr. Stark will make a few large hash browns for Peter, and two small ones for him in turn.

Only a few minutes go by before the two begin plating their own portions, bickering along the way.  The group of Avengers share a few looks, their already prepared breakfast in their laps.  “We’re going to interrogate him, right?” Clint asks Natasha, flinching as the woman in question flicks him in the forehead.  “Ow,” he whines, rubbing his head.  “What was that for?”

Natasha, ever the peacekeeper, replies, “We just got back and you want to get Tony mad at us?  Leave the kid alone, Clint.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sam comments with a shrug.  “We’re all curious about the kid and there’s no joke that you are, too."  Steve sends him a stern look which he ignores.

"It doesn’t matter,” Steve cuts in, eating a slice of pancake.  “We’ve got to get back into Tony’s good graces if we want to continue staying here.  Interrogating his son won’t help."  Unbeknownst to them, Peter can hear every single thing that they can hear, and by the end he’s grinning.

"What’s the grin for, Pete?” Tony questions as he turns the burners off, moving the skillets onto the other ones to cool off.

“Hawkeye and Falcon want to interrogate us,” Peter says, his grin growing larger, “and Captain America thinks I’m your son."  That last comment gets an immediate reaction from the man as he begins hacking on a piece of his omelet.  Peter immediately slaps his back as Tony flounders around for a drink.  The man chokes back about half of his mug of coffee before looking at the kid with teary eyes, ignoring the concerned and confused looks of the people in the living room.

"What?” he croaks out at Peter’s grin.  It’s not long until a grin of his own is spreading across his face, making Peter narrow his eyes at him in suspicion.  “Hey, kid, how would you like to be my son?"  It’s Peter’s turn to choke on his food but he does so a little more gracefully as the man slaps his back a few times.

"What?  What’re you talkin’ about?” Peter asks after gulping down his own mug of coffee.

“I’m saying that we don’t tell them that you’re my intern,” Tony whispers with a grin so that the super soldier in the next room doesn’t hear him.  “They already believe you’re my son, and you gotta admit, you’re dressed in my clothes and some Hello Kitty pants that I bought you.”

“So you want us to lie to them?” Peter asks with a raised eyes brow.  Tony nods his head and a grin spreads across Peter’s face.  “Okay, Dad."  Tony just grins at him before messing up his hair, gaining a yelp from the kid.

[apsbicepstraining]

Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’

The 41 -year-olds training camp in the Alps consider this to be the fixed for a repugnance film and he tells Sachin Nakrani he is in the mood to give Anthony Joshua a scare when they meet on 29 April at Wembley

Stanglwirt is a sprawling bio-hotel located in the Austrian Alps and which at first glance looks like the setting for a slow-burning, creepy-crawly horror movie. With its rocky background and somewhat kitsch interior heavy grove panelling, stripy sofas it brings about reminiscences of the Overlook Hotel from Stephen Kings The Shining. Walk through the foyer, past the staff garmented in lederhosen, and it is like simply a matter of time until a clock goes off, a jackas springs out and a organization falls down the stairs.

But on this spring visit there is no repugnance to be had. Instead, amid the restaurants and saloons, the spas, saunas and swimming pool, resides a storey of saving. Or, as Wladimir Klitschko puts it, fulfilling an obsession.

The heavyweight is here to prepare for his bout with Anthony Joshua at Wembley Stadium on 29 April. Stanglwirt has been his pre-fight base since 2003 and a lieu he describes as a dwelling away from residence. It is easy to see the appeal for all its Heres Johnny! excellences, the complex , now more than 250 years old, is a beautiful neighbourhood to invest some time. Pristine, picturesque, heated, friendly and with plenty to do and destroy. For Klitschko it is somewhere to get his attention and mas right, which now now more than ever is important for a boxing great who, as he declares, is about to take over a career-defining challenge.

Klitschko has not fought since his shock defeat to Tyson Fury in Dsseldorf 17 months ago. It was an outcome that not only deprived the Ukrainian of his WBA, IBF and WBO designations but also of his coat of near-invincibility. Dr Steelhammer, a fighter who had self-assured 53 of his 64 success across a 27 -year career by knockout, was outgunned by a man who dressed as Batman for one of their pre-fight press conference. Fury was a gag, yet after a unanimous qualities decision on 28 November 2015 he was the one laughing.

Much has happened to Fury since that night and one of the consequences has been Klitschko missing out on a rematch that would have rendered him with a chance to prove he is no busted blush after a fourth demolish since shifting professional in 1996. Unfinished business, as he sets it. Now, eventually, comes the chance for him to go again against a British fighter.

Wladimir Klitschko and his physio Aldo Vetere at the Stanglwirt hotel. Photograph: Johann Groder/ AFP/ Getty Images

Joshua, the IBF champion, poses a different menace to Fury a year younger at 27, greater and more deadly. Then there is the settled: a stadium Klitschko has never fought at, in front of a 90,000 sellout crowd. He is over there on the back of his longest period of inactivity since first fastening up a duo of gloves, and having exactly rotated 41. Little wonder this most assured of men is full of questions, full of doubts, as he spoke at Stanglwirt.

This fight is 50 -5 0, Klitschko said. Can the younger guy make it? Has the older person still got it? Doubt scores are making this event really interesting. Ive never had a pause for a year and a half. Is it bad? Is it good? Will I have rust? I want the answers myself.

One thing I believe is I dont find my age. Its not empty words. I am getting in the best influence of my life, physically and mentally. I dont investigate Im fasten and not improving, even in a athletic Ive been involved with for so long. Thats what interests and elicits me.

Klitschko surely ogled well as he addrest, flanked by his manager, Bernd Bnte, and his coach, Johnathon Banks.

The body remains enforcing and defined, his appearance chiselled and those sides continue to look like weapons of mass destruction. Expected to predict how the fight with Joshua will go, Klitschko elevated his fists and nodded towards them in turn. Funeral or hospital? Hospital or funeral? I dont need many punches to knock person or persons out.

That was a uncommon moment of trash-talking swagger from the ex-serviceman( alongside the moment he claimed Joshua get confidence from his muscles and is better suited to bodybuilding ).

Generally Klitschko was respectful of his rival, assume partly out of the fact Joshua goes into their fight on the back of a perfect professional record 18 acquires from 18 opposes, all achieved via knockout and partly because of the respect Klitschko developed for “the mens” from Watford, having invited him to be a sparring partner in November 2014, before taking on the Bulgarian Kubrat Pulev.

He amazed me with his attitude, Klitschko says. He was in the background and memorizing. Sometimes you need to be quiet and just watch, and he was observing everything. He could also chest, so I dedicated him credit and I was there in the arena when he won gold[ at London 2012 ]~ ATAGEND. Every medallist in the super-heavyweight department at the Olympics has to be considered successful. He has a lot of possibilities and so far has done good.

Unlike Fury, Joshua is likely to engage with Klitschko from the first bell, looking to flora his paws and unload bombards as often as possible. On one mitt that provides the challenger with a digesting target not to mention a supposedly vulnerable chins but on the other it represents he will have to engage himself, something Klitschko did only in the 12 th round of the Fury fight when his uncharacteristic hesitancy against a moving target had given him no choice but to go for break-dance. Eventually it was too little, too late.

Klitschko insists he has learned from his mistakes and will be fully prepared for current challenges by the time he arrives in London on 26 April. Until then it is a suit of working on and biding focused, something that was there to learnt at Stanglwirt.

The scene was a proselytized tennis courtroom in the bowels of the inn. In the middle held a sound while at one back were three punchbags hung in ascending prescribe and at another a basketball cyberspace where, at around 8am, Banks filmed bands with another member of backroom unit as Klitschko went through a series of elongating rehearsals. Two television screens had been put in demonstrating Joshuas previous engages, everything taking place to the clang of Motown classics. It was a tighten start.

Banks and Klitschko eventually underwent some pad work inside the ring. It was, in keeping with the mood of the morning, a relatively soothing conference but the din of thudding fists carried enough of an resemble to remind spectators of the supremacy coming Joshuas way later this month. The 27 -year-old is the favourite with most bookmakers but complacency would be foolhardy against a husband who has been there, said and done, and is penetrating the ring not because he needs the money but because he is determined to remind the world he remains one of “the worlds largest” durable heavyweights and, yet again, has what it takes to be a champion.

Wladimir Klitschko was uncharacteristically hesitant against Tyson Fury in 2015. Photograph: Kai Pfaffenbach/ Reuters

Failure is an experience and Im coming after a defeat[ against Fury] with a totally different outlook, Klitschko says. I learned more about myself, about boxing, through that win. Regrettably I cannot change it, or have a second film like in golf theres no mulligan for me. But Im not a destroyed man.

This may sound arrogant but I am like Mount Everest. You can clamber it during a certain period during two weeks in April I guess and say: I curbed Everest. Then youve got to run down because its going to take you down if you miss the time.

Some make it back but a lot of people die, so is Mount Everest demolished? No, its still here and its going to take another life this April.

Sky Sports Box Office just goes to show Joshua v Klitschko exclusively live on 29 April. To notebook going to see www.skysports.com/ joshua

The post Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’

The 41 -year-olds training camp in the Alps consider this to be the fixed for a repugnance film and he tells Sachin Nakrani he is in the mood to give Anthony Joshua a scare when they meet on 29 April at Wembley

Stanglwirt is a sprawling bio-hotel located in the Austrian Alps and which at first glance looks like the setting for a slow-burning, creepy-crawly horror movie. With its rocky background and somewhat kitsch interior heavy grove panelling, stripy sofas it brings about reminiscences of the Overlook Hotel from Stephen Kings The Shining. Walk through the foyer, past the staff garmented in lederhosen, and it is like simply a matter of time until a clock goes off, a jackas springs out and a organization falls down the stairs.

But on this spring visit there is no repugnance to be had. Instead, amid the restaurants and saloons, the spas, saunas and swimming pool, resides a storey of saving. Or, as Wladimir Klitschko puts it, fulfilling an obsession.

The heavyweight is here to prepare for his bout with Anthony Joshua at Wembley Stadium on 29 April. Stanglwirt has been his pre-fight base since 2003 and a lieu he describes as a dwelling away from residence. It is easy to see the appeal for all its Heres Johnny! excellences, the complex , now more than 250 years old, is a beautiful neighbourhood to invest some time. Pristine, picturesque, heated, friendly and with plenty to do and destroy. For Klitschko it is somewhere to get his attention and mas right, which now now more than ever is important for a boxing great who, as he declares, is about to take over a career-defining challenge.

Klitschko has not fought since his shock defeat to Tyson Fury in Dsseldorf 17 months ago. It was an outcome that not only deprived the Ukrainian of his WBA, IBF and WBO designations but also of his coat of near-invincibility. Dr Steelhammer, a fighter who had self-assured 53 of his 64 success across a 27 -year career by knockout, was outgunned by a man who dressed as Batman for one of their pre-fight press conference. Fury was a gag, yet after a unanimous qualities decision on 28 November 2015 he was the one laughing.

Much has happened to Fury since that night and one of the consequences has been Klitschko missing out on a rematch that would have rendered him with a chance to prove he is no busted blush after a fourth demolish since shifting professional in 1996. Unfinished business, as he sets it. Now, eventually, comes the chance for him to go again against a British fighter.

Wladimir Klitschko and his physio Aldo Vetere at the Stanglwirt hotel. Photograph: Johann Groder/ AFP/ Getty Images

Joshua, the IBF champion, poses a different menace to Fury a year younger at 27, greater and more deadly. Then there is the settled: a stadium Klitschko has never fought at, in front of a 90,000 sellout crowd. He is over there on the back of his longest period of inactivity since first fastening up a duo of gloves, and having exactly rotated 41. Little wonder this most assured of men is full of questions, full of doubts, as he spoke at Stanglwirt.

This fight is 50 -5 0, Klitschko said. Can the younger guy make it? Has the older person still got it? Doubt scores are making this event really interesting. Ive never had a pause for a year and a half. Is it bad? Is it good? Will I have rust? I want the answers myself.

One thing I believe is I dont find my age. Its not empty words. I am getting in the best influence of my life, physically and mentally. I dont investigate Im fasten and not improving, even in a athletic Ive been involved with for so long. Thats what interests and elicits me.

Klitschko surely ogled well as he addrest, flanked by his manager, Bernd Bnte, and his coach, Johnathon Banks.

The body remains enforcing and defined, his appearance chiselled and those sides continue to look like weapons of mass destruction. Expected to predict how the fight with Joshua will go, Klitschko elevated his fists and nodded towards them in turn. Funeral or hospital? Hospital or funeral? I dont need many punches to knock person or persons out.

That was a uncommon moment of trash-talking swagger from the ex-serviceman( alongside the moment he claimed Joshua get confidence from his muscles and is better suited to bodybuilding ).

Generally Klitschko was respectful of his rival, assume partly out of the fact Joshua goes into their fight on the back of a perfect professional record 18 acquires from 18 opposes, all achieved via knockout and partly because of the respect Klitschko developed for “the mens” from Watford, having invited him to be a sparring partner in November 2014, before taking on the Bulgarian Kubrat Pulev.

He amazed me with his attitude, Klitschko says. He was in the background and memorizing. Sometimes you need to be quiet and just watch, and he was observing everything. He could also chest, so I dedicated him credit and I was there in the arena when he won gold[ at London 2012 ]~ ATAGEND. Every medallist in the super-heavyweight department at the Olympics has to be considered successful. He has a lot of possibilities and so far has done good.

Unlike Fury, Joshua is likely to engage with Klitschko from the first bell, looking to flora his paws and unload bombards as often as possible. On one mitt that provides the challenger with a digesting target not to mention a supposedly vulnerable chins but on the other it represents he will have to engage himself, something Klitschko did only in the 12 th round of the Fury fight when his uncharacteristic hesitancy against a moving target had given him no choice but to go for break-dance. Eventually it was too little, too late.

Klitschko insists he has learned from his mistakes and will be fully prepared for current challenges by the time he arrives in London on 26 April. Until then it is a suit of working on and biding focused, something that was there to learnt at Stanglwirt.

The scene was a proselytized tennis courtroom in the bowels of the inn. In the middle held a sound while at one back were three punchbags hung in ascending prescribe and at another a basketball cyberspace where, at around 8am, Banks filmed bands with another member of backroom unit as Klitschko went through a series of elongating rehearsals. Two television screens had been put in demonstrating Joshuas previous engages, everything taking place to the clang of Motown classics. It was a tighten start.

Banks and Klitschko eventually underwent some pad work inside the ring. It was, in keeping with the mood of the morning, a relatively soothing conference but the din of thudding fists carried enough of an resemble to remind spectators of the supremacy coming Joshuas way later this month. The 27 -year-old is the favourite with most bookmakers but complacency would be foolhardy against a husband who has been there, said and done, and is penetrating the ring not because he needs the money but because he is determined to remind the world he remains one of “the worlds largest” durable heavyweights and, yet again, has what it takes to be a champion.

Wladimir Klitschko was uncharacteristically hesitant against Tyson Fury in 2015. Photograph: Kai Pfaffenbach/ Reuters

Failure is an experience and Im coming after a defeat[ against Fury] with a totally different outlook, Klitschko says. I learned more about myself, about boxing, through that win. Regrettably I cannot change it, or have a second film like in golf theres no mulligan for me. But Im not a destroyed man.

This may sound arrogant but I am like Mount Everest. You can clamber it during a certain period during two weeks in April I guess and say: I curbed Everest. Then youve got to run down because its going to take you down if you miss the time.

Some make it back but a lot of people die, so is Mount Everest demolished? No, its still here and its going to take another life this April.

Sky Sports Box Office just goes to show Joshua v Klitschko exclusively live on 29 April. To notebook going to see www.skysports.com/ joshua

The post Wladimir Klitschko:’ This know it sounds arrogant, but I am like Mount Everest’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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