#told my husband I may just make a brief appearance to Toni time

[hafwen]

After being so nervous to leave the room the first time now anytime we open the door she runs out and starts exploring

Last night Gigi did see that Toni was up here but it was close to Gigi’s snuggle time and she wanted me in our spot

And this morning Lillie and Grayson saw Toni again. Toni was immediately interested in being Lillie’s friend but Lillie is nervous about that.

Grayson was desperate for baby time once he saw her. He kept meowing every time she walked away and when she was nervous about him he just meatloafed and meowed at her. She liked that and they went nose to nose!

Mackie was at the closed door crying because he hates being left out of fun so maybe tonight my husband will grab him and she can see him not through the glass door. Toni didn’t like the sad puppy sounds and every so often she would floof her tail but then calm down when she saw we weren’t worried about it.

There was a lot of cuteness but I am so tired.

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Two

Tony Stark x Reader Warnings: Dark!Tony, mostly just mild swearing and stalker behavior here.

A/N:- Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader. 

Word count: 2000 approx.

Letting yourself into your room, you locked the door behind you before heading towards the bedroom.  Sitting on the bed, your accountant's brain began to work through your survival plan for the next seven days.  You knew a week wasn't a long time, but since credit cards could be tracked, you knew that cash was the only safe way to stay under the radar and you were now woefully low on that.  You also figured your sister might be the first port of call for tracking you down, so that left your best friend.

Calling Sabrina, you gave her a very brief account of your predicament and that if she was willing to help, she really only had until about four o'clock to get what was needed from your apartment.  Being better to you than your own sister, you told her where to find your getaway bag and also asked for some basic workout gear, figuring you didn't need anything fancy to outrun an Avenger.  Then you told her where to find you and the name you were using before hanging up to wait for her arrival.

One hour later, a text message told you she was outside your room, and upon opening the door you checked to make sure no one else was there before you pulled her inside and locked the door again.

Dropping your bags, she pulled you in for a warm hug before stepping back to give you the once over.  "Angel, what exactly is going on and why do you look like crap?" she asked, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest couch.

Sighing heavily as you sat down, you stared at your hands before speaking.  "Do you remember the reservation I had Monday night for La Scala?"

"Is that the Italian place you've been going on about for the last three months?"

"Yes.  Well it turns out that when they were switching over reservation books, they lost my booking and the best they could offer me was a seat at the bar until a table became available.  Obviously I was fine with that, until I drew the attention of Tony Stark and had to turn down his offer to join him."

"Wait, are you telling me you said no to THE Tony Stark?  The same Tony Stark who probably doesn't even know the meaning of that word."

"Exactly, and whether or not he knows the meaning of it, he definitely doesn't like hearing it.  Apparently he's had Happy Hogan trying to find me since then, which was made kinda redundant when my boss sent me to deliver reports to one of his meetings this morning."

"Well damn, Y/F/N, that must have been some shock.  What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, it's fine.  I mean you have a right to know, since I may or may not have put you in harm's way."

"You what now?"

"Look, I think it's safe to say that Tony Stark is not the hero he appears to be and I think I may have pissed him off a lot more than I should have."

"Y/F/N, what did you do?"

"I barely gave him any information when he questioned me before the meeting, and when he had me threatened and brought to his office afterwards, I said I'd report him to Human Resources."

"Wow, you never do things by half, do you?  But that doesn't explain why you're hiding out here or why you think I might be in danger?"

Refusing to look at your best friend, you took some deep breaths before continuing.  "Well because when a meeting with Steve Rogers interrupted us, he told me to go back to work and then wait for Happy to drive me to his place afterwards.  Obviously I didn't do that and I don't know if he's willing to let this go.  If not, I don't know who he's willing to hurt to get to me."

"Fuck Y/F/N, all this because his ego couldn't handle the word no."

"I know right.  I'm so sorry for putting you in the middle of all this, but I didn't know who else to trust.  I love my sister, but you and I both know she'd sell me out in a heartbeat."

Wrapping her arms around you once more, Sabrina held you tight as she thought through the situation.  "You know Y/F/N, this situation might not be as dire as you think.  Considering who my husband is, do we really believe that Tony Stark is willing to go up against New York's mob boss just to get to you?"

"I don't know, Sab, and that's the worst part.  I don't know what he's capable of.  I mean Happy threatened to have me arrested for stealing money from the company if I didn't go to his office.  You really think Sebastian can protect you?"

"Oh Angel, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Seb won't let anything bad happen to me.  But what about you?  Should we see what he can do for you?"

"No Sabrina, you've done more than enough.  Hopefully I'm just overreacting and this will all blow over.  If not, then I have my getaway bag and more than enough cash to start over.  Your husband would be proud of me." you finish with a chuckle, hoping to ease the tension lines you could see appearing on her forehead.

The next hour was spent with a bottle of wine and some girly chit-chat until Sebastian texted Sabrina to let her know he was in the lobby.  Giving your best friend a smile and a hug, you said goodbye and decided to head for a relaxing bath, not knowing the shitstorm that was about to kick off at Stark Industries.

*************

No pun intended, but upon arriving at your desk ten minutes before clocking off time, Happy was not a happy camper.  After finding your desk empty, he made enquiries from Melinda who informed him that you weren't feeling well and had gone home early.  Deciding that it was best not to upset Tony unless absolutely necessary, he brought up your employee file and got a hold of your address.  Getting in the car and driving to your place, he was pissed to discover that it was locked tight and no one had seen you all day.  Swallowing his anger, he headed off to Tony's to relay this development and see if he really was serious about pursuing you.

Upon walking in, Tony told him to take you to the living room and he'd be right out.  However, on entering said room and seeing only Happy, Tony was full of questions.  "Happy, would you care to tell me what is wrong with this picture?"

"I know Tony, I can't explain it.  From what I've been told, shortly after you sent her back to work, she complained about not feeling well and no one has seen her since."

"No one?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Nobody just disappears without a trace.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I want a trace put on all credit cards in the name of Stark Industries employee 2474789, back timed to two months ago.  I want to know where she's been and where she might go."

"Tony, don't you think all this might be a bit excessive over someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you?"

"You know I was kinda resigned to not knowing who she was, but my god, when she walked into that meeting room and I discovered that I've technically been supporting her for three years.  I can't explain it, Happy but she's awoken something in me.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. what's the status of recent activity?"

"Nothing Boss.  The last credit card purchase was Tuesday at the cafe in the lobby of Stark Industries.  Mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream, around lunch time."

"Damn, how does one disappear and go over twenty-four hours without financial support?"

"Um Tony, I don't want to state the obvious, but do you think she might be using cash?"

"Cash?  Seriously Happy, people still do that?"

"It would explain how she's getting by, while staying off F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s radar."

"Ingenious.  My little girl's a clever one, it seems.  Thanks Happy, but I think I can handle her from here.  You can show yourself out?  F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up any footage you can for Y/F/N's apartment for the last forty-eight hours." Tony ordered, as he headed towards his lab.

Sitting at his workstation, Tony combed through all available footage from your apartment, starting from half an hour before he knew you left work.  Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, he was prepared to try some other approach when he saw a young woman exit your building carrying what appeared to be two black duffel bags.  Watching her deposit them into a black SUV, he waited to see if her face became visible.

"BINGO!  F.R.I.D.A.Y. freeze frame 17a and run facial recognition on that individual."

"Facial recognition scan identifies the young lady as Sabrina Stan.  Wife of Sebastian Stan.  Current head of the New York mob."

"New York mob connections, huh?  Well that could explain her ability to fly under the radar.  Still, let's try this without starting a war.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I think it's time I stopped fooling around, run Miss Y/L/N through facial recognition and let me know the second you find her."

"Will do boss."  Fifteen minutes later, he heard a beep and looked up from his desk to see footage of you walking through the lobby of the famous Waldorf Astoria towards the elevators.

"Well I'll be damned, either my girl has expensive taste or her mob connections go deeper than a passing acquaintance.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a complete, deep data scan.  Cross reference everything to do with Y/F/N Y/L/N, the Waldorf Astoria and the New York Mob.  I need to know if I have to mobilize the Avengers."

Two hours later, having torn himself away from his pet project to play Iron-Man, Tony barely gave himself enough time to rehouse his nanoparticles armor before harassing his A.I.  “F.R.I.D.A.Y. do you have the results of that search?"

"Indeed Boss.  It appears the connection is nothing more than an acquaintance.  Mrs. Stan and Miss Y/L/N were both part of the same book club and writing group a year and a half ago.  It seems a friendship developed out of it."

Though it bugged him, all the bother you were putting him to, this new information coupled with you appearing to be somewhat of an introvert, gave him renewed confidence in his plan.  Having so far found you utterly fascinating, he knew that once he had you, he would make sure you never said no to him again.

[anthonyed]

Day 4 + 5: On A Date + Kissing

-//-

There was a time when Tony remembered things. Things like the time of the day, the date and the last time he’d eaten and showered. Right now though, his mind is a swamp of all things but miscellaneous.

The smell of burnt metal had sunk into his pore and become one with him. Which means, “Urgh.”

A light chuckle issues from somewhere within the four walls he’d trapped himself in and Tony straightens up, suddenly alert. His eyes scan around the wide area, for a while seeing nothing but wires and furniture and projects and projects and -.

“Steve!” He exclaims in delight, face helplessly splitting into a too wide grin. His skin tingles upon spotting the small bundle of perfection curled up in his favourite piece of furniture of all time; like a little cocoon of heaven carved especially for Tony because that is all he needs after his head finally stopped spinning with problems.

A soft purr satisfaction rumble in his chest as he rolls himself all the way across the work station to where his heaven’s situated, “Hey, Tony,” Steve greets when the chair comes to an end at the foot of the couch. He looks soft and warm, all wrapped up in Tony’s cosiest blanket which he keeps draped over the couch and he’s curled up with his sketchbook, pages open to a work in progress.

Tony stretches and pops his stiff joints with little happy sighs while Steve observes with a fond smile. “Finally came to Earth?” He asks once Tony’s done and Tony pokes his tongue at him impishly. His stomach rumbles then, betraying his mundanity and while Tony glares at it in disdain, Steve chuckles and holds up a plate of saran wrapped sandwich in his sight. “Eat,” he says while Dum-E rolls up, helpfully presenting a bottle of water.

Tony says his thank you to both of them and starts digging in. Halfway through his meal, he realizes that Steve’s staring and guiltily offers a bite to which Steve shakes his head, no, then keeps on staring until Tony’s nape prickles and he puts down the empty plate, starting on Steve with a full mouth, “Whu?”

Steve colours high on his cheeks and the tip of his ears, shaking his head as he ducks and laughs nervously. Tony takes him in and wishes he’s bestowed with the liberty to lean in and kiss Steve on the nose.

On the mouth, along his neck, down his chest, and – well, you get the gist.

Harrumphing, he gives a slight kick to Steve’s curled up legs and makes a face. “What?” He asks again after swallowing. When Steve looks up, he’s properly blushing, neck flushed red and he scratches the back of his head and says, “Nothing,” and then, “I should go.”

“Why?” Tony asks with a poorly suppressed whine. He’d just pulled out the zone and now Steve’s leaving? Already?

“Well…,” Steve trails off before pulling a breath and looking Tony straight in the eyes as if he’s trying hard not to burst a vein. “If I don’t go now, then I won’t make it for our date tonight,” He says softly. Too soft that Tony gulps the shock and replies with a dumb “Whu?”

Steve blinks, blue eyes searching and he looks like he’s panicking. Tony feels like he’s going to faint himself; two second away from smashing his face on the coffee table. His heart is racing, pulses jumping and he’s feeling uncomfortable hot. Throat dry and all.

“Our date.” Steve says faintly.

Tony swallows painfully, “Oh.” The fuck? “Right, of course.” What the actual fuck? “Our date. Which is at…,” He drags, hoping Steve will fill in but Steve doesn’t so he ends with, “Tonight. Clearly.” He huffs a nervous laughter. Play cool, play cool – Jesus.

“Chop, chop.” Tony chases him when Steve starts squinting suspiciously at him. “Hurry up and dress pretty. I like my date looking pretty.” He babbles, pushing Steve to the exit as his ears ring in panic. Steve blinks like a deer in the headlight; wide and adorable but wide – panic, wide. Tony winces. “Or just come like this, your wish. I like you anyway. That’s why we’re going on a date!” He finishes ceremoniously, hands thrown wide apart like ‘tada’ and he waves at Steve opening and closing his mouth like a gold fish on the other side of the glass door.

Dammit.

“Jarvis, pull up the shop’s footage from when Steve entered.” He orders between clenched teeth, grinning and waving as Steve boards the elevator and once their door closes, Tony’s grabbing for his hair and yanking. “Did I ask Steve out?”

“Yes, sir. At precisely five past four this evening.” JARVIS replies with a subtle peppiness to his tone which Tony squints at but ignores for the footage of himself sitting ram rod straight in the middle of the workshop surrounded by a sea of holo-screen and there’s Steve walking up to him with a plate of sandwich.

“Volume up, please,” Tony murmurs distractedly, zooming in to the two men on the screen. He watches unblinkingly and listens carefully to every word spoken; the usual reprimands for keeping long hours from Steve and Tony’s witty replies even in his zone-out stage – which is frankly, impressive, he knows, he’s been told before too.

Then the bickering leads to mild flirting until it isn’t mild anymore because Tony says something about; “Yeah sure, like you’d date me,” to Steve who not only looks offended but recovers quickly to retort a haughty, “Why wouldn’t I?”

To which then Tony says, “Seven o’clock today works for you, Cap?”

“Only if it’s Italian,” Steve smirks and Tony – Jesus Christ – leans so close into Steve’s space that on screen it looks very much like they’re kissing - which is no way, because Tony would remember such if something like that happened right? Like, come on! His life’s dream is to be with Steve and if he fucking forgets something so crucial like kissing Steve, he’s about to set himself on fire and send his arse straight to hell – and says something too soft to be registered by the system. And Steve appears to ask him something, again, too soft and Tony yanks hard at his hair in the present.

For a long time, he’s frozen. The footage plays until it stops and Tony’s looking at himself looking at the footage on the screen. It’s JARVIS who interrupts his state, clearing throat like a through gentle-AI, “Sir, may I take the liberty to remind you that you have date with Captain Rogers in exactly thirty minutes from now.”

“Oh fuck.” Tony expresses faintly, feeling extremely light headed as disbelief clouds every single section in his brain. But, in for a penny and all that right?

Right.

“I have a date.” He stands up. “With Steve.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Then louder and clearer, he repeats, shaking off the disbelief. “I have a date with Steve Rogers.”

“In 29 minutes -,”

“JARVIS!”

“Glad to be of service sir.”

-

A quick shower and a brief meltdown in the closet after, Tony’s about as ready as he can be to a date he doesn’t remember asking but has every bit dreamed of. To make things worse, Steve looks utterly delectable.

“Hey,” He says, as if he’s not melting Tony on his feet looking like he does in a form fitting navy dress shirt. He got a blazer on his arm and a nervous look in his baby blue eyes, “Not sure if I need a jacket or not.”

Tony wants to whip him back upstairs, straight to his bedroom and strip him naked. You don’t need anything, “You’re perfect.”

Steve blushes and Tony inhales sharply, making sure that he’s still grounded and not up in the air, floating.

Tony takes Steve to that one place he’d never taken anyone to before; the one place that exists in his memories only because it’s where Maria used to take him to when Tony does well in his exams.

It’s stuffy, there is way too many tables in a too small space but never is it ever crowded. The walls are decorated with tasteless vintage photos and art pieces. The entire place is run by a pair of too old Italian couple; the husband runs the kitchen whilst the wife takes care of the customers and neither of them speaks English. Tony absolutely adores it.

Steve’s taken aback the moment he enters the place, but Tony reminds himself that if anyone can see the beauty of this place and appreciate it as much as he does, it’s Steve.

It’s why he decided to bring him here. It was as clear as the day the minute he asked himself; fuck, where do I take him – and Tony had just known.

And he was right. Two minutes after, Steve is glowing with the light of discovery, gushing, “I love this place,” and Tony hasn’t even showed him the best part yet. He waits until he’d placed their orders, tongue rolling smoothly in fluent Italian as he kisses Elena and asks for permission while Steve observes with an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes.

Manuel usually takes some time to whip up the orders. Although Tony had asked Elena a favour and reserved the entire place for only them, it still isn’t going to make Manuel any quicker on his old bones and creaky joints. So he stands up and offers a hand, palm side up, to Steve who takes it with an interest and follows as Tony wordlessly leads him behind the counter and up an immediate staircase hidden in the corner.

It’s a spiral iron staircase that is too narrow for even a perfectly standard sized male body like Tony’s. But Elena is petite and Tony knows for a fact that she still uses it because she had just said so. Confidently, albeit a little anxious because he can’t help it – he’s on a date with Steve! – Tony pushes open the old wooden door and steps out into the rooftop of the three storey building.

The evening breeze is pleasantly cool for a summer evening and Steve’s hand in his is deliciously warm in contrast. Tony closes his eyes for a brief second and relishes it before he turns to regard Steve.

Steve’s looking at him and only him; singularly focused, uncaring of the bright orange night sun that’s too stubborn to slip past the horizon or the cooing birds in the distant. Uncaring that even by Tony’s standard, this is the most beautiful roof top scenery he’d ever seen in his entire life – with potted plants and their blossoming flowers surrounding them - and right then, Tony feels incredibly privileged to feel the heat of Steve’s gaze on his face.

He wonders what Steve sees though, as he squeezes his hand in his. His own eyes dart all over Steve’s handsome face, searching, and he decides he’ll just ask him. But the moment he parts his lips, words ready on the tip of his tongue, Steve decides to speak.

“You’re stunning.” He says, stepping closer. Tony holds his place and lets Steve curl a hand around his neck, thumb pressing gently over his pulse point, caressing. “I could paint you like this” he murmurs, letting go of Tony’s hand to trace a curve over Tony’s ear and back before he fits the heel of his palm under Tony’s jaw, gently nudging Tony’s chin up and when he steps in impossibly close; both of their breaths intermingling; hot and heady, their foreheads touch.

“Tell me I can kiss you?” Steve’s breath brushes over Tony’s lips, his mouth barely an inch away from slotting perfectly with Tony’s and it aches to wait, hurts to even breathe out a ‘yes’ but Tony manages. Daze as he fascinates himself with the curl of Steve’s fair lashes and the ridiculously gorgeous golden way they glow under the sun.

He can point the precise second – down to millisecond - when Steve’s lips meet his. He knows he’ll remember it by the way his heart stutters and jump circuits, and the exact pressure, in mmhg, with which Steve’s fingers press into his skin and pulls him closer. The exact temperature and the direction of the wind; Tony knows.

He knows, but all those details blur out in the back of his head like a swirl of paint dropped into a jar of water. They’re present, but insignificant to the greater details of how Steve feels against him, his body temperature, the hitch in his breath, the way he kisses – him, him and all him. Nothing else.

Tony drowns, willingly helpless, into Steve and Steve, he drinks him in.

The sun is red when they finally resurface and realise that there are things more interesting around them and only each other. But still, Tony thinks Steve’s the most of them; the most interesting, the most brilliant, and all.

It’s that giddy love-stupid brain of him, fuelled by all those happy hormones yada, yada - he knows. But he doesn’t care as he intertwines Steve fingers with his and giggles. He’s been in enough relationships to know that this high will fade in time, but right this second, he’s happy and is unapologetic about it, because it’s Steve and Steve likes him enough to go on a date with. To kiss him, and well, Tony’s over the moon.

He hasn’t even shown Steve Maria’s favourite blossom before Elena’s curious head pops out. Reluctantly, he leads Steve back downstairs for their dinner, marvelling how for the first time in forever, Manuel’s faster than him. He tells Steve that; about Manuel and Elena and about those potted plants and one of them which Maria loves the most. He tells him about Maria and Steve takes his hand, asks Tony if they can come back again.

“Next year, same place, same time.” Tony jokes, but not really. Eyes anxiously searching for Steve’s and relief floods in when Steve smiles in that mischievous way he does when he’s up for the challenge and is bloody sure he is going to win it.

Love-high fades, Tony knows. But the love itself, that he feels for Steve? That is staying because it’s stayed for years now and it hasn’t gone anywhere. He knows Steve like the back of his hand, knows him and loves him with all of his heart, so with utmost confidence, he says; “It’s a date.”

[drrjsb]

Happy Holidays! Body and Soul: The Endgame Fix "Part 16: Tea and Empathy"

Summary: Bruce and Natasha return home to find a friend waiting on the porch. They tap into Bruce’s supply of Girl Scout cookies, make a call across the galaxy, and later they answer one from closer to home. Yes, we earn our mature rating.

Notes: Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! Here’s nice big chapter for those who’ve waited. It’s still the evening of Monday, October 30, 2023.

AO3  Fanfiction.net  WattPad

Excerpt . . .

The last thing they'd expected to find was Dr. Stephen Strange waiting for them on the porch, but the Sorcerer Supreme was relaxing on the carved wooden swing with a gray cat on his lap as Bruce pulled up and parked the HX in its usual spot.

"Dr. Strange," Bruce said as he got out of the vehicle. Natasha didn't hesitate to hop out of the passenger's side door. She'd never met him, yet he looked exactly like the pictures she'd found when she researched him after Tony and Nebula had arrived back from Titan. She guessed the large gray cat that jumped out of the tall man's lap must be Gertie.

"Dr. Banner . . . and Ms. Romanoff, I presume," the magic-user returned in his deep baritone voice as he stood up.

"You presume correctly," she said as she joined Bruce. It was nice not to have her identity questioned from the get-go. The cat darted inside through the pet door, and Natasha caught Bruce huffing out a rather flummoxed breath through his nose.

"Stephen, good to see you. I assume you've already met, Gertrude. May I introduce you to Natasha Romanoff," Bruce said, extending his right hand. "Nat, this is Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme," he explained and mirrored the same open-handed gesture of introduction with his left hand.

"A pleasure," the dark-haired physician said with a slightly amused smile. Natasha came forward and shook the hand he offered her as she stepped onto the porch with Bruce right behind her. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. Nat noticed his hand was every bit as scarred as Bruce's was and almost as warm, too. She'd read about the auto accident that ended his surgical career in his file.

"It's good to finally meet you, Ms. Romanoff." He held onto her hand a moment longer than necessary, and Nat knew he was scanning and scrutinizing her, so she stared steadily back into his intense blue eyes and matched his firm grip.

"She's the real one," Bruce assured the sorcerer as he used the tile pad to let them into the house. "Please come in and have some tea, Doctor."

"I can't stay for long, but tea sounds good," the physician admitted and followed the couple through the mudroom and into the kitchen where Sirius greeted them with a low "Whoof!" as Bruce assured the dog the guest was welcome. Strange held out the back of his hand, and the overgrown pup gave it a brief sniff before backing off and circling Natasha protectively.

"Have a seat," Bruce said and filled a copper kettle with water and placed it on the stove before reaching into the cabinet for cups and saucers. Natasha collected Bruce's jacket and hung it up with hers on a peg near the door. She offered to hang up Strange's cloak but he kept it draped over his shoulders as if he were still warding off a chill from the evening air.

"Darjeeling, oolong, green, herbal, some other kind of herbal, or Earl Grey?" Bruce asked as he checked through the containers on the cabinet where the loose-leaf teas had congregated.

With a mischievous smile, the sorcerer suggested, "Surprise me."

"All right, but I doubt you came here for the tea, Stephen."

Strange looked at both Bruce and Natasha, moving around each other with the ease of an experienced pit crew. "No, but I did come for the company and to compare a few notes on certain loose ends, which have turned out to be something more like an unraveling than a tying up of threads."

Bruce sighed. "No neat dénouement for the Time Heist?"

"No, apparently not." Strange studied Natasha who had found Bruce's oversupply of Girl Scout Cookies in the pantry. Without missing a beat, Bruce handed her three small plates to go with the teacups and saucers he'd just set on the counter. The sorcerer was still marveling at how well they coordinated and in-tune they seemed, despite being separated for so long. "Please tell me you have the peanut butter ones dipped in chocolate," he requested. Those had always been a weakness of his.

Natasha dispensed with formality and handed the physician an unopened box of his apparent favorites. She stacked half a box of Thin Mints on a plate for Bruce and pulled out a few butter cookies with chocolate backing for herself. She placed the opened boxes in the middle of the table since it might take the remainder to get through the conversation even if it was brief. Bruce passed her some spoons and napkins to lay out, too. The honey and sugar were already in the table's center. None of them took cream with their tea.

Natasha sat down across the table from Strange whose back was to the mudroom door while Bruce stayed leaning against the higher section of counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. She'd missed seeing what type of tea he'd put into the stainless mesh ball, so it was going to be a surprise for her, too.

Strange cleared his throat as he slid the remainder of his box of cookies into the middle of the table with the others. "First, Ms. Romanoff . . ."

"Natasha, please."

"Natasha, I'm very happy to see you are among the living. I spoke to Wanda earlier, and she passed along the good news. I've since communicated with Fury and Captain Danvers, so I have some information about your captor to pass along if you'd care to hear it."

"Of course," Natasha affirmed.

"Please do," Bruce said with his burly arms folded across his chest.

"As you've already surmised, your impersonator was indeed a Skrull, Natasha. The assumption was the Skrull was either from a different group that Earth hadn't encountered before, one which split off during their diaspora, or perhaps he was some kind of a rogue agent. However, once Fury's allies, the Skrulls under Talos' leadership, compared cell samples collected from the craft in the lake to their database, it became evident that there was a connection."

"So, Nat's fake is related to some of Talos' people?" Bruce asked.

Strange nodded, "Four of them to be exact."

"I hope we're talking siblings or cousins," Bruce said with a frown.

Natasha cut to the other possibility, "Would they be grandparents?"

Strange nodded toward Natasha in acknowledgment, "In a manner of speaking, you were dealing with a being who doesn't exist yet."

The kettle's whistle gradually crescendoed to its full-throated high note as the implications sunk in. Bruce removed the kettle from the burner and turned the gas off. "Something tells me there's a common thread between this issue and what's been happening since the Time Heist. Clint told us there have been more paradoxes turning up."

"Yes, more than just the ones we've been dealing with concerning the Sousa family. In that case, it does seem to come back to a certain individual."

"Speaking of him, have you had a chance to sit down with Steve?" Bruce asked.

"We spoke about a week ago at a coffee shop in the Village, the day after he arrived (or reappeared?), but I can't say that he was extremely helpful. We went over what he'd done and where he said he was for all that time he was absent from our reality, but there were discrepancies almost from the beginning. Before I came here, I stopped by his apartment in Brooklyn, but he doesn't appear to have been there in some time if at all since Tony's funeral."

Bruce continued to frown. "I was hardly able to speak with him the day our Steve left and the old man arrived before that version left the Compound grounds. I asked if he understood the implications his little side junket might have for our timeline, and he clammed up tight. Sam and Bucky got in my face when I asked him again, so I thought it was better to back off before heavier things than words were flying. Do you think he's skipped?"

Natasha was imagining Sam's over-protective reaction and the possible outcome of a three-on-one fight with Bruce and the control it had taken on his part to avoid one. Even with those odds, a damaged arm, and a reluctance to harm the others, she'd have still put her money on Bruce. Nevertheless, the whole thing bothered her. She'd been at Peggy's funeral, and Natasha knew just how much Peggy had meant to him. Natasha also remembered seeing Peggy's husband Daniel there, not an older version of Steve. Selfishly throwing the rest of the universe into chaos and creating multiple splinters of the timeline—multiple conflicting realities—didn't match up with Steve's character or ethos at all.

The sorcerer shook his head. "I believe you were right not to press the matter, under those circumstances, Bruce." Strange thought a moment before answering the physicist's question, "If he's still in our reality, it seems likely he's gone underground. I've not been able to track him, and I suspect that's because he's not who he claims to be."

"Or he's found a way to cloak himself from a magical search since I imagine that's what you've already done," Natasha suggested. Strange nodded his confirmation. He'd used a hair from Steve's apartment to weave a tracking spell, and the magic had completely failed. "Do you have any idea exactly what he did to affect the timeline?" she asked.

Strange tried to keep from rolling his eyes with frustration before he dove into his explanation. "It appears he created a parallel timeline in which he lived out his life with Peggy Carter and then renounced that reality after her death to return to our own long enough to drop off the older version of his shield to Colonel Wilson. I'm not completely certain why he felt so compelled to return it, except that he seems to have wanted to pass along his mantel to Sam."

Bruce shook his head, feeling just as frustrated as the magic user. "Why would he want us to think he'd lived his past out in our timeline? Are you sure this really was our Steve?" the physicist asked.

"Those are good questions," the sorcerer stated.

"Was he human?" Natasha asked.

Strange shrugged the slightest bit. "That's also a good question."

"So, we really don't know if this was our Steve, another version of Steve, or a Skrull or something else?" Bruce posited. He'd warmed up a large ceramic teapot and steeped the tea, so now he poured their three cups full and settled them on the saucers for the other two.

"Correct, and that also leaves us with the anomalies involving the Souzas' background shifts and other exchanges or apparent 'edits' of digital footprints," the physician noted and blew on the steaming tea in his cup. "Mmm, white tea, ginger, and . . . bergamot?"

"You're good," Bruce said and placed his larger-sized cup and saucer at the head of the table and sat down in his extra-sturdy seat between the other two. "Whether this was our Steve or not, I'd seriously like to know where he acquired the Pym particles necessary to do the extra hop back to our reality," Bruce groused.

"Although I couldn't get him to say as much, I imagine he stole an extra vial or two when he returned the Space Stone," Strange surmised.

Bruce nodded, "That's the most likely explanation, but I'm amazed that didn't sabotage the whole Time Heist. Damn, it likely created at least one more splinter." The physicist clenched his jaws and then his right fist tightened. Now, he wished he'd thought faster, swallowed his pride, and called in Carol as soon as the old man had appeared on the lakeside bench. Things might have gotten messy, but they also might have had definitive answers to some of their questions. He felt Natasha's hand on his left forearm and realized his frustrations were getting the better of him. Bruce relaxed his jaw muscles and quit grinding his teeth as he loosened his clenched fist, flexing his damaged hand.

"Is Carol the only one who can detect a Skrull?" Natasha asked as she reached for a jar of honey in the middle of the table. Strange flicked his finger to levitate the jar gently into her grasp and unscrewed the lid. She raised an eyebrow and smiled her thanks.

"Please tell us you've figured out some method of detection, Stephen," Bruce said a bit forlornly.

Strange chuckled. "That actually brings me to another interesting piece of news," he said and unfastened his cloak to expose a familiar artifact resting on his chest.

The scar behind Bruce's right thumb heated up even before he realized what was once again housed in the amulet. A green light flared behind the metal housing, making the connection unmistakable. "How did you get it back?"

"As you might know, Stark returned the broken amulet that housed the Time Stone to Master Wong who had it repaired and returned to the place it had previously been kept. Two days ago, the Time Stone reappeared in its housing. I and several others have been investigating this phenomenon since then."

"How is this possible?" the scientist asked in disbelief. "Did Steve pocket it and bring it back?"

"I don't think so. Our surveillance cameras would have detected that" the sorcerer noted. The couple both gave him slightly incredulous looks. "What? We're not allowed to use both magic and technology?"

"You're right. That makes perfect sense," Natasha said. People were only human even if they were powerful magic users.

"What was on the recording?" Bruce asked, moving on with his inquiry.

"There was a green flash and the Stone manifested, once again whole and seated in the amulet just as it had been before."

"You wouldn't happen to have had a spectrometer nearby?" Bruce asked ruefully, wishing there had been more solid data collected.

Strange sighed, "No, but we can talk about adding one if you think that would be useful in the future."

"I'll start the paperwork for you myself," Bruce offered.

Natasha had grown quiet, her mind racing through possible scenarios and ramifications. "Is there any way to check for the presence of the other stones? If the Time Stone has returned, it must be possible for the others to do the same, right?"

The men looked at each other before Bruce spoke. "That's why I wish we'd gotten an energy signature and a reading on the Time Stone's manifestation; then, we might know what we need to look for with more specificity."

"Don't you have some of the data from the testing you and Tony and later Shuri did on the Space and Mind Stones?" she asked.

"You're right. We have data on those two energy signatures, which leaves . . ."

"The Power, Reality, and Soul Stones," Nat finished for him.

Strange held up his hand. "Perhaps another angle of inquiry that would help narrow a search would be to focus on the most likely places each Stone might manifest." The couple looked at each other and nodded. Strange gave a little snort as he watched them telegraphing and ending each other's thoughts. "Are you two sure you've been apart?"

Bruce went a little pale and then flushed beneath his verdant complexion as he looked at her with adoration. Natasha simply smiled back at the sorcerer and patted Bruce's muscular thigh beneath the table. "Now, Doctor, you're sounding like Tony Stark, except he'd have said something more embarrassing, and Bruce would be blushing less."

Bruce started to object but stopped himself. "True," he admitted with a thoughtful nod. "Anyway, as you were saying, Stephen?"

"I think it would help facilitate our search if we looked in the other Stones' last known locations," Strange suggested.

"You mean before Thanos 'acquired' them," Nat clarified.

"And using them and destroying them," Bruce added.

The sorcerer stroked his beard in thought. "Yes, and I believe I may know whom to ask for help with some of that. Bruce, can you still contact the Benatar?"

"That depends upon where they are and whether or not they're using a jump port," Bruce said. "Have you spoken to Fury about this? He may have better equipment and more contacts."

"Fury already knows and is checking through his channels, but I suspect the Guardians and Thor might be closer to Nowhere, Morag, or the remains of Xandar and Asgard than Fury's contacts."

"I have the prototype communication linkup that Rocket and I first put together if you'll give me a few minutes to set it up," Bruce said.

"I can spare it, especially if it gives us some answers," the physician responded.

"Back in a minute," he said and stood up from the table. Sirius watched as his master disappeared out the back door and headed to the warehouse, but he stayed at Natasha's feet.

"How about the Mind Stone?" Natasha asked. "Would Wanda be able to sense if it reappeared?"

"So far nothing," Strange admitted. "She was the first person I contacted after returning from the Kamar-Taj."

"And the next?"

"Wakanda."

"To check on Vision?"

"Yes, but nothing new, no manifestation. His body is still an empty shell."

"But Bruce, Shuri, and Helen are all working on it now," Natasha said.

"That's my understanding," Strange said. "The last time I spoke with Bruce they were working on integrating the programming and data from different sources, but still searching for a power source to replace the Stone."

"That's my understanding, too," she said, not wanting to get ahead of what Bruce may or may not have shared.

Sirius stirred and Bruce entered the kitchen with a reinforced metal case in hand, which he laid out on a clear spot in the middle of the kitchen floor and opened. "Give me a minute. This wasn't designed for hands my size. Friday, bring the array online and prepare the reactor for a higher power demand."

"Already on it, Doctor Banner," the Interface intoned brightly.

The physicist tapped a tile in the wall next to the counter to expose a variety of ports and outlets. He'd looped a coil of cables over his shoulder, which he unrolled and attached to the outlets first before connecting it to the device.

As Natasha rose from her seat, she looked at the open case that was unfolding onto the floor around itself to create a circular pad. She recognized some similarities to the diagnostic device at the medical facility from earlier in the day and the holographic communication array Bruce had designed for the Avengers Compound. She'd used it for almost a week to communicate with Okoye, Rocket, Rhodey, and Carol before the Skrull replaced her, but that device had been larger and less portable. Nat was certain this was the beta version of the machine, on which Bruce had kept tinkering after Rocket and he had designed it. Luckily, he kept it because the larger one was probably destroyed. "Do you need some help with the controls?" she asked.

"If you could flip the input lens up and handle the keypad, I'd appreciate it," he said as he handed her a modified Stark-pad and pointed to a manual set of switches on the base that stood out from the sleeker parts of the design. "That should give control of the contact calculations over to Friday." Nat did as he'd requested and adjusted the lens when it flipped into position. "Friday, engage please," Bruce said.

"Aye, initiating. Doctor, whom would you like me to contact?"

Strange caught himself before answering and Bruce grinned back. Having another degree holder in the kitchen was only slightly unusual. "Whoever is on the Benatar—Rocket, Nebula, or Thor will do. I imagine we'll be talking to all of them if this goes through."

"Please, not Drax or Quill," Strange said half under his breath.

The device hummed slightly and they waited a few moments. "Where is your antenna set up?" Natasha asked.

"The warehouse roof. It's the one place flat enough and big enough to hold the communication array, the telescopes, and some other equipment. The local Historical Society would have thrown a fit if I'd stuck anything on top of the house."

"And the reactor?" she asked as the pad in her hands began to display a map that looked like a detailed, three-dimensional star chart.

"It has a lab to itself. Why? Are you worried we'll need more juice?"

"Just thinking ahead to the Christmas lights," she teased back. "Can I display this with the holographic projector in the device?"

"There should be an option for that in the dropdown menu at the upper left," Bruce explained. She quickly had the images flashing into life in a gold column of light, and Strange moved around the table to get a closer look.

"I've found them," Friday said. "Do you want me to hail the Benatar?"

"Please," Bruce said.

In a moment, they heard a crackling that quickly resolved as the channel cleared. "Awwww . . . Did ya miss me, Big Green?" Rocket Racoon's voice asked as the golden image of the stars broke up and reformed into a life-size image of their friend that almost looked solid.

"Just the person I wanted to talk to," Bruce said.

The Guardian tilted his head and squinted. "Holy shhhh... .? Natasha?" Rocket sputtered as he recognized her. His fists went to his eyes and he wiped at them with disbelief before staring back again. "Nice haircut. What's going on? This better not be a joke!"

"No joke. Long story," she said, stepping further forward. "I lost about five years, but I did get to work with you for about a month and a half on the policing council we were setting up before I was grabbed."

"Sweet sushi! Then who was I working with? Who died? Who said she wouldn't let me in the kitchen anymore if I ate something out of the garbage can again?"

Natasha looked at Bruce for direction, and he raised his eyebrows and gave her a small shrug. Strange nodded briefly when she looked at him. "It was a doppelganger, a double who was also a very talented spy," she said.

"A Face Dancer or a Skrull?" Rocket asked.

"A Skrull. So, you've heard of them before?" she asked.

"Well, there aren't a lot of them around since the Kree went all empire on them, but they are known for their shape-shifting talents. I've never heard of one doing it for a whole five Earth years though. That's a hell of a commitment."

"Natasha! I knew I heard your voice!" Thor rumbled as he came into the column's projection field, pushing Rocket a bit to the side as the little technician protested and held his nose.

"Thor?" Natasha asked, sounding quite puzzled by his shaggy and fleshy appearance in exercise shorts and a tank top.

"Damn, I meant to tell you about him," Bruce whispered apologetically. "He got very depressed."

"Sorcerer Strange, do we have you to thank for her resurrection?" the Asgardian asked.

Bruce and Stephen looked at each other, and the sorcerer cleared his throat and stepped closer to the communication device's input lens. "No, I believe Natasha managed to free herself."

"Then you escaped Vormir on your own? That is truly auspicious!" the thunder god assumed.

"No, Thor, I was held in stasis for about five years."

"Five years? Baldur's ghost," he stammered and looked away, calculating how long she'd been a prisoner. "I . . . I'm so sorry. Then who did we work with? How did it happen?"

"A Skrull spy, you smelly dope," Rocket growled and slapped Thor's belly to back him up a bit.

"Is that who died?" Thor asked.

"Yes," Natasha said with a nod.

"I guess that explains some of her behavior and the shabby way she treated Bruce. You've told Clint, right?"

"He knows. He was here earlier," she explained.

"Ah, good," Thor said with a nod. "I'm glad you called me."

"You weren't the only one they called," Rocket said irritably as he elbowed in front of the gigantic blonde again. "Why don't you go back to helping Quill put that Bo-Flexier thing together?!"

"Looks like you've lost some weight," Bruce noted.

"Only because we're outta beer," Rocket snapped.

"Thank you for noticing," Thor said with a pleased smile.

"Actually," Strange spoke up, "there is another matter we wanted to discuss. If Nebula is there, we'd like to include her in the conversation." It took about ten minutes of discussion to get everyone up to speed between interruptions as the rest of the Guardians joined the conversation, except for Groot who mostly rolled his eyes as he worked a newer handheld game in the background before leaving the cabin. No, they'd not heard any news of the Infinity Stones manifesting, but they'd been mostly focused on following Gamora's trail and looking for Asgardian survivors. There was confusion, but also a lot of joy after Bruce's Snap returned people.

The Guardians had good news on that front. The spaceport where the heavily damaged hulk of the Ambassador had been hauled after its destruction at Thanos' hands had doubled its population of 1,200 as unsnapped Asgardians and even some resurrected ones rejoined the living along with a few Sakaaran gladiators as well. Thor teared up as he thanked Bruce for including so many of his people in the Hulk-Snap.

"It was the least I could do. I really wasn't sure if it had worked. Were Loki or Heimdall returned?" Bruce asked.

"No news of them yet, but we've not given up hope," Thor said with a shrug. "Most of the survivors will be immigrating to New Asgard to join the rest as ships become available," he explained.

Rocket chuckled, "It's not like we could get them an Uber Lift, but the locals seemed pretty motivated to get them all off the station and resettled."

"Before they eat them out of lauder and breathe them out of oxygen," Nebula added. "We're headed toward Nowhere next as we search for my sister. Perhaps we'll hear something about the Power or the Reality Stone there."

"Hope so," Quill added. "We've heard stories that don't match up. Some reports say there's nothing left of Xandar, but others say only the capital was damaged and it's slowly and quietly being rebuilt. When we get closer, the information should get more reliable."

"If there's something to see, we won't know till we see it with our own eyes or not," Draxx said stoically.

"I hate to break up this love fest," Rocket intoned, "but we are nearing the jump port. Has everyone made their requests, kissed their moms, and said their good-byes?"

"Please let us know as quickly as you're able if there's news of a Stone manifesting," Strange entreated.

"We certainly will," Nebula replied in her husky all-business tone. Bruce had a good rapport with Rocket and an abiding friendship with Thor, but he placed most of his confidence in the tall blue cyborg.

"Just a moment," Thor said and got close to the device as the others receded from view. "Let me know when the wedding is, okay? I'd like to be there." Before Bruce or Natasha could respond, he'd winked and signed off.

"Well," Strange asked impishly, "when is it?"

[problematicshipper]

Arranged Marriage AU

(Peter is 16, and Tony is 20)

An arranged marriage AU where Peter’s parents are both alive and own Parker Industries. It’s taken Richard and Mary decades of dedication to their craft in multiple fields of science, but they’re finally a force to be reckoned with. Establishing rivalries with other companies such as Oscorp, and Pym Labs. Parker Industries specializes in helping out the common man, and the help. Donating over 55% of their income to many helpful causes, and even having other family members such as Ben and May Parker open several homeless shelters in the Manhattan area alone.

Born and raised into this new era for his family is Peter Parker. Who is being shown the reins by his parents, and even has delved into biological sciences and some chemistry here and there. He’s shown on the covers of several science magazines, and many articles speak of the Prodigal Parker Son. One such news cover starts a rumor about Peter and the other children of famous scientists such as Harry Osborn and Tony Stark. Claiming that with Peter’s growing popularity among the public, he could easily overthrow the “Pompous Princes”  and lead the innovative world.

These rumors cause spite among other gifted children Peter’s age, and force him to become an outcast. Until Harry Osborn approaches him with a wink and a smile and tells Peter that he disregards all the rumors, and doesn’t think he’s a bad guy. Peter immediately melts into Harry’s presence and preens at the approval. He’s glad to have found a friend who is willing to hear from his perspective, and not some jackal from the Bugle or wherever. A friendship is quickly forged where Harry admits to Peter that he was originally set up by his father to befriend him to gather information. But after meeting Peter, he’s thrown all incentive to do his father’s will out the window. Peter is glad that Harry is honest about his past ulterior motives and the two remain best friends.

One day, Peter’s parents reveal they have life changing news for him. They’ve discussed with merging with another company to heighten their goals financially. While they are leading an ever growing company, there’s only so much they can accomplish on their own. This way, by joining forces with Stark Industries, they can accomplish so much more, and open up hundreds, if not thousands more job opportunities.

Peter is ecstatic until he learns the catch: He has to marry the Stark’s son and heir, Tony Stark.

Naturally, he isn’t too stoked about being forced to marry someone he doesn’t even know. He tries to get out of the situation, but his parents are guilt tripping him into conceding and just going through with it. Claiming it was the only way to get the Starks to agree with the merge. Peter calls bullshit and storms off, calling Harry to meet up with him. He spends the rest of the day in Harry’s car crying. Exclaiming how he can’t believe that his parents could do such a thing to him. Harry listens and calmly suggests bringing it up again when Peter’s head is more clear.

Peter never gets the chance because the announcement of the betrothal spreads like wildfire all across the nation the very next day. Peter locks himself away in his room, refusing to speak to either of his parents. He feels like a pawn that his parents are using to further their own careers without any consideration for his feelings.

The only person who Peter allows to enter his room is his uncle Ben, who serves as a shoulder to cry on, and an open ear for listening. Peter asks if it’s possible for his aunt and uncle to adopt him as a last resort. Ben, clearly upset with the decision that his brother and sister-in-law made for their son, sadly has to decline.

“I don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage, Ben. I want to be able to do whatever I want - I should be able to do whatever I want with my life!”

“I know, Peter. I am sorry.” And Ben means it.

A week passes before Peter is pulled out of his room to ready himself for the ‘meeting the fiance’ event. He scoffs as he looks over himself in the mirror. He’s sure that most couples have already established a relationship and a bond with one another before going the next step into marriage, but whatever. Apparently he doesn’t get to write his own story.

Admittedly, Peter doesn’t know much about Tony Stark other than he’s the heir to Stark Industries, and is somewhat of a flake. He’s never really attended any of the balls, or awards ceremonies that he and Harry, and all the other future heirs were forced to attend. Rumor has it the young Stark often plays hooky during events where his parents make their appearance to spite his father, Howard.

And of course, Peter knows what Tony looks like. He has to admit, he is handsome. That compiled with all the floating rumors paints a mess of a picture that Peter isn’t sure he’s ready to deal with. He’s going to have to spend the rest of his life living with a total stranger who probably won’t even spare him a passing glance. The thought of his bleak future makes his heart clench in so much hurt, it springs out tears from his eyes. Peter curses himself, wiping at his face when his mother comes around to let him know they’re ready to leave. Peter turns to leave without even acknowledging her or his father.

The proposal party is held at The Plaza. Everybody who’s anybody has attended. Most are people whom Peter has never met in his life. All congratulating him on his engagement. With fake smiles, and forced ‘thank-yous’, Peter steals glares at his parents, who coincidentally ignore him in favor of talking to the goddamn Mayor and the Starks.

However, Peter does notice that the Starks seem uncomfortable. With Howard looking at his watch every minute, and Maria glancing over  the crowd to the door. He swears he hears Howard murmur something along the lines of, “Better not be late, I swear to God.” Instantly, Maria focuses on her husband, rubbing his arm in comfort. Attempting to calm the ever growing angry man. Peter briefly wonders if Maria married Howard willingly, or if she was shoehorned into a similar position when she was younger.

The party goes on for a couple of hours. A good chunk of the guests are either sitting down looking bored, or shifting uncomfortably. Tony was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Seems the rumors of him being a flake are true after all. Peter sighs, and walks outside onto the balcony. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if he was left at the altar.

Peter gazes down to the traffic below, envious of the freedom of others. He’s shook out of it by the voices of partygoers growing in volume behind him. It’s a mix of gasps, laughter, and screams. He warily steps back inside the building just in time to see Tony Stark finally making the scene.

In the most outlandish clothes possible. The man looked like a mix between Willy Wonka and Pippi Longstocking. Mismatched undershirt with a blazer that seemed to be too small on him. Short pants that rode up his waist, and long socks with two different dress shoes on. A pair of Persol sunglasses perched atop the bridge of his nose.

Tony Stark struts through the party like he owns the place. Lifting his glasses at some people to wink at them, pointing finger guns at others, and flashing that huge and gorgeous smile at everyone he can. He stops in front of his parents. To Peter’s surprise, they seem unaffected by their son’s interesting choice in attire. Unlike everyone else around them who are either snapping pictures, or recording live video.

It’s when Peter looks towards his parents for their reactions that gets him to genuinely smile for the first time in weeks since the announcement. They are both naturally horrified by Tony Stark. His appearance and demeanor speaks volumes. Mary brings Richard down to her level to whisper in his ear. Peter can’t make it out, but it’s clear they’re reconsidering their decision. Good.

Then Tony turns to face Peter, and the air of swagger enveloping him all but disappears. His face softens to surprise and shock, and he ignores whatever it is that Howard is saying to him. Eyes locked on Peter, he pushes his way to his betrothed that he finally gets to meet. Tony lifts his glasses to rest on his head, and Peter’s breathing comes to a halt. His stomach litters with butterflies, and he’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

“Hey.” says Tony.

“Uh, h-hi.” Peter replies in a daze.

Tony shifts in place, and pockets his hands. “So, you’re Peter, hm? My fiance?”

“Yeah.” Peter answers meekly.

“Well then, Peter,” Tony stretches out his arms, opening himself up for evaluation. “You like what you see?”

Before Peter has a chance to answer, Howard is on them, roughly pulling at Tony’s arm to turn him around. Peter frowns.

“Tony, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Howard hisses through clenched teeth. “In front of all these people? In front of the Mayor? Our supporters.”

“Didn’t realize this was your party, Howard,” Tony scoffs then gestures to all the attendees. “Or theirs for that matter.”

“Tony please,” Maria pleads in a hush tone. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Aw, come on, mama. It’s what I do best, right?” Tony turns and smiles at Peter who can’t help but return the gesture.

“Howard? Maria?” Richard and Mary rush over. “Can we talk? Privately?”

With a sharp leer from Howard, Tony rolls his eyes as he watches the four adults excuse themselves. Howard makes a brief apology the the guests, and virtually sucks the mayor’s dick in front of everyone before exiting the room.

Slowly, the guests go back to partying. Some leaving after all the hubbub has died down. Everyone gives Tony and Peter some space to get to know each other.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Peter.” Tony mumbles to him. “It was never my intention.”

“I know,” Peter believes him. “I figured the news must have struck you the wrong way too.”

“Yeah, I was so pissed when my parents told me I was going to be involved in a forced marriage. Especially after they told me who it was I was betrothed to.”

Peter felt his heart sink. Was he really that big of a disappointment?

“Because I got worried that I wouldn’t be good enough for you, so I figured I’d pull this whole charade to give you and your parents a chance to back out.” Tony looks toward the doorway the parents went through. “Looks like it worked.”

“Wait, you thought that you wouldn’t be good enough for me?” Peter gasped. “Are you joking? You’re Tony Stark! You’re smart! You’re handsome! You’re funny! Who wouldn’t want to marry you?”

Tony cocked his head to the side, mouth widening in an open grin. “You think I’m funny?”

Peter stammers, “W-well, I… I mean, yeah. I think you’re… pretty funny.”

“You turn really red when you’re embarrassed. It’s cute.”

Peter had no idea how to respond to that. He shifts under Tony’s hooded gaze and honestly, he wants more of it. Wants more of Tony. He doesn’t want to end the engagement.

“I like you.” Peter blurts out.

Tony blinks. “Okay. I like you too?”

Peter groans, “No, I mean… I want to get to know you more. I don’t want to call off the engagement, or have my parents do it. If you know, that’s alright with you too?”

“You really want to subject yourself to this mess?” Tony gestures to himself.

“Hey, I have self-confidence issues myself. So maybe, we can be messes together?”

“Sounds nasty.”

“Not what I meant!”

Tony just smiles and takes Peter by the hand, leading him away from the party, away from the scolding judgement of their parents. They make it outside where Tony has the valet bring his car up to the entrance. He opens the side door, allowing Peter to sit down before closing it, and getting in the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” Peter asks, excitement overtaking his senses. He’s slightly bouncing in the seat, which makes Tony laugh.

“Wherever you want, baby.”

Peter thinks for a second, “The beach, maybe?”

They spend most of the afternoon and early evening along The Hamptons shoreline, hand in hand.

[tisfan]

34: “I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.” For either Winteriron or Steve and Tony friendship?

The Toast 

Bucky was never going tocomplain, exactly, about being required to kiss Tony, but he did wish thatClint, Sam, and Scott hadn’t decided to try very hard to time all the clinkingof forks against cups for right before Bucky stuck a bite of food in hismouth.

It wasn’t fair at all,really, he decided, turning to his newly minted husband and kissing the side ofTony’s smirk. He loved his husband, he did, but he was also aware that Tony(well, Pepper, but details) had arranged for some of the best reception food inthe world, made fresh by master chefs, and Bucky wasn’t getting to eat anyof it.

“Quick, eat now,” Tonysaid quietly, and stuffed a forkful of something in his mouth. Under the table,he squeezed Bucky’s thigh, and he winked.

Bucky managed to get inone little appetizer thing, tomato and cheese with balsamic glaze served ontiny little plates with tiny little forks, a cone of seaweed wrapped aroundsome seared tuna, and actually took a gulp of his wine before someone elsestarted the glass thing.

“They’re gonna starve met’death and then what good will I be to you,” Bucky said, barely shutting uplong enough to press his lips against Tony’s, the words buzzing against Tony’smouth.

Tony leaned in closer,brushing his lips over Bucky’s ear. “There’s a picnic hamper waiting for us inthe limo.”

“You know me so well,”Bucky said. He hadn’t eaten breakfast; wedding nerves, Natasha had said,teasing him. He linked his fingers with Tony’s, turning Tony’s hand to watchthe light glitter off the wedding band that Bucky had placed there not but anhour ago.

(more below the cut)

“Also, I’ve been to afew weddings in my day,” Tony said. “It didn’t seem likely that we’d get to eatmore than a few nibbles.”

“Seems a waste t’ justfeed the bird-brains,” Bucky said, mock-glaring at Clint from the main table,where the archer was currently making inroads on a slider burger and mini pommefrites. “Coulda just gotten pizza.” But at least he did get to clean theplate that someone had set in front of him, before it was whisked away again.

Eating one handed wasn’tthe easiest thing in the world, but he didn’t really want to let go of Tony’shand either.

Steve, looking dapper inhis tuxedo -- a black base, with red and gold accents, which made Steve, atleast, appear slightly diabolical -- stood up, then, raising his glass. He didnot clatter his fork against it, however, just waited until the wedding partysettled down. It didn’t take very long; Steve had that sort of presence,really.

“So, uh, Buck. Tony.Congratulations on your nuptials,” Steve said. There was a smattering ofapplause and Steve’s neck colored a bit.

“I got not idea whathe’s gonna say,” Bucky told his husband in a hushed tone.

“Me either,” Tonywhispered back. “He tore up the pre-written speech I gave him.”

Bucky blinked. “Youwrote… a speech. For my best man?” Huh. Bucky wished that he had thought ofthat. Not that he expected Rhodes to have done anything else aside from tear upBucky’s speech, too. But it might have been funny.

“It was a masterpiece,”Tony informed him. “Witty, brief, touching. Now we’re going to have to listento him ramble about, I don’t know, back alley fistfights and my dad orsomething.”

“I gotta say, when Iwoke up in this bold new future, I wasn’t that impressed,” Steve said. “Notwith the future, and not with-- well, much of anyone that I met, either. To sayTony and I were not well suited to be teammates, much less friends, would beputting it mildly.”

Bucky didn’t quite drophis face into his hands and groan. No one really knew what footage thatSteve had seen about Iron Man, but nearly everyone had seen the footage ofSteve and Tony almost coming to blows aboard the helicarrier. Trust Steve tobring that up, now. “Don’t divorce me,” Bucky practically begged, keeping hisvoice low.

Tony squeezed his hand,chuckling a little. “Should’ve gone with my speech,” he said sagely.

“I maintained for quitea while that Tony was everything that I didn’t like about the future; bright,loud, flashy, arrogant.”

There were scatteredchuckles at that, and Sam actually was fucking applauding, the ass.

“That part’s hard torefute,” Tony admitted, in a more or less normal tone of voice.

“So, listen close, here,because I’m about to say something astonishing,” Steve said. He paused,dramatically.

“I kinda miss theshowgirls, dancing behind him, when he gives speeches,” Bucky said.

“I was wrong,” Stevesaid. “Wrong about Tony, and wrong about myself. It wasn’t the bright, loud,flashy parts of him that I didn’t like. What I didn’t like was that he remindedme, desperately, of someone I’d lost. Someone who would have been fascinated towake up in the future, someone who would have been delighted. Who would haverun from building to computer to smart phone in a display of glee, wanting toknow at every turn ‘what does this button do?’ In short, I resented Tony,because I knew Bucky would have liked him, so very much. And Bucky wasn’t here,to meet him.”

Steve raised his glass.“In short, I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned. And,not that Buck has ever needed it, but you have my blessing, and hopes for along and fruitful relationship.”

Tony looked, in a word, astonished.His mouth hung open, just a little, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears.He held onto Bucky’s hand like a lifeline, as if that were the only thingkeeping him from washing away on the tide of sentiment. It took him an obviousmoment -- and a hard swallow -- to recover his wits. “Fruitful may be anissue,” he pointed out in a voice that cracked a bit. “I keep telling you, Cap,the biology doesn’t work like that.”

Rhodes leaned over andsaid, in an obviously-meant-to-be-heard undertone, “Tony once told me that thefirst rule of engineering was to assume that the laws of physics don’t apply toyou.”

Bucky snorted, not quitechoking on his wine, but close to it. “He certainly was right about one thing,”Bucky said, brushing his fingers over Tony’s cheek. “I like you, so verymuch.”

Tony leaned in to kisshim, eyes shining, and murmured, “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now,husband.”  

[gingerstorm101]

A Little Too Late Chapter 5

Summary: Years after the death of Ziva, a case comes up where Tony finds out that she’s keeping a secret from him.

FF

AOL

"Who names their kid David David?" O'Riley questions, glancing at the screen with the criminal's name on it. The morning sun shines through the window, setting a dull glare on the TV screen.

Tony’s heart lurches. “Do you think he’s related to Ziva?” Only because they have the same last name, the question comes up, but she was the only one of her family to move to the US. According to her, her family stayed in Israel.

“What would the chances be?” Sandra asks, her voice soft while talking about the departed agent.

McGee shift in his spot, glancing over at Tony. “Ziva doesn’t have any family left.” Tony glares at him, staring the man down until he speaks again. “Ok, besides Tali. But she told us her family has always lived in Israel. But see here, David was born here in DC, and so was his little sister. Parents moved here when they were kids with their families. So even if they were distantly related, they would have likely never met.”

"She never mentioned having family in the States," Tony adds, knowing the woman the best. Out of all the family she has mentioned, cousins weren't part of it. She had an aunt and uncle, but no mention of any cousins.

***

“Abby!” Tony calls from the doorway of the lab, an evidence bin in his hand, walking in to receive an ear blast of music. “Abby!” The woman pops her head out from behind the door to the middle room. Walking over to her, he hushes his tone. “Abs, we have 46 hours to show a judge our case in Sergeant Morgan’s murder.” The woman takes the bin from his hands, placing it on the table in the middle of the room.

"We got this Tony, we will put this murderer behind bars for killing our Marine," Abby reassures, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, but this just makes little sense. We got the guy, but my gut is churning.”

"And we shall suppress the gut!" She vows, punching a fist to the air.

Tony nods to the woman, frowning at the sudden pain in his stomach.

One by one, Tony and Abby go over the evidence, pulling up the information on the screen and writing their notes on paper to go along with what they have. Before they knew it, hours go by and the words on the pages are getting blurry. Tony has been going through David David's social media pages, to see if he could find anything hinky, and yet nothing has shown up. Nothing tells him that the man was with anyone, or anywhere anyone could see him.

With 40 hours to go, he rubs his eyes. "All the evidence points to David." He sighs, grimacing when his stomach churned again.

“And all his social media is quiet, nothing tells us what he was doing at that time.”

Tony rolls his chair beside Abby. “And what did you say his cell phone was doing at the time of the murder?” He asks. “He says he was at home in bed. Nothing that tells us he has an alibi.”

Typing on her keyboard, she pulls up the phone records. A few more keystrokes, the green screen appears in front of him. “Off.”

“Off?”

Confirming, she repeats herself. “Off.”

Tony bites his lower lip and shifting in his seat. “The boy has nothing.”

Beside him, she frowns. He knows that Abby likes to put the criminals away, but she knows of the gut instinct more than anyone else. They both grew up on it with having Gibbs as a boss, she more so than himself. But if the evidence tells them that David was the murderer, then so it will be.

“We have the motive.” He says, straightening his back. “The Sergeant was sleeping with David’s little sister.” How weird would it have to be for someone to sleep with his best friend’s sister? They are pretty much family. That would be like Tony sleeping with McGee’s little sister, no matter how cute she was. Besides the fact that Sarah had a husband and kids now.

Abby turns to him, her pigtails bouncing off her face. "But is that really a warrant for murder?"

He smirks, giving his shoulder a little shrug. “Well Abs, that all depends on how young the sister was.”

***

It is coming along dinner time when Tony got back from the restaurant. He and Abby had agreed a few hours ago that she’ll gather more information while he went out and gather evidence at a new crime scene. A petty officer had been found dead on a Navy ship, Heroin and needles found on the bunk beside him. On the way back, he had picked up dinner for himself and the forensic scientist. Giving the woman a quick call, he summons her to the squad room after sending his team home for the night.

“What do you got Abs?” He smirks, shoveling a mouthful of food in.

She connects her tablet to the monitor, pulls up O’Riley’s chair and sets it beside Tony’s desk. She sits, lifts her feet up to his desk, she gets settled with the tablet in her lap and her food in her hand. Taking her first bite, she pulls up a Facebook page. “Melissa David, age 19, graduated from high school last year. And according to this, she is a working girl at the local grocery store. I checked her records, she just applied for university. But there is one thing that came up you should see.”

Strolling down the page, she lands on a picture post. He looks over at her, his jaw clenched before looking back at the screen. “Is that a pregnancy test?”

“It is.” Taking another bite, she clicks on the picture. “And it’s even dated the other day. The night before the murder.”

“Could this be the reason David murdered Morgan?”

***

Abby sent him home, or at least to the hotel, for a couple of hours of sleep while she stays in the lab to work on a simulation.

“But what about you?” He asks. “You need to get some sleep too.”

She refused to sleep, playing it off as if she got plenty of sleep during the day, even though she didn't. He was with her for most of the day.

With 25 hours to go before the court time, Tony walks into the lab with a Caf-Pow and a coffee, leaving his team to work the new case. “Okay Abs, what do you gotta show me?” Handing her the drink, he walks around to the larger screen on the wall.

“I have questions, Tony.”

The green men on the screen of different situations. She plays the first one: The man walks into the room and the other man shoots him straight on, then the screen zooms in showing that the bullet hits none of the key points inside the skull.

“This first one doesn’t work, David would have to hit from a lower angle, so I made this one.”

The little green men set up again, this time the second man in crouching down in the room, and as the first man walks into the room, the shot is fired.

"This one is close, but it doesn't hit the same point. So he must be in a similar position. But how would a trained marine not know someone has broken into his house?" She walks over to him, her drink in her hand. "And another thing."

“And what’s that Abs?”

“Why was Tali’s fingerprint in the house?”

***

Ten in the morning rolls around and with 22 hours to go before it is time for the trail, and Tony found himself in Vance’s office briefing him on the case. So far the entire evidence and motive points to David David, but Tony’s gut is still churning at the thought of putting the man behind bars.

Tony plays the simulation video that Abby had created the night before.

"I see what you mean. It makes little sense." His no-nonsense voice rings through the room. "You have something on your mind, DiNozzo. What is it?"

Tony bites his lower lip, worried that he is about to make a mistake. A bad call.

“I’m thinking David wasn’t the murderer.” God, was he making a mistake?

Vance leans forward in his seat, his fingers interlacing.

“Then who was it?”

***

He takes Sandra with him to the police station where they are holding David. Walking up to the front desk, he pulls out his badge, flashing it. “Special Agents DiNozzo and Johnson, we dropped off a murder suspect yesterday morning. We want to ask him some more questions.”

The woman behind the counter nods, standing up and leading them over to their own interrogation room. He sits in the chair across from where the suspects sits and waits. After about 10 minutes, David is brought into the room in an orange jumpsuit and chains.

Calmly, Tony starts the new round of interrogation. “Who else was in the room when Sergeant Morgan was killed?”

The man looks away. “I told you before, I didn’t do it.”

Beside him, Sandra places the folder down on the table and opens it. “We have your gun, and we have your motive. Now who else was in the room with you when Sergeant Morgan was killed?” She pushes, placing the pictures from the folder in front of the man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mutters, not looking down at the photo before him.

Tony snaps. “You’re little sister! Sergeant Morgan got her pregnant!”

“I would never kill the father of my sister’s baby. I may hate the man for getting her pregnant, but I would never kill him!” He hisses, glaring at the agents.

“Then who stole your gun?” Tony yells, slamming his hands on the desk.

“I don’t know!”

"Listen, David," Tony says, "We have everything against you. All evidence points towards you! If you don't give us this information, tomorrow you'll be in prison."

David is quiet, biting his own lip.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Sandra pipes in, asking a question. "Do you know a Ziva David?" Tony swallows, wondering why his agent would ask such a question when he himself already gave them an answer.

But the answer floored him. “You’re the second person to have asked me that.” He stares the man in the eye, looking to see if he is telling the truth or not. He is.

“Who else asked you, David?”

“A little girl, maybe 10?”

Tony pulls the folder of pictures towards him, ruffling through them before he finds the one he is looking for. He pulls out the picture of Tali from her passport and flips it around towards the young man. "Is this the little girl?"

David nods, glancing from the photo to Tony’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me about her.”

David shifts in his seat. “What is there to tell, really? She showed up at my door one day, I thought she was lost.” He says. “I invited her in so we could call the police and she asked me out of the blue if I knew a Ziva David. Sure we have the same last name, but that’s about it. When I told her no, I turned around, and she was gone. Just like that. Do you know who this girl is?”

Tony nods, gathering up the photos. He gets to his feet, tapping the folder on the desk before he leaves the room.

From inside the room, he hears David call again. “Who is she?”

***

Walking back into the bullpen with Sandra, he barks orders to O’Riley. “Put a BOLO out for Tali David. Just say ‘missing’, we don’t want the people she’s with to think we want her for any other reason.” He turns to McGee. “It will be a long night of searching, get us some coffee. You know what we need. And maybe some dinner. Chinese?”

With that he takes his leave and heads to the elevator going down, he had something to do. The door dings open and he steps in, the doors close behind him and he waits without pressing a button. Suddenly he lifts his hand and slaps the back of his head. And with that he presses the B1 button; the elevator moves.

Walking into the lab, he calls to the forensic scientist who is sitting at her desk.

“What can I do for you?” She asks, bouncing over to him.

“Abby, I need you to change the shooter in that simulation you made last night.”

She gives him a double take, her mouth agape. "To whom?"

“Tali.”

[narcissismechoapologetics]

My late brother’s 40th birthday was this time of year fourteen years ago. He died three years prior to his 40th birthday, allegedly dragged 85 feet down I-35. He was allegedly attempting to cross the interstate on foot (being chased by multiple perpetrators based on my understanding from loved one at that time), drugged undoubtedly, too, when he was allegedly struck by a full size white SUV, traveling southbound in the inside lane, that allegedly struck his in the back with their mirror, allegedly piercing his aorta, killing him instantly, thrusting him to the pavement in the outside lane, where at that very moment a second vehicle was passing the first, running over him, and dragging him 85 feet down the interstate. Some of the news report referenced him as “she” rather than “he,” based on his first legal name, Gail. The following year the freaks (and by “freaks” I do not mean the good kind, or innocent people who are just marching to the beat of a different drum) in Lenexa, Johnson County, Kansas referred to my late brother as “road runner.” Recall the commentary during the drugging and kidnapping on or about May 23, 2104, while holding up a long silver tow chain, “This is the way we usually do it,” received as both a murder confession and a death threat.

In 2016, I requested via U.S Mail and electronically, the unredacted police and coroner’s reports surrounding his death, but have yet to receive any cooperative, legitimate response from Kansas City Missouri Police Department. However, I have received quite a bit of harassment, some quite overt. The report provided were excessively redacted so as to render them useless. The location of impact and death was first stated to be barely inside KCMO jurisdiction from Claycomo, Missouri, at that mile marker, which I no longer know off the top of my head without looking. I wanted to say 10 for example, but was then changed to allegedly being two mile markers further into the KCMO jurisdiction, south on Interstate 35.

The body was taken to Independence, Missouri, and I have been unable to even get a response as to whether that is standard operating procedure, as opposed to Downtown KCMO. A look at the incident with a critical eye could cause it to appear they went around Downtown KCMO, who was initially given every benefit of the doubt. However, based on their behavior since that time, they are no longer given such benefit of the doubt. Recall that I grew up around cops, and have been with a cop or two as an adult, with no prior “attitude.” So, the current disposition has been vigorously earned by multiple jurisdictions in recent years.

This behavior has been articulated in recent years, including being mobbed and threatened on an old deserted country road, in the dark and the cold, by multiple uniformed officers, into an unneeded ambulance for high spectrum gaslighting, forced to St. Luke’s Northland, where medical attention was immediately refused, and a prior mobbing by four white male, (who were out of their jurisdiction, stalking me, I believe it was approximately 2 in the morning upon arrival at Perkin’s where police lied and threatened me with trespassing charges should I return, when the establishment had just invited me the evening prior to plan on every Monday night. When you are #fangrocked out of your home and life, due in the first place to their enduring incompetence and corruption, it is the police who attempt to make certain you also freeze to death, are “taken (the rest of the way) down,” involuntarily committed,  become ill or terminally ill, etc., seriously. When you are stalked out of your home, be it from overt stalking campaigns, or the string of perpetrators who they then try to maneuver you into positions with them having power over you, you are then to exist nowhere quietly and gratefully, according to these lying freaks. The police have absolutely been much worse than just worthless in the situation, but appear to jump up there to “show off” should the freaks get stuck anywhere along the way with their schemes.

Police have not only consistently displayed blatant disregard for the live and health of innocent victims, but vigorously assisted the criminals), under 40 uniformed officers in Gladstone, MO Perkin’s, (Bo worked at the Smokehouse BBQ right next door, in (Gladstone), and lived with us in my townhouse in KCMO clear back in the 1980′s, and was getting lined out, when he went to the hospital due to touching shrimp allegedly. Perpetrators in Lenexa, Johnson County, Kansas and elsewhere this many years later, have referenced him as “shrimp.”) with directed conversation, “You f****d him,” (referencing an alleged drugging and raping video while breaking into our Overland Park, Johnson County, Kansas home in 2005, resulting in the freak finding a surrogate for a harvested embryo, drugging, and deceptive adoption, without knowledge, at Stinson, but appearing to be due to slander based on being drugged, when I have never even smoked pot in my entire life, a child I want returned with the rest of the children taken from our bodies by any means, meaning my child and I’s bodies. This maneuver does not in any way appear to be limited to myself, and my child) following by a loud, abusive, disparaging scene outside by three white uniformed Gladstone police officers, one female and two male, also forcing me to St. Luke’s Northland, where medical attention was immediately refused. On the second occasion, it was inquired as to whether they would treat my physical injuries rather than gaslighting me, to which the response was, “no.”

It certainly appears these police departments have perpetrated against me, at least in part, due to their past involvement in unethical or criminal knowledge and/or behavior, including but not limited to myself, my child (also in Gladstone shortly prior to leaving for Slidell in July 2006, with my then toddler grandson) and my late brother, as well as my grandchild, Mercedes potentially, passing from a “rare disease” at the tender age of 23. She was Bo’s firstborn, who lived in Sedalia all of her life, until marrying, moving to KCMO, I believe, then passing, Roberto and Alfi lived in Olathe, Johnson County, Kansas years ago, and Toni (DoES - Daughter of the Eastern Star, and Sunday school teacher at their local church, of course) lived with her first husband Chris Kowolski in Sedalia, where her current in-laws still live to the best of my knowledge, and also in Lenexa and Olathe, Bonner Springs, and worked in North Kansas City, MO, and others, such as numerous concerns about those on America Online in the Kansas City Over 40 Chatroom.

It appears Bo, who intended to become a (true Christian, not a pretender) pastor when he was young, was targeted from the age of 19 until his death at 39 years of age, resulting in no known charges against any aggressor, but at one point at least, was on Kansas City’s Most Wanted himself (based solely on my recollection, primarily due to assault charges, undoubtedly from being provoked, (for example, getting in a fight when with my date, Buzz and I, due to some guy grabbing my behind, while with my date and I, Rod, too, the establishment, The Ol’ Firehouse, apologizing for kicking the three of us out) as I myself in recent years, not being a violent person, and middle aged rather than an outraged teenager or young adult, an outraged middle aged, also injured women (Bo returned from Wichita, Kansas with two dislocated shoulders allegedly from falling between a dock while a volunteer fire fighter, I have serious spinal and other injuries, with commentary that “I heard you have a mean right hook.”) could easily have punched several aggressors in the mouth myself. What appears to have caused this targeting at the age of 19? Bo had the wisdom to see the truth, and the backbone to stand up for it, against an alcoholic pedophile and his enabler, or what may have been more accurately at the time coined his conspirator (and pedophilia, as well as other sexual perversion and violation, appears to be quite the theme in all of this).

Also note this discrediting, and even public disparaging, is something that has even entered my mind regarding prior Kansas City Metropolitan Bar Association President, Werkin’s situation, due to double binds, infuriating, outrageous criminal activity, etc). This appears consistent with knowledge both of Bo’s live, having lived with me six or seven times in our twenties, having gotten Bo out of jail repeatedly, most specifically in Sedalia, Pettis County, Missouri, as well as my own personal experience with law enforcement in recent years, having been a member of the local legal community for half of my life, a KU Law School graduate, mother, grandmother, and lifelong resident of the area.

There have been no known charges against any of aggressors either, but I was the one charged with trespassing, repeatedly jailed for brief periods of time, arrested, not arrested, but taken into custody, handcuffed, my things gone through, publicly disparaged repeatedly during their displays, harassed, threatened (KCMOPD did not want me to “fall and bust my head open,” and if I did not get in the unneeded ambulance, with two more white males, they would physically put me in it). Again, I am completely mentally healthy, even having been told by a licensed therapist, that I am one of the mentally healthiest people she knows, even. (Recall that 23 years ago in 1997, JDK was literally begging me to marry him, while simultaneously telling his psychologist neighbor he was helping some crazy woman, and that he stated he was going to “go talk to Manny (male from India, living in Olathe, Johnson County, Kansas, and business owner, employing teenagers, later including my child at Oak Park Mall, in Overland Park, Johnson County, Kansas, openly stating the business was started with money from our government upon moving to the US from India, Lirpaloof (April Fool backwards, he stated at an age approaching 40, was a 15 year old he was in love with) on America Online, Kansas City Over 40 Chatroom), whom he had no legitimate way of even knowing). Manny’s wife, Jay, was experienced as a nice, but exhausted and overworked lady from India, a registered nurse. Around 1999, Manny called me from Manny’s the restaurant in KCMO, stated he had drank too much and needed ride home. I left my child and I’s Lenexa, Johnson County, Kansas apartment at The Crossings, to pick him up, and told him I was going to let him out of the car if he did not stop trying to kiss me. He did, and I took him to his Olathe, Johnson County, Kansas home, he shared with his wife and child. Manny had parties at Manny’s, but only about three people ever showed up to the best of my knowledge, including the quite young at the time, Susan, “Honeyboner,“ on AOL, who has since been suffering from a rare disease, since her teenage years, I believe, now in approximately her late thirties, Sherry’s (some variation of “Trouble” was her screen name, also a registered nurse). Sherry dated Lewis, a self-proclaimed 32rd or 33rd degree Mason and Shriner, approximately 25 years ago, after the death of her husband. Their lives appear to have become a downward spiral over all of these years, as well, last known to be in the God awful City of Gladstone, Missouri, as I recall the house appearing to be such a good deal had a mold issue, as did the house Roberto and Alfi rented from Lewis in Claycomo, MO. Recall that black mold collects is the lungs, and stays there. Mold itself is a little echo, the hackers in 2016 kept changing to “mole” on my articulation. Similarly, years later in approximately 2006/7, Susie, who appeared to be a scapegoated childhood sexual abuse survivor, had to move out of a house full of mold not too far from The Kansas City Funeral Directors, there off of I-635, and I believe it was after that, ended up in a little place behind Overland Park Police Department. She has been signified by perps with her little sports car, the make and model escapes me at the moment, even though I recognize it when presented. Susie stated her abusive father is a Mason.

Then, of course, you have the asbestos situation, the FEMA asbestos trailers, including my children, which includes grandchildren having to move due to all of their belongings being covered in mold, the rental property in Mobile, AL in 2009, while beginning to volunteer at the Mobile Bar Association, regarding mold cases, while renting a room from a black lady in a house filled with black mold, 2009, I believe. The substance crammed down my throat on my own Overland Park, Johnson County, Kansas bed, during the 2005 workplace mobbing and multiple perpetrator stalking, while employed at Stinson, with a chest x-ray and medical commentary that my “esophagus” had been “moved over,” hence, they were trying to get it into my lungs, and it appears cause me to chock to death on my own bed, with small roughly squares of it left on my comforter, while passed out drugged, believed to be asbestos, as well as anally inserted during the drugging and kidnapping (not legally defined) on or about May 23, 2014, permanent damage to my colon and rectum resulting, among many other serious injuries. There was also the skull and bones warning sign across the street from Stinson’s Downtown KCMO offices in 2005, warning of asbestos, The Jones Store building had standing water allegedly, etc. The black dust in the ventilation at Westbrooke Glen, a Signature Community, based out of New York City, Art and Linda. Nancy’s Madison suffers from a rare disease, with Nancy stating her ex-husband is a Masonic lawyer. Perpetrators in many instances are murderers, and the police are HELPING them.

As we have repeatedly stated, it is our belief that there should not be found even one secret society or cult member on the police force, not anymore than there should be found a Klansman.

Trespassing Echo: Originated at Shawnee Community Center, by Sylvia, my late friend Evelyn’s daughter, who had an attitude with me from the moment I met her mother, who had given me her (Evelyn) personal cell phone number due to Sylvia lying about her not being there and not letting me talk to her. whom I was concerned about, and finally walked, due to loss of automobile during perpetrator crimes, from Mission to Shawnee, last seeing Evelyn with pink cheeks, looking dazed and confused, shortly prior to her death, with Sylvia stating she was in charge now, not to ever go around her again, and that if I return she will call the police and have me charged with trespassing, 2015. May Evelyn rest in peace. Her absence will undoubtedly be, and has been, severely missed, and her child is certainly no replacement, even with her white male sidekick.

This echo was received by Carew at The Maples in Mission, Johnson County,Kansas, threatening me with calling the police, and calling the police, because I was noticing the plunder truck being gone at all hours, among other things. Two uniformed Mission Police officers responded, one went in to talk to Carew, and the other, believed to be “Mr. Smiley,” took my DL out of my sight (it appears this is a slick little maneuver by some police, too, switching your identification out while requesting it in a series. Then you have the responsibility that also appears to be falling on the average innocent citizen of distinguishing whether the uniformed officer standing in front of you is an imperfect human being trying their best to do their job sincerely, a network, cult, secret society, bought, dishonest, etc., officer, or some psycho allowed to run around in police uniform impersonating an officer, or perhaps an officer in uniform outside their own jurisdiction, or allegedly threatened, even though I have yet to note any body language from a uniformed officer matching that claim, quite the contrary.

Note: One would hope the police signed up for their duty, the average innocent man, woman or child did not.), accused me of “stealing bicycles” (it was so annoying at the time. Does it look to you like I have a bicycle in my back pocket? I have not even owned a bicycle since my twenties. It was a metaphor later translated as preventing childhood sexual abuse, beginning from the fact that on my 9th birthday as a child, I got a lot of presents, including a bicycle (which perps used (bicycles,) to reference childhood sexual abuse, as well as my signification of “blueberry” for male childhood sexual abuse and “strawberry” for female, due to references in the Merriam, Johnson County, Kansas (a city historically known for having many pedophiles) QuikTrip (donuts advertisement, in the FT way (see historic Mission, Johnson County, Kansas McDonald’s commentary regarding pictures on the wall) echo to Dollar General, regarding strawberry), the year the childhood sexual abuse began, conveying a message perpetrators attempted to inflict, regarding self-worth, money, etc. There were not charges at this time, only harassment. Note the sexual predators mangle Scripture to claim, “they don’t judge one another.” Not judging criminal activity puts innocent lives at risk, and is yet another gross misapplication of doctrine, not unlike their using the law against the spirit of the law.

This echo was received by Carew (it was claimed it could have been his brother from Colorado, but Carew himself was snarling at me on the street outside The Maples, firing a ball into his ball glove, playing ball later with a Dollar General employee who had given me the additional 50 cents to purchase cigarettes, not seen since that period of time. Also recall that the large and tall black female in police uniform during the May 23, 2014 ordeal, was of the same build as a then Mission Dollar General employee, laughing the next time she rang up my order in the store, then leaving their employment apparently.) at Mission Hills Country Club, with the orchestrated confrontation, arrest at Stateline Road (Carew reference, the road he claimed in 2005 that he took to work every day), by Prairie Village Police Department, where Toni worked in 1997, followed by the overnight ordeal in the Johnson County, Kansas Jail, previously articulated, occurring May 4, 2016. Stopped by police more in the last five years that the rest of my life combined, “Tom” invariably comes over the police radio, and the police know damn good and well.

This echo bounced to Kansas City International Airport with Kansas City Missouri Police Department, Gladstone Police Department in the Perkin’s that had just invited me to plan on being there every Monday night, lying, and gaslighting.

The three, two being for one occurrence with the officer (one white female and one white male) just throwing the second one at me while in custody for the first one, charges from KCI Airport Police were dropped after about one year of returning to court, also resulting in brief jail time in KCMO, as previously articulated. The average citizen should be alarmed by the state of KCI Airport, including police, janitors, TSA, and employees, the perpetration and directed conversation, with the TSA agents appearing to be both perpetrating, as well as some of them appearing targeted. No Miranda was echoed to the really awful personnel at the Motel 6 in Lenexa (an area Lenexa police told me to stay away from (they do not like it when you are noticing their activities)), in the perpetrating manner of “punishing” victims for defending themselves, etc, first with an employee by that name who claimed some idiotic reason I could not rent a room, (which is in the manner of the FTs, meaning the names or name tags of perps).

This situation has been articulated online for years now, and all of the pages containing the articulation have been hijacked, “gone away” (Google), very much manipulated, but if one has been able to objectively follow the situation it should have been exceedingly clear several years ago now.

[prideguynews]

By Charlie Rounds

On Oct 1998 my husband and I celebrated his 29th birthday (alright it was a minor additional than 29!) in Provincetown. I experienced been to P-Town many occasions right before in the summertime when I was the Director of Income for the Sea Spirit, the first and only gay owned and operated cruise ship. The summertime there is constantly loaded with individuals and routines and I was not sure as to what it would be like in Oct. I was additional than pleasantly shocked, and I feel you will be far too.

At any time of the calendar year Provincetown is recognized for range and is a splendidly accepting neighborhood the place absolutely everyone can be on their own and mingle in the streets in friendship, security, and acceptance. Tony Fuccillo, Director of Tourism for the Town of Provincetown, told me that they refer to September/Oct as Provincetown’s 2nd Summer, when the sunshine is large in the sky, the evenings are interesting, weekly occasions dot the calendar, the inns have diminished fees, the retail stores are on SALE and the entertainment and nightlife are just as remarkable as July and August. You just will have additional clothing on.

For theatergoers, there are two independent theater festivals, The Afterglow Theater Pageant from September ten-sixteen and The Tennessee Williams Theater Pageant from September 27 – thirty.  AFTERGLOW is a accumulating of each renowned and underneath-the-radar innovative stage artists evolving the globe of stay avant-garde effectiveness. And to demonstrate that P-Town seriously does benefit range in September and Oct, you can locate Mates Leather-based Weekend (September 27 – Oct one), Women’s Week (Oct 8-14), and the 44th Fantasia Reasonable (Oct 14-21). Fantasia Reasonable is the longest managing transgender function in the place. And, of training course, let’s in no way forget about Halloween in P-Town which involves a costume ball – don’t shed your ruby slipper!

We love the Lark Inns and AWOL is their new addition in Provincetown. The lodge was a short while ago renovated and is positioned in the West Conclusion, just a brief stroll from an eclectic mix of procuring, dining, shorelines, and nightlife.

Nantucket: an exclusive hideaway – shut by – but a globe apart.

Nantucket is a spot to clear away yourself from the globe as we know it however have entry to great dining and lodging. Often you just want a crack from your fellow humans. A possibility to wander vacant shorelines making the most of the seem of the sea or bike on close to vacant trails with absolutely nothing but your views. You may well want to study several excellent publications – or improved however, start out creating your individual. Nantucket hosts its once-a-year Slide Restaurant Week from September 24 – thirty. You will have a possibility to take pleasure in great meals at a set value at a person of the island’s outstanding dining establishments. Commencing mid-Oct lodge price ranges appear down noticeably which lets you a possibility to take pleasure in the purely natural magnificence of this exclusive hideaway at pretty much 50 % the price. We suggest a different Lark Hotel – 21 Wide for your continue to be. This boutique lodge capabilities 27 rooms, a concierge, steam area and spa.

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