#very Restrict and Banner vibes

[purplehoover]

I ADORE I ADORE I ADORE I ADORE I ADORE

Fat beans

[cupidvision]

𝔭𝔞𝔠-𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

—>about this reading: this reading is going to tell you the lie being told, why the truth is being held from you, and when or if you’ll find out! sounds interesting? then continue reading !

—> how to choose? close your eyes, clear your mind, and open your intuition. then think about the numbers, the images, the feeling they gives you. then choose🖤

the banners used are by @cafekitsune !!

1->3

pile 1

signs that this is your pile: pisces, cancer, taurus, capricorn, 5, 8, 15, lots of emotions recently, a feeling of needing help but not knowing how to get it, uncomfortable, back pain 

8 of cups, queen of cups reverse, hierophant, the devil 

the lie

the lie that’s being told to you is that you are a disappointment. this could be a lie your telling yourself, but if there is an outside influence, i’m seeing that the person who may be telling you this is insecure or dependent on you, so they try to keep you down in a low vibration too. i also have a feeling that you may not want to leave this situation or person that is causing you these feelings. this can trigger a sense of abandonment for you. another lie i can see being told is “you can’t leave” or “you can’t escape” maybe you feel stuck on the situation or person you are with. this could also be from yourself. i’m seeing that this lie could make you very emotional. interestingly enough, before i started this reading i felt stuck, like i didn’t know what to say. so i read something that reassured me that i can do this reading. maybe that’s a sign for you to look for someone close to seek help from, or find health coping mechanisms 

why is the truth being held from you?

(i actually feel like the lie may be coming from within so that’s how i typed that part)

it’s being held from you possibly because of the situation your in causes you to conform to the rules of that environment. this can mean that the community your apart of may not be open to hearing what you have to say. it could be brushed off as “a little anxiety” or “not that big of a deal”. i’m having a feeling this lie is coming from within, so there’s a chance that your scared that if you tell someone, you’ll be shamed, ridiculed, or pushed away. this is what’s keeping you away from the truth

when or if you will find out 

(when or if you will tell others)

i’m seeing that you will likely keep this to yourself. maybe the inner voice is plaguing you to keep this in. but there are consequences to keeping this in. it can lead to self destructive behaviors, and you will continue to feel like your stuck or restricted. you may have a toxic relationship with these negative thoughts , like when you try to show yourself some compassion, you may feel uncomfortable or like it’s not right. it may be awhile before you finally open up about how your feeling

pile 2

signs this is your pile: capricorn, virgo, 0, 1, 2, 9, feelings of confusion, optimism

the fool, 2 of pentacles, the hermit, ace of wands

the lie 

i have a feeling that the lie being told to you is that this risk, or new beginning will be worth it. maybe it puts a lot of things at risk or you are blindness going with the flow. i have a feeling that you were convinced by someone or yourself that this “new possibility” will be worth the 50/50 risk. i’m seeing that you don’t wanna miss out on this opportunity, or you’ve been trying to put your trust into going with the flow, instead of being practical and planning. on this card this man is looking in the air blissfully with what seems to be him dancing at the edge of a cliff, and that’s somewhat the vibes i get from this. you really wanna try to be positive about this, but i’m getting a sense that it isn’t like you to just “trust the process”. and i have a feeling you may have been coerced into thinking or feeling like it was a good idea

why is the truth being held from you?

the truth is being held because someone or yourself is trying to get you out of your comfort zone. being told the truth may make you realize that the risk isn’t worth it, or that you could be making a bad decision. i’m also seeing that you are having an internal conflict choosing which side of you to believe. “do i want to take the risk or not?” “new start or comfort zone?” these are the questions you may be asking yourself. taking this opportunity could also put a lot of your priorities at jeopardy or make you lose sense of what your priorities are. in the hermit card, the man is holding a lantern but he’s looking away from it, i feel like this you you looking away from the truth, someone withholding it, or the truth being right in front of you but you can’t see it

when or if you will find out 

you will be told the truth eventually or shown  the right decision. i’m seeing that once you bet out of this limbo of “should i or should i not” it will open more doors for yourself. in fact, a new and even better opportunity can come along. going through this lesson will help you grow, and and gain power from it (could be metaphorical). this also strikes an inspiration in you. if you paint, draw , write, this could inspire you to make a piece from this situation. i’m seeing that you’ll be quite satisfied with the outcome 

pile 3

signs this is your pile: 8, 88, 2, sagittarius, gemini, cancer, the moon, needing a break, tired, relaxing, scared, timid, paranoia, waiting, impatience, listening 

8 of wands reversed, 8 of sword reversed, the high priestess 

the lie

i’m seeing that you are being told to wait, or to be patient about whatever is coming. “you just need to wait” “your being so impatient” is what i’m hearing. i feel like waiting is giving you a sense of panic and fear. this is causing frustration, more panic, tiredness, and paranoia. people around you, or yourself could be telling you to hold off doing something. you feel stuck, and confused. your not sure what to do, and this can be feeding into your anxiety. while typing this i feel a sense of anxiety, and also feeling like i don’t know what to do, i have a feeling you also don’t know what to do 

why is the truth being held from you?

i feel like the truth is being held from you because you may not want to accept it. you have beliefs that are limiting you from your fullest potential. you beat yourself up over this situation, or thing that is causing you this stress. you may cuss or whisper negative things to yourself when your upset. you don’t want to accept the truth. maybe your inner thoughts are telling you it’s too good to be true, or that you not ready to open yourself up to that perspective. although you may be scared, i have a feeling the truth will free you from all this worry 

when or if you’ll be told the truth

i’m seeing that this is a maybe. i feel like it’s really up to you wether you want to accept it or not. i’m seeing that you should trust your gut feeling about this. use your instincts and intuition to guide you to your answer. i’m also seeing a feminine figure, maybe one you look up to, will help with this. i’m finding that this information will be something you hold onto dearly and you will gain a sense of purity, and trust yourself again 

[walpu]

LET'S GOOOOOO I've lost 50/50 on her banner so it's my way to cope

this bitchass app tries to shadowban me so i'm reuploading this

nsfw headcanons w/Sparkle

characters - Sparkle notes - gn!reader, nsfw, dom!Sparkle, no beta

Everything is insane when it comes to this girl.

First of all, I don't think she's a virgin.

She doesn't seek sex for the act itself, for her it's just another way to play a certain role she has in mind.

If you're her lover then be prepared to her shenanigans lmao.

Constant role-playing. Like I mean it. According to her stories and voice lines, she likes to make up origins and roles for herself just for the sake of it, so of course she won't miss a chance to put her imagination to a good use.

Calls herself a switch. Can be a dom or a sub depending on what role she wants to play. But I would say she's naturally more dom leaning, she can't help but notice that the roles where she gets to boss you around are more… fun to play.

Very kinky. I think she would be open to anything you may propose. And if eventually she dislikes the experience, she just dismisses it as boring.

Would probably have some issues with respecting boundaries. I mean in her voiceline about Sampo she literally complains that limitations are boring and "kill the vibe". Plus her disregarding other's comfort for the sake of elation is generally a big part of her character.

Butttt I do think that she'll try to respect your wishes more when she gets attached to you and develops some genuine feelings. Will she still complain that you're no fun tho? Sure.

Is heavily into marking. Loves biting you all over your body, especially your chest and neck.

Be prepared to be tied up regularly. For a girl who hates restrictions she surely loves restricting you a bit too much.

Loves watching your reactions and have a lot of kinks regarding that.

Would use ice cubes on you to see you squirm when she presses it to your most sensitive body parts. Would tickle you with feathers. A high chance she would suggest trying gun/knife play at least once.

Big on edging and orgasm denial. If she feels nice enough, she'll just edge you but eventually will let you cum. If she feels like being a meanie she is. Oh well.

Would constantly switch between praising and degrading you. One minute you're the only person who can truly satisfy her, a perfect dance partner, then boom you're her pathetic toy.

Has a surprisingly good stamina. If you're out of energy before she's satisfied, she'll complain and pester you. May use toys to distract herself while you're catching your breath but they're not enough, she needs your touch specifically. Won't hesitate to tell you this. And while she didn't try to flatter or compliment you with this comment, she's was just stating a fact, it's still nice to hear, is it not?

[axvoter]

Blatantly Partisan Party Review XXIII (federal 2025): Trumpet of Patriots

Running where: for the Senate and a majority of House seats in all six states (no candidates in the ACT or NT)

Prior review as the Australian Federation Party: federal 2022 (which links to older reviews of the Country Alliance, with no relevance today but of historical interest regarding the party’s origins)

See also my reviews of the Palmer United Party/United Australia Party: federal 2013, VIC 2014, federal 2016, VIC 2018, federal 2019, federal 2022, VIC 2022, NSW 2023

What I said before: “The AusFeds are covid conspiracists �� a hotbed of fringe politics and anti-vax advocacy, and must be rejected.” (federal 2022)

What I think this year: Here's the review I've been anticipating writing ever since I began this year's series.

You know the feeling when you are familiar with a band—you don’t necessarily like them, you’re just aware they exist—as a tiny wee outfit, gigging around the place and releasing a couple of albums with very niche appeal, and overnight they have a number one hit and everybody’s talking about them as some brand-new thing? That whole “I knew them before they were famous” vibe? Yeah, that’s how us micro-party nerds feel about the Australian Federation Party/Trumpet of Patriots (TOP). They were our gag, the weirdos we would trot out to amuse people who went through their lives blissfully unaware of updates to the AEC’s register of parties.

But now TOP are headline news, to the point that some people even think Clive Palmer founded them this year. Oh you sweet summer electoral children (are you even 18 years old and eligible to vote?). TOP are so much more than that: they are crackpots to whom Clive has hitched his wagon. He is, after all, simply not capable of concocting a party name as outlandish as Trumpet of Patriots by himself.

The original Trumpet of Patriots formed in August 2021 and applied for registration in December that year. It was one of the many groupings to emerge from the “Freedom” movement of covid denialists, antivaxxers, and assorted selfish people horrified they were required to do anything for the common good or care about other people. It used the slogans “make Australia free again” and “unifying the voice of reason” and held all the views you would expect: appropriation of “bodily autonomy” in the antivaxxer sense, hostility to the United Nations and any other international agreements to which Australia is a signatory, conspiracy theories about “The Great Reset”, the end of judicial and ministerial immunities (recall the violent demands on social media and at rallies that cookers have made about arresting and even executing prominent politicians), and so on.

These charmers did not achieve registration before the 2022 federal election (or at all), with prospective Trumpet of Patriots candidates instead standing under the banner of the Australian Federation Party, one of the most cracked parties at that election. This dalliance proved to be no electoral one-night stand: the two saw in each other something that they liked. For the AusFeds, it was a catchier name; for TOP, it was federal registration. And so the two merged in late 2024, with the AusFeds’ registered name updated to be Trumpet of Patriots.

Clive Palmer did not enter the picture until early this year, and he only did so because his United Australia Party (UAP) had been de-registered and the High Court affirmed that it could not contest this election. As I said in my review of One Nation, everybody involved with UAP is unintelligent and incurious even by the low standards of the far-right. They de-registered the party, evidently to avoid financial disclosure requirements, and did not realise this meant they could not re-register ahead of the next election—despite the fact this restriction has existed for over forty years to avoid cynical de-/re-registration, misleading registrations posing as a recently de-registered party, or squatting on a name but not contesting elections (and Australia, the land of the squattocracy, knows all about squatting).

Clive decided that in lieu of the UAP contesting this federal election, he would bankroll Trumpet of Patriots. Former leader Nick Duffield handed the leadership to Suellen Wrightson, who ran for Palmer United at various elections in 2013–16, stood for the UAP in 2019–22 (and was for a time the NSW assistant state director), and in 2019 her husband Dean stood for the UAP in Watson and her daughter Meg in McMahon. The party website was promptly updated with the UAP’s garish bright yellow colour scheme, redirected from a dot com domain to a dot org domain, and the old TOP logo (a boring navy-blue-and-white one with a lion and the Southern Cross) replaced with some of the most shithouse AI art you have seen in your life of a lion blowing a trumpet.

Anyway, what does TOP stand for besides Clive trying to pollute federal parliament with even more numpties like current senator Ralph Babet? I think you can guess: this is full-throated Trump worship seeking to bring his destructive and hate-filled policies to Australia. If you’ve paid even the slightest attention to Babet, you can tell the man wishes he was in the US Congress and keeps trying to fight US political and culture wars; he has his head plunged in the social media septic tank and seems to barely even grasp that Australia is a separate country with its own issues.

TOP would like to Americanise—or Trumpise—our politics even further. The homepage boasts that “In the USA, government waste and corruption is finally being exposed” and that in Australia “We will drain the swamp!” They have a policy to replicate the Department of Government Efficiency here, so that we too can claim fictitious savings by destroying public institutions, wrecking lives, and ending high-value programmes Trumpists simply don't like or refuse to understand. Like parties such as Sustainable Australia, TOP thinks we can solve housing issues by cutting immigration rather than improving supply. They depict coal power as cheap and renewables as expensive and unreliable when the truth is the opposite and that the likes of AGL have been seeking to offload old outdated coal-fired assets in favour of cheaper renewable sources of electricity. TOP's policies go on like this: fearmongering about banking and cash, racist opposition to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander flags and to Welcomes to Country, nonsense about schools having a “woke agenda”, antisemitic dogwhistles about “globalism is the scourge of the free world”, on and on and on.

It's all very wearying and the sooner the Trumpet of Patriots falls silent, the better our politics will be.

Recommendation: Give Trumpet of Patriots a very low preference in the House (a fitting pick for your very last preference!) and a weak or no preference in the Senate

Website: https://trumpetofpatriots.org/

[estrellita-wrights]

Dorm Match-Up

@imjustabeanie

The nature of your soul is...

🐚Octavinelle🐚

However, due to your thalassophobia, you will be sorted to another dorm, one whose color is close to that of your soul. But that's for later. First, I will explain why you got into Octavinelle.

🐚 You embody the spirit of benevolence that Octavinelle stands for. You listen to others about their problems and help them solve it. But just like the great sea witch, you keep your lips shut when it comes to your own problems.

🐚You also have enough smarts to not get scammed by Azul or any of the other Octavinelle students to do their work. You keep receipts and screenshots of everything, which is great leverage in the chaotic. In short, you'll survive. Maybe even become dormleader, once Azul graduates.

🐚You also have an ocean aesthetic, which might not seem like much, but sometimes the Mirror just sorts them by their vibes. That's why most of those in the same dorm have similar aesthetics and values and whatnot.

🐚A plus of being in Octavinelle is that your dream of having a big friend group is very much possible. Octavinelle students are known for their many connections, and I'm pretty sure you'll fit right in.

🐚However, due to your fear of the ocean, and the fact that the Octavinelle dorm is literally underwater, you are transferred to...

💀Ignihyde💀

💀Ignihyde students embody the spirit of diligence, that of the king of the underworld.

💀 Ignihyde students are PASSIONATE about their projects, whether that be writing, video games, engineering, or art. They work tirelessly to make their vision come to life.

💀 Ignihyde students are PERFECTIONISTS, going above and beyond to make sure their work is great in every aspect, both design and execution. Because of this, Ignihyde students have a tendency to DISTRUST others in group projects, thinking only they have the ability to perfectly bring their vision to life.

💀Ignihyde students are INNOVATIVE, often blending together tradition and modern styles and techniques. You are also very innovative and creative, which is one of your greatest skills/talents.

💀You dislike it when you're FREEDOM IS RESTRICTED or when others force you to do stuff against your will. This is a common feeling most Ignihyde students have, especially since they believe they could do better stuff with their time, including stuff they are passionate about and/or believed are more beneficial.

💀This dorm may not fit your soul perfectly, however it was the one that most closely aligned with your soul, other than Octavinelle of course.

💀You are definitely one of the more extroverted students in Ignihyde. It may seem quite hard at first, being in a dorm filled with introverted of self-absorbed students, but you'll eventually win them over, perhaps through your great gacha luck. Making friends in Ignihyde may seem difficult, but letting them rant about your interests is a solid method. And once they do let you in to their cold dead hearts, you'll probably see your Ignihyde friend coming up to you to ask whether you can pull for them in a limited banner, very different from the scared and stuttering mess they were when you first met.

💀One of the pros of being in Ignihyde is you could wear whatever you want in the dorms, including pajamas, and you wouldn't even feel like the odd one out since most everyone there does that too. Ignihyde students are too absorbed in their tasks and personal projects to have the time and energy to judge. Because of that as well, no one in Ignihyde would take advantage of you or be forceful or bully you.

💀Being bullied by students from the other dorm is also very unlikely, due to Ortho's protectiveness and willingness to explode anyone who bothers his brother and their dormmates. Idia usually steps in before Ortho could do any major bodily harm, but the threat of disintegration is enough to scare away even the most courageous of NRC students.

💀Your fellow Ignihyde students are quite fine with your dubious experimental ideas, as long as (1) you don't question theirs and (2) they aren't your test subjects (do it on another dorm, like Savanaclaw or something).

💀Ignihyde dorm is mostly empty (aka no crowds), since most of the students here just hole up in their own rooms, where they eat, sleep, and study. There is one exception however, and that is the science lab room, where scientific instruments and welding gear are found. It is the most crowded room in Ignihyde, probably because that is where most students who cannot afford their own gear go to bring their ideas to life. They even do reservations, especially in the busy season (cultural festival science presentation). If you want to avoid the crowds, Ignihyde is the perfect place, as long you avoid that specific room.

💀 However, there are a lot of cons to living in Ignihyde as well. The dormleader is kind of annoying, but he luckily doesn't bother you (or anyone else) much. The dorm's kitchen is mostly composed of instant noodles, junk food, and pitchers of instant coffee, and no one bothers to stock up on ingredients, so delicious dinners are very rare. And also, the lack of people can make everything feel so boring, which you don't like.

💀if you ever get bored, you can go to other dorms or the school's courtyard and socialize/bond with other people there. And when it becomes too much again, you could return to the safety and quietness of ur dorm.

I hoped you enjoyed the dorm sorting!!

[clinfinite123solution]

The Workmanship and Science of Graphic Designing: Transforming Ideas into Visual Masterpieces

In a world overwhelmed by visuals, graphic designing has turned into a crucial device for correspondence, imagination, and marking. From logos and banners to computerized commercials and virtual entertainment illustrations, graphic designing pervades each edge of our lives. It is something beyond making outwardly engaging substance; it is tied in with creating convincing messages that resonate with crowds, bring out feelings, and drive activities.

What is Graphic Designing?

Graphic designing is the making of joining text, pictures, and thoughts to pass on data or make an effect. It is a mix of inventiveness and specialized abilities, where originators use instruments, methods, and their imaginative senses to plan visuals that fill a need. The field envelops different disciplines, including typography, outline, marking, and UI (UI) plan.

Graphic designing isn't restricted to feel. It likewise centers around usefulness. A very much planned realistic doesn't just look great; it conveys successfully. Whether it's a site design, a magazine cover, or a notice, a definitive objective is to guarantee the message is clear, captivating, and effective.

The Advancement of Graphic designing

Graphic designing has made some amazing progress from its underlying foundations in conventional print media. The creation of the print machine in the fifteenth century denoted the start of visual computerization as a discipline. Over the long haul, the field developed with progressions in innovation and changing social elements.

The computerized unrest of the twentieth century brought a seismic shift. Architects moved from hand-attracted representations to modern programming like Adobe Photoshop, Artist, and CorelDRAW. Today, graphic designing traverses various stages, including print, web, portable applications, and computer generated reality. With the ascent of man-made consciousness and AI, visual depiction devices are turning out to be more instinctive, empowering originators to drive inventive limits further.

Significance of Graphic designing in Current Times

Brand Personality and Acknowledgment

Visual communication assumes a basic part in building and keeping a brand's character. An exceptional logo, steady variety plot, and strong visual style assist with laying out a brand's character and make it essential. Organizations like Apple, Coca-Cola, and Nike owe a lot of their memorability to heavenly graphic designing.

Viable Correspondence

Words usually can't do a picture justice. Visual communication utilizes visual components to work on complex data and convey thoughts rapidly and really. Infographics, for example, are a strong method for introducing information in an effectively edible configuration.

Upgrading Client Experience

In the computerized age, client experience is central. From site formats to versatile application interfaces, visual depiction guarantees that stages are instinctive, outwardly engaging, and easy to use. Insightful plan further develops route, commitment, and generally speaking fulfillment.

Driving Commitment and Deals

Eye-getting plans stand out and support connection. Whether it's a virtual entertainment post, an email bulletin, or an item bundle, great visual depiction can impact buying choices and lift changes.

Key Components of Graphic designing

Compelling graphic designing is based on a couple of principal components:

Variety

Colors bring out feelings and set the vibe of a plan. For example, blue conveys trust and incredible skill, while red connotes energy and enthusiasm.

Typography

The selection of text styles can represent the deciding moment of a plan. Typography ought to line up with the message and keep up with meaningfulness.

Symbolism

Excellent pictures, representations, and symbols improve the visual allure and assist with passing on the expected message.

Arrangement

Equilibrium, arrangement, and dividing are fundamental for making agreeable and tastefully satisfying plans.

Progressive system

Featuring key components guarantees that the crowd's consideration is coordinated to the main parts of the plan.

The Job of Visual Originators

Visual originators are issue solvers and narrators. They work across different ventures, from promoting and distributing to innovation and diversion. Their obligations include:

Conceptualizing and executing visual answers for correspondence challenges.

Working together with clients, promoting groups, and engineers to rejuvenate thoughts.

Remaining refreshed with configuration patterns and mechanical progressions.

Dealing with different activities while fulfilling time constraints and keeping up with quality.

Devices and Advances in Graphic Designing

Graphic designing depends vigorously on innovation. A few famous instruments include:

Adobe Innovative Suite: Photoshop, Artist, and InDesign are industry norms for photograph altering, vector craftsmanship, and design plan.

Canva: An easy to use stage ideal for novices and speedy tasks.

Figma: A cooperative device broadly utilized for UI/UX plan.

Multiply: A computerized representation application leaned toward by craftsmen and artists.

Future Patterns in Graphic Designing

The visual depiction scene is continually developing. Here are a few patterns forming its future.

Moderation: Spotless and basic plans keep on ruling, underlining usefulness and clearness.

3D Plan: Three-layered components are acquiring prominence for their reasonable and vivid characteristics.

Supportable Plan: Eco-accommodating practices and plans that advance manageability are turning into a need.

Movement Illustrations: Activity and dynamic visuals are progressively used to spellbind crowds.

Man-made intelligence Mix: artificial intelligence fueled instruments are changing work processes, making planning quicker and more available.

Step by step instructions to Turn into a Visual Creator

Hopeful visual architects can begin their excursion by.

Learning the Rudiments: Get to know plan standards, variety hypothesis, and typography.

Dominating Programming: Gain capability in plan apparatuses like Adobe Imaginative Suite or Canva.

Building a Portfolio: Feature your work to expected clients and businesses.

Organizing: Join plan networks, go to studios, and associate with industry experts.

Remaining Refreshed: Follow configuration web journals, take online courses, and trial with new strategies.

Conclusion

Graphic designing is a key expertise in the present visual-driven world. It consolidates inventiveness, innovation, and system to make plans that illuminate, motivate, and spellbind. Whether you're an entrepreneur hoping to fabricate your image or a hopeful fashioner anxious to do something worth remembering, understanding the power and capability of visual computerization is fundamental. As the field keeps on developing, one thing stays steady: the effect of extraordinary plans in molding discernments and driving achievement.

[paragonrobits]

i feel distanced from the pulse of the marvel fandom as a whole but I think there’s probably a trend, that I’m not informed about, that treats the charactesr in ways directly counter to what Disney has been doing with them, and some examples of what I’d do in fic would be:

> a greater emphasis on Hulk. It’s not very surprising that the complexity, horror and trauma at the root of Hulk stories has led to him being severely deemphasized in the movies. it’s good they have the other Avengers... uh, actually treating him like a friend, but Bruce Banner is a fucked up bundle of trauma, hatred and misery and everything about him (opposing the military, his leftist views, the point that his entire background is an exercise in child abuse) makes him unappealing and hard to make wholesome. run with it, I say! Hulk is ugly and complicated and unsettling and that’s really dang cool though.

> more mutants. It’s, it’s obvious, you know?

> focusing on the found family trope by having all the marvel heroes be a broad collective group of friends that support each other. This CAN be played for conflict in the style of Civil War (these are powerful beings with strong opinions who can easily fall to infighting, even if they would prefer not to), but the idea is that everyone is friends, to some degree. For example, Invisible Woman might not know the Hulk family personally, but she’s not acting like a Karen towards them. 

> Related to the above, all the Marvel heroes know each other in a general way and help each other out, and the specific teams are a mix of groups of friends in the same wheelhouse, and those specialized for specific tasks or locations. For example, Excalibur being based in England and considered a branch of the X-Men, but in theory anyone can come about. It’s a much more fluid thing than what we usually see, and its why popular characters show up on so many different teams.

> The X-Men and the Brotherhood are the same group. The Brotherhood does less pubically acceptable things that harms those trying to do damage to mutants, while the X-Men present a publically acceptable face. It’s a big psy ops operation to protect mutantkind while also convincing humans to trust their kindred more.

> on that note, the Inhumans are considered here to BE mutants, ones artificially created through Kree engineering in the distant past; it would be implied that something like mutants appear in all sapient races past a certain point of cultural development, and no one is sure why. The Skrulls, with their shapeshifting enabling ALL potential powers, are the logical endpoint of that. Ultimately this means that mutants and Inhumans are essentially the same sort of being, and something is funky with the Mists.

> Thor and the other Asgardians would be treated in much the same way as the actual Norse myths, though the in-character relationships wouldn’t change. Thor and Loki aren’t adopted brothers, but Loki is his blood brother and is treated as such, and the same vibe of brethren is present. Thor looks the way he does because he incarnated as a normal human man and still retains the body he had then; Donald Blake (His human identity) simply looks the way Thor is usually depicted as in the comics.

> Tony Stark and his tech squad (Rhodey, Pepper and the cast associated with the Iron Man vibe) are garage-dwellers, he cast his company off and went off to do his own thing, free from the restrictions of his family and blood money. he makes all his stuff out of trash, garbage and scrap, and loots the rest from villains. emphasize the mad science angle here.

> the younger generation of heroes (the Runaways, the Young Avengers, and most prominently Kamala Khan and Miles Morales) are a sort of broad group of friends who are probably the initial viewpoint characters towards all this. They have also inexplicably gravitated towards Bruce Banner, who has no idea how this happened. Essentially they’re the modern version of the Teen Brigade from the earliest hulk comics, with vibes of the leftist protest movements that take Hulk as inspiration.

> Thanos is still an incel. This does not go unobserved by the younger heroes.

> (Everyone gets therapy. So much therapy. Doc Samson has his hands full.)

[gingerwritess]

I was watching Brooklyn 99 and felt inspired by the dialogue. “Am I just a piece of meat to you?” “Yes. Now put on a smile, pork chop.” I just got strong pre dating idiots vibes when I thought about it.

“You.”

Tony Stark slams his hands down on the bar top.

“You are the one dating Dr. Who, yes?”

“Actually,” you sigh and take a sip of your beer, “I’m one of your employees, thank you very much, and you recently promoted me.”

“Well of course I know that.” He chuckles and slides into the seat next to you, raising a finger at the bartender. “I don’t mean that in any disrespect. I hear you’re a whiz in the language department?”

“One of my stronger suits, I guess.”

“We’re thinking of moving you up a few more levels.” The bartender slides him a glass; Stark clinks it against your bottle with a small smile. “I’m…not supposed to tell you yet.”

Stay cool. Stay cool.

“That’s neat.” You laugh nervously—what the hell are you supposed to say to that?? “I appreciate it, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he corrects with a smile. “Thing is, you’d be working at the same level as loverboy over there, which from what I’ve heard, is quite the workplace love story?”

He tips his glass towards Loki—Laing—who seems to have decided that standing in a corner alone, watching everyone else mill about while still wearing his lab coat, is normal human behaviour.

Well…okay, maybe he’s not too far off. Dr. Banner is doing the same thing over in that other corner.

“We’ll just break up,” you blurt before you can stop yourself—then mentally slap yourself across the face.

“Wow. Okay, well, uh, that’s unnecessary,” Tony laughs. “Unless you’re looking for a way out, all you’ve gotta do is fill out a quick form just for HR to keep on record. Y’know, just to make sure he’s not using our rooms, equipment to give you any private checkups…”

You choke on your drink, spewing beer across the bar top.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you cough, furiously shaking your head. “Really, I swear, we don’t—no, god, no, we don’t do that.”

Tony’s eyebrow quirks. “Sure. Just fill out the form for me and we’ll get you movin’ as soon as we can, alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, Tony!”

He winks and pushes off the bar, heading back out into the crowd—stopping to shake Laing’s hand and engage him in a quick little conversation.

Oh, if only he knew.

You’ve been trying to avoid him all night, trying to make this first little (okay, unnecessarily giant) staff “meet your bosses” party as enjoyable and progressive to your career as possible.

Judging from the fact that you just spoke to the boss of all bosses over a beer about your love life…things are going pretty well.

Yeah, you can risk a quick chance to mock how awkward Loki looks at this party.

“Hey, loverboy.”

You slide up next to him and bump his hip with yours.

He just nods.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Shaking his head, he brings his glass of dark liquor to his lips and downs it in one gulp.

“Holy shit,” you laugh as he lowers the glass. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s been an interesting night,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Same here. I got promoted, like, a week and a half ago, and Tony Stark just told me they’re moving me up even higher.”

He glances over at you, finger tapping the rim of his glass. “You, too?”

“What?”

“I was promoted as well,” he explains, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the bar, you trailing not far behind. “I now have access to the scans of the brain belonging to a certain super soldier.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, mind spinning. “You’ve barely been here a month, how the hell did you pull that off??”

Glass refilled, he raises it and clinks it against your half-finished beer with a lopsided grin. “I have my ways, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, tell me how you did that.”

“Robert Laing is the most qualified person in this building,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying your bewilderment. “I have…eight? Eight PhD’s, putting me even over our beloved Dr. Banner, and I may have told them I’ve worked for SHIELD for over a decade.”

“God of lies,” you mutter, spinning back around on your stool to slump against the bar top. “So that’s why I’m getting promoted, too, right? What’d you tell them about me?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“I got promoted to the same level as you. You lied about me, too, right? Said I worked with Howard Stark or some shit, just to help your little charade?”

“No…” he slowly shakes his head. “You earned your promotion by your own hand. All I’ve ever said about you is that you’re good in bed, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Y’know, sometimes I forget I hate you. Then you remind me.”

Loki raises his hands with a laugh. “Only speculating. I have to act the part, don’t I?”

“Robert Laing doesn’t need to be a class A douche,” you groan, dropping your head to your hands. “How about you make your fake self a sweet, dorky guy with a soft heart? Not some dick who’s only with his girl for the sex?”

“He’s a minimal effort character,” Loki replies smoothly. “Being two people at once is rather trying. If I spend too much time trying to be Robert, I could lose focus and let my duplicate slip.”

“And how terrible would that be—”

“Careful,” he cuts in, leaning towards you to speak low in your ear; “do I need to remind you what could happen if you intervene with my cover?”

“I know who you are,” you snap, grabbing a fork off the bar top and jabbing it into his stomach—he’s a little too close. Two can play this game. “And you just got yourself promoted to work right alongside your big bro. All it’ll take is one good yell from me and you’re back where you started, Loki.”

He scowls, teeth gritting in your ear. “Go on. Stab me, right here. Tell my brother the truth, show everyone here who I really am.”

“Maybe I will,” you hiss, pushing the fork into his gut a little harder. His fingers wrap around your bicep and squeeze as he starts to laugh, quiet and low, his breath tickling your neck.

“So fearsome.”

You grab his glass and slosh the drink in his face, dripping down the front of his precious lab coat.

“Aren’t I?”

With that, you hop off your seat and wrench your arm from his grip, leaving him sputtering at the bar behind you.

Of course, your smug satisfaction is momentary, screeching to a stop when a large hand wraps around your bicep again and with a sudden gust of wind, you’re no longer walking away from the bar.

“Not another word,” Loki hisses, fingers still tight around your arm. “Seems that I haven’t made myself clear enough as to the discretion our little arrangement.”

Your back hits a wall—and something else, crashing to the floor as you try to yank your arm out of his grip.

Ah. Mops.

“You are so—hmph—predictable,” you grit out, struggling to find your footing amidst the dark janitors closet. “You’d be a wonderful fanfiction character from 2012, whisking damsels off to dark closets—”

“Romantic, I know. Now stop—moving—” Loki grabs your other arm when you punch him in the gut and try to duck away, pushing you back against the wall—ooh, he’s almost sort-of panting. Guess he’s not invincible after all.

You stick your nose in the air, stomping your foot with a small huff of annoyance when you find you can’t cross your arms. “What now, Robbie? Gonna kill me or kiss me?”

“Robbie—oh, kill you. Definitely, without a moment’s hesitation, kill you.”

The knife to your throat was expected. So far almost every interaction you’ve had with this lovely old god has ended with one of you at the other’s throat, so you’re not exactly surprised.

You clear your throat, attempting to roll your eyes at the god pinning you to the wall. “Predictable,” you mutter, kicking pointlessly at his knees.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches, fingers tighten around your arm…and he lets go.

He heaves a huge sigh, twirls the knife around his finger and pockets it, stepping away from you.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says, long fingers pressing to his chest, “I don’t actually crave blood on my hands.”

“Couldn’t tell,” you scowl, rubbing your neck and shoving past him to the door of the little closet. Oh, perfect.

Locked.

“You planned this, didn’t you.”

Loki smiles. “Makes you more likely to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

That might be your best glare yet. Not that he could see it, with how dark it is in here, but it still counts.

“I was trying to not have to threaten you for silence,” he sighs, having the nerve to sound annoyed with you. “But it seems that you’re not overly fond of me nor the other version of me, so you really have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You self-righteous son of a—”

“You don’t have to like me,” he cuts in, lifting his hands in front of him. “I just need you to cooperate. Otherwise…you know too much to be kept alive.”

“Y’know, if this is how you present yourself to everyone new you meet, I’m not—ugh, surprised—no one likes you.” Giving the doorknob one last helpless yank, you bang your forehead against the wall with a huff of defeat. “You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

He steps closer, hands still raised, palms open to you. Good, no knife this time.

This “relationship” is so screwed up that you’re almost touched by the fact that this time, he’s not trying to kill you. 

“Can I trust you? Or do I have to silence you myself?” 

You sigh, loud and exaggerated beyond belief just so he knows you’re not happy about it.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.” 

A shocked, indignant little sound leaving your throat, you immediately raise your hand to slap the everloving shit out of him for that, but he chuckles and the lock on the door clicks.

“After you, darling.” He shifts back into Dr. Laing and opens the door for you with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not your d—”

“Having fun in there?”

Okay, mental note to tell Loki that the next time he picks a random closet to teleport to, don’t pick one in the restricted levels locker rooms.

“I-I’m so sorry, we got lost,” you stammer, not expecting to have ever run into the Black Widow in a locker room at work—she and the other avengers aren’t exactly at your paygrade.  

“Lost,” she repeats, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Okay. Laing, zip up and get out of here before I have to escort you.” 

You spin on your heel to find Loki—once again your fake doctor-lover—slipping out of the little closet, a hand in front of his crotch zipping his pants, sheepishly grinning as he tucks his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

Oh, the little shit.

“You can’t blame me,” he chuckles, grabbing your hand and squeezing—he must’ve guessed you were about to slap him, for real this time. “Actually, you can’t blame her, either…can’t resist, what can I say?”

“Sorry. We’re leaving now,” you mutter, storming out of the locker room and dragging Loki along behind you before he gets any more detailed.

“You’re doing better already,” Loki laughs as you round a corner and practically shove him into the elevator, waiting until the second the door closes to bitch-slap him right across the face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence—you’ll treasure that forever. But then…

“…was that supposed to hurt?”

For the record, it hurt your hand more than it probably hurt his annoyingly defined cheekbones, but man, did that feel good.

“No,” you growl, turning around and crossing your arms as the elevator drops. “Just wanted you to know that I could do it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

You can hear the patronising amusement laced into his voice.

“You’re the single worst person I’ve ever met.” 

He smiles, glancing over at you. “You’ve mentioned, and yet you still play along with my charade.”

“Only because you threaten to kill me!”

“I think you like it,” he hums, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You’ve at least dressed your part tonight. You could pass for a love interest.”

“So that’s it? I’m just a piece of meat to you?”

“Yes.” The elevator dings and the door slides open, the staff party still in full swing. “Now put on a smile, pork chop.”

SMACK. 

As long as you get to keep slapping him whenever he pisses you off, this little fake-lationship might just last long enough for Loki to leave. 

If anything, seeing his stunned, flushed face after your palm meets his cheek is doing wonders for your confidence.

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

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo

[steves-on-a-plane]

Two Roads Diverged

Title: Two Roads Diverged SONG FIC: The Day I Died - Five For Fighting Words: 2343 (2090 without lyrics) Pairing: Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter Author’s Note: This song came up under my suggested songs on Apple Music and as I listened to it, it just really gave me Steve and Peggy vibes. I wasn’t a huge fan of how Endgame tied up Steve’s story but as I wrote this, I took a linear look at his relationship with Peggy and it helped me understand that version of Steve a little bit better.

“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find a you a safe landing site.” The voice of Agent Margaret Carter ordered. The sounds came out muffled and crackling through the speaker on the plane’s console. That was 1940’s technology for you.

“There’s not gonna be a safe landing.” Captain Steve Rogers relayed regrettably from his seat in the cockpit. He fiddled with the plane’s controls. Steve was already strapped into the pilot’s chair and physically preparing for impact. “But I can try and voice it down.”

“I-I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.” Agent Carter insisted. Steve could hear the desperation in her voice, even through the cracking of the speaker.

“There’s not enough time.” Her told her, his voice never wavering. He told himself at the time that the level tone was for her sake, but the truth was it was just as much for his own. “This thing’s going down and it’s headed for New York.” There was dead air between them for several seconds before Steve laid out the only option. “I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don’t do this.” Agent Carter argued, sounding more desperate than Steve ever thought he’d live to hear. “We-we have time. We can work it out.”

“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die.” Steve disagreed. He needed to make her understand that the didn’t have any time at all. “Peggy, this is my choice.” Silence managed to push its way into the conversation again as Steve tugged at the yolk of the plane. The aircraft dipped down into a full-on nosedive, its trajectory headed straight for the icy water below. Neither one of them could bare disconnect communication with the other. There was still so much left unsaid between them. Some many things they’d never share.

“Peggy?” The Captain’s voice finally cracked slightly as the yolk shook in his hands. Though he hoped she’d never be able to tell through the speaker on her end.

“I’m here.” She responded, already sounding very far off.

“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.” He said as his plane broke through the clouds. He was coming in fast. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

“Alright.” Peggy obliged, holding back tears. “A week next Saturday at the Stork Club. Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.” He admitted. Trying to keep the conversation going. Again he convinced himself this was for her sake.

“I’ll show you how.” She promised. “Just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow.” Steve agreed, the water felt only inches away now. “I’d hate to step on your…”

I woke up, you next to me. You said, “Good morning, are you free?” The sun crept in for one last time. I was alive the day I died. The clock struck noon but did not care.

No matter how much time passed, Steve couldn’t seem to shake the memories of that day. When he woke up thawed and miraculously alive sixty-six years later, he knew it couldn’t have been anything but divine intervention. It truly was a miracle to be alive, but Steve wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. Whether you called it fate, destiny, whatever, the same force that had brought Steve Rogers back to life was the same force that had forced him go in the first place.

It was just easier for Steve, who liked to think of himself as a simple man from a simpler time, to think of this force as God. And to Steve it seemed just so unfair that the same God who could curse him with so many childhood ailments could bless him with whatever it was that Dr. Erskine liked so much. The same God who brought the force of nature that was Peggy Carter into his life, could let the two of them be separated so absolutely. To the rest of America, the return of Captain America was a sign of good things to come, but to Steve it was a painful reminder of the man he’d never gotten to be.

Bzzzz. Bzzzzz. Steve looked at the mobile phone that vibrated across the desk in his room. The phone had been given to him by SHIELD Director Fury who had explained that landlines were as extinct in this time as he felt. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered the phone anyway. It wasn’t like anyone he knew would be calling.

“Hello?” A female voice called cautiously into his ear.

“Hello?” He questions back. “This is Steve Rogers. Who is this?”

“Captain, my name is Sharon. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call, but your condition was need to know and I wasn’t high enough on the chain of command. Anyway, I’m calling because I think my aunt would like to see you and I suspect you’d also like to see her again. You knew her as Peggy.” The woman on the phone explained.

I saw a child in my old chair. A shadow fell across your face, but all the years could not erase. I was alive. I was alive. You pulled me close. I held you tight. Though my smiles told a few lies, I was alive, the day I died.

Again, Steve found himself wondering how a God could bring him Peggy back, but not quite. Was this the curse he was destined to bare forever then? To always have what he wanted just out of reach? The love of his life was there with him but while Steve still looked the same Peggy had aged. She’d gone on and gotten married. She had a family, a life. For her it had been sixty-six years. It wasn’t her fault that to Steve it had felt like six minutes.

“You should be proud of yourself.” He told Peggy as he said by her bedside. He studied the photographs by her bedside at the nursing home. The Captain couldn’t help but think how lucky the man who’d been married to her must have been.

“Mmm.” Peggy hummed in agreement. “I have lived a life. My only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours. What is it?” She added, taking in his downcast expression.

“For as long as I can remember, I just wanted to do what was right.” He sighed, looking away from the photographs. “I guess, I’m just not quite sure what that is anymore.” Peggy laughed at him and Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He’d missed her laugh.

“You’re always so dramatic!” She commented between chuckles. “You saved the world. We rather mucked it up. The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do, is to start over.”

I was the first to see a star. It seemed so close, it was so far. Wind started to roar. Screamed time to go. You know all you need. You know all you know. I was alive. I was alive. You pulled me close. I held you tight. And though our smiles told a few lies, I was alive the day I died.

She’s gone. In her sleep.

That’s what Sharon’s text had said. That was the message that Steve received to let him know that the love of his life had died. A simple five-word text. Steve looked around the room, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Avengers were literally falling apart before his eyes. They were all there. Sam, Tony, Nat, everyone. Arguing over some bullshit restrictions that had no place even being considered in the first place. It was too much. But that was the future, or in this case the present. Everything was always too much too fast these days.

“I have to go.” Steve mumbled, getting up from his seat in the living room. He walked off without giving the others a chance to ask why. He was packed an on a plane to London within hours.

The service was everything one would expect from an international hero like Margaret Carter. Even down to the perfectly pitched choir of angelic singers. The family asked Steve to be a pallbearer and he was honored, even if they were just indulging an old man’s sentimentality. Sharon gave a moving eulogy and then it was over.

He was expected to just go on home. To pretend like the only person, he’d ever really loved wasn’t buried six feet under. He was expected to go back to New York and sign a bunch of documents saying that the government had the right to tell him and the others like him if, when and how they were allowed to save people. The entire thing didn’t sit right with Steve. He couldn’t stomach it, the entire idea of someone else being in control of his future.

Steve Rogers had let people tell him who he was his entire life. That ended today.

“Sometimes, the best we can do is to start over.” He whispered to himself. Steve Rogers had let people tell him who he was his entire life. That ended today. He was done being the monkey in the suit who danced when they called. Steve slipped out of the church and disappeared from the public eye for three years.

Oh, Sweet Angel you call. Oh, Sweet Angel you call. Oh, Sweet Angel. White went black. Black went white. Universe cracked. I saw the light. You called my name. I did not respond. But I heard you well, carried you on.

“You have to return the stones to the exact moment we got ‘em or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.” Dr. Banner explained to Steve. He flicked open the briefcase where all six infinity stones were housed.

“Don’t worry Bruce,” Steve closed the briefcase solemnly. “Clip all the branches.”

“You know if you want, I could come with you.” Sam offered.

“You’re a good man Sam, but this one’s on me though.” Steve nodded and took in one last look at his friend before turning to Bucky.

Buck had been Steve’s friend forever. They’d survived almost a century together. The world had changed around them and dragged the pair kicking and screaming along with it. There were no secrets between them and Buck knew, even if Rogers didn’t, this was the last time they’d be seeing each other. At least as they both were then.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve echoed the last worlds Bucky had said to him before shipping out back during WWII.

“How can I.” Bucky shook his head, recounting Steve’s response from ‘The good ‘ol days.’ Back when the worst-case scenario didn’t involve time traveling aliens who could wipe out half the population with a single snap. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” They shared a hug that expressed more than either had ever said allowed to the other. “I’m gonna miss you buddy.” Buck whispered as they separated.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” Steve promised. With a final reassuring pat on the shoulder he walked away and stepped on to the time machine.

Midnight came and I was gone. The planet shrugged and moved along. A few people noticed and sang my songs. I was alive the day I died. I was alive the day I died.

Returning the Infinity Stones hadn’t exactly been easy. Even with the ability to travel forward or backwards with time as needed Steve found that getting the timing just right, took a little bit of practice. He didn’t have a way of recording how long the job had taken him, but he knew he was done when he opened the briefcase to find no more Infinity Stones and one final Pym Particle, his ticket home.

Home. He chuckled to himself. He’d never really felt at home anywhere or anytime. Growing up he’d been a scrawny kid from Brooklyn who never quite knew when enough was enough. During the war he was a puppet. Back when his uniform was still a costume and the closest he got to being a hero was punching a fake Hitler in the jaw three times a night. After the ice He was an eighty-eight year old man trapped in a twenty-something’s body. There was no stopping things after that. The music was too loud, and cars moved too fast.

He’d missed so many things he’d never be able to catch up on. America in the twenty first century had never really been his home. He looked down at the Pym Particle in his hand wondering if he dared. There’d be no going forward or back. That was the last one. He’d have to get the timing just right, because he was going to be stuck whenever time he landed.

Despite his best efforts to live in the present, he’d spent most of his life looking back with regret. Regret that he hadn’t been able to tell her back them when the timing was right. Regret that he hadn’t listen that day. That he hadn’t let her get Howard on the line to work things out. Regret that he’d never gotten that dance with his best girl.

Hardening his resolve, Steve set the date on his time travel watch. It had been seventy-two years for him, but for her it would be less than seventy-two hours. He’d show up with a bouquet of flowers even though flowers weren’t quite her thing. This was a special occasion and she’d understand that. He’d apologize profusely for missing their date and then before she had a change to say another word, he’d get down on one knew and ask her to be his gal forever.

I woke up, you next to me. You said “Good Morning, are you free?” The sun crept in for one last time. I was alive the day I died.

Disclaimers: All the bold text are song lyrics, and there is quite a bit of dialog pulled from MCU movies so if you reconize it, chances are its probably from The First Avenger, Winter Soldier, Civil War or End Game.  

[ironstrange-is-the-endgame]

Steve Rogers And Peter Parker play matchmaker with them because they’re sick of the pINING (also I’m tired of the Steve Rogers hate :()

I got terribly carried away with this. Also, I can’t write getting together fics, apparently. That said, this is also for the anon who asked Steve makes ironstrange happen. It’ extremely long and filled with a lot of ships of mine, I’m sorry, I just carried away. 

Also tw for Bucky’s past internalized homophobia (is just mentioned but still).

Steve Rogers had been a lot of things in his life. A symbol, a legend, a man behind time, a teammate, a friend, a threat for the world, an outlaw, a lover, a hero, again, but he had never been the kind of person who minded others’ business.

Steve Rogers was an observant man as well, and while he didn’t really care about what was going on between Tony Stark and the Supreme Sorcerer, he couldn’t deny that something existed.

It all started once they managed to revert the Snap and the ones who had been dusted came back to life. Steve and Tony had to work together, and they did it, trying to suppress all the unsaid things that had been between them in the past two years. Not speaking about that was better. They had more important things to focus on, and both of them were avoiding the specific topic concerning Siberia and Bucky. This until Thanos’s body laid on the dusty floor of the Wakandan battlefield.

Well, even after, considering that Steve had been very, very busy in trying to speak Bucky into the entire “I’ve always been in love with you” ordeal. Steve cared about Tony, but he would have chosen Bucky over and over again, and that was clear to all the people involved.

So, when the majority of the Avengers headed back in New York, Steve and Bucky decided to stay in Wakanda a little bit longer, to help T’Challa in the rebuilding of his own kingdom, take some time for themselves, and figure things out. Nat’s malicious smile, when he said that loud, was still haunting Steve’s memories, but once his friend all but threw herself in Bucky’s arms whispering something which Barnes still didn’t want to tell him in his ear, Steve realized his life was going on the right path, for once since 1945.

But, of course, despite Wakanda being a literal paradise, Steve knew that he still had things to do, back home. He wasn’t a coward, he wasn’t going to hide forever in Africa in order to avoid his old friend. They needed to speak, and they needed to work together, again, in case some looming threat was waiting for them at the corners of this universe. Or a different one, if Wong wasn’t a liar. And considering that the man didn’t give Rogers that kind of vibes, he was pretty sure the Avengers couldn’t just retire.

So, thanks to T’Challa’s help, who all but bought their pardons to the UN, Steve suspected - but it wasn’t like he could be picky about his coming back in the US - they managed to land at the JFK, journalists and photographers miraculously interested in something else, apparently.

Natasha and Fury were the only people standing near the airstrip, along with a blonde woman that Steve had never seen before.

“Captain, Sergeant,” The woman gathered them. “Major Carol Danvers. It’s a pleasure to have you back. Director Fury will update you on the new version of the Accords you’ll be asked to sign. Agent Romanoff and Tony Stark went through them which is the reason why she’s with us today.”

Steve wondered why the woman was there, to be honest, but decided to keep his questions for another time; and while he felt Bucky’s body straightened uncomfortably at the mention of Stark, the soft squeeze his boyfriend gave him was enough for Steve to understand that he would have been fine, for the time being.

During the car ride, they both understood that they were heading to the Avengers Compound, that Carol Danvers worked with the team of New York during the planning of the strategies that lead to the defeat of the Mad Titan, that Phil Coulson was still alive (Steve was sincerely relieved by that information. He really liked the man and felt like his death was on him), and, most important, about the New Accords. Which contained a lot of restrictions for him (and, surprisingly enough, not for Bucky).

Apparently, being very likely the next queen of Wakanda brought Nat to have more freedom than everyone else in the so-called “Team Cap”, or maybe Stark was just being petty toward him. Not that Steve could blame him, but every hope to go back to Brooklyn needed to be stored away for the time being, apparently.

--

“Stark wants to see you,” Sam told him, and for a moment Steve found himself looking at his friend, wandering with whom he was speaking. Since Bucky and he came back from Wakanda, the man had been a sort of ghost. They met a couple of times, of course, during meetings both with the Avengers and the New Accords Commission, but it wasn’t like they really spoke in those occasions. Stark wanted to see him came out of nowhere.

“Did he mention why?” Steve asked. Sam shook his head, moving closer and looking over Steve’s shoulder to meet Sharon’s smile. Skype was the greatest invention of the century if you asked Cap. He and Peggy’s niece were still in more than good terms, and with the fact that she worked with Everett Ross and spent half of her time in Wakanda anyway, she really helped him with the entire Bucky question.

“No, but he’s with Strange, so if you need back-ups just tell me,” But he was looking at Sharon and probably Steve had to leave the two of them alone. Oh yes, Steve was also a good observer.

“It’s fine, thanks,” He said, instead, leaving the ‘Rogues common room’ and following Friday’s voice to reach her creator. Tony was seated on one of the couches, half curled up against the Supreme Sorcerer. At Stark’s other side there was a redheaded woman that Steve had never seen before and Bruce. The four of them seemed to be invested in some conversation that Steve couldn’t hear from where he was and that didn't want to eavesdrop.

He found himself asking how much he missed from not coming back from Wakanda. After the Snap, he went back to the Compound just to see what was left of the City he loved, and then came back in Africa leaving Bruce, Rhodey and Tony (once he came back from the space) to coordinate the scientific resources while he took care of the search for Thanos. Natasha was looking for Clint all over the world, and Thor was in the middle of the space, searching for the remains of his people along with someone called Valkyrie. Most of the people he knew in that span of time, were from Wakanda or from the Army, and none of them was the woman in the common room.

But, anyway, introductions should be postponed because the moment the four of them acknowledged of Rogers’s presence, Banner and the woman left, and Tony straightened up on the couch. Steve recognized that behaviour. It was the one Stark showed when he was speaking with politicians or lawyers, fake smile and all. Being at the other side of that was slightly uncomfortable for the super soldier, and he couldn’t even imagine how it was for the people who wanted to ask Stark some favour.

“Sam told me you wanted to speak,” Steve said, looking at the two men in front of him and questioning why Strange was there. He met the man’s companion and trusted Wong, but he knew too few about the Sorcerer Supreme to understand why he was around. If Tony wanted to speak about Siberia, which was highly probable, involving the other man meant that the genius had someone ready to agree with everything he was going to say.

Maybe he should have asked for Wilson to join him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s more Stephen’s, here, idea. Like, I agree on everything, almost, of what he said and we need to speak, and considering that every time is just the two of us we blow up. Well, Stephen is Switzerland.”

“Did you really just quoted Twilight?” Strange asked, mildly offended, apparently. The sorcerer was a different book to read from Tony, and Cap was just too surprised to do anything else but nodding, listening to what the younger man was saying. “Anyway, I came to know about the Siberian ordeal, and while I suspect both of you are trying to pretend it never happened, you are still working together, and living in the same place, so I think it’s better if you figure it out once for all. We are all tired of your passive-aggressive behaviour.”

Steve nodded. He tried to speak with Tony when Stark came back, but that wasn’t the right moment, he understood that much too late. The man gave him a small smile and told him that they were good. They weren’t.

“I’m sorry,” Tony let out before that Steve could say anything. He didn’t even understand what the man in front of him was sorry for. There were tons of things Steve blamed him, before. Now he couldn't bear himself to think about those. They both were wrong. Steve still didn’t believe to let others decide for their intervention was a good idea, but this didn’t mean that he wasn’t sorry for having tried to kill Tony.

He didn’t want to blame his boyfriend, because it wasn’t Bucky’s fault if he couldn’t keep his punches when he was involved, but he knew that seeing the man he loved being beaten by one of his friends drove him crazy.

“When I saw the video, I lost my control. I should have seen that was what Zemo wanted. I should have trusted you, back at the airport. If I did, Rhodey…” His voice trailed off, and Strange’s hand was on his shoulder a moment later. Tony rose his eyes to look at the Sorcerer and a moment later both of them nodded. Steve couldn’t help but noticed a sort of tenderness in Stark’s glance. “I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head. He wasn’t ready for that. Once he walked into the room and understood what Tony wanted to speak about, he thought it was going to end in another fight. Not Stark telling him he was sorry. That changed the perspective of things.

“I was scared that you could kill him,” He said, who he was speaking about went unsaid. “What they did to him… Bucky would have never, he knew Howard, they were friends. And I know this doesn't justify what I’ve done. I knew he was alive, and I knew what he did. It was my call to take. But I just couldn’t... Hide what I knew about Bucky because I wanted to save him,” That was the reason why he deleted the file before giving the flash-drive to Nat. That was the reason why that video wasn’t among the other files spread in the world after the SHIELD downfall. “But I had other ways to stop you from killing him.”

He ran a hand in his hair. Steve was exhausted by simply stand here and speak and it wasn’t something that ever happened to him. He knew whatever kind of friendship he could have built with Tony was as good as dead, but Stark needed to know. He must give that much to the man.

“Thanos killed Gamora, and when Quill understood that, on Titan, he blew our only opportunity to take the gauntlet off from him,” Tony said, and that was the last thing Steve expected to hear. Nobody but the people who were there knew what happened on Titan, nobody knew how he got the Time Stone. Bruce, Wong and Thor, the people who knew Strange, said that he wouldn’t ever give the thing up, so everyone suspected blood had been spread on the planet. Once Tony and Nebula did come back, they said the others turned into dust and gave no further explanations. “He snapped, and I knew how he was going to react. I did the same. I screw up because I was a twenty-one-year-old kid again,” Steve tried not to think that Tony just put Bucky and Thanos on the same plane. I was a metaphor, a figure of speech. “And in front of me, there was the person who killed my parents. I came here as a friend, as your pal Sam told me to do and… What I’m trying to say is that we both had been jerks, and I can understand why you did what you did. This doesn’t make it easier to accept, but, whatever. We might not be friends again, but no bad blood, ok?”

And when Tony extended his hand, Steve shook it. He hoped that, with time, things could go back to normality, but, for now, he wasn’t going to complain. “No bad blood.” He said.

“See, doctor, Cap and I are grown-ups, don’t need a babysitter,” Stark said, walking past the Sorcerer and smiling at him. Steve had been around Tony long enough to recognize that smile.

--

Harley Keener backed off the moment Steve walked into the penthouse main hall, not that the Captain was surprised but the kid’s behaviour. The last time the two of them had been in the same room, the blond teen told him that, considering that Tony said they need to be nice which each other, it was better if their paths didn’t cross. He simply couldn’t be civil with “fake Cap”. Because, apparently, Carol Denver was now Captain Marvel and “the Real Cap”.

Whatever, Steve never met the kid before and considering that he was one of Tony’s kids he didn’t hope for him to understand how they managed things to work out. And he, anyway, was trying to speak with Peter who was speaking with the other teen for a moment before.

The point was that, even if he wasn’t Natasha, he noticed things. And he had to admit that Strange wasn’t as half an asshole as he appeared. They sort of getting along well. Like, not best pals, not even what Steve expected and wanted to, but in more than speaking terms. Of course, he was an ironic prick, but he was Tony’s friend or whatever, he couldn’t hope for nothing different. Anyway, he was sure not to be the only one to notice that there was something weird between Strange and Stark. And, maybe, involve a teenager wasn’t the best thing, but still.

Perhaps it was because he had never been there for a long time, but how could the other go through their constant banter-flirting every couple of days? He didn’t pretend to know so much about love stories, but they weren’t supposed to be excruciating for everyone around them.

Honestly, Steve spotted Strange looking at Tony a couple of times and if stares could strip clothes, Tony would have found himself naked in the middle of the training room more than once. But, apart from that, the Doctor was imperturbable. And Rogers had no idea about what he and Tony spoke about for hours. Every time he and Strange spoke, the Captain found himself with the greatest headache ever. Just as it happened when he spoke with Banner, to be honest.

Anyway, back on the matter in question, he was sure whatever there was between the two of them was more than what it met the eyes and wanted to be sure about that. “Peter,” He said, seating on the couch opposite to the one the teen was occupying. Differently from Harley, at least Parker tried to be civil with him. It didn’t exactly work, but he didn’t walk out any room Steve entered either so he was going to count it as a win. “Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose I can’t forbid you to speak, Mr Rogers,” Peter said, looking at the man in front of him for half a second before going back to his StarkPad. “So, yeah, shoot.”

“That thing between Tony and Strange,” He said, unsure about how to finish the sentence. Maybe ask a teenager wasn’t the best thing ever, but Steve found himself at short of allies and the only two people in the Compound who he would have asked told him to mind his own business. Steve regretted the times when his boyfriend and his friend used every possible occasion they had to argue. At least, one of them was always by his side. But nope, he had to plead Bucky and Sam to try and get along. His words, anyway, caused some sort of reaction in Peter because Parker lowered his tablet and looked at Steve, brown eyes wide with attention.

Good, I’m not seeing things, then. He thought, before continuing. “Do they know?”

“Believe me, Mr Rogers, the only people in the Compound that don’t know that Mr Stark loves Dr Strange are Mr Stark and Dr Strange. I thought they would figure out when they helped Dr Palmer and Dr Banner, but nope, I’m delusional.”

Steve tried to remember who Dr Palmer was, then the image of the redheaded woman he saw a couple of times with Bruce and Strange crossed his mind and he decided she must be the person Peter was speaking about. “Anyway, why did you want to know?”

“It’s just… I can recognize the weird way Tony has to flirt. Been there, both with Bruce and Nat. And I think he honestly deserves happiness.”

Peter’s glance was enough of an answer to that, but, again, it wasn’t like Steve could complain. He messed things up. It was his fault in the first place if Tony’s last couple of years before Thanos hadn’t been his happiest ones. But the kid had a good heart and he cared about Stark, which meant that he also was the best person to ask help to. And maybe he didn’t need to know about Bruce and Nat, but it wasn’t like it was something someone couldn’t find on Tony’s Wikipedia page.

“Yeah, he does. And Stephen does, too,” Peter said, and there was a glimpse of sadness in the deep of his dark eyes. “If that’s a way of yours to buy Tony’s pardon, I don’t think will work, but I’ll help you. Because I want them to be happy.”

Steve nodded, again, he knew things with Tony couldn’t go back to be the same because of that, but he didn’t care. They weren’t going to solve the problems from their past, but Steve could understand how it was to have someone who cared for him in his life, to have someone to speak with, and while he was sure either of the men was so found of opening up, they’d probably find their own way to do that. Again, apparently, it was clear in the sun, so it wasn’t like Steve was going to risk something, wasn’t him?

--

“Not exactly subtle,” Bucky said, looking at the decoration someone put around the main hall of the Wakandan Royal Palace. Apparently, Peter convinced Shuri and Nat to organize Valentine's Day party, of which T’Challa knew nothing, pretending it was an Avengers’ team bonding dinner. As in, everyone was pretty much obligated to take part in it. Bucky had a point or a hundred of those, but every other try they did (including hacking Friday's system to block the two of them in one of the lifts of the Tower, again, not the best of the ideas, but they were running out of those) ended in nothing, so it was time to call the big guns.

“And you aren’t even sure that Strange will show up,” Sharon added. Sam said she was in Wakanda because she was working on something with Everett Ross, but Bucky suspected that the real reason was that she and Wilson had started to date and Steve was more prone to believe in his boyfriend’s explanation. He gave his not-quite-Uncle seal of approval to the relationship, not that he said it loud, but still. If he’d dared to, well, Sharon could kick him in places he might need if he wanted to be a good boyfriend.

“You are just worried that if those two finally get together and even decided to take over the world, we will all have huge problems in not being enslaved,” Sam answered, and, yes, maybe that was a valid concern at which he hadn’t thought about enough. “I mean, I understand you, but still. Seeing Steve and Peter’s plans fail is funny enough to take the risk.”

Sharon rolled her eyes to the ceiling and walked away with Sam before he could say something else, leaving Steve alone with Bucky. “You know I’m always by your side, but what’s your plan, exactly?”

“It’s Peter’s idea,” Steve answered. “He thinks that if one of them gets drunk enough he will spill the bean, and we just have to been sure that this happens in front of the other.”

“You know that this is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard of? And it’s coming from the man who fought guys three times his size, jumped without a parachute from an aeroplane and crashed another aeroplane in which he was when he could have said to anyone where he was going to do it,” Bucky’s smile softened a moment later. “You are lucky I love you, Steve Rogers, because that’s enough dumbness for me to walk away with another pretty super soldier.”

And Steve was glad when he felt Bucky’s metal arm around his waist, dragging him closer to his body so that he could place a kiss against his cheek. It took longer than he would have imagined, especially because Bucky had always been open about dating back in the 40s — and he confessed to Cap after a long time that he was just pretending, that showing himself with a different woman every night was the best way to hide the fact that he was attracted by men —, but now that his boyfriend was keen to public manifestations of affection Steve couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

It took more than two hours before one between Stark and Strange showed up at the party, half dragged by the Cloak through a shining portal in the middle of the room. Strange was wearing what looked like a bodysuit, total black with details in charcoal grey and gold and white lines that crossed his chest and backs. Steve had never seen the Sorcerer wearing anything different from his robes or, on some rare occasions, casual clothes. And definitely, that suit wasn’t either.

The Doctor looked at his surroundings with a questioning glance, the Cloak disappeared a moment before he stepped into the room and everyone else around him acting like nothing was weird. It was supposed to be a team bonding event, not some kind of stupid party, and it was clear Strange didn’t appreciate the surprise.

This, at least, until Peter ran in front of him and started to speak about something that Steve couldn’t and didn’t want to hear. What was important was that the Sorcerer was that. Now the plan became more complicated, but, at least, part of it was accomplished.

--

Tony froze, the moment he walked past the doors of the main hall of the Wakandan Royal Palace. He had spent the entire day in the labs with Shuri — but for a fast lunch break because the princess seemed to be very much aware of the passing of time, differently from another teen Tony knew and kicked his ass out of her reign at half-past twelve — listening to her lessons about all the stuff he didn’t know about vibranium. Which were a lot, and the most important one was “do not use vibranium to create a giant frisbee with the only purpose to do propaganda” which was, well, legit.

She showed and kicked his ass in the process, how to use it to create little marvellously for which his father would have sold Tony himself, and also things that would have helped the population (in which Stark was more interested in) worldwide. She also agreed on a collaboration with Stark Industries and asked Tony about his nanoparticles. He had been more than happy to share that information with her, his mind yet on how to combine those and the Wakandan technology to create suits for every one of his teammates. And only when Shuri suggested that they could bring back the old Ultron's project and trying to recreate it, Tony decided to be interested in the mandatory dinner.

He had no idea if the princess understood the reason behind that, but was positive that she was smart enough to never mention Ultron again in front of him.

It was theoretically possible, that was true. He had better technology nowadays and with the help of both Bruce and Shuri he could recreate the entire thing without the part in which he decided to kill the superheroes. But the lives of the people who died because of that error of his were still hunting his sleep even more than Thanos.

He shook his head and decided that needed something to drink, which was why he went straight for the open bar once he reached the hall, only to stop himself mid-way, his dark eyes following infinite legs wrapped in dark fabric. Which eventually ended in a fine, fine ass. And whatever the thing Strange was wearing was, well, Tony appreciated it very much.

The bastard had gold details, and white stripes on the pitch black fabric of it placed there with the sole aim to have people looking at his ass, Tony was sure of that, his own suit had shining lights on that very same spot.

And well, maybe, just maybe, he had been very vocal with a certain other doctor and a US Army Colonel about how frustrating was the fact that Stephen couldn’t understand that they banter was Tony’s way to flirt with him (and the totally negligible fact that he found the Sorcerer attractive and smart, and dreamed about kissing those lips and having them on other parts of his body as well), but still. The only result had been that his two closest friends started to laugh.

And Tony was the one they should thank if they were very much taken with two women who could take over the world without crack a nail. Well, still, he could do without their help. Except that he couldn’t. Because he spoke with them something like six months before and nothing happened since then. Or better, nothing different from the same snark and flirtatious interaction he always had had with Strange.

“Stark,” Stephen’s voice reached him through his thought and, for a moment, Tony went back to be a thirteen years old kid in front of his first crush.

“Oh, nice outfit,” Was the only thing was able to say, and being him Tony Stark, well, he said it. Thank you so much brain which didn’t stop him in time. “I mean, it seems more durable than your temple robes.”

He flashed him his trademark smile but noticed how a pinker shade spread over Stephen’s cheeks. It lasted just one second, the time Tony needed to see that there was no opinionated piece of outerwear around Stephen’s shoulders. That was as weird as the fact that everyone around them seemed to be invested in dancing instead of, well, team bonding activity.

Also, there wasn’t the entire team there either. He spotted Bruce and Christine when he entered the room and if his attention hadn’t been catalysed by a certain Sorcerer in a very thigh bodysuit he would have understood that there was something weird. Stephen’s best-friend was a consultant for the Avengers, but she wasn’t forced to take part in the Commission for the Accords events. Rhodey and Carol were a more familiar sight, considering that both of them lived in the Compound and both were Avengers, but Ned who wall all but flirting with Shuri, well, technically he and MJ shouldn’t even know about Peter’s secret identity.

Thor and Loki weren’t around, probably hidden somewhere with their warrior friend and the Grand Master of something - Tony didn’t ask and nobody explained to him, he was just happy to know that Stephen didn’t have a relationship with neither of the Asgardians because the Sorcerer’s interactions with the gods gave him that kind of vibes. While for the others, T’Challa wasn’t trying to kill Ned only because he was giving heart eyes to Nat (who was even more beautiful than usual and was wearing typical Wakandan clothes), Steve and Bucky were very much busy in trying to occupy the very same space and Wilson was trying to get killed by Sharon. Tony didn’t saw Wanda and Vision yet, but probably they were together and - and then something hit him.

Strong, in the middle of his brain: it was fucking Valentine's Day!

And he was behaving like a crazy in front of the man he had a crush on. Fucking great! Which was why he smiled when Peter called him. “Yeah, Pete?” He asked, turning completely to face the kid in front of him.

“The ice is finished and I was wondering if you could go and take some, like, King T’Challa is busy and…” Tony nodded. It wasn’t like he knew where they kept ice (also, they probably had butlers for that, but Tony wasn’t going to point it out now), but at least he would have enough time to think about the fact of being cornered during Valentine's Day party.

“Yeah, I’m going,” He said and walked toward one of the hallways. The last thing he expected for, though, was to see a red flash of something in front of him and, a moment later, to hear Stephen’s voice.

“I’ll help you,” He said. “It’s not like there’s something more I can do there anyway.”

Yeah, and maybe he could use his magic mumbo-jumbo to lead them to where ice was kept. What Tony didn’t notice, though, were Peter and Steve following them down the hallway.

--

“Are you sure they won’t freeze to death?” Peter asked, looking at the door they just locked. Steve’s cerulean eyes ran on T’Challa by his side. The King of Wakanda nodded.

“They just entered the first room they found, this is a conference room,” He explained. “And, anyway, Strange can always portal them outside. Now, do you want to look at the camera feeds, considering that we are closing two adults in a room so that they could speak? That I don’t think will work, but still.”

“And, anyway, are you telling me that I should have closed Bucky and you in a freezing room so that you would have kissed without forcing me to hear you pining over him?” Nat asked, looking deadly serious at Steve. Who had, at least, the decency to blush. “Now, why don’t we just project the feed in the main hall?”

T’Challa’s wicked smile matched his fiancé’s.

--

“What’s wrong with you?” Stephen asked again, looking at the Cloak which was blocking them to reach the door and find another room. In that one there wasn’t ice, apparently. The Cloak didn’t move, and it wasn’t like there was something Strange could do but stare at it.

“I can try to shoot at…” Tony wasn’t really serious, but the glance Stephen threw at him was enough to make him never finish that sentence. And the fact that he was the only person capable of doing that said a lot about the one Supreme Sorcerer. “Ok, bad idea. I was joking, by the way.”

“I know,” Stephen said, deciding to ignore the Cloak for the time being. “I’m just exhausted and kind of protective with it. The Cloak saved my life more than once.”

Tony nodded, Stephen wasn’t giving any intonation to his words, those were simply facts. Though he couldn’t help a smile to form on his lips. “It’s fine. Do you know something we can do to make it move, though?”

Stephen looked at the relic which decided it was a good time to stay perfectly still while floating in front of the door. They both know that if they try to move toward the exit it would wrap around them, pushing them back. The point was why it was behaving like that. “Not really. It does what it wants to.”

“Crazy clothes,” Tony said, glaring at it. “It makes me questioning if all the Artificial Intelligence thing I’m trying to achieve is for the best. What if I give Fri a body and then she starts to act like a little bitch?”

“She already is,” Stephen said, and it was barely a whisper, but Tony could hear him. “But she probably took after her creator so she can’t be blamed.”

Tony smiled, looking at him. And ok, that suit was illegal. Whoever created it (which was still a huge question mark in his mind) should have been sued for crimes against decency, if something like that existed. Nobody could give something so provoking to a man like Strange. A man who was able to make loose robes sexy on top of everything.

“Do you like what you see?” Stephen’s low voice reached him, and Tony should really stop to stare at the Sorcerer, apparently.

“You can’t just walk in there wearing this and pretend people won’t look. That thing is unfair,” He decided to be honest, at least with himself. Again, it wasn’t like there was something different he could do.

--

“Everyone goes home; I won!” Shuri said, her dark eyes focused on the holographic image of the two of them speaking. Steve and Peter shared a confused expression for a moment, looking at each other before the princess continued: “Do you really think you are the only one tired of those two acting like teenagers around each other? The difference between you and me is that I didn’t even need to kidnap them.”

And ok, maybe Steve had to admit that his and Peter’s plans were based on the fact that if you close them somewhere they would eventually speak to each other, which resulted in nothing all the previous times. But, at least, they tried.

“And how should this be your victory? We closed them in the room.”

“You shouldn’t be proud of that, Steve,” Carol said, smiling, but it was clear that she was more curious about Shuri’s answer than everything else.

“Who do you think created Strange’s suit? He asked me something practical, and I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to know how far practical goes?” Peter asked, focusing back on Tony and Stephen on the screen in front of them. They were still speaking, and seriously, for being friends it seemed like they didn’t speak for ages. “I mean, we are speaking about my mentor and a man I really appreciate and look after, I’d really like to think they will speak with their clothes on all the time, ok?”

“Yeah, Pete, whatever,” MJ said, and, yup, Parker totally blushed at that.

--

The Cloak let them reach the door only after both of them admitted that they had feelings for each other. It was a long and excruciating process considering that none of them really wanted to ruin their friendship, but, in the end, they managed to speak also about that.

“We can try and see how this works, we don’t have to rush things or something,” Stephen said, a soft smile on his lips, content with Tony squeezing his hand a moment later. Neither of them was ready for a relationship different from a very close friendship. Their lives and their pasts having proved that they weren’t ready for romantic stuff. But knowing what they felt for each other was enough, for now.

Tony nodded, a more relaxed smile while he let his eyes ran on Stephen’s arm, stretched between them. “Thank you. For understanding and, well, thank you.”

Stephen shook his head before walking pass the Cloak, which decided that it was enough to let them go. The door, though, seemed to be of a completely different opinion, considering that it didn’t move once Tony tried to open it. A moment later, they heard someone running at the other side of it.

But, at that moment, something different starting to emerge in Tony’s mind. “Wait! That’s Rogers and the kid’s doing.”

Stephen’s eyes looked questioning for half a second, then he seemed to realize. “It’s the same as the elevator and the London situation? And all the other times we found ourselves looked in some place”

Tony nodded and a soft laugh started to rise on his lips. “Yeah, I’m going to kill them.”

“I have a better idea,” Stephen said, moving his hand to open a portal in the middle of the room. “And, honestly, I’m not even sure that’s their doing, but we should thank them.”

Tony said nothing but crossed the Portal still holding Stephen’s hand, and that was good. Yeah, he should probably thank the two of them. Even if it was sad that him, Tony Stark, a former playboy, needed the help of a teen and a hundred-years-old man with his love life.

[roxysbeachlife]

These Are the Strangest Laws in All 50 US States

Laws are usually passed for a reason. Too many car accidents? You probably need some traffic laws. Is a particular animal species dying out? Make it illegal to kill them. But because it’s often easier to pass a law than it is to remove it, some obsolete laws simply stand as evidence that something bizarre and horrible must have happened once upon a time. After all, how else do you explain a rule against catching fish in your mouth? There has got to be an amazing backstory behind that. Here are the weirdest, most hilarious laws in all 50 U.S. states.

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The 50 Weirdest Laws

Alabama: Going to church? Take off that ridiculous fake mustache if you do — unless, of course, you don’t intend to cause laughter. In that case, it’s all good.

Alaska: In Fairbanks, Alaska, it’s illegal to serve alcohol to a moose. Which seems reasonable, but why did they have to make a law?

Arizona: Your donkey has to sleep somewhere, but it’s not allowed in the bathtub. This dates back to a tub-sleeping donkey who was washed away in a flood in 1924 (he survived, but they passed the law anyway).

Arkansas: You’ll need a permit to feed your garbage to any pigs you happen to meet out in the world. If they’re your own pigs, go for it.

California: If your frog dies during a frog-jumping competition, you’ll obviously be distraught. The good news is that it’s illegal for any of your rivals to eat your late amphibian.

Colorado: A porch might look inviting, but don’t put a couch out there. This law was put in place to prevent college students from lighting couch bonfires.

Connecticut: There’s not technically a law stating that pickles must be able to bounce in Connecticut, but a high-profile case of pickle fraud in 1948 revealed that the Food and Drug commissioner used the bounce test to test fake pickles.

Delaware: Cat shavers beware: You will not be able to sell your ill-gotten fur in the state of Delaware.

Florida: Most places, a “Beware of Dog” sign is just a fair warning and a crime deterrent. But in Florida, you can hang a “Bad Dog” sign in your yard and be absolved of any responsibility for canine attacks.

Georgia: Sort of like those Floridian dogs, Georgian llamas have carte blanche to wreak as much havoc as they care to. With very few exceptions, anyone who “engages in a llama activity” forfeits any liability on the part of the llama owner for injuries they might sustain as a result.

Hawaii: It might be a little unusual, but we’re going to come right out and say the Hawaiian laws against billboards are a pretty good idea. Nothing kills the tropical vibes like a gaudy advertisement.

Idaho: Again under the banner of laws we aren’t sure they needed to put into writing, Idaho wants you to know in no uncertain terms that cannibalism is against the law, except “under extreme life-threatening conditions as the only apparent means of survival.” Maybe it’s weirder that this is the only state that does outlaw it.

Illinois: Illinois is (mostly) landlocked, but it still has a problem with excessive fish and amphibian ownership. No one may own more than $600 worth of aquatic creatures — that’s about 75 salamanders, if you’re curious.

Indiana: In French Lick Springs, Indiana, a 1939 ordinance decreed that all black cats must wear bells on any Friday the 13th. It isn’t clear if the law is still on the books or not, but this might trump the time an Indiana man tried to legally redefine pi as 3.2.

Iowa: The pride of every Iowa State Fair is the one and only butter cow(and its attendant butter statues). So it’s not surprising that they take butter fraud very seriously. If you’re spreading margarine or oleo, you’d better not claim to have the real deal.

Kansas: Despite the fact that the law explicitly outlaws the throwing of snowballs, Topeka mayor Bill Bunten made international headlines in 2005 when he declared his intention to overthrow the ban in a hail of powdery projectiles.

Kentucky: Some places have a tradition of selling artificially dyed chicks and baby bunnies around Easter, but not Kentucky. At least, not if you’re selling less than six at a time.

Louisiana: When you’re down in the Big Easy, nothing hits the spot like a big bowl of jambalaya. Word to the wise, though: If prepared “in the traditional manner for public consumption,” the dish is not bound to follow certain sanitation codes.

Maine: If you’re playing beano in Maine (not that Beano; it’s a game not unlike bingo), you should feel free to take all of the bathroom breaks you need. The beano conductor will play your hand for you unless you’re playing high-stakes beano.

Maryland: Pottymouths should watch themselves the next time they’re on the Eastern seaboard. In Rockville, Maryland, they’ll face a $100 fine for cursing on a sidewalk or road.

Massachusetts: You know how everywhere “The Star-Spangled Banner” is played, a dance party breaks out? Not in Massachusetts, where it is strictly forbidden to dance to the national anthem.

Michigan: Some states put down strict laws about when and where you can sell alcoholic beverages and other controlled substances, but in Michigan, it’s cars that can’t be sold on Sundays.

Minnesota: It might sound like a lot of fun, but oiled-pig catching contests are absolutely not allowed in Minnesota. The same law outlaws turkey scrambles, when the unfortunate bird is thrown into the air and players rush to catch it.

Mississippi: Okay, this is a very bizarre law (and one made specifically to make a political point). In 2013, governor Phil Bryant signed into law a declaration that no one could ever restrict the size of a cup for sugary drinks.

Missouri: If a bull or ram of a certain age is able to roam free for three days or more, at least three townsfolk report it, and the owner does not claim it, then anyone can feel free to capture and castrate it without facing liability for damages.

Montana: Our favorite laws are the ones that offer a glimpse of what life was like in eras past. Apparently, in Montana’s past, train jackers stopping a locomotive with a herd of grazing animals was a major problem.

Nebraska: To be perfectly frank, this law seems illegal, immoral, and hard to enforce. But if you’re following the letter of the law, then anyone with a sexually transmitted disease is forbidden to get married.

Nevada: Back before we wrapped our minds around how dangerous radiation could be, every shoe store was outfitted with an X-ray-based fitting machine. But you won’t find any in Nevada — they’ve been outlawed since 1960.

New Hampshire: In New Hampshire, the seaweed that washes onshore can be collected and turned into fertilizer for a profit. But if you’re thinking of heading out to the beach in the early hours before the crowds, think again — you can’t collect seaweed at night.

New Jersey: Bulletproof vests are legal in New Jersey unless you’re wearing one while committing a crime. In other words, bank robbery is super illegal, but it’s even more illegal if you have body armor on.

New Mexico: Indecent exposure is illegal to some degree almost everywhere, but in New Mexico, the law specifically mentions every body part that counts as indecent — and if you want to walk around with your butt hanging out, then go right ahead.

New York: Despite facing many legal challenges since being written into law in 1845, New York’s regulations against wearing masks in public is still in place. You get special dispensation for costume parties.

North Carolina: Remember that episode of “The Simpsons” when Bart and Homer stole a bunch of grease from local kitchens? It might have been hilarious in cartoon form, but it was a serious problem in North Carolina until stricter penalties for grease theft were written into the books in 2012.

North Dakota: We couldn’t quite track down this law in the legislature, but it’s one of the most cited “weird laws” online: Allegedly, it’s illegal to lay down in public and fall asleep without taking your shoes off first.

Ohio: Despite what you might have read elsewhere, it is legal to get a fish drunk in Ohio. But don’t worry, these lawyers have plenty of other weird ordinances, like how you need a license to kill a fly within 160 feet of a church.

Oklahoma: Here’s a blast from the past. In Oklahoma, the Cold War is still being waged in a state statute that claims that “there exists an International Communist conspiracy which is committed to the overthrow of the government of the United States.”

Oregon: Apparently, at some point there was an issue with people heading into graveyards and cemeteries with a kind of deadly intent. In Oregon, it’s illegal to go hunting in a cemetery.

Pennsylvania: The world is full of laws that say you can’t buy, sell, or exchange a human being. But in Pennsylvania, they had to put the icing on the cake: You can’t barter with a baby. The “good” news? It’s only a misdemeanor.

Rhode Island: If you bite off the limb of a friend or family member, you could face between one and 20 years in jail — assuming you did so intentionally and with malice.

South Carolina: Pinball might not seem like the most serious offense the vice squad investigates, but you’ve got to be 18 or older to take a spin in the state of South Carolina.

South Dakota: The strangest law we could find in South Dakota was an ordinance allowing farmers to launch fireworks as pest control, but it was recently repealed. The strangest law we couldn’t find any confirmation for at all was the oddly specific forbiddance against threatening a pacifist to change their beliefs by challenging them to arm-wrestling.

Tennessee: You know how you and all your friends share one account for Netflix, HBO Go, and Hulu? Not if you live in Tennessee, you don’t.

Texas: Apparently, in order to run for political office without facing a religious test, a politician has to affirm their belief in a “Supreme Being.”Sounds just a smidge unconstitutional.

Utah: We’re not sure what was happening to bus drivers in Utah in 1999, but they apparently faced the not-insignificant threat of having things hurled at them at bus stops. Now, only security officers and officers of the peace are allowed to chuck stuff at buses.

Vermont: If you think you’re going to pass legislation outlawing the use of clotheslines in Vermont, then you’d better think twice. The solar powered dryers are here to stay.

Virginia: They say that Virginia is for lovers, but the law books don’t back that up. Fornication — that is, having sex outside of marriage — is illegal and punishable as a Class 4 misdemeanor.

Washington: In Skamania County, Washington, you could be in big trouble if you shoot a sasquatch. Not just because of the $1,000 fine levied by human officials, either — presumably, you’ll have to stand trial in sasquatch court as well.

West Virginia: West Virginia lawmakers have some very specific ideas about the right way to go hunting. For example, you’re not allowed to use drones or ferrets whether you’re hunting birds or anything else.

Wisconsin: Here’s a fun trick. Search for the phrase “highly pleasing” on the Wisconsin State Legislature website. You’ll find there are many types of Wisconsin cheeses that must meet that standard to bear the name — and this cheese-loving Wisconsinite agrees.

Wyoming: The next time you find yourself purchasing junk metals, rubber, rags, or paper in Wyoming, lean in to smell the peddler’s breath. You could be unknowingly committing the offense of buying junk from an intoxicated person.

  Written by Reuben Westmaas

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Florence (05.28.15)

Florence, a city of twinkling lights, jewels sprinkled out of someone’s hand, laid across the landscape in a free fall, the moon shining overhead. “Wild World” comes on my music and it’s strangely exactly what I want to listen to. I picture the whole plane singing it as we land.

I’m pushed and prodded off of the airplane by a crowd of very hurried people and we all pile into a shuttle bus. J and I are buzzing from our cappuccinos, talking a mile a minute and swatting at each other, so jacked up we can’t stand still long enough to touch one another’s arms. We race into the baggage claim and I wedge my way into crowd. Our bags arrive in the first load, I grab them from off of the belt and nearly topple over myself and a little old lady as I push them back through the crowd. I’m out of control excited. We speed out of the doors and into the Italian night. The air. Oh, the air. So clean and fresh and welcoming, I drink it and feel full. We grab a taxi at the stand and we’re off.

Our driver doesn’t really speak English but he’s sweet and asks us questions, how we know each other, what we do, why we’re here. We explain that we are together and are studying at school and he seems pleased, saying that there is something very delicate about two girls, something delicato. We smile and shoot each other a look. But then he says he doesn’t understand when I tell him J is my girlfriend and he asks us how we can be girlfriends if we are not married. She explains that we aren’t, we’re just together.

We arrive at Villa Natalia around 12:30am. We check in, find out that we are rooming together (something I was scared would not happen) and head up to our room. We throw our bags down, unpack and sprint back out into the night. We have a city to explore.

We scour the streets like pirates, the city empty and alone. Free. It’s almost like it had been waiting for us. We walk for about an hour trying to find something open. When we ask for places to eat the locals seem amazed by the question. We know it’s late but keep trying until we remember it’s Sunday. Nothing is going to be open. Frustrated but determined we move on until we find a run down little Kebab place nestled in the corner of a side street, its banner torn and waving in the small breeze. Plates of food are stacked and displayed along the counter. We walk in and two sweet guys who speak English ask us what we want. We kind of panic and ask for French fries and falafel but we then realize that the display foods are the foods they’re serving. One guy grabs the solo plate of fries that’s got a tiny mound of jagged pink meat on it. He microwaves it in a tinfoil container and I wait for the whole place to blow up. It doesn’t but I can sense that J shares my desire to say we’ve changed our minds and to leave but we both feel badly for making them stay open to get us the food so we smile, pay the three euros and escape back into the street.

We laugh. It’s not the first time we’ve both sensed a bad vibe from a restaurant but didn’t want to hurt the other one’s feelings or the server’s by deciding to leave. We swear we’ll never do it again and trudge on. We walk in silence, the night and the day and the city sinking into our bones and clothes and we retreat into our own experiences, occasionally brushing our pinkies together as we sway through the cobbled streets. We round a corner into a small square and hear rock music and smell food. We squeal and all but run over to the little lighted café. Cigarette smoke and beer and laughter cloud our senses as we push through a group of young Italians sitting outside. We ask if the bartender if they have or are still serving any food. He nods. There is pizza left and we order a slice of vegetable and a slice of cheese as well as a draft beer. We go sit outside, brushing a space clean amidst the cluttered tables. The beer is flat but it’s perfect and there are peanuts scattered everywhere. She goes quiet as we eat our pizza, grease dripping down our chins, old cigarettes turning to ash in the tray. Right now, the city is hers more than it is mine and I can tell she wants to give it to me, to share her memories and secrets and pieces but is torn, knowing that it’ll be different, that she can’t force what was. I want to stumble my way through, eat it slowly, and we’re fighting against the two sides of this strange little coin.

We pay our bill and ask the bartender to call us a cab. We slide back into the street which is empty, echoing and it isn’t until two days later that we realize how much of a centre it is, how crowded it can become. A stumbling drunk man and his friends are getting out of a cab but the guy turns back inside, vomiting either in or right next to the car, we can’t tell. We edge away from him, sharing a fear of vomit, shivering with the air’s cold. Our cab arrives and we scramble in. Once back at campus, we collapse into bed but stay up talking until it’s 5am and the birds are chirping and the sun is peeking through the windows and my eyes have kind of sealed themselves open but my brain has shut down and shorted. We have to be up at 8. We laugh because this time last year we did the same thing; J stayed up until the sunrise on the phone with me as I lay in my bed in Canada. We smile at each other and drift into a dreamless sleep.

Breakfast ends at 9 and we barely make it down in time to grab a plate full of croissants and jam and hard boiled eggs. We line up cappuccinos like shots and pound them back, forcing our bodies to wake up, to stand upright.

The croissants. THE CROISSANTS. I want to marry them, every single one, and take them out to live in the country inside a cloud made of smiles and we’ll all live and die together as one. Seriously, they’re amazing. I can’t stop eating them. I’m eating one now and it’s 12am and it’s my second of the day and I DON’T EVEN CARE.

There’s an orientation meeting at 10am and it lasts for about 110 years but it’s interesting and the woman running it is the sweetest person ever and I’m so sleep deprived I feel high and open to anything and everything. We work on some poems for our first class as we wait through an immigration check. J and I swap notes on each other’s pieces and experiment with our own work, trying to figure out what in the fuck is this thing called Poetry. I haven’t written any poems in a while and I feel weird and awkward and then remember that I really don’t know what I’m doing and it feels like a release and I keep going.

We take a tour around the campus and the gardens. We lag behind everyone else, moving at our own pace, stopping to point out little surprise flowers and birds, the way the sun is shining through the branches. It’s simple and easy. No force. We eat lunch outside with our cappuccinos and computers. We hustle over to our first meeting only to find out it’s been moved to 4:30 and then eventually discover that we were the only ones who knew about it. There’s a weird feeling about the place, like everyone is only half-here, half-aware of what is happening. I feel it in myself too. I can’t tell where it is coming from. Maybe it’s just what summer is like, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Maybe I’m not being present or I’m trying too hard to be. I think, maybe I don’t deserve this.

We head into town to go get groceries but get lost and then realize the place we want to go to is closed. Frustrated and tired, I storm off into the crowd, overwhelmed by tourists and tired of being led down confusing streets, waiting for buses that don’t come, feeling like an idiot trying to ask for directions.

I feel foolish here, a walking stereotype. I don’t speak the language and when I try to, I feel awkward and apologetic. I bump into people on the sidewalk, I forget to greet them as I enter their stores and I don’t eat meat so I can’t enjoy the beautiful, beautiful array of sliced meats that are served everywhere we go. This is a silly thing to complain about and an easily fixable one at that, but I feel dumb for not being able to enjoy every single piece of this place because of my own limitations, my own personal restrictions. My fears.

It’s 1am on our third night and I’ve been drinking wine for about an hour out of a tiny little espresso mug, refilling as I go, and I’m now a little tipsy, my face flushed and my body warm. I don’t drink a lot. Alcohol freaks me out; I don’t trust it. My dad made sure growing up that I knew how dangerous it is, how many he regrets he has because of it, how many people he knows whose lives have been lost to it. I saw it as this seemingly harmless demon that I both feared and craved to know, to have. I wanted to join its club. And I did, for all of five seconds my senior year of high school and freshman year of college but then it made me feel fat and bloated and my face would get really red and sweaty, and I hate hate hate throwing up.

But tonight I feel drunk and sleepy and giddy. I’m sitting at our desk writing and drinking and eating, kissing my girl when I get up to stretch or grab a pen, listening to our keyboards clicking through the air as we write and write and write, our hands bleeding black ink across computer screens, spilling our thoughts onto a page, letting them take us wherever they go. I never thought I’d meet someone who I can do this kind of stuff with. I feel like I’m living in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel or a Jack Kerouac poem only it’s real and a little less fraught with self-destruction. I like it.

It’s late and there’s too much to write about. I can’t believe I even get to complain about having too much to write about. So here is the quick version:

I’ve eaten the best gelato ever in the world and I’ve eaten it back to back to back. I’ve drunk some of the best wine that only cost 3 euros a bottle and trekked it up and down and around the streets of Florence. I’ve walked until my feet felt like they were going to fall off and then walked some more, not caring. I’ve eaten a sandwich called the Orgasmic Sandwich and laughed with kind Italian men who can’t really speak my language and I can’t really speak theirs but we know sex humour and we know life’s silliness. I’ve kissed my girl in an Italian sunset and woken up to the sounds of birds outside my window and artists in the hallways. I’ve done more in the past three days than I think a lot of people do in their lifetimes and it doesn’t feel real. But I know I’m happy. And sad. And a little drunk. I know it’s great and strange and too good to be true and I also know that I don’t know anything and that’s enough, for now.