#was i supposed to believe there is not one but TWO tech billionaires living in lafayette louisiana

[lanadel-heyyy]

this movie was legitimately terrible for multiple real reasons, but i will suffer anything for this man

letterboxd reviews of 57 seconds

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 1 of the major bracket

Propaganda:

For Eve and Vilanelle:

They quite literally are a wlw murderer couple. And I love them very very much.

Villanelle is a joyfully murderous psychopath assassin and Eve is the investigator trying to catch her who Villanelle seduces Eve into enjoying her own more murderous side. Villanelle does a Ton of murders (including of a tech bro billionaire), Eve also does some murders. It’s a good time.

THE murder wives!!! no explanation needed!!!

they got canon homoeroticism AND murdered together <3

For Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu:

you've got the founder of the fantasy ancient Chinese CIA and the leader of what is essentially the mafia and then they're soulmates and in love. they're both willing to kill anyone who dares hurt the other while also just wanting a soft domestic life together

Zhou Zishu is an assassin and spymaster who put the current Emperor on the throne, and then quit his job by faking his death (kinda, hes still dying but not as fast as he was supposed to). Had done A Lot on his old job, including murdering children (more than one, and at least one of them in a way I can't even describe without several trigger warnings), exterminating whole families, war crimes (and i dont mean this in a buzzword way, i mean "organized a public execution of foreign diplomats during war time")… btw he doesn't feel particularly bad about any of this, because he believes it was necessary. Like he wouldn't do it for fun, but he thinks the ends (putting a good Emperor on the throne) justified the means (all of the atrocities). As a retiree, he definitely cut down on the amount of morally reprehensible murder, but not murder in general. He still routinely kills ppl, he just doesn't go out of his way to kill more. Wen Kexing, meanwhile, is the Ghost Valley Master - Ghost Valley being a place where the worst of criminals are exiled. Even in such a place, he has reputation as a complete lunatic, owed partially to the fact that he either skinned a man or fed him his own flesh or both at one point, and partially to him having a rule where he would kill anyone who came closer than 3 meters to him. But in truth, everything he'd done was to survive the Ghost Valley and eventually take revenge for his parents, who were brutally murdered when he was only nine. By the start of the novel's timeline, he put his plan in motion - the plan that would drown jianghu in blood, but also deliver poetic justice to all responsible for his parents' deaths, as well as all who'd commit the same crime given the chance. And these two men, these two murderers and schemers, meet - and unexpectedly, find in each other the person who /understands/. The person who is just as ruthless and whose hands are just as bloody, but also the person who knows standing at the top of the world is not worth it, who seeks the same freedom of leaving it all behind, and who is still, underneath it all, a human, with human heart seeking connection. So you have this couple who understand each other with barely a word, and who want the same things - who are so hungry for domesticity and for people they can just goof around with when all their lives they had to measure every step and word - but ALSO where one half a couple is like "i gotta go murder hundreds in revenge" and the other half is like "ok pick you up at 6". (This btw is why I'm submitting novel's iteration of the couple in particular. Show wenzhou with their ridiculous breakups over morality could Never.) Also they were both hiding who they are when they first met, and later flirted about having figured each other out. Finally, I'll leave you my favorite quote that just. perfectly sums up their relationship: "And just like that, they fell asleep in each other's arms, steeped in the smell of blood."

You’ve probably already had submissions for them but I’ll add on. One of them founded an assassin’s guild and killed a staggering number of people. His malewife is the leader of a sect of insane murderous outcasts, and he attained his position by proving to be the most crazy and murder happy of them all. Most of the plot involves him wandering around watching his schemes get more people killed. Together they adopt a kid that was only orphaned due to said scheming (oops). They’re terrible and I love them.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Comics are not supposed to be realistic or follow our laws, logic or rules of physics, that's what makes them fun. They are at best loosely inspired by our world and they become commentary about our own state of the world, and they always will be.

But even so, one of the most unrealistic things to me that we see in DC is that they have NO safety net for any of their heroes as teens or as adults. You cannot convince me that the League which is government sanctioned in many iterations and is funded by multiple billionaires privately coupled with usage of alien tech, would not have a basic income for those that desperately need it.

1.) It's the right thing to do and have in place.

2.) It's not SAFE for the member or the team to have someone who can, for example, explode things with their mind under elevated anxiety because they are one paycheck away from living on the streets, or has gone two days without food. Their 'work' as heroes is incredibly stressful, they don't need added on stress of worrying about where they are going to sleep once they help save the world. Being under such conditions could lead to deadly mistakes.

3.) They have more than enough funds and contacts to create a safety net and it would likely not cut that far into any budget. We're talking about a basic income for those that need it. Not six figures.

4.) See #2, it's not safe to have a member under constant food stress or housing stress. If I could turn invisible and I was facing homelessness or no food for days at a time you bet your ass I would be robbing grocery stores and cash registers. The temptation to 'break the law' with extraordinary powers would be unfathomably high. Depending on the individual this could extend to 'going rogue'.

5.) They can funnel refugees from other realities and times into society with fake paperwork, they can offer basic fucking income and a safety net.

6.) It's pretty out of character for these compassionate adults to just turn their backs on their own when they actually truly need help. It's outright cruel when it happens to their youth (even though with Kon they didn't even know he was in distress so that's a loose pass and Clark did fix it.)

I understand that because the comics are commentary and a reflection of our own world, and they want characters to be relatable to those who HAVE and have not experienced these issues and show them overcoming homelessness on their own without help, or in a more believable way, but honestly it just comes off as cruel and painful to read sometimes. Hal's own struggle with employment, housing and food insecurity still is HARD for me to read to this day without getting mad, even as important as the arc is and how well it did its job in conveying the desperation.

Everyone is different but it just bothers me that it's not thoroughly established that they would have measures to help their own when they need it. Yes, it makes for great stories to have characters go through this, but it's still irritating.

Velvet gloved bigotry or apathy is not a good look for anyone.

[calpalirwin]

Phantom Pain

Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky

Word Count: 2.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.

“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.

You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”

Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”

Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”

You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.

“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”

“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.

“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”

“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.

“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.

“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.

“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”

“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”

You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”

“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.

“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”

~~~

A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.

His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.

“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.

“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.

“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”

“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”

“Wow, you are a Stark.”

“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”

Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”

“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”

“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”

“Right… Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”

A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”

“Sorry? I think?”

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”

“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”

“Shit…”

Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”

“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”

“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”

“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”

“That’s… noble of you.”

You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”

Bucky smiled at that.

~~~

For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.

Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.

Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.

“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.

“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”

“That’s just below Steve. Which…”

“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”

You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”

Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.

You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.

“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”

Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”

That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”

The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.

“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”

“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.

“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”

“I- I-” he stammered.

“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.

“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.

“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”

“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”

“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”

“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”

His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”

You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”

“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”

“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.

“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.

Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.

“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”

Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”

You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.

“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”

“Here? With you? In your room?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”

“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”

He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.

“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”

He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”

__

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[milliedazzledust]

War Rages On: part 2 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 3234

A/N: Still don’t know where I’m going with this story but I’m really having fun writing this and I hope you’ll like it! Don’t forget to tell me if you want to be tag for the next parts :)

Previously: part 1

Steve had found Bucky deep in the forest of Wakanda. Escorted by the kind T’Challa, he led him to the man they called the White Wolf. He had found his redemption away from mankind. Surrounded by trees and animals, Y/N and him had lived a simple life inside their cottage up until that moment. Before this, Steve had no intention to bring them back. He had planned to come visit the couple but most importantly to let them have their happy ending, to keep them from monsters that had tried so many times to tore them apart. He couldn’t imagine two people more deserving of peace than them. The King of Wakanda had outdone himself to make sure this was achievable.

“Do you remember the last time you saw her ?” Steve asked him.

Bucky sat on a rock near a river, hastily ruffling his hair.

“She left a couple days ago” He recounted. “She had a message from Stark on the burner phone you gave her”

“What did it say ?”

“Need your help asap - Romanoff compromised. An address was attached”

He got worried when he saw Steve dropping his head and rubbing his eyes in frustration. He had known him long enough to guess something was bothering him.

“Buck’, Tony didn’t send anything.” The Soldier confessed.

“What do you mean ?”

The familiar sensation of anxiety started to form in the pit of his stomach despite the lack of information. He knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

“I don’t know what happened, but somebody pretending to be him wrote that message”

“That’s impossible” He shook his head, refusing to believe him.

“Buck’ ..”

“She left, Steve. She left to go help him” He vehemently cut him. He stood up and started pacing. His friend could see his whole demeanor slowly shifting. “If she’s not with Stark, then where is she ?!”

“I don’t know” The Captain replied. Admitting it to his friend was almost too painful.

“Have you talk to the others ? Do they know anything ?”

He was looking more and more like a madman. His body had already understood what his mind failed to grasp.

“She send Sam an SOS”

“What ?” He said it in a whisper, instantaneously freezing on the spot.

“Bucky, I’m sorry but she’s missing”

“She can’t be” He felt the panic beginning to creep into his chest.

He turned back to look at his friend.

“That’s not … She said she’d be back” He explained, as if it would make perfect sense that she couldn’t be gone, as if that promise had been enough to keep her safe “.. She … She always comes back to me”

He dropped on the floor, the captain barely had enough time to catch him. His breathing became more rapid, more shallow. He felt it hit him like a hurricane. There was a logical explanation, but the only one he could think of was worst than any nightmare.

“Steve if it’s …” He suddenly sounded alarmed.

“It might not be” The Captain answered. He didn’t know which one of them he was trying to convince the most.

“Who else ?”

His friend stayed silent. His mind couldn’t wrapped around the fact that this could be happening, that they were potentially facing another threat.

“They’re still after me” The Sergeant muttered. “It’d make sense”

“Even if it’s Hydra, we’ll still find her” Steve promised.

“What if it’s too late ?” Bucky dared to think about that possibility, his eyes drifting into space.

“It’s not”

The soldier put a comforting hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder. When he glanced up at him, he saw the reassurance he so desperately needed. He knew this look by heart, he had seen it so many time on Steve’s face growing up. He had that same determination every time he went on to fight someone twice his size, the confidence and fierceness that had built Captain America.

“C’mon, get up.” He ordered with force. “We’re gonna find her”

He silently followed him, his mind running a mile an hour. He couldn’t remember a time he had felt so vulnerable. The mere thought of her somewhere with Hydra was enough to reopen his deepest wounds. He knew what they were capable of, he had lived through the endless torture for years and to picture a fraction of it being done on her was too much.

Steve had taken him to a jet. After several hours of flight, they had landed in a location he didn’t recognize. The place looked like headquarters, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. They were surrounded by large trees. When they walked out of the plane, Bucky recognized the distinct sent of mint and pine mixed together. He glanced around, trying to find a clue as to where they were, but all he could see was the woods. No other indication.

“What is this place ?” He asked Steve as they walk inside the building.

Before his friend could answer he heard another voice speaking, the sound resonating on the walls.

“Secure location not far from Warsaw, outside of the radars”

Bucky didn’t hide his surprise when he found himself face to face with Tony Stark. The billionaire saw him tense, his body instinctively going into defense mode.

“At ease, soldier” He sighed. “We’re not here to fight”

Still he didn’t ushered a word and looked back and forth between the two men in front of him.  After what had happened between them before he found shelter in Wakanda, he wasn’t sure how to behave around Stark.

“Have you find anything ?” Steve inquired, folding his hands behind his back.

“Sam checked the address you sent me” Stark started to explain. “We were about to take a look at the security footage”

He guided the soldiers to a room that seemed like it had been restored at the last minute. There was a violent contrast between the dust on the floor, the half broken chairs and the high-tech computers Tony had most likely installed. It definitely looked like a hideout. He first noticed Natasha Romanoff leaning on the large table at the center of the room. She was studying a file. Next to her was Sam Wilson, scrolling on a tablet he was holding with intense concentration.

Steve greeted both of them with a simple nod and Bucky noticed the side looks he was being given but chose to not acknowledge them. Stark started to type on his computer and the enormous screen he had placed on one of the wall turned itself on.  

“Here’s what we know so far” Tony told them.

Bucky recognized a screenshot of the message sent to Y/N on the burner phone, the very same one he was carrying in his pocket.

“I was not able to trace the id or the location”

As he spoke, Stark watched the Sergeant from the corner of his eyes taking a sit on a half torn armchair.

“But whomever send this was pretending to be me”

“How were they able to get her number ? Only you and I are supposed to have that information” Steve interrogated.

“I’m getting there, Captain.” Tony answered. “Somebody infiltrated my system and discreetly hijacked it to get into classified data”

The Sergeant suddenly raised his head and with a flick of the fingers, Stark projected details of his firewall system on the screen.

“They left a trail. Sloppy work if you ask me”

“Get to the point, Tony” Natasha reminded him.

The man rolled his eyes before continuing his explanations.

“They searched through every files I have on Barnes. What they were looking for exactly? I don’t know, but I have a vague idea”

“My location” Bucky whispered.

“Bingo. They were after you, and when they realized I was smart enough not to put any compromising informations, they moved to plan B”

“What’s plan B ?” Sam severely asked.

“If you can’t find the Winter Soldier, then let him find you.” Stark directly offered the hypothesis.

“They’re using Y/N as leverage” Steve finally understood.

“Exactly”

Bucky rubbed his eyes in frustration. This was looking more and more like Hydra’s modus operandi.

“Who is they ?” Romanoff questioned.

“I might have an answer to that” Sam replied, waving his tablet. “I found something on the security footage”

A video without sound started playing and instantly Bucky stood up. His eyes traveling from one corner of the screen to the other, he was closely studying every movement. Whomever was doing this had smartly brought the woman in the middle of the city and away from any camera that could incriminate them.

“Y/N is waiting in the corner of the street, then this man approaches her. She takes a step back, probably figured out something was wrong.” The Falcon explained. “All we can see is her reaching for her phone behind her back, which we know now was to send an SOS”

“Any identification on the guy ?” Natasha inquired.

“No. He stayed hidden from the cameras. He knew exactly where they were”

“Why didn’t she attack ?” Tony pondered. “She could have taken him easily”

“Busy street” Bucky answered mechanically. “If you want somebody to comply, lure them in the middle of a crowd. One move and someone else die. Works all the time”

“Of course you’d know about that” The billionaire muttered under his breath.

Steve hadn’t talk yet. His eyes were glued to the screen. Something wasn’t adding up and he didn’t know what. He watched the video playing four times, his hands on his hips, deep in concentration.

“Rewind it” He ordered Sam.

The man didn’t question the request and did as he was told. Shape after shape the Captain analyzed every detail until the information he was missing was right in front of him.

“Stop there”

The video froze and they stared at the frame, trying to figure out what he was seeing.

“What is it, Steve ?” The Russian spy inquired.

“Can you zoom in ?” He asked, ignoring the first question.

Tony took the tablet in his hand and started to play with it.

“What am I looking for ?”

“His neck” He simply said. “He has a tattoo”

His friend raised an eyebrow in surprise, but got to work. Typing on his keyboard, he cut the video’s frame, zoomed in and used a program to polish the picture and create a clear image of the ink on the man’s body.

As soon as Bucky saw it, he felt a cold shiver running down his spine. What he feared the most had only been theoretical until then, there was still a slight hope he was wrong, a one percent chance he was holding onto that he wasn’t living his worst nightmare. And all that came crashing down when he recognized the pattern of a skull he knew by heart.

“No..No, no, no, no” He kept repeating, pacing around the room, panic striking in his veins. “This is not happening, this is not…”

The Captain stopped him in his track, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Buck’ ..”

“They have her, Steve. They have Y/N” He was terrified, and his friend could clearly hear it in his voice.

The others were following their interaction, not yet understanding what was happening. Steve raised his head, still holding his brother emotionally breaking apart, and looked at them with an alarmed expression that did nothing to ease their worry.

“We had our suspicion on who might have pulled up something like this » He told them. « Frankly, I was hoping we were wrong”

“Who is it ?” Romanoff demanded.

“…Hydra” Bucky murmured, his head low and his human hand shaking.

They all tensed in the room and the silence that followed was frightening.

“Are you sure ?” The Falcon asked.

Steve stared at the projecting image on the wall, pursing his lips.

“Yes, Sam. It’s them” He answered with a heavy voice filled with concern.

Bucky felt the tears on his cheeks before he realized he was crying. His breathing had become unsteady and he was slowly faltering. He quickly excused himself and left the building. He needed the air.

He was trying so hard not to panic but he seemed paralyzed. There was suddenly a menacing aura around him, holding him in a tightening grip. He could feel his temperature rising, a clear sign of his anxiety, his fear. It was a living force creeping over him like a hungry beast, fed by the agonizing possibility he might lose her. He started to take shaky small breath, like Y/N had taught him every time he had a panic attack, but without her to guide him, it was useless. His pulse was beating in his ears, blocking all the other sounds, and he was sweating. There was a lump in his throat, an emotion so large it was aching to be released. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to beg for mercy. Alas, he closed his eyes, trying to focus his senses on one thing only, find her.

And just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the tiny device he had in his pocket vibrate. He took his phone out, but nothing was displayed on the screen. Then he realized it wasn’t the right one. Fishing in his pants, he found was he was looking for and grabbed the burner phone. One message. When he opened it, the color quickly drained from his face.

« She won’t stay alive for long, unless you come home. Not Romania, not Brooklyn, your real home. No Avenger. You know the consequences of disobedience »

Attached to it was a photo. His heart stopped and his metal fist clenched the phone so hard he accidentally broke it when he saw the picture of the woman he loved, arms chained on a ceiling, body dangling in the air and covered in blood. He absently stared at his hands, thinking back to their time in Wakanda, in peace, away from the world. Just the two of them. What a difference a couple of days could make. He knew what he wanted to do. There was not an ounce of hesitation in him, only the desire to make sure she would make it out of there alive.

So engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear someone creeping in behind him. Natasha silently stood next to him. Was it out of pity or emotional support, he couldn’t tell. She observed him for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows like she was trying to read him, before she turned back to look at the sky.

“You know where she is”

It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“What makes you say that ?”

“Two fossils from the 1930’s with the same instinct of preservation and the same tendencies to make stupid decisions based on emotions. Not exactly hard to put two and two together. You and Steve have a lot in common”

He pursed his lips.

“Are you gonna tell them ?” He asked, looking back at the abandoned building.

“Still debating.” She admitted. “You’re not really stupid, Barnes. You know you can’t take them all by yourself”

“That wasn’t my intention”

“Then what’s your plan ?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, she could see it in his whole demeanor. It was in the way he stood up straight, in the way he was clenching his jaw, in the way his eyes held so much determination and purpose.

“You don’t intend on coming back, do you ?”

“I can’t let them kill her” He explained.

“A suicide mission is by far the most stupid idea you could come up with”

“It’s the only one I’ve got” He replied, resigned.

He turned to look at her. The calmness he was displaying was enough to know he had made up his mind and honestly, it frightened her.

“I don’t think you know how much she means to me, Natasha. I don’t deserve her love, I really don’t, but somehow she saw something worth fighting for in me. She saw all the cracks, all the flaws and all the mistakes I’ve made and she didn’t run. She stood by my side and fought for me. She’s my sanity. She’s all the good that’s left in me. She’s the name I whisper when I’m scared my memories are fading. I can’t take the risk to lose her because if that happens, I’ll lose myself and there will be no come back this time”

The lump in his throat prevented him from saying anything more and he gulped, trying to make the feeling of anxiety subside.

“Whatever it takes, and whatever I’ll have to do, I swear she will get out of there alive” He nodded to no one in particular, a silent and simple sign he would not change his mind.

“At what cost ? What are we suppose to tell her when you won’t be here anymore ?”

“That I fought for her the same way she did for me”

His response shut her up. His voice held so much serenity and resolve she knew it would be useless to argue. She understood where he was coming from, just like she understood the sacrifice he was ready to make.

“There’s a version of this where we win, Barnes. Keep that in mind. It doesn’t have to end in pain or worse. Fight with everything you’ve got and don’t stop until both of you are safe”

He sadly smiled.

“You’ve definitely spent too much time with Steve”

She rolled her eyes before turning to stand in front of him. She hesitated a moment, words on the tip of her tongue.

“I’m sorry this is happening” She gloomily confessed. “But you know why they want you, right ?”

“The Winter Soldier” He replied, closing his eyes. “They want him back”

“Just so we’re clear here, Bucky, and just in case, you have to be aware that the moment you’ll get there, they will torture you to get him back. Your mind is already damaged, you won’t hold long”

“I just need to hold long enough to get her out of there” He vehemently assured her, gritting his teeth.

“Your plan is to walk out with her” She reminded him, insisting on the words.

He glanced down at her and judging by the look in his eyes, she knew what he was about to ask her before he even spoke.

“If it comes to the worse, if I become … him again …” He started.

“I know” She cut him. He didn’t need to say the word, she knew thinking about it was already more than enough pain for him.

She stood there, watched him get into the jet him and Steve had taken to get there, and did nothing. It was useless to try to convince him to stay, he was too stubborn to listen. And she knew this was his best shot at getting back the woman he loved alive. She was aware Hydra would not spare the lovers and she prayed they were ready for the fight that was ahead of them. The Avengers would find them eventually, hopefully before it was too late. She turned around when she saw the jet flying in the air and walked silently back inside the building. She would keep that conversation and the promise she had made a secret, and hope whatever Bucky had planned, it would be enough to prevent the worse from happening.

Tag list: @briannareneea985​ - @bangtanxberm​  - @kissmyoops - @steve-is-daddy​

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.4

The Right (Dance) Partner

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4510

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

You are asked to dance and Steve is not the only one. Ah-oh.

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends… go figure

Story masterlist

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Your dance technique was far from perfect; dancing with Steve was everything though. He held you securely, one of his arms around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his body not pressed against you completely, but close enough, his eyes attentively glued to you as if no one else existed.

You felt special. You felt beautiful. You felt adored. And all of that thanks to him.

You wouldn’t have even noticed another song ended if it wasn’t for the large figure tapping on Steve’s shoulder. He turned his head, surprised. You, on the other hand, gulped in fright. The man was huge. You had a good guess who that was. Trouble?

“Captain. May I borrow your dance partner?”

Oh, definitely trouble.

Steve gaped a bit, exchanging a puzzled look with you. He was asking whether you would allow it, you realized.

You had no clue. Then again, what was the worst thing that could happen? It could be awkward, sure, but you would try your best not to make an ass of yourself. Unlike with Mr.Stark. Let’s never talk about that again.

You nodded inconspicuously and Steve sighed.

“All yours,” he whispered, sounding like he didn’t want to give you up at all. It warmed you up, especially in your belly. He wanted you with him. He didn’t want to give you away. God bless him.

He shuffled away, catching your gaze one more time to make you were okay without him. Well, you were okay, but would be better with him.

“My lady. I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. It would be my pleasure to have this dance. May I?”

His voice was thundering as if he was a God of Thunder himself indeed, but you could tell he was trying his best not to intimidate you. Well, you could appreciate the effort, no matter how vain.

You blinked in shock when he placed his palm on his chest and gave you a tiny bow. Holy shit, Asgard – a planet, as you had learned from Steve – grew their men with extraordinary manners. Huh.

You shyly revealed your name, earning a smile from the god and a light kiss on the back of your hand; it reminded you of the second (or was it first and halfth?) meeting with Steve. Your heart skipped a beat at the memory and you realized that no matter how charming this man seemed, your heart already belonged to someone else; not that you had ever gave consent, it just… happened.

Steve had broad shoulders of which you thought could carry the weight of the world (and you had a hunch that sometimes they did), but as Thor enveloped you for a dance, you had to admit that his shoulders were as if they belonged to Atlas himself. He was so freaking huge.

“Lady mine, tell me. Do you like the feast brother Anthony prepared?”

Who the heck talked like that? Steve sometimes slipped, sounding like from an old movie, sometimes revealing Brooklyn slang from his time, but man, this was something else.

“I… yes. He… certainly put a lot of effort into it,” you babbled, automatically adjusting to his speech.

“Lady Potts is a great help for him in feats like these. I must say our celebrations are rather different, but I am impressed nevertheless.”

“Oh. What do your celebrations look like?” you heard yourself asking, actually intrigued.

A laugh bubbled in his throat as he spun you. “You would consider them too savage, I believe.”

You had no idea how to react to that. So you just hummed indecisively.

“I am certain someone has told you tonight, but you look very beautiful.”

You started at him, nearly faltering in your steps that weren’t even proper steps. Did he just… did he compliment you? An Asgardian? A demigod? Holy shit. Ryan was going to freak out about as much as you were freaking out at the moment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, too taken aback to sound like a normal person.

“You’re very welcome, my lady.”

The rest of the dance – rather short, thankfully – was more or less silent. You had to admit you enjoyed meeting Thor and dancing with him, but there was still the fact he was… a demigod apparently and that left you a bit uneasy. You mentally sighed in relief when the song ended.

Which was a mistake. Because Tony Stark took Thor’s place.

Shit.

You genuinely considered saying no when he asked for a dance; except Thor basically shoved you into Stark’s arms with a grin and a nod and you couldn’t quite back away. Well. You had handled your latest dentist’s appointment. Couldn’t be worse than pulling your teeth of wisdom, right?

"So… you have eyes on Cap?" was his first attempt at conversation and you realized you counted your chickens before they hatched. You groaned internally.

And then, your sassy side came to life as if challenged. You didn’t fight it and held your head high, swallowing your nervousness.

"No, Mr.Stark. I have my eyes focused on my dance partner, which happens to be you at the moment."

You would swear his eyebrows rose and you couldn’t even see it over his mask.

"You're cheeky for a chick I could get kicked out for not being invited," he noted, tilting his head to side as he was probably trying to figure you out.

You felt naked and it was not a pleasant feeling like when Steve was looking at you. Nope, sir.

"I might not be on the list, but I was invited," you opposed, ignoring the knot twisting in your stomach slowly.

Get it together, woman! You deal with people coming to your office every day! You met worse.

"By Romanoff," he stated and you couldn’t hide your smirk, finding you might actually indulge in the game of a mysterious woman.

"You could say that."

"She said you weren't a spy, but now I'm doubting it. You have a great ability not to spill beans. One might call you sneaky. Maybe you're a politician," he joked, eyes still calculating.

"Or a Stark from what I heard," you shot back, horror striking you right after. Shit. Too much. "Sorry, that was out of line."

But the billionaire only scoffed, spinning you. Was that an attempt on a smile on his face? "You're trouble, miss ‘Romanoff Got Me In.’"

"So I've heard."

"What you do for living?" he continued his interrogation and an exclamation sign lighted up in your head in warning.

"I tell you and you'll know who I am immediately. I know how much tech and databases you have."

You had an idea at least. After all, if Natasha wasn’t lying, she had found you and identified you as Steve’s soulmate thanks to one of those.

"Huh. You're smart," he… complimented you, you guessed, and you mentally yayed. Better than nothing.

"Not smart enough, given the fact that I let S- someone to convince me to come here." And meet you.

He quirked up. "So there's someone else involved."

"Maybe."

"Can't be Rogers.” You nearly broke your cover right then. He sounded so sure it made you want to laugh. “Too much of a boy scout. So who-"

"The boy scout would like his dance partner back,” sounded behind you and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

"Hush, I want one more. It's not like you marked her to show off she belongs to you or something," Stark challenged, his arm tightening his grip.

Oh-oh. You couldn’t see Steve, but you had a hunch he was not going to share with Stark anymore, provoked by both his attitude and words. The question was, how would he convince him to let you go? You had an idea, but…

"Actually, I did."

You spun to stare at Steve, shocked that he actually said it so openly. That you didn’t see coming.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stark demanded, his gaze flickering between the two of you.

Well. You might as well adjust to Steve’s play. Hell, you had already been playing a bit. You pushed the wide strap of your dress aside to reveal Steve's neat handwriting, his first words to you on your skin.

Stark immediately went to examine it – you couldn't help but quickly cover it before he could actually read it. Steve’s hand appeared on your lower back, slightly turning you over to him with the lightest of pressure. Stark seemed to shocked to fight him.

"Now if you excuse us. They're playing our song."

“Thank you for the dance, Mr.Stark,” you smiled over your shoulder before fully facing Steve, delighted to see him.

“Sure, whatever…”

Another slow song started and you were pulled into the only arms you wanted to be in tonight.

“Thanks for the save,” you said, honestly grateful.

“Didn’t look like you needed one,” he stated, sounding slightly astounded.

“…sorry. Did I… was I rude? I was rude, wasn’t I? Oh god-“

He leaned in with a smile, his lips catching your hair. Well that was new. A very pleasant new. You closed your eyes at the tender sensation.

“Tony needs someone to play verbal ping-pong with him. You held your ground perfectly. I’m proud of you, to be honest.”

You looked up, surprised. “…really?”

“Yes. Even Natasha seemed to be amused when I told her some of your comebacks.”

Your cheeks burned with that announcement. He heard? All of it? And interpreted it to Romanoff? “I thought your hearing was just a little better than average.”

“Just enough to hear you,” he soothed you, his hand on your waist softly caressing. “You met the most handful ones. Bruce is going to be alright and Clint… well, Natasha will make him behave. You did it, you met my friends. And you handled it just fine. You’re wonderful.”

Steve seemed so genuinely amazed again, as if you were the most wondrous person he had ever met. You curled closer to him, testing the waters. “I admit I was a bit intimidated… okay, a lot.”

“Really? Didn’t look like it at all.”

“Must have been the champagne I had,” you admitted with a self-depreciating chuckle. “Liquid courage and all that…. What?”

“I think you have enough courage even without having a drink. The more I know about you… the more you amaze me.”

“Steve…”

His thumb hesitantly stroked the exposed skin of your cheek, the touch turning firmer yet still soft when your lips parted and your breath hitched. He was so careful with physical affection, small steps like this always taking you by surprise. But a very pleasant surprise – with how gently he treated you, you felt… precious. It was an indescribable feeling, filling you with euphoria, your heart bursting with joy. You wished to let Steve know how much you appreciated him already, but any time you tried, he just took your breath away with something even… more, making any attempt of yours look pale in comparison.

His blue eyes bored into yours, holding your gaze as if the spacious room full of people didn’t exist. His thumb moved painfully slowly to your lower lip, causing you to gasp.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now. You’d mind?”

You couldn’t breathe. You died. You were sure of it. His fingertip was still on your lips, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and all you wanted was him to replace it with his mouth. You nearly screamed the obvious answer to his question.

“No,” you whispered instead, unable to expand your chest with air, aching with anticipation. “Wouldn’t mind at all, Steve.”

He leaned in with one quick movement as if he was afraid you’d change your mind. Yeah, nope. Still, he hesitated an inch from your lips, giving you the last chance to retreat. Once again, nope.

You swallowed awkwardly loudly, licked your lips and met his before he could back out, which was a real concern, because so far you had barely made it to you kissing his cheek.

His hand was still on your face, cradling your jaw tenderly, his warm lips once again reluctant on yours, the lightest of touches. You closed your eyes, indulging the feeling. You didn’t see stars, but you could feel them in your veins when he added a little pressure, dancing with your lips in synch. You sneaked one of your hands to his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart under your palm. Yours wasn’t any slower, but you had no care in the world. Only the fact that he was reacting to you this way mattered and that his lips were still on yours, his fingers curling around your nape. Your own clutched his suit jacket in response, returning you to reality at the same time.

Suit jacket. Party. People.

You parted from his mouth, fighting for some air, but didn’t let more than few inches between you. You were glad you were in his arms, because your legs got a bit wobbly and how the hell was he affecting you this much?

“Sorry,” Steve rasped, voice husky. “I got a bit… carried away.”

You shook your head, still out of breath, hungrily drinking in his scent as your forehead rested against his chest carefully for a second to regain your composure. Only then you retreated and opened your eyes.

“You can get carried away more often.”

When you looked up, you could see the corners of his mouth raised inconspicuously. His fingers trailed down, back to your waist.

“Deal. But not where all of my friends can see.”

Your belly caught fire at that premise and you quickly pecked his lips once more to seal the deal.

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“Did Rogers just make out on the dance floor?” Clint blurred out, exasperated. “You owe me an explanation, Tasha!”

“They’re soulmates,” Tony hummed, appearing out of nowhere, sounding smug. Natasha raised a challenging eyebrow. "You knew that too?!"

"I found her. Cool software you developed, by the way."

“I’m sorry, did you use my software to find Spangles’ soulmate? How?”

“Not my place to say,” she shrugged casually, but gave everyone around her – Clint, Bruce and Tony – a pointed look hinting them to leave it alone.

“He looks happy,” Bruce noted instead then, earning a smile from the redhead.

“He is. She’s good for him.”

“You know way too much, Romanoff. So, are we meeting her, the whole team together or what?” Tony whined, glancing the direction of the lovebirds as if he wanted to march to them and demand a proper introduction right now.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “The afterparty in our small circle. The sooner you end this monstrosity, the sooner you get to meet her officially.”

“Let’s end it right now then,” Tony decided, already making his way to the podium and Clint snorted at his behaviour.

“He hates you knew this before him. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me, though…”

“It’s new, Clint. And they deserve a little privacy,” she explained easily, which drew a resigned sigh from the archer – an involuntary agreement.

They were interrupted by Tony taking the microphone. “Alright, kids, time to wrap it up. Old man has other duties tonight too. Enjoy the fireworks, they start in a minute. Goodnight.”

“He’s such a man-child,” Natasha commented, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Ah, come on, Tasha. Didn’t you hear all men are children? Let’s see the fireworks…”

Clint was already gone when she turned to follow him.

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If you were being honest, you did notice Steve watching you instead of the fireworks, just like you didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders at the loud bangs of explosions; he looked as if he was expecting an attack.

You, on the other hand, didn’t expect one and it came.

One moment you felt his eyes on you and the next, Steve was kissing the living daylights of you, stealing your breath. You had no idea how long it took for the two of you to part.  You spent the rest of the ‘surprise’ dizzy, in a strange and very pleasant haze, leaning onto his side. Maybe you were getting too cuddly, the alcohol you had playing a role, but he didn’t seem to mind, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you just where you had nestled. And to be fair, he had started it, alright.

You were beaming and didn’t care one bit if you looked like an idiot.

The guests left the party rather quickly after the fireworks, Stark’s earlier words effective. You stood with Steve on the balcony until the room cleared, moving inside when it was only the Avengers remaining. They took off their masks (as if those had been ever working and actually disguised their identity), settling on couches standing in circle in the upper part of the room.

Steve took your hand then, smiling encouragingly, and led you to the lion’s den. You weren’t that afraid, to be honest. You had met most of the team anyway.

“Thanks for the party, Tony. And the fireworks,” Steve nodded to his friend and the billionaire just waved it off.

“We all know it’s mostly Pepper who always executes my brilliant ideas,” he stated, oh so humble.

“I’m sure you can take a lot of credit, Mr.Stark. It was stunning, especially the end,” you added, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you got all of sudden.

Mr.Stark squinted, watching Steve half-amused, half-exasperated. “Well, I’d say the birthday boy seemed to find other things quite stunning during the fireworks, don’t you think?”

You felt the heat colour your skin at the idea of him watching you two kissing. You didn’t mind a little public display of affection, but it was still new territory for you and Steve. He seemed embarrassed too.

“Ignore him, he’s being a dick. Let’s introduce officially so he can stop pretending to be offended,” Natasha hummed and you smiled at her gratefully.

"Good plan. Now mask off, Sassy Queen."

"Watch it, Stark," Steve hissed at your side, stripping his mask. It calmed you, seeing his protective side. You instantly knew that he hadn’t been lying when saying that it wouldn’t truly matter if the Avengers didn’t warm up to you immediately – he would stay with you either way.

“Fair warning, I had this on my face the whole evening and I might look like a cartoon monster…”

Doctor Banner snorted at that, causing Mr.Barton to chuckle and you realized your mistake, quickly putting the mask away.

“You look just fine,” Steve assured you, smiling at you radiantly.

You took a deep breath, scanning the company. These were Steve’s friends. And the Earth’s mightiest heroes. No pressure. You cleared your throat, revealing your name and then took time to shake hands with each of the member of the team.

"Mr. Barton-“

“Clint. Nice to meet you,” he said evenly, his grip firm but kind. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet you.

“Doctor Banner. Uhm, sorry about the inappropriate remark earlier-”

“It’s Bruce. Don’t worry about it.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Thank you. Uhm, Mr. Stark…”

“Oh no. I’m not gonna tell you to call me Tony. You were pushing it. And you stole Capsicle’s virtue-“

“Oh please, Tony. You loved her sassy mouth. Now tune it down, we don’t want to scare Cap’s girl away,” Clint scolded him, winking at you right after. You grinned at him.

“Ouch. Betrayal. Fine, I’m Tony. Not too bad to meet you. Also, looks like someone else likes your sassy mouth.”

“Tony…” Steve sighed, giving him a disappointed look and you rather moved on, nodding at Natasha.

“Natasha.”

“Glad you got it right,” she smirked, leaving you to the last team member. The alien one.

Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with your hands. A handshake seemed a bit inappropriate. So, intelligently, you did something that resembled an awkward curtsey. “Thor."

The king of Asgard looked impressed and you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, shining; they narrowed when Thor took your hand and kissed your knuckles for the second time that evening.

"Watch it, Thor, you might get punched if you're not careful," Tony snarked, but the god just laughed.

"Oh no. I have no intention to come between brother Steven and his lady, no matter how enchanting she is. It was not visible in the crowd, but I can see the brightness of their soul bond now."

Your hand fell slackly to your side when he said the words, your whole body frozen with shock.

"Soul bond?" Steve questioned softly, moving closer to your side, arm sneaking around your waist possessively.

"I can see with more than my eyes,” he informed you. “And yours and Steven's souls are truly gravitating when near each other. Do not be alarmed at such occurrence. It is a good sign, mark of a strong and healthy binding."

"No pressure," Clint uttered, while Tony murmured “Kinky,” making you blush furiously and Natasha roll her eyes.

“Alright, stop torturing the poor lovebirds,” she came to your rescue then. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

“I’m game,” Clint exclaimed, falling onto a couch. “Please, tell us. Don’t make us aim a bed lamp to your face…”

You giggled at his easy tone, obediently taking a seat, nestling next to Steve.

Soon, the talk moved onto different topics as well, the others actually joining the conversation, putting you at ease. Too much of an ease; after such a long evening, your eyelids started to close on their own and every time you blinked them open, it was harder to keep them that way.

“Hey, Cap, I think you’re gonna have a girl in for a sleepover,” someone pointed out with hushed voice, which caused you to jolt awake.

Mild laugh erupted around the room.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, tongue heavy, and you climbed to your feet. You could feel Steve’s hands hovering over you as you swayed. Damn your sleepy balance. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can have my bed. And if you don’t want to, there is a spare room somewhere, right, Tony?” Steve more stated than asked, sending your heart racing. His bed?

“Well, I’m kinda tempted to say no and see where it goes if she sleeps in yours…”

Your head snapped to him in perfect sync with Steve’s.

“Tony!”

You bit your cheek, unsure what to think of the horror in Steve’s voice. “’s fine. I’ll call a cab.”

“No, you won’t,” Steve protested softly. “You okay with my bed?”

“Haven’t seen your bed…” you pointed out, words slurring a bit. “ ’Zit comfy?”

“Aww…”

“Alright, let’s go,” Steve swept you off your feet right into his arms, a startled yelp erupting from your chest, your hands immediately clutching his shoulders. Where had he lost the jacket? The shirt was freaking hot and the seams on it seemed to cry around his arms. It was nice. Really, really nice.

“Thanks, doll, but let’s agree you tell me later,” he pleaded lowly and given the fact everyone laughed, you were sure you said at least some of the praises out loud. Oh.

“ ‘kay. Night, guys…”

“Goodnight. Hey, I hope you’re staying for tomorrow’s game afternoon and movie night!” Clint cried after you, making you squint as your mind tried to remember. Had they talked about that earlier? You couldn’t recall.

“Uh-huh…” you hummed indecisively, burying your head in the crook of Steve’s neck as he carried you away. Jeez, he didn’t look bothered by your weight at all. What a neat trick. However, you could feel his muscles shifting with each step, clenching deliciously. “You’re strong.”

“Yeah, that was the point of the serum,” he whispered to your hair and as you giggled at his joke, your sense of balance messed up when the both of you suddenly went down. Where did you get into an elevator?

“Good job then…”

The rest of the journey was silent and before you knew it, you were being gently lowered to soft cushions. They felt like heaven, fluffy foam of clouds, but you liked Steve’s warm embrace better. You liked Steve better, period.

A kiss landed on your forehead with a silent chuckle. “I like you too.”

You were suddenly warm all over. Steve liked you too. Yay! He was the sweetest and the best and he liked you! You were suddenly so sure he would like the humble gift you had got him and was still sitting in your nightstand. You should have brought it with you, but you were such a chicken about his reaction in front of everyone… now it seemed silly. Steve wouldn’t be anything but thankful for you thinking about him…

“That I would, even when I told you not to buy me anything. Get some sleep, doll. I’ll be right here on the couch if you need me, okay?” he coaxed, brushing your hair from your face.

Did you… say that out loud? And did he mention staying right here? Until morning?

Yeah, dummy, that’s the purpose of a sleepover. You know that.

You groaned as you sobered up a bit. “I should change and remove my make-up. Promise not to scream when you see me. You have a spare toothbrush?”

“I do.”

Steve lent you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt instead of a pyjama too and soon you were tucked in the covers, facing the bathroom door, waiting for him to emerge. You were painfully sleepy, but you had to resist for a while longer.

Surprise was written all over his face when he found you still awake. Also, he had no shirt. Your first thought when seeing his ridiculously perfect abs and bare arms in their whole glory was ‘god bless America’. The second was never mind, even the better.

“Hey, is something wrong?” he worried and you nodded solemnly. “What is it?”

“The bed’s too big,” you whispered, making him frown in confusion.

“Don’t know what to do about that…”

You rolled your eyes, moving to make space for him on the side closer to his perfectly baffled form. “Use your imagination, Rogers.”

His mouth formed a small ‘o’, no sound coming out.

“Please? You’re warm. And I want to cuddle. Pleeease?” you whined, not caring you probably sounded like a needy bitch.

You weren’t lying. Sure, Steve wore a pair of pyjama pants and nothing to cover his torso, which, yummy, but you honestly meant no funny business. You just wanted to sleep with your sweet soulmate in reach. That was all. For now.

“You sure?”

“Very. Come here, Steve. I’ll be a gentleman, promise,” you swore with a tired smile, breaking into a content grin when he slipped into the covers with hushed laughter. “Thank you. And thanks for tonight. Was nice.”

“Yeah,” he breathed weakly, his hand finding yours.

You melted at the gesture, but you needed more. Eyes on his face to observe his reaction, you scooted closer, carefully laying your head on his chest.

God, you could die a happy woman when his arm wrapped around you. When he kissed your hair and whispered a goodnight, you contentedly closed your eyes and drifted to sleep in no time.

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Part 5

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Tags:

@cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld  @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf​

Tags open, if anyone is interested ;) In case anyone wants out ( :( ), lemme know too.

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I’m sure you figured that this whole installment is a fluffy mess with attempt at humour. You’ll have to stick around if you want more plot ;) Thank you for reading!

[jennsmischievousmind]

Fucks not Found

Ghosts

Summary: You hack, that's what you do. Dying to do so freely, wasn't what you had expected. Meeting the weirdest fucking squad; losing the best part of you; falling for a thief : was not planned.

Pairing : Four/Billy (Ben Hardy) - You

A/N: The story goes through the all movie, so I suggest you watch it before reading.

I don't own any characters other than Eight.

English is not my native language, I'm trying to get better at it, please be indulgent.

Tried my best to match Ryan Reynold's level of sass aha

Ch1 Ghosts | Ch2 Florence | Ch3 A Matter of Seconds | Ch4 I need a Backdoor | Ch5 Die Hard | Ch6 White Flag | Ch7 Haunt the Living | Ch8 One, but not done [end]

This is how you die.

"So you're the one who hacked the wrong guy" You swiftly turn around gasping at the sudden voice in your apartment

"Depends, you’re his hitman?" You were ready to run even if it means jumping by the window.

"Nooo, I'm an angel.” You snort at his sarcasm, unknown to you at this moment that he was full of it.

"Wanna disappear?" he asked taking a seat at the kitchen table eyeing your bags at the door.

"In a body bag? Slowly you make your way to the knives, just in case.

"You are a funny one, aren't you? I know the man you stole from, you won't get far until he got you. But, he emphasized, if you’re willing to do what's right.."

"I've already done my part for the flag." Assuming he was American by the way he talked.

"I'm not talking about shitty drug dealers. But evil war-lovers, genocide perpetrators, that kind of shitty so-called human. Those ones that are above the laws with governments' balls in their hands, ready to squish them.”

"That's gross" your brother appeared from the adjacent room. You let your mind consider the stranger’s offer as soon as you look at your confused brother, knowing he was in danger because of you.

“You two look at lot alike.” The guy leaned in, screwing his eyes at you both.

“We’re twin dumbass” your brother answered glancing at you wondering.

“What’s the deal?” you asked considering the offer

The guy smirked, “Well, to be short you die, and then you take down evil motherfuckers without governments’ backlash on you.” He tapped his fingers against the Formica table.

It took 5 minutes.

"One condition, my brother comes to!"

"What's he good at?" he crossed his arms.

"I can drive…Hold on what? Die? Who the fuck are you!?”

"Already too many questions” he rolled his eyes

"He's a hell of a driver, it got him under surveillance when he got chased by 6 police cars after an illegal race back in the States."

"So they caught up Muttley” the guy clucked his tongue

“Hey!”  

"No, you interfered almost ashamed, I told him to stop the car...I got motion sickness."

The guy erupted in laughter, you two watching him unamused.

_

“I’m more like Peter Perfect.”  Your brother mumbled as the guy left.

You look by the window discreetly, catching a glimpse of the guy mingling in the crowd. “You’re Muttley bro.”

A week later you got a text. The guy who called himself One had planned your fake death. A random trek in Italy’s mountains, an assumed fatal fall, no bodies recovered.

It was never supposed to be your life. But we all know nothing happens as it should.

Papà went to fight a war and disappeared, you were forced to move in America when you were 6.

Mammà never cope the loss of her motherland and husband. She died of a belated broken heart syndrome when you were 16. 

Both you and your brother were placed in a host family. It wasn’t a crappy family like it’s always the case in some tv show, they were nice and wealthy. The father was a tech engineer, somehow you took interest in his work and start learning to code, soon reading about hackers: white hats; black hats; “We are Legion”, you were hooked and skilled in a matter of time.

When you turned major though, things turned difficult, the host family had to let you go and Internal Affairs of your state caught you looking in their network. Which led to you working as a C.I for them, it was that or prison. Not thrilled by the idea but obliged to cooperate was your new motto.

Your brother had some job here and there but nothing steady, so money from the IA was welcome.

After a year and a half, I.A ditched you, it was rather good news in a way, they’ve erased your past mistakes but said they’d keep a distant eye on you.

So you moved on from your shithole that was the 1 bedroom apartment you and your brother shared and went to your parents’ hometown in Italy. Your brother was reluctant at first as he couldn’t even say hello in Italian, you taught him as your mamma had done it with you but he wasn’t that interested.

Working with people was not your forte, you were too bossy, so you got fired ... plenty of times: from a coffee shop, a rental bike shop and a tourist city tour bus thingy. So you started doing what you were good at, hacking for money, it went well for a few years, never being too greedy - until you hacked the wrong person and got in trouble.

That's how you became a Ghost and ended up in the middle of the California Desert.

_

One had built a squad. No names, only numbers to identify each other. Not calling your brother by his name was a challenge, same for him.

There were 7 of you.

One, the “boss”, a mysterious sassy billionaire who decided to fund his own strike team.

Two, a French blonde woman, pretty cold, a spy apparently

Three, a crazy hitman who couldn’t shut up

Four, a young parkour master and reformed thief

Five, a Doctor, but you heard she was actually working at a Dentist

Six, your brother, the annoying driver.

And then Eight, you, the Black Hat somehow becoming a hacktivist.

Why not Seven? Long story short, it was one more condition you’d submitted to One.

_

_SICILY

"Your focus determines your reality.”

“Oh for fuck's sake One, quit your Jedi bullshit!” you loosed your temper typing on your keyboard angrily. An entire week, an ENTIRE WEEK quoting Star Wars!

Four and Five laughed in the comm. One braced himself on the other end of the line. Three cut the heavy silence.

“Eight, Chiquita please stop yelling”

“I’m not a Chiquita stop saying that!”

“Ok ok chi…Eight, damn you’re stressful” 

“God, why do I have to team you up!!” One facepalm

“Now what?” Five asked

Radio silence

“Oh so now no one’s talking! What are you, 4?” One angrily called out to you 2.

“Yeah, uh high, literally.” Four answered One, you snorted.

“No ..  damn not you!”

“You called me Mate!” Four said offended

“No, shush – Eight are you done with the system?” he was about to lose it.

“I’ve been done with it the second Three called me Chiquita!” you crossed your arms in front of your laptop.

“Hey ..” “We’re not talking about that again!” One cut Three

“Can we get going now?” Two interfered, you heard her bike roaring.

“Finally, some sensed words.” One said wrapping it up.

Four entered the place you’d hacked the system of. Six and Two were not far in case of trouble.

“Four, the hard drive is in the main office. Second floor.” One enunciated, you followed Fours progression with the security cameras.

It was enlivening, stressful, but oh so exciting. When you worked with I.A you were never there when they’d go down in action, it was nothing but boring data researched and dealer’s MacBook.

“Freeze Four, guards coming east.” Switching cams you gave him a safe path.

“Ok, you’re clear. Now to your left, third door then turn right.”

Four got his hands on the hard drive containing all you needed to know about the next target.

“Well done.” One congratulated the team

“Thanks, thanks, It helps to have a sexy voice guiding you” Four chuckled, you blushed, sexy voice? is that even possible?

“Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes at the endless use of Star Wars' quotes.

“Hum that’s my sister, remember?” Six growled tightening the wheel

“Luke grab Solo, meet up in 15minutes at the hotel. Everyone move!” One instructed you smiled at the thought of being Leïa. Gosh, you were as much of a nerd as One.

Climbing down the jeep Three had rented, you laughed seeing your brother holding Four in an arm lock for a few seconds anyway, Four reversed the lock, pining your brother’s arms behind himself.

You passed by them “Easy with my twin please.” Four wasn’t releasing his hold so you stopped, turning back you lift an eyebrow at Four insisting he let him go.

“Oh!” he lifted his hands in defence taking a step back.

Grabbing your brother by the sleeves as he was about to jump on Four “Come on piccino” you made your way in the hotel laughing.

_ 

Your first big mission started a few weeks after, everyone gathered in The Haunted House as One called it, an old bunker, cheesy name for an HQ.

“You don’t get it, I need a CAR!”

“That’s a car, Six.” Three argued back.

“No that’s a heap, that thing won’t get us through the paved road of Italy, believe me.”

Four and Five were amused by the situation, Three had rent a truck and an old Volvo for this mission.

“Alright, shut up, we’ll get another car!” One declared, Six flicked to Three.

One resumed the mission’s details. Giving everyone their own missions. A simple mission, retrieve a lawyer’s smartphone.

In the midst of it, your hand flew to your brother’s head next to you. The smacked resonating between the walls of the unfinished bunker.

“Why ..why’d you hit him?” One asked confused, your brother was rubbing the back of his head frowning at you.

“Cain’s instinct.” You replied wriggling your fingers for him to continue. Four snorted, Six nudged him in the ribs.

In a few months, you had learned a lot from this weird squad. Learning to shoot was an obligation, Three was insane but a good teacher.

You’d asked Four to teach you some parkour in case of a chase. Six and Four became close friends in a matter of time. Five was nice, but you were never one to be good at making friends. Two was not a big talker and frankly, she scared you a little.

So you spend your free time hacking and reading, on the hammock installed between a dismantle plane and a dead tree. Not far from there you could hear Four skating in the empty pool and three at the makeshift shooting range.

Suddenly,

“EIGHT!”

Groaning you closed your book “WHAT!?

Your voice boomed against the caravan and lost itself in the desert, but you still hoped Four had heard. It was his thing, screaming your name instead of coming to you directly. At his silence, you wriggle out the hammock and strode to the pool.

“What’d you want skater boy?”

He was lying in the pool his board by his side. “Four?” you made your way to the ladder, “hey” you gently nudge him with your foot but he didn’t move.

“Four? you called out worried, “shit” knees hitting the vinyl liner checking if he was breathing, he wasn’t.

“Hey wake up, seriously dude don’t make me do CPR on you, I suck at it!” suddenly laughter erupted in your ears. Six appearing on the edge, Four chucked on the floor.

“Pranking you..he tried to breathe in, is always the best sis!” Six laughed even harder at your confused face. Still kneeling at Four’s side, he was looking at you laughing, until he wasn’t, catching a glimpse of worry melting with anger in your eyes.

Punching his left shoulder, you hurried out the pool. He stayed on the floor watching you go.

“Don’t make me do CPR I suck at it!” your brother was still laughing his brain's out.

_

“What was that?”

Four leaned on the dead tree near your head, his shadow offering some shade.

“A real bad joke?”

“No I mean, why’d you hit me?”

Sighing you clasped your book closed for the second time today “you really got me worried, happy?”

“No, you propped up on your elbow at his answer craning your head to him, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His warm hand slide in your hair at the base of your neck, he leaned in, letting you enough time to push him away if you wanted.

"Sorry" he whispered, his lips pressing in your temple gently, warmly for a few seconds. Catching yourself leaning in you almost fell off the swinging' hammock as he released his hold, he grinned and left not saying anything more.

"What the hell Four!!" you yelled at him, an ounce of laughter in your voice, a blush creeping into your cheeks, his own laughter filling the desert's silence.

FLORENCE

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

[olivieblake]

I have a grievance I’d like to air Olivie though I’m not sure if it’s petty or not you can be the judge. I know the minimum wage issue is tricky (is it really tho?) but It’s just so rude when people say that instead of being given more money what they need is education and skills. I have no stats but I’m positive the amount of people employed in minimum wage industries is astronomical the assumption that minimum wage workers are all uneducated dummies is nonsensical. Many people work them for many different reasons including actually enjoying the job despite being underpaid. Customer service is a skill on its own but many of those jobs also involve learning other skills as well. A lot of higher wage jobs also teach people the things they need to know on the job and no one claims that makes them low skill jobs. Also these jobs will still exist. The service/retail industry can not survive being solely run by 15-22 year olds who are busy from like 7am-4:00 pm five days a week not including time needed for homework and extracurricular activities. We aren’t at the point of total AI domination for now so education and skill levels aside someone has to do them. So basically the grievance is if you’re gonna look down on millions of people as being undeserving of proper financial compensation at least come up with arguments that make sense for why they don’t.

this sucks, doesn’t it. the only thing that seems to persist as societies develop is that development only comes on the backs of someone else; peasants, serfs, burger-flippers, retail workers. there is something ugly about the fundamental nature of being human (sorry to be a misanthrope on main) that leads us to want, to need, to be above someone else. and worse! there's no solidarity to being communally on the bottom like there is at the top! just look at the low-income voters who FOR SOME REASON oppose the wealth tax, or even biden’s 400k tax plan, which would cost them nothing and gain them countless invaluable social services that literally used to exist. people really believe they are closer to being billionaires than to being homeless; they are happy to believe that the outcome of destitution is for someone else, someone beneath them, something they are not, when in reality there are no billionaires that have not benefitted from some form of privilege they are unlikely to ever access. certainly no billionaires that have not become that way by benefitting from the cheap labor and unlivable conditions of someone else

not that I was significantly less radical before the pandemic but it now really disgusts me to see which of my friends are being laid off and which are making more money than ever. wealth not only begets wealth, it sustains it, fosters it. worse, the way our work is valued is flawed beyond comprehension; take my two friends who both went to prestigious law schools (which is not even to mention the issue of minimum wage). one went into tech law and look, I love her, but in all the times I’ve been around while she’s working, it’s pretty clear that almost anyone could reasonably do her job. she spends a lot of time distractedly scrolling the internet. the other started at the PD’s office, like I did—a job that, I promise you, leaves zero moments for instagram-scrolling—and then went on to work for a non-profit exonerating the wrongfully convicted; she is now also an adjunct professor. guess which one has actually changed more lives versus which one makes more money? and guess which one struggles far more with her mental health? I love them both, they’re incredibly talented, but the answer literally sickens me every day because one works towards perpetuating wealth while the other works to honor the lives and dignities that most of society would happily do without

and that’s not even to discuss the fact that when the bottom falls out of the economy, IT FAILS. whether people want to be snotty about who does the work for minimum wage or not, every single industry—every path to wealth—is built on someone’s “worthless” labor. the problem is that in order to give everyone a livable wage you have to take something from others, and nobody wants to be the one it’s taken from. nobody wants to step down so that others can rise. and sure it’s not petty but it’s a hell of a grievance and I don’t know if I can talk about it at all without yelling!!! but I suppose I can try

[gumnut-logic]

Ellie (Part Two - Bit 1)

Part One | Part Two - Bit 1

This fic appears to have happened. I still have no idea what I’m doing or where it is going, but it is what it is. This is the first half of Part Two as I fumble my way through.

Many thanks to @vegetacide​ and @scribbles97​ for both reading and putting up with my wibblies today as I tried to put one word after the other. I have no doubt there will be more wibblies tomorrow at some point.

I hope you enjoy whatever this is ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

“So, what’s he like?”

“Who?” Ellie chewed on the end of her stylus. Setting up a new tablet was a pain. All the fun of a new piece of tech had been taken away by the fact she couldn’t really afford it and paying for it had physically hurt.

“Virgil Tracy.”

She entered her password yet again. How many times did she have to prove she was who she said she was? “Who?”

“Your saviour! Verri said you nearly fell down the stairs in class and Virgil Tracy grabbed you at the last second.”

That had her sitting up. “What?” Verri was all mouth and no brain. Then it clicked. “Oh, Virgil.”

“Oooh, so it is a first name basis then is it?”

“What? What else would it be?” God, Terri was almost as bad as Verri at times. It was understandable as they were sisters, but Terri was usually so much more.

Usually.

Terri put down her coffee. “Well, you know, with him being famous and all.”

Ellie frowned, finally distracted from her tablet. “What?” Great, now she was repeating herself.

Terri looked at her as if she was an idiot or something. “Virgil Tracy. Of International Rescue. Son of Jeff Tracy. Billionaire.”

She stared at her friend, her mind spinning. Really?

“Oh, god, you didn’t know?!” Terri burst out laughing. “I can’t believe it. You need to get your head out of those romance novels, girl, or you might miss one of your own.”

Ellie stared at her a moment longer aware that her face was flushing red. Damnit.

She picked up the marshmallow sitting beside her hot chocolate and threw it at Terri.

It bounced off her forehead, leaving a little puff of icing sugar.

That, of course, only made her laugh harder. “Omigod, you had no idea.” Now her giggles were becoming irritating. Why did she invite her friend over for breakfast?

Oh, yeah, because she was her friend and Ellie being on the night shift meant it was the only time they could see each other.

Ellie went back to her tablet and the hell of setting it up.

How was she supposed to know? “I was late to class.” It was mumbled.

“Well, that explains it.” Terri picked up her coffee again and sipped it. “Verri said he walked in with a security guard and there was this room check thing before he even sat down. I’m surprised you didn’t get harassed at the door.”

She blinked. There had been that guy she’d had to show her ID to, but wasn’t that the norm? He had been as dark as the shadows he was standing in.

Ellie had been too panicked about being late to care.

Virgil Tracy. Famous hero who saved lives on a regular basis.

No wonder he had caught her.

A flash of bicep.

An embarrassed swallow. Okay, now she was just being stupid. If there was any chance of getting to know him better, it had been snuffed out by his identity. Why on Earth would he even care she existed?

But he had caught her.

His voice had been so kind.

“Are you okay?” Terri’s voice was suddenly soft…concerned.

Ellie shook herself and forced a smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Her friend frowned at her. “You sure?”

Elli forced her bravado. “So, what is a famous hero doing in my nursing class?”

Terri blinked. “Buggered if I know.”

“Hmmm…”

“You could ask him.” Terri peered over her coffee cup.

Talk to him? Famous hero, Virgil Tracy?

Then she realised that tomorrow she would have to sit next to him again.

Oh, shit.

And her embarrassment at her clumsiness last time welled up yet again.

Oh god.

Terri was eyeing her suspiciously again. “Don’t forget to breathe, Ells.”

“Shut up.”

But she was right.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

Ellie was on time to class the next day despite the night shift. Actually, she was early. Early enough for the lecturer to frown at her and possibly question if she had been replaced by an alien.

“Ms Tyler, I’m happy to see you here.”

“I’m happy to be here, ma’am.”

That did it. She gave the old battle axe respect and immediately the woman became suspicious. Ellie would be under surveillance for the entire class.

Pfft.

She’d had worse patients. Those frowning eyes didn’t scare her.

“Hello again.”

She jumped as Virgil Tracy sat down beside her. Oh god. She hadn’t even seen him come in.

And yes, there was that mysterious guy running around with a scanner of some kind.

“Don’t mind Jeremy. He’s just pedantic.” It was said with a warm smile that had her stomach filling with butterflies.

As if to illustrate that fact, the security officer narrowed in on her and requested her identification. Dark eyes sliced and diced her as she fumbled in her bag for her card.

He said nothing as he eyed it, scanned it with his gadget and handed it back before moving onto the next student.

“He’s not happy because I made us late.”

Ellie blinked. “You’re not late. You’re early.” Wow. She had found her voice.

Virgil snorted. “Not when Jez wants to secure the premises, I’m not.” His smile was a little fond as his eyes tracked the man skipping between arriving students. “But then his boss is even more pedantic.”

“You’re pedantic?” Ellie frowned.

He turned to her. “Me? Oh, no, I’m not his boss.”

Then who? But she didn’t ask as he turned back to tracking his security officer with his eyes. His profile gave her the chance to actually look at Virgil.

Dark hair coiffured into some kind of pseudo-mohawk, tanned skin…she tried to remember where the Tracys actually lived. Wasn’t it an island somewhere?

She could almost hear Terri laughing at her. She really needed to pay more attention to current events.

Particularly if they were going to sit beside her in class.

But yes, tanned skin. She frowned. No…was that makeup?

The soft texture of foundation kicked up at the edge of his hairline and the skin colour changed as it merged into his hair.

Oh god.

She could barely see it, but there was the shadow of a massive bruise on his cheekbone.

He turned to look at her at that moment and she was forced to look away.

She swallowed.

Terri was laughing at her again.

The man had his arm in a sling. He had obviously been injured somehow.

Her mind wandered off wondering how.

“Did you receive my notes?”

She blinked. “Oh, yes, thank you so much.” She fished out her new tablet and held it up. “New device acquired.”

He smiled just a little. “Good to see.” But if he was going to say anything further, he was interrupted by Battle Axe calling the class to attention.

She pulled Spud out of her bag and stuck him on the tiny lap desk. His stitched-on smile brightened her despite herself.

Vaguely she was aware of Virgil glancing at the toy, but Battle Axe was talking, and unfortunately Ellie had to pay attention.

Today’s topic was about drug development and testing as background to administration. It was dry fodder and Ellie found herself zoning out.

She could smell his after shave. Or was it his cologne? Whatever it was, it was pleasant and warm.

The scratch of his stylus on his tablet was a soft counterpoint to Battle Axe’s droning voice.

Why hadn’t she taken the online version of this course?

Oh, yeah, because Battle Axe actually knew what she was talking about and there were certain things she just had to see in person.

That stylus scratching was almost a beat she could write music to.

She found herself visualising her fingers on her grandmother’s piano, notes marching out in time.

She drifted for a moment there, only to be nudged gently…

Awake! She was awake.

“Ms Tyler?”

What? She was in the lecture hall and Battle Axe was glaring up at her.

What?

“Ms Tyler, I recommend you get sufficient sleep at all times. A patient may depend on your alertness.” Battle Axe was frowning at her.

Oh, shit.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman’s eyes flickered to the man beside Ellie and smiled without smiling.

What?

Ellie looked at Virgil and found him frowning.

Battle Axe was blushing!

Ellie’s eyes widened.

Virgil shifted where he sat, fingering his sling.

But then the moment snapped and Battle Axe went back to babbling about Medsafe and New Zealand’s legal requirements for all medications.

What the hell was that?

But Virgil was looking down at his tablet, apparently scribbling notes, and Battle Axe had gone back to lecturing. She babbled for a few more minutes before darkening the room and activating the holoprojector.

Depressingly, the video was the same one she had viewed herself for her special study. She was already familiar with Emergency Department drug procedures. Which was probably just as well since she now worked in one.

She almost wished she had stayed asleep.

“You okay?” It was whispered baritone.

She turned to find his shadow looking at her. The holoprojection reflected in his eyes.

Whispered back. “I’m good.” Her body betrayed her by yawning at that exact moment. “Had the early shift this morning.” Or very late. It was kind of both. But it did give her the opportunity to attend the lecture. This early part of the course may be boring, but she needed it for the later part which she hoped would be worth it all.

It just meant she had to crash and burn when she got home before getting up in the dark to go to work.

“That and I’ve seen this before.” She straightened in her seat and prepared to keep herself awake for the next forty-five minutes.

“So have I. Bought it for reference.” In that moment he appeared as tired as she was.

She grunted and shifted in her seat again and they sat there for another five minutes.

“You want to go grab a coffee?”

What? But he was looking at her, his shadow sculpted by hololight.

“Okay?” It was out before she could think about it.

Without further word, he picked up his tablet and stood.

Caught out, she fumbled again, grabbing at her things and shoving them in her backpack as he started to make his way to the exit.

“Mr Tracy, where are you going?” Battle Axe emerged from the shadows below, her finger the pause button.

Ellie froze half out of her seat.

“Please excuse us, Ms Kingston.” And he kept moving.

Ellie blinked. He offered no apology, yet was still polite. It left Battle Axe with no ground to stand on and somewhat speechless enough for the two of them to make a quick exit.

It confirmed that Battle Axe was fully aware of exactly who Virgil Tracy was and that he could do pretty much what he wanted to. Ellie had no doubt that if she had tried it herself, the results would have been considerably different.

But she was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth and she hurried out of the room after him.

-o-o-o-

Next

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Protector - Part 3

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in the coming parts! 

Genre: angst, comfort

Warning: mentions of abuse

Word count: 1300

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem reader

Summary: Your son finds a hero to save you from your abusive husband.

Masterlist

Protector Masterlist

Waking up that morning, you were disoriented by your surroundings. You didn’t recognize the room you were in, your only comfort came from knowing that the breathing coming from beside you was your son’s. Slowly, memories of the previous night came back to you, as you remembered the quiet and kind man who had rescued you. As you sat up, you also began to remember the damage done to your body, trying to hold in your groans so you wouldn’t wake Noah, who was somehow still asleep. It must have been the bed. 

You could see it was still quite early looking out the window, but you hoped Loki was awake, as you didn’t want to disturb him. You padded your way across the room and out into the hall to stand outside the door mirroring yours. You paused to take a steadying breath before raising your fist to knock. Shortly after your light taps, the door swung open to reveal the god you had begun to believe you had dreamed up. He smiled slightly at you, inviting you inside. You walked into his room and were completely unable to hold in your gasp. The room you had stayed in was generic and clean, with very little of interest when you got past the tech inside. Loki’s room looked like him, which certainly sounded odd considering you had only known him for a few hours. It was a dark and inviting color, gold accents tossed around. The part that truly took your breath away though was the books. There were so many, several obviously not in English, and you knew you could never read them; but it was beautiful in the way an old and forgotten library is. 

You didn’t realize you had stopped in your tracks until he spoke in your ear. “Do you like it?” Startled, you jumped away from him, but nodded in response. 

“It’s beautiful,” you responded reverently. He looked around like he had never before thought that his room could be called such, but the small smile showed you that he didn’t mind the description. 

He let his eyes wander his room a moment more, then turned to you. “If it’s alright with you, it seems most reasonable that you meet the team.” You wanted to laugh at the undertones of disgust in his voice when he said it, but your eyes widened at the thought of having to meet so many people at once, especially looking so bruised and beaten. Loki was quick to assure you, “You don’t have to, but it seems better to know those you are living with. I also don’t intend to force you to meet them all together, maybe two or three at a time.” After thinking it over a moment, you nodded. He sent a reassuring, but barely-there, smile to you before turning towards the door to open it again. With his fingers on the handle, he looked to you over his shoulder. “Do you think Noah would like to meet ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,’ as they’ve called themselves?” 

Your face lit up at the thought alone of how excited your son would be to see the Avengers in real life. You nodded happily, to which he nodded in return before heading back into the hallway. You followed him and crossed to your door, opening it to find Noah wandering around and playing with buttons. He was only 5, and he liked colorful things, so you weren’t shocked to find him this way. After rushing around and resetting what he had done, you knelt in front of him. Quietly, you asked how he would like to meet Iron Man. No matter how quiet you had tried to be, it didn’t change that likely everyone within a few floors heard his scream of excitement. Loki asked FRIDAY to inform the team that everything was fine, and that he wanted to meet Tony and Bruce in the lab. The expression on your son’s face as a lab was mentioned might have had someone thinking it was his birthday. You picked him up and turned to face Loki, gesturing for him to lead the way. 

Quietly, he lead you through the halls, as though worried he might run into someone. You supposed that was fair, considering how many supposed Avengers there were. Luckily, you didn’t meet anyone until you reached “the lab.” As soon as you walked in, you could hear voices and puttering, obviously made by the two men leaned over a large table in the middle of the room. As massive as the room was, it somehow still managed to feel cluttered with all of the projects filling the space. 

At the sound of your son’s gasp, both men looked in your direction. You wanted to shrink away from the attention, but you steeled your nerves for your son’s sake. It certainly helped that you had already met Dr. Banner. Your son started kicking his feet to be set down, and the moment his feet touched the floor, he took off in the direction of Tony Stark. You could see the confusion in the man’s face as the unknown child rushed at him, but as he looked down at him, he immediately switched over into a look of interest and excitement as your son spoke to him. You slowly made your way over to stand near the doctor. 

He quietly asked, “How are you feeling today?”

“Better, maybe a little worse for wear though.” You nodded at him, the corner of your lip turning up. 

You turned in time to see Tony looking questioningly at Loki. You stepped forward and waved, calling attention to yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and this is Noah. I’m sorry to impose.”

Your quiet voice and timid nature only seemed to interest the billionaire. “It’s no imposition. Is it too rude, though, to ask why you’re staying here? And why this one brought you?” he asked, gesturing to the god next to him

You saw Loki glare at the shorter man, but you figured he deserved to know, as he was letting you stay in his house (if you could even call it that). “Um, my husband was… doesn’t matter, Noah ran out for help and found ‘this one’,” you said jokingly, referring to Loki. “He saved us and brought us here.”

Whatever his reputation, Tony Stark was obviously a man who cared about people. Of course he understood what you implied about your husband, and the sympathy in his face was clear. He smiled warmly at you. “Mi casa es su casa. Stay as long as you need.” You didn’t know how to show him how grateful you were, but you gathered that he could tell. He looked to Loki once more. “So that was who you had collected last night.” Loki nodded, but you quirked a brow in confusion. “When he called to tell me you were coming last night, he also told me to send someone out to what must have been your address to pick up a man tied to a chair.” Tony almost seemed… proud? That didn’t seem right, but there appeared to be some newfound respect between the genius and the god. 

After Noah had his time with Iron Man and the Hulk, you left them to their work and began walking through hallways again. This time, he asked FRIDAY to get Barton and Romanoff in the kitchen. You didn’t follow the Avenger’s activity much anymore, but when they started out, you had found out all you could about each and every one of them. You were fascinated by all of these people who had saved your city. So when he said those names, your inner fangirl was immediately excited to meet Hawkeye and the Black Widow. 

Tag(s): @cdc-1996 @bisexual-overload @purplekitten30 @cinthias-corner @lokismercedes @iamafangirl-fightme @redheaded-hobbit @grincheveryday  @harleymoxleyswriting

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Past Sins

Leaning her forearms on the banister of the gallery, Felicity looked down into the spacious hall with all its different areas and all the kids and adults working there right now. Three classes from local schools as well as two smaller groups from day care institutions around Starling City were being led around. Apart from that, a couple of kids were working on the different stations by themselves. It wasn’t too bad for an average Tuesday afternoon.

“Mrs. Queen?”

Felicity turned her head to the woman who was approaching her with a shy and yet excited smile. Behind the large glasses, her eyes looked amplified. She was stepping from one foot onto the other quickly which Felicity knew wasn’t unusual for her. She had trouble standing still, something Felicity understood very well.”

“Ms. Whitlock,” she said with a polite smile, “thank you for your time.”

“Well, when the boss calls, it’s not like I have much of a choice.”

Alena Whitlock chuckled nervously as she pulled at a strand of her hair. For the past weeks, she had been managing the Smoak & Queen Science Center for kids in Felicity’s name. She had applied for the position with little hope as she was young and didn’t have that much experience. Felicity had seen how much she loved science though and how easily infected you could be by her excitement. That had been more important to her than anything else because she knew the Science Center offered a great team of coworkers and all finances were taking care of by Queen Consolidated anyway.

Felicity smiled. “Don’t worry. I am just here to ask how things are going.”

“Everything’s great.” Alena stepped next to Felicity and followed her gaze down. “The Discovery Zone is still the most favored area for kids under five years. It was good to invest a little more money there. The Experiment Bar is the most favored area for kids that are older than five years. We have increased the number of available experiments to over fifty for children and youths of different ages. There aren’t enough working stations though. At times, people have to wait longer than half an hour to start an experiment.”

“We should extend the Experiment Bar,” Felicity concluded, nodding her head, “by at least twenty places.”

“That’s going to be expensive.”

Felicity didn’t reply to that as money really wasn’t a problem in her life anymore. As a child, when she had been living in that small Las Vegas apartment that her mother had barely earned enough money to rent, every penny had been so incredibly precious. Now, she was a billionaire who could spend money hand over fist. She liked to do that, at least when it was for charity.

“What about the project for basic computer education?”

“It’s going great,” Alena replied, “and it’s so important, especially for kids that grow up in the Glades. Unfortunately, it collides with the pupils that come here to do their homework under supervision. Hence, the kids have to share a tablet with one or two others which makes things difficult sometimes.”

“We will double the number of tablets then.”

Alena raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Of course just like that,” Felicity replied, shrugging her shoulders, “because this place can’t fulfill what it was built for if the necessary equipment isn’t there.”

“You make that sound so easy.”

Felicity had gotten married to a billionaire and was leading a multi-billion-dollar cooperation, Felicity thought to herself, so it was quite easy.

“What about the staff?” Felicity asked. “Do you need more support? Especially with the new expansions?”

“It never hurts to have some helping hands on deck.”

Felicity nodded her head. “In that case, I will advertise a couple of vacancies. Thank you for your time, Ms. Whitlock.”

“Thank you for listening, Mrs. Queen.”

With that, Alena left. She was almost dancing a little as the conversation had definitely gotten her in a good mood. Felicity smiled at the sight, shaking her head a little. She knew she couldn’t have found someone better to make creative and scientific decisions here wen Felicity wasn’t around. In a lot of ways, Alena had stayed a child herself and that was exactly the kind of person Felicity needed to be in charge here.

At the familiar sound of high heels clattering on the floor tiles, Felicity turned around to look at Emily, who was approaching her now.

“Mr. Wayne called.”

Felicity had trouble to bite back her smile at having Bruce being called Mr. Wayne. It seemed so incredibly surreal. Bruce was just Bruce. He wasn’t Mr. Wayne.

“Did he cancel the appointment?”

“No, he has just landed in Starling,” Emily replied, “but the highways are full. It will take a while until he arrives here.”

Felicity nodded her head. “Thank you.”

It was a good thing that Felicity hadn’t really expected Bruce to be on time anyway. Bruce was a lot of things, but punctual was not one of them. In that, like so many other things, Bruce was exactly like Oliver. Of course neither of the two men wanted to hear that.

Felicity had just turned back to observe the kids working on the different station when an alarm on her phone went off. It wasn’t her usual alarm that woke her in the morning, and it wasn’t her ringtone either. It was the special tone she had set up for any kind of emergencies or threats.

Quickly, Felicity pulled her phone from her purse and checked what had made the alarm go off. Apparently, there were suspicious movements as well as tech glitches around the Science Center. Both could be, but didn’t have to be, signs that there was a threat coming closer. Her security program alarmed her when there were images or any kind of data from possible weapons or when there were glitches in the surveillance technology that might look like they were manipulated.

Thanks to her thoroughly set up security hacks that allowed her to access the recordings of ever surveillance camera in Starling City and around, Felicity just needed a couple of commands until she has called up the footage of the surveillance cameras around the Science Center. She turned on the quick pass-through until she noticed that the glitches started in the footage of a camera that was just half a block away from here. She called up the video and let it run in normal speed.

Several minutes passed as the alley stayed empty. Only after several minutes, a couple passed the alley. She was a tall woman with a slim figure. Her breasts were small, her waist barely noticeable. Her straight black hair reached up to her chin. She was wearing black and red leathers. The top of her gear only had spaghetti straps, but she was wearing red gloves that reached even over her elbows. The neckline of her top reached deep, but her cleavage was almost entirely covered by the scarf she was wearing around her bottom part of her face. Felicity didn’t recognize that woman.

She did recognize the man that was walking alongside her though. By now, she had crossed the path of Ruben Midas twice already. The first time, she had sent the team in the headquarter of his company where they had found his robots. They had been so similar to real human beings that they could have easily been mistaken for those. Unlike the helpful robots that were supposed to work in the household or do their part in working security, those robots had been trained to use weapons and to kill. Felicity had destroyed Midas’ work including his plans which had caused him to mess with her bio-stimulants in return. She, Oliver and Bruce had believed that he had died when they had attacked him in his hideout, but they must have been wrong. He was very alive it seemed.

Felicity hurried to call up some more current footage of the two of them. Her security program needed barely a second before it called up live footage of the two of them. It took Felicity half a second before she realized where exactly they were.

The moment Felicity saw the exact location, she ran over to the next alarm button and pressed it. A loud alarm sounded through the entire building. The many walls that were made of security glass turned into mirrors, a little security extra she had thought might be helpful. A lot of glass allowed a lot of transparency which wasn’t a good thing when there was an attack. That was why she had added this.

Hurrying back to the banister, Felicity watched the staff hushing the kids and youth to the security areas. The two members of staff that were still sitting behind the reception, trying to lock down all doors around, didn’t move though.

“Run!” she called down to them. “Hide somewhere safe!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. They dropped whatever they had been working on and hurried after the rest of the people into the security areas. They knew that, once the doors were shut, there was no easy way to open them. The entire building was designed that way that, once a door was closed from the inside during an alarm, it could only be opened through an elaborate security protocol.

The security cameras showed that Midas and his partner had already entered the building through some back entrance. They certainly wouldn’t need that much time to get here. That was why Felicity hurried down the stairs and checked some of the doors. The Science Center had never been on a lockdown like this, so she needed to make sure that everyone was indeed safe before she could even consider getting so a safe place too.

Felicity was still checking some of the doors downstairs when Midas and his partner stepped out from the back of the building and right into the hall. They stood face to face. Midas’ cold, angry eyes met Felicity’s. She sucked in a deep breath, taking a step back instinctively. That the woman pulled out two guns and directed them right at Felicity’s face.

“Mrs. Queen,” Midas addressed Felicity, an evil grin spreading on his lips, “may I introduce you to my lover? I lovely call her Blood Rose.”

Blood Rose. The name echoed through Felicity’s thoughts, and she was sure that it referred to more than just her red leather gear. With the guns in her hands, Felicity was sure that it also referred to the people she already killed or at least wounded by using her weapons.

“What do you want?” Felicity asked, her voice tense. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, we are just going to have a little fun spending time together while we wait for your two friends,” Midas replied, his grin widening, “let’s see who will save you – Bruce Wayne or your husband, Oliver Queen. I still have some unfinished business to take care of with the three of you.”

 → → → → →

 “Mr. Queen, we appreciate the effort you have put into charity,” Mr. Nielson said, his voice leaving no doubt that he didn’t appreciate Oliver’s efforts at all, “but the city needs more money for what is important.”

Oliver leaned back in the soft leather of his chair. He tapped the end of his pen on the top of his desk repeatedly while he was watching Mr. Nielson. A couple of hours back, Oliver had wondered how he would get through this meeting. Now he knew that Mr. Nielson was going to outplay himself.

“And what do you think is important?”

“We need to make this city more successful,” Mr. Nielson replied with firm voice, “by boosting the economy and strengthening the tourism. We need Starling City to play with the big ones like Los Angeles, Metropolis or Gotham City. We need to make this city something special.”

“And you think that making the hotel owners and the company owners, the richest of the richest in this city, is more important than helping the people that can barely afford the basic needs of life?” Oliver cocked his head. “Really?”

Whenever he was in meetings like this and someone said something stupid like this, Oliver felt reminded on why he had chosen to become the mayor. He had known that this city needed someone to watch over it, someone who didn’t care about profits. That someone was him.

Oliver had been born rich, and for a long time he had believed that money was everything you needed to have a good life. Through the years, he had leaned that money alone wasn’t what made a good life. It was necessary to live comfortably and it was necessary to have a life at all, but it didn’t make a good life.

For a good life, you needed people that you loved and that loved you back. You needed a passion for something. You needed something that you did almost completely for others and barely for yourself.

Admittedly, Oliver had trouble with the last. Everything he did, he did at least a little bit for himself too. He was a good man because he wanted his children to look up to him. For a long time, he had believed that he had become a vigilante for selfless reasons. He knew better than that now. He had become a vigilante because he had wanted to right his father’s wrongs, and because he had wanted to earn forgiveness and earn the life his father had given to him by shooting David Hackett and himself. He was the mayor because he wanted to save this city and make it a better place to live in for his family.

Everything he did in life, he did at least a little bit for himself and maybe that was exactly the way it was supposed to be. Donating money when you would rather turn around each and every penny wasn’t fun. You’d only get angry for sharing the money that you’d rather keep.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Oliver said with soft voice, “I know that my way of handling this city is not comparable to how the previous mayors dealt with things. The truth is that I am quite different on a lot of different levels, but it’s not a weakness. It’s a strength. Deep down, the city has been a dark and dangerous place before-“

There was a knock at the door which Oliver would usually ignore. Since his assistant Becky just came rushing into the conference room, Oliver lifted his gaze and looked at his assistant. Her cheeks were reddened and an uncalm expression was in her eyes.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” she hurried to say, looking right at Oliver while she was walking around the large table to approach Oliver, “but you have to watch this.”

She held out her tablet for him, and Oliver didn’t wait to take it and watch the live video feed that was there. He knew that, if Becky interrupted the meeting like this, she had her reasons. She knew exactly what was important and what wasn’t.

The moment Olive caught the headline of the video feed, he felt his muscles tensing. His fingers held onto the tablet so tightly that he wouldn’t be surprised if he broke it. His heart started racing, the blood rushing in his ears.

Starling City’s first Lady Felicity Queen (along roughly 50 others) held hostage at Queen & Smoak Science Center for Kids

He skimmed the article quickly, reading that two people had escaped the Science Center and contacted the police. They had taken position around the building, trying to get in touch with the hostage-taker. They hadn’t been successful so far. Thanks to some of the employees that were inside the building, hiding with the kids that had come there today to learn something more about science, the police had gained access to the footage of the surveillance cameras. Unfortunately, some hacker had managed to break through the police’s firewalls and put the live feed online.

One brief look at the hostage-taker was enough for Oliver to know who this guy was and what he would want. It was also enough for him to know that this was no bad joke and now light threat. This was serious, and there was nowhere Oliver had to be more than at the Smoak & Queen Science Center.

“I have to go.”

He knew that there were a lot of eyes without understanding directed at him. He couldn’t care less though. Once they found out what was happening right now, they would understand. Every decent husband, even the ones that could do much less about the situation than he was able to do, would cancel every meeting to be close to their wife.

A part of Oliver wanted to take the stairs down, but he knew he needed to save his breath for the run to the bunker. At this time of the day, he knew it would be completely stupid to take the car. It would take him forever to get to the Science Center. He would have to run all the way to the bunker and take his motorcycle to the Science Center after that.

Oliver’s gaze was fixed onto the digital display while the elevator was taking its path downstairs. The tip of his shoe tapped onto the floor of the elevator cage nervously. Oliver hated waiting, and moments like these made it incredibly hard to learn how to be more patient.

Ruben Midas was a dangerous man. His intelligence and his creativity mixing with his greed for money had already made him dangerous. His anger about the fact that so much of his work had been destroyed and he was a hunted man now made him even more dangerous. He wasn’t focusing his energy and intelligence only on creating more robots. He was focusing it on getting his revenge.

As soon as the doors opened, Oliver slipped outside. He ran through the spacious foyer, not caring that people were staring at him. He really didn’t care.

Outside, he turned to the east, already about to start running to the bunker. He had barely taken two steps when a black Lamborghini raced onto the sidewalk and stopped still right in front of him. The tires screeched, and the bumper almost touched his shinbones. Since the windshield were darkened, Oliver couldn’t see who was sitting behind the steering wheel. He didn’t need to see it to know it though.

The way the car had almost knocked him down and was honking at him now was enough for him to know. There was only one person in the world that was as impatient as he himself was.

Oliver opened the door and let himself sink into the expensive leather seats. He wasn’t surprised to find the same rage he was feeling sparkling in Bruce’s eyes. By now, he had certainly heard about what was happening to Felicity right now already.

“Ruben Midas has her,” Oliver said, “and there is a second person with him, a woman according to the video surveillance.”

“The police talk about a woman too. Any idea who that is?”

“Felicity did some background checks on Midas, but she never mentioned a woman and- what are you doing? The bunker is in the other direction?”

“I have a duplicate of your suit in the trunk of the car.”

Oliver didn’t even ask about it. He guessed that Bruce, just like himself, liked to be prepared. After all, the two of them were quite similar. Even if he would never say that out loud.

Bruce floored the gas pedal. He was directing the car through with city with a speed that would scare Oliver if it was anyone else behind the steering wheel. He knew Bruce’s good reflexes, and he knew that Bruce was very determined to reach their shared goal.

They needed to save their girl.

 → → → → →

 With her hands cuffed to the banister of the gallery, her back hurt badly. It was uncomfortable. That the metal was cutting into her skin hard wasn’t helping either. Clenching her teeth, Felicity tried to pull her hands out from the metal, but she wasn’t successful.

Felicity knew that she needed to find another way as she wasn’t gong to get out of her current situation anytime soon. At least not as long as she was on her own and without any help.

Lifting her gaze, she looked at Midas. He was sitting astride a chair, his forearms resting on the backrest of the chair. His cold eyes were focused on her, watching her with a somewhat amused smile on his lips. His partner was leaning against a wall behind him, one foot resting against the wall while she was watching them. Well, she was mostly watching Midas. She was almost completely fixed on him.

Felicity knew that Midas wanted Bruce and Oliver to be here for the great showoff. She alone wasn’t enough for him. After she had destroyed his work and his company in the first place, they had destroyed his hideout where he had tried to continue with his work in the shadows.

“You destroyed my work.”

He was finally feeling the need to talk, Felicity thought to herself. She guessed that was good. Maybe that way she could find out what his plan was. She was good at talking to villains. It wasn’t the first time she was in the hands of some criminal after all.

She took the break of a second to figure out which approach would be the right one here. Midas was a narcist who believed that his work would change the world in a way that was for the better, at least for him. In addition to that, he was quite smart. Pretending that she was a secret fan of his work was going to play into his narcissism, but he wouldn’t believe her. Even if he did believe her, Felicity wasn’t sure how Blood Rose reacted.

“It wasn’t worth keeping.”

Provoking Midas seemed to be the best shot she had. She had to try at least.

The corners of Midas lips twitched slightly. His eyes showed how angry her words made him though. Deep down, her wanted her to envy him for his creation.

“You will suffer for destroying my work,” Midas said, “just like your husband and your boyfriend will suffer for it.”

Her husband and her boyfriend. Felicity couldn’t deny that there was maybe a little spark of truth in there. Well, actually, they both were her husband. Oliver was her husband at home and, at least sometimes, Bruce was her husband at work. He was her work-husband. Where had she heard that term again in the first place?

“I just haven’t decided yet if I want to kill you in front of them or them in front of you.”

“I am leaning towards the latter,” Blood Rose said, “as I have a thing for strong, muscular guys. I would like to rub myself against them while I slit their throats. I want to bathe in their blood and come to the sight of light leaving their eyes. I-“

Midas hadn’t really looked like he minded his girlfriend fantasizing about being sexually turned on by killing Oliver and Bruce. He tapped his finger onto his smart watch, not looking like he was even listening to what his girlfriend was saying. While he had been busy, Blood Rose had suddenly stopped and was now approaching him with almost seductive steps. She put her arms around his neck from behind and leaned her lips against his ear. Felicity didn’t have to hear her to know that she was probably saying something saucy to him.

Birds of a feather flock together, Felicity thought to herself quietly while she was watching the couple. She couldn’t say who of them was more insane. She guessed it could change anytime, depending on the situation.

Felicity was still watching them when she noticed a movement. The many glass walls in this area turned into mirrors when the security program was set off, so nobody could see what was happening inside and the people inside, especially the kids, couldn’t see what was happening outside. The reflection in the mirroring walls also allowed her to see the movements that were happening on the beams right under the ceiling.

Although Felicity felt relieved at the sight of Oliver and Bruce or rather Green Arrow and Batman, Felicity did her best not to let it show. Midas and his girlfriend would only get suspicious if they saw that she was relieved. Oliver and Bruce certainly had a plan of their own though.

Felicity shot a brief glance at her hostage-takers, and her gaze met Blood Rose. The crazy lady cocked her head and let go of her boyfriend to approach Felicity slowly. The corners of her lips twitched slightly, making her look even more evil.

“Maybe I will change my mind.”

Blood Rose brushed her fingertips against Felicity’s cheek before she cupped her jaw. Her thumb stroked over Felicity’s bottom lip. Felicity tried to lean out of her touch, but Blood Rose didn’t let her get away. She tightened her fingers around Felicity’s jaw, pressing her fingernails in Felicity’s soft skin to a point that it almost hurt.

“I am going to enjoy killing you,” Blood Rose whispered, “and to have both men cry out for you in agony when they cannot save you.”

With a sudden movement, Blood Rose grabbed hold of Felicity’s ponytail and ripped her head back so much that a jolt of pain shot through Felicity’s spine. She hissed in pain.

That was enough for Oliver and Bruce to leave their safe spots where they had been able to observe the situation. They jumped down from the beam, landing right and left to Felicity. Bruce went at Blood Rose, urging her away from Felicity and trying to take her down. At the same time, Oliver attacked Midas.

Felicity knew it was hopeless, but she tried to pull her hands out of the tight metal around her wrists once more. As much as she gritted her teeth and just tried to pull, it didn’t work. Why had Oliver never taught her how she could dislocate her thumb as it would definitely been helpful right now?

Unable to do anything but waiting to be saved, Felicity looked back and forth between the two fights that were going on. While Bruce seemed to have the upper hand in his fight, Oliver had trouble to hold his own against Midas. Felicity wondered if maybe Midas had implanted some kind of biochip into his system that allowed his body to adapt to his opponent’s abilities. If he had managed to create human-like robots with that ability, maybe he was able to install this ability in the human DNA.

Oliver and Midas were tangled in a close hand-to-hand combat when Felicity could suddenly see a gleam. Her breath got caught in her throat when she saw the knife Midas was holding in his hand. He directed it at Oliver’s neck, and Oliver barely managed to lean back enough to have it stay out of reach. He blocked Midas’ hand with one arm.

As Midas almost managed to sneak his arm out from under Oliver’s blocking movement, Oliver pushed Midas away from him strongly. The movement caused Midas to stumble, and he fell to the floor. Blood was pooling under and around his body. As he turned around onto his back, Felicity could see where exactly it came from. The stumble had caused him to slit his own throat. With one rattle, he stopped breathing. It had only taken seconds for him to bleed to death.

Felicity was staring at Midas’ dead body. She guessed this time Midas was really dead.

Blood Rose seemed to have come to the same conclusion. With a cry of agony as she had called it herself before, Blood Rose pushed Bruce away from her. The movement tossed him across the room and pushed him into the opposite wall. His head bumped against it ungently. His body slumped to the floor, staying there without moving.

Blood Rose was still crying out loudly, releasing an ear-piercing sound, when she turned away from where she had tossed Bruce against the wall. Felicity believed that she’d go right at Oliver. Felicity could understand it because she’d kill whoever took Olive from her too. Instead, Blood Rose walked right towards her, pulling her guns and aiming them at her.

Felicity turned her chair away as much as possible, trying to make herself small by resting her chest on her thighs. That way, she guessed she was giving Blood Rose the least attack surface. Indeed, it seemed like no bullet hit her. The glass of the banister shattered though. A thousand scattered pieces of glass fell down. Blood Rose’s shots came closer. One bullet seemed to almost brush her upper arm.

Quickly, Felicity moved more to the side, trying to avoid the bullets. It was just an uncareful second, but one leg of her chair slid off the edge. Felicity lost her balance, and it caused the entire chair to overturn the edge of the gallery. The chair fell off from under her butt, falling down into the ground floor and bursting there. It crumbled into all of it different pieces.

Felicity was dangling from the gallery. Her feet were dangling in the air. She was only held up by the handcuffs that kept her tied to the banister. Her arms were twisted painfully as her entire weight was hanging on her wrists. The metal of the handcuffs was cutting into her skin even more firmly now.

Just a couple of minutes before, Felicity had tried to pull her hands out of the handcuffs. Now, her hands were threatening to slip out of them. Her skin was abrading. It hurt badly. The fear of crashing down several floors onto the ground scared Felicity.

Oliver’s name was already rising on her throat when she realized that she had to be smarter. If the police hadn’t gained access to the footage of the surveillance cameras already, the would definitely demand that footage later. Any lip reader would probably be able to figure out who she was calling out for. While Felicity could pretend that she had just called out for her husband because he was the person she trusted to protect her most, Oliver had been suspected to be the Green Arrow a few times too much for her to risk anything here.

“Green Arrow!”

It didn’t feel right. She didn’t call out for the Green Arrow, the savior of the city, to save her. She knew that Green Arrow’s task was catching Blood Rose and stopping her from causing any more harm to the people in this city. The person she needed to save her was her husband because she knew that he needed her to be alright.

Felicity’s right hand had just slipped out of the handcuff when the leather of a familiar glove grabbed her hands. Lifting Felicity’s gaze, she saw Oliver holding onto her hand. The exhaustion in his face wasn’t coming from holding her weight with one hand, Felicity knew. It was just a sign of how worried he really was.

He pulled her up almost easily, using just one hand. He used one of the arrows she had designed, putting it to the small chain between the handcuffs. Within seconds, the chain was melted through. Oliver’s arms wrapped around her already. Felicity pushed her nose against the side of his neck, breathing him in. The feeling of being safe spread inside of her already.

Although the feeling hadn’t really caught up with her completely, Felicity pulled away from Oliver. She shot him a meaningful look, nodding his head. Obviously, he knew exactly what she needed right now.

She looked at where Bruce was still lying unconsciously, and she hurried towards him. Felicity kneeled down next to his body and cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers stroked over his cheekbones, stroking over his skin with gentle caress.

“Bruce,” she whispered quietly, hoping he would hear her, “Bruce, it’s me.”

For the break of a second, Bruce stayed unmoving. With a low groan, he put his fingers around her wrist and opened his eyes though. Although they were cloudy, Felicity could see the love shine through. He was glad that she was the one pulling him from his unconsciousness. Although he knew that Felicity’s heart would always be with Oliver, he liked to see her face upon waking up. It made him feel safe.

Felicity would have liked to reassure him that everything was okay. She wanted to tell him that he was safe, that Oliver was safe and that she was safe. From the corner of her eye, she could see the S.W.A.T. team of the SCPD entering the building though. There was no time.

“You have to go,” Felicity whispered, looking from Bruce to Oliver, “now.”

Oliver nodded his head as hard as it was to leave her like that when nothing was talked out yet. He wanted to kiss her, but he also knew that he couldn’t do that with the cameras recording every single one of their movements.With a couple of steps, he was at her side. He wrapped Bruce’s arm over his shoulder, helping him to get onto his feet.

Oliver’s every locked onto hers. Felicity knew that he needed to know that she was somewhat okay before he left her. He loved her too much to leave her in any situation of crisis. Felicity nodded her head though, telling him that she got this handled. After all, she had been forced to find an excuse to tell the police why Oliver was back alive when his dead body had been identified after a shooting in front of City Hall.

She was the wife of the freaking Green Arrow. She knew the perks and the downs of that role. She didn’t mind.

After all, she got Oliver in return. He was worth every trouble and every inconvenience.

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything​ @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld​ @tjmartinez​ @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2​ @scentedcolorpirate​ @icanica74​ @tjmartinez98​ @certainmentalityface​ @tatianadamaceno @ryelew​ @wildwillowzepplin​ @missafairy​ @letsplaymurde-r​ @lipizette​ @positivepiper​ @nuttymilkshakehologram​ @laksagirl​ @turnupthemusicandscream​ @pumpernickle93​ @onceuponanolicity​ @1106angel​ @jaspertown​ @fadinglands​ @morganashimi83​ @mochababychristy​ @omglovechrissie​ @mariejr88-blog​ @thetaufactor​ @onceuponanolicity​ @speakandseethetruth​ @bri206​ @aglasgo​ @geemarie​ @pineprincess​ @nerdgirljen​ @eternal-olicity14​ @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay​ @lovelycssefan​ @tsseract​ @flowerandsunshine​ @dcnmarvelgamergeek​ @blondeeoneexox​ @monetsmark​ @bb-olicity​ @mashamarty​ @rulerofsilence​ @erika-amber​ @nothingmorethanmyotps​ @kayleenyc​ @tonto16​ @olicityfluv​ @olicitea1990​ @haahaaa2408​ @pattid1​ @faegal04​ @24karatgem​ @wrldtravler​ @readerkas​ @olicity-beliver​ @greencoffeecups​ @snorlaxishere​

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

[lurafita]

Avenging Santa Claus

Got this prompt some time ago, that I was really rushing to get written before Christmas. I hope you like it! 

Original prompt: here

There are Alphas and Omegas, but there is NO gender oppression whatsoever. Children call their Omega parent Mom/Mother/Mommy, and their Alpha parent Dad/Father/Pops, you get it. 

Avenging Santa Claus

 The shopping mall was a bad place to be at the 21 of December. Christmas songs that were sure to get stuck in your head for hours on end, were blaring everywhere; stressed people were running around in a perpetual sour mood, to get the last of their gift shopping done; the smell of gingerbread was inescapable, and it was crowded enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic.

One had to be absolutely mad to be in such a place, at such a time.

Or married to the most wonderful Omega in the world, who had given him the most precious son in the world, who had used all his four years of experience in being cute, to convince his parents to take him to the mall to see Santa.

Tony and Peter Stark, together with their little son Ben, had been standing in line for a full 45 minutes now. Any attempts made by the billionaire to bribe their way forward, had been met with a reprimanding glare from his husband, and so Tony had grudgingly stopped reaching for his wallet, and instead joined Peter's efforts to answer all of their overly excited son's questions.

“Do you think Santa's sleigh is invisible? I didn't see it in the parking lot. Oh no! What if another car drives into it because they can't see it?!”

“I'm pretty sure he parked his sleigh on the roof, buddy. More space for Rudolph and his friends up there.”

“Those two elves with Santa are so tall, I thought elves were s'pposed to be smaller.”

“Scott lent them some of his tech so that they can help Santa better while they are here.”

“Can Santa's sleigh go faster than you, Daddy?”

“Pft. As if some magical reindeer could-” cue Peter's pointed elbow jabbing him in the ribs. “hrmh, I mean, his reindeer are magic, right? And Santa has to make it all around the world in only one night. So his sleigh could probably out fly Iron Man.”

“How does he get all over the world in one night?”

“Google maps and stardust propulsion.”

“We don't have a chimney! How will Santa get in, Mommy?”

“Don't worry. He has magic portals.”

“Like Dr. Wizard?”

“Yeah, exactly like those. Just that Santa's portals look like snow and ice crystals, instead of Stephen's gold ones.”

“How does Santa know if I have been good? Is he a super spy like auntie Nat?”

“He is the one who trained auntie Nat.”

“Whoa!”

Finally it was Ben's turn, and the four year old didn't hesitate for a second to run up to the sitting Santa Claus and scramble into his lap. Peter and Tony, like all the parents before, waited patiently at the side, as they watched their son tell the bearded man all about every item on his list.

Tony was just happy that they would be out of the place soon, when he caught the deepening frown on Peter's handsome face.

“Something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Ben is reciting his entire wish list.”

“Yeah, so? Isn't that what kids are supposed to do when they meet Chris Kringle?”

But Peter shook his head.

“He said he was gonna tell Santa his super secret Christmas wish first, to make sure he would put it on the top of his list. I was hoping to listen in, so we could get it for him. Unless it's a pony.”

“I mean, it's not like we don't have the space-”

“He is not getting a pony, Tony.”

“Oh my god, that rhymed. I'm gonna have that stuck in my head for the rest of the day now. Pony Tony, Tony pony.”

Peter muffled a laugh, and Tony pat himself on the back for having managed to relax his husband a little bit. While Tony was definitely annoyed by all the smells and noise of the mall, he couldn't imagine how much worse it was on Peter's enhanced senses. The omegan superhero had incredible control over his abilities, but maintaining that in such a stressful environment could not be easy, and even Peter slipped now and then.

He took the shorter man's hand and brought it up to his lips to press a loving kiss to his knuckles.

“You good, Pete?”

“I'm good,” Peter gave him a quick peck to the corner of his lips, then suddenly smirked up at him, “Tony Pony.”

The Alpha smirked right back.

“If this becomes a pet name, I expect you to ride me every time you use it.”

It was astounding, that after 8 years of being in a relationship, 5 of which they have been married, and having a child together, Peter still blushed so prettily whenever Tony mentioned their sex life.

The swift whack to his chest in reprimand was worth seeing his husband so flustered.

“Insatiable.”

Tony smirked wider and winked at the omega.

“You love it. So, how's eavesdropping on our son and the Coca Cola mascot going? I bet Benny wants a cool Iron Man suit like his dad.”

Peter shook his head, eyes locked on their son.

“He hasn't said anything so far that we didn't know about and haven't already gotten him. For the record, I still think you went overboard. No four year old needs that many toys.”

“Ah, come one. I'm allowed to spoil you and Ben on Christmas. It was in our vows.”

This earned him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“You spoil us all the time.”

The billionaire looked down into the beloved, brown eyes.

“Not nearly enough.”

Tony had never thought of himself as someone so disgustingly mushy and besotted, but Peter just brought it out in him. Peter and Ben. The two most precious people in his life.

God, he was a sap.

He was just about to lean down and give his omega a deep, toe curling kiss, when Ben jumped off Santa's lap and came running up to them.

“Mommy, Daddy, quick, come quick, this way!”

The little boy grabbed both his parents hands and pulled them with him as fast as his short legs could carry him. More than a little surprised, Tony and Peter stumbled along.

“Whoa there, what's up, buddy?”

“Ben, is something wrong?”

When the four year old had dragged his parents a sufficient distance away from the winter wonder land, he released his grip on their hands and turned around to stare at them with big, frantic eyes.

“That Santa has a fake beard, and he doesn't smell like milk and chocolate cookies like he's s'pposed to! He is an inpo.. interpolter... imposter! He must have kidnapped the real Santa! But there won't be Christmas without the real Santa! Quick! You have to call the other Avengers and assemble and save Santa!”

As the two super heroes looked first into the gleaming with unshed tears eyes of their son, and then at each other, only one thought ran through their minds.

Oh boy.

-- 

 "I'm sorry, you want us to what?"

Tony rolled his eyes heavenward. One would think from Sam's incredulous tone and expression that he was asking something completely ridiculous from his friends.

"Could you please not be so dramatic? All I'm asking is that you all get into gear, get out to the north pole, stage a battle against some kind of evil scoundrel, save Santa Claus in the process, and watch your language while doing it, because Benny will be watching via Friday's live stream. I don't see which part of this you have a problem with."

Unbelievably, this earned him even more disbelieving stares from everyone currently in the living room. (Which was Steve, Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Scott, Bruce Rhodey and Hope. Thor was currently traveling with the Guardians of the galaxy, but had promised to be back by the 25th.)

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes, as if he was dealing with someone unreasonable... which was just uncalled for.

"Tony, you know we love Ben. But don't you think it would be better to tell him the truth, instead of all these theatrics?"

"Sure I do. But unless you manage to convince Peter of that, we are going to the freaking north pole and save Santa."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait. This is Peter's idea?"

Peter was usually the one to reign in Tony, whenever the genius came up with something completely ridiculous. But Tony only nodded solemnly.

"He said, and I quote: 'My baby is going to believe in the magic that is Christmas and all it encompasses for as long as super-humanly possible. And anyone who so much as breathes a word that might destroy his beliefs before he is ready to let go of them, will find themselves in a web cocoon hanging outside the tower.' End quote. Ben being in a constant state of almost crying ever since he discovered the 'fake' Santa, until Peter finally got him into bed with the promise that the Avengers would free the 'real' Santa as soon as we found out where he is being held captive, certainly didn't help. After that, Pete told me to get you all up to speed, and left for the Sanctum, to see if he could convince Wong and Stephen to help."

This left everyone in a little bit of shock, but far more willing to go along with Tony's request. There were few things scarier than Mama bear Peter.

Rhodey just shook his head, bemoaning the fact that he had chosen to get to the tower early, instead of on Christmas eve, as he had the previous years.

Bucky got up, grumbling about finding warm socks to go play make believe in the fucking arctic.

Scott grinned, trying to entice Hope into building a snow castle and taking pictures for Cassie while they were there.

Clint asked if his kids (the oldest of which was 8 and didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, but would play along for the younger children's sakes), could watch the stream with Ben, because saving Santa Claus two days before Christmas was sure to get him 'Best Father of the Year' award.

Bruce was questioning whether the Hulk would even be needed for this, which Tony quickly shut down "You know Hulk is Ben's favorite, Brucie. He can't not be there to give Santa's kidnapper hell."

Steve sighed the sigh of the beaten, and went to inform Fury of tomorrows 'mission'. Sam followed as moral support.

Natasha, unflappable super spy that she was, just nodded.

"Well, I guess it's not the worst mission I have been on. I'm in."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, a self satisfied smile on his lips.

"You better be in. Ben would be very disappointed if his auntie Nat didn't come to her super-spy teacher's rescue."

"... my What?!"

  --

 The next day, after Peter had distracted Ben long enough from his worry about Santa to get some breakfast into the boy, Natasha came striding into the room to inform them that they had found the whereabouts of Santa and his kidnapper. Ben gave her a big hug for being the best super-spy (after Santa), in the world. She was smug about it.

Clint followed shortly after with his pregnant wife, fellow four year old daughter and eight year old son. The kids and Laura would join Ben in watching the life stream of the Avengers heroically saving Santa Claus. Lilah was just as anxious as Ben was, Cooper, who had been told about what was going on, just smirked as he watched all the grown ups running around to get ready for their mission.

Scott and Hope had roped teenaged Cassie in to help the highly pregnant Laura keep an eye on the three younger kids (though Cooper would loudly disagree that he needed a babysitter), and help sell the whole thing to Ben and Lilah. (Neither May nor Pepper had been able to change their working schedules on this short notice to lend a helping hand, and Happy had taken his first vacation in forever and fled the cold weather to spend two weeks on a tropical beach)

Both Stephen and Wong (though the older monk would already be waiting for them at the destination) had thankfully been scared into agreed to help the Avengers with their mission, which made getting to the north pole a lot easier.

When Stephen arrived through one of his portals, everyone was fully suited up and ready to go. All the adults quickly hugged the children (Steve even saluted them, the dork), and to the encouraging shouts of "Kick evil butt and save Santa!" (and the barely repressed snickers from Laura, Cooper and Cassie), earth's mightiest heroes stepped through the magical portal into the blazing cold of the north pole.

Antman wrapped his arms around himself immediately.

"Why exactly isn't Santa being held captive in Florida?"

Iron Man and Spiderman quickly looked at each other, a little stunned.

"Oops."

  --

 The rescue mission had, unsurprisingly, been a complete success. Wong and Stephen had created some truly fantastical illusions of shadow creatures for the Avengers to fight, and Hulk to smash. (Nothing too scary looking though. Peter would web them up if Ben came out of this with nightmares about dark, red eyed monsters)

Spiderman and Iron Man had then taken on the evil kidnapper himself (One of Stephen's clones, that had been transformed to look like that Pitch Black dude from that pixar movie Ben couldn't get enough of)

It was Natasha who had broken Santa Claus (a magically disguised Wong), from his iron cage not far from the battle field. She had even bowed to her former 'teacher', and teased him about eating too many cookies and losing his edge in his old days. 'Santa' had shook the hands of all of the Avengers and then waved into Iron Man's suit camera to the kids at home, and promised to deliver all their presents on time. He thanked Ben especially, for figuring out his fake doppelganger. Back in the tower's penthouse in New York, little Ben was screeching with joy.

  --

 It was six a.m. on the 25th of December, and Tony and Peter Stark were enjoying what would surely be the last few minutes of peace and quiet they would have that day. The team and their assorted friends and family were scheduled to come to the penthouse for Christmas brunch and gift exchanges in a few hours, and Ben was sure to wake up any minute now. Rather than have their overly excited son jump onto their bed to wake them up because "It's Christmas, it's Christmas, wake up wake up wake up!", the two had gotten up a little earlier, had made each other their favorite coffee (dark roast for Tony, and a latte for Peter), and cuddled up together on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the brightly and colorfully decorated Christmas tree in the center. It was rather beautiful, and even the early hour couldn't mar the contentment the couple felt right then, lying in each others arms. 

"How much time do you think we have left?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his cup.

Tony squeezed the arm he had wound around his husband a bit, and planted a soft kiss on Peter's temple.

"Probably not much longer. I'm actually surprised Ben hasn't-" Which was the exact moment that a joyfully shrill, childish scream echoed through the floor. Tony chuckled. "-woken up yet. You ready, sweetheart."

Peter looked up at his husband with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas, Peter."

They shared a sweet kiss, just before their little bundle of joy came running into the room.

"Mommy, Daddy, look, look! Santa brought me my super secret wish, even though I didn't get to tell him! Look, look!"

And right there, cradled clumsily in his arms, Ben was holding a little puppy. An actual, life, puppy. As in, tail wagging, tongue lolling, alive. Peter was just able to hide his surprise and pull his son plus wiggling puppy dog into a warm hug. 

"That's great, Benny. Do you have a name for him?"

Ben nodded with so much enthusiasm, that the brunette worried for a moment he would get dizzy.

"Imma call him Ninja. Cause Santa got him for me, and Santa taught auntie Nat how to be a super-spy. And Ninja's are like the greatest super-spies."

Tony grinned and scooped up both the four year old and puppy to give Ben a loving hug and ruffle his hair.

"That's a great name, bud. How about you and Ninja take a look at all the gifts lying under the tree, while your mom and I make some breakfast and find something for your dog to eat."

Ben couldn't shimmy out of his father's lap fast enough, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he sat down the puppy and the both of them ran to the large Christmas tree.

"Remember that you can only open one before breakfast, young man."

"Okay!"

Then the two adults quickly got up and walked into the adjacent kitchen. Peter pinned Tony with a scolding look.

"I thought we had decided that Ben is too young for a dog."

Tony scoffed.

"Yes, we did. So why did you get him one?"

Peter faltered.

"I didn't... I thought you did."

But Tony shook his head.

"Not me... Wait. If you didn't get him a dog, and I didn't get him a dog..."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Friday, show us the footage of Ben's room. Who brought in the puppy?"

A small holographic window appeared before the couple, showing Ben sleeping in his bed. Then it looked like little ice crystals glittered in the air, and formed the shape of a tall, slightly round, person. When the glitter disappeared, a man in a red coat, with a white, but rather short beard, and likewise short and white hair was standing before little Ben's bed. He did not have the figure of the classic Santa Claus from the story books. No big, round belly, for one. The clothes fit, and he certainly looked old enough, but he was wearing big sun glasses? (Actually, the man reminded Tony of Hugh Hefner) In his hands was a sleeping little puppy (Ninja), that he carefully deposited next to the sleeping boy. Then the man stepped back from the bed, and closer to the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and looked right into it. 

"Thank you, Peter and Tony, for everything you have done for the people of this world. And for working so hard to keep your son's faith alive for a little longer. You know, my friends call me Stan. Merry Christmas."

Then the man (Santa? Stan?) was enveloped in the little ice crystals again, and vanished in the next second. The hologram continued showing a sleeping Ben and an equally sleeping puppy.

Peter gaped. 

"Was... was that..."

"Friday? Why the hell didn't you wake us when some stranger entered our son's room?"

"My sensors have not detected any foreign presence in the young masters room. I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about, boss."

Now Tony was gaping.

The sound of their son's happy exclamation when he unpacked one of his many gifts brought both parent's out of their stupor, and they looked first back to Ben, then at each other, still not quite willing to believe what they had just seen.

"... So, Stan, huh? Do you think that puppy is magical?"

Peter couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Tony joined in soon after. 

God how he loved them. His husband and his son. And his (possibly magical) puppy. 

____________________________________________________________

The End

 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 

(Okay, I know it's still quite a few days until Christmas, but I hope you will all have a wonderful and magical time with all your loved ones!)

[orihara-infobroker]

The Broken System

Rant to Follow. Keep scrolling if you don’t want to read my angry opinions on the fundamental wrongness of politics and economics in my country/province.

There is nothing to truly showcase the flaws of a system like an emergency situation. A year ago the majority of my province made a very grave mistake and chose to vote into power a party and a premier who do not care about the people at all. Their behaviour has been completely unsurprising to the minority of us who did not vote for them. Every campaign promise that they made, they proceeded to break. They took money from health and education and funnelled it into a non-essential “war room” that was supposed to save our economy by attempting to save our failing oil industry. When economists have been predicting for years that the oil industry is failing. There will not be another boom. Oil prices will not go up. Diversification is required.

But I live in the Texas of Canada. I live in a province that refuses to see the forest for the trees. The NDP party began to diversify the economy. They held education and health care as priorities and they invested in alternate businesses, both in the energy sector and elsewhere. They offered tax breaks to tech startups, drawing them to the province. They looked into alternate energy businesses. they raised the minimum wage and changed labour laws to protect workers. They did a lot of things that benefited the middle class and low-income people. And the economy began to recover.

Because people with money spend money.

When the UCP took over they immediately scrapped much of what the NDP worked hard to build. They announced cuts to front line health. They announced cuts to education. They handed out 4.7 billion dollars to non-Canadian corporations in an attempt to “create jobs”. Because trickle-down economics you know. Those corporations did not create jobs. They took their handout, laid off workers, and pulled out of Alberta. The rich do not move the economy.

So. 2020. Enter Covid-19. Pandemic. State of Emergency.

Absolutely unprecedented circumstances. What does the UCP government do? The UCP tears up a contract with Alberta doctors. The UCP plans to lay off frontline health care professionals. The UCP delists a range of services, forcing patients to pay out of pocket. The UCP fires educational staff because “they aren’t needed right now” - when they promised that no one would be let go for the remainder of the normal school year (aka jobs guaranteed until June).

The UCP creates a temporary benefit (just until the Federal programs roll out) then restricts it to only those who are quarantining due to Covid. It is not accessible to parents who had to stay home because schools and daycares are closed and thus lost their job. It does not cover those who are still employed but have lost shifts due to no business. It does not cover those who have to stay home to take care of a sick family member. It does not cover anyone who is eligible for Employment Insurance federally.

So basically, it covers barely anyone.

So. How is this relevant to me? 

The restaurant industry has been one of the hardest hit across Canada. There have already been small, independently owned restaurants who have closed their doors permanently. The government of Alberta shut restaurants down on Friday. The only thing we are allowed to do is offer take out. Which is something but it’s simply not enough.

Fun fact. Restaurant staff are some of the lowest paid workers. Apparently cooking and serving you food isn’t considered a skilled job worth a decent wage. To double down on that, corporate restaurant chains that make millions refuse to change that ideal. They consistently take advantage of employees by low balling them. Servers make minimum wage. Cooks - if they are lucky - make maybe a dollar above minimum wage. Did you know, in Canada, that culinary is considered a Red Seal Trade? Did you know that chefs are the lowest paid trade in Canada? Did you know that chefs don’t have a union to represent them, unlike every other trade? 

So. On a personal level, though I hate to admit it, I make minimum wage. I started with Mikado when I started school. I needed a part-time job at the time and while I wasn’t happy with the wage, I was being offered the opportunity to learn authentic Japanese cuisine from Japanese chefs. I accepted a lower wage in trade for an amazing opportunity and because I was in school, wage wasn’t really my first concern.

I still have a job. However, my hours have been more than halved. I was doing around 32 hours a week, not quite full time but close enough. Now I’m doing 12-15. Not because I am incapable of work. Not because I don’t want to work. Because of an international crisis. If I ask my manager to lay me off, Employment Insurance will only cover 55% of my average wages. So around 15 hours. So about the same as I’m making while still working. But there is a very high chance that when this pandemic passes, I will not have a job waiting for me.

My company cannot look out for me. No customers = no profit. Restaurants do not have a high margin. Minimum wage is, in its very nature, the minimum a person needs to live, based on a 40-hour workweek. At half of that, people cannot survive. Employment insurance is meant to be a temporary support when people are between jobs. I am not between jobs. Those chefs and servers who have been laid off are not between jobs. There are no jobs.

This is capitalism. This is austerity governments. This is allowing those of us who are considered “non-essential” to suffer. This is how the working class, those upon whom the economy is built, are treated under “trickle-down economics”. This is where we desperately need our government to step in and help.

But our government is refusing to lift a finger. Instead, they are lining their own pockets and trying to pass off their obligation to the Federal government. Whose plans are slightly better but still don’t address the sweeping problems. 

By comparison, in countries that operate on a more socialist level, their working-class are not suffering in the same way. There are a variety of solutions that could truly support all people. But those solutions are socialist. Therefore bad. We don’t want to be leftists. Because caring for all of our people means billionaires can’t be billionaires. The rich might end up a tiny bit less rich. But don’t worry, they’ll still be able to afford five cars, two houses, and a timeshare in Mexico. -_-

When the pandemic has passed, we will be living in a depression. One that I fear, in my province, thanks to the short-sighted and greedy behaviour of my government will probably rival the great depression. The system doesn’t work. 

And what truly astonishes me the most is that there are still people who don’t see this. People who are in similar situations to me. Working-class people, who are out of work but still think that somehow austerity and corporations are going to save us? HOW? THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU.

How can you believe that it is perfectly acceptable to make millions of people suffer when we have the ability to stop it?

[innuendostudios]

New episode of The Alt-Right Playbook called Always a Bigger Fish. Here we dissect the core ideology of conservatism, which is somewhat different from what conservatives claim it’s about, and get into why fascists keep getting footholds in conservative parties.

Shout-out to Steve Shives for playing Your Conservative Friend.

If you like this series, consider helping it keep coming out on the regular by backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’ve got this friend. You know, that one friend? You were buddies in high school but don’t really see each other anymore except online? And you used to argue about politics for fun when you were teenagers, but, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve drifted further left and he’s gone sharply right, and your arguments don’t feel so frivolous anymore. And maybe you’ve agreed that it’s better for your friendship to stop getting into it with each other, but you’ve just posted on Facebook about how college in America should be free and all student loans forgiven, and your friend has left a comment he’s not supposed to leave, and you’re not supposed to respond but you really wanna respond, so, after a moment’s hesitation, you shoot him a DM.

“Why do you care how we’d afford free tuition? Wars are a lot more expensive than education, but you never seem to care how we pay for those. We just go into debt and you’re fine with it. Anyway, aren’t you the party that says deficits don’t matter?”

“Yeah, but you’re Democrats. You’re not going to run a deficit, you’re going to raise taxes, aren’t you?”

“Taxes are generally how governments pay for things.”

“Spoken like a proper socialist.”

“No socialist would call that socialism. Only you, and only when we pay for things you don’t like. But when we build roads, or subsidize corn, then then you just call it government.”

“Those are things we can’t pay for without governments! But we can pay for college ourselves. We’ve been doing it since forever.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but it’s not the 1950’s anymore! Time was, you didn’t need a degree to get a good job. Now you do. And you could pay for college waiting tables, but now you can’t. Nowadays college is a necessity, and people can’t afford it.”

“Why do liberals make excuses for people? If you want to go to college and don’t have the money, then you study and work hard and get a scholarship. You earn it instead of complaining until somebody gives it to you.”

“Do you think people aren’t doing that? Do you think there’s millions of unclaimed scholarships just lying around waiting for someone to apply for them? There is nowhere near enough financial aid to get everyone to college who needs to go.”

“That’s not my problem! They can crowdfund. Or get a loan. Or, whatever, go on Oprah. The government doesn’t owe you an education on my dime.”

“It’s not gonna be your dime! You don’t make that much. No one’s talking about raising your taxes. If some billionaire you’ll never meet gets taxed to put some kid you’ll never meet through school, why should you even care?”

“If somebody robs a bank that isn’t my bank, I’m still opposed to robbery. I have a problem with taking money someone earned to give someone a degree they aren’t owed.”

“Why is what happens to poor people ‘not your problem,’ but what happens to rich people is? You think you’re gonna be rich someday?”

“Oh please. You’re the one the one who thinks they’re gonna be rich.”

“I assure you I do not.”

But then he says something that blows your mind a little bit. Something that makes you think you’ve been going about this the wrong way. Something that makes all the seeming contradictions of Republican thought maybe make some kinda sense.

He says, “Yes you do. Democrats think they’re going to take the money from billionaires and spread it around. Give it to a bunch of poor people so they can go to college. And everyone gets a degree, and everyone gets a good job, and healthcare is free, and minimum wage is 80 bucks and hour. And everyone’s saving lots of money, so what then? Everyone’s rich. Everyone works in tech. Everyone moves to New York and California. And nobody’s a billionaire, and nobody’s broke, and everyone’s great at their job because all they needed was the right opportunity, and no one’s better than anyone at anything. It’s a fantasy, and we shouldn’t have to pay you to LARP it. You think you can make everyone the same, but you can’t. There’s always a bigger fish.”

[beat]

You say, “Did you just quote The Fantom Phucking Menace at me?”

And he says, “I guess I did, lol.”

And that’s as good a time as any to drop it.

But the conversation sticks with you. See, when you talk to your conservative friend, you operate as though you have the same base assumptions: belief in democracy, “do unto others,” etc. etc. If you didn’t believe your friend shared these assumptions, you’d basically be calling him a fascist or a sadist. And you conclude that, if you believe in democracy, you must believe in equality, and, if you believe in equality, you must believe in equal access to education, and must conclude that governments should help pay tuition. And so you give your friend the benefit of the doubt that, if he doesn’t understand this very simple logical progression, he either hasn’t had it properly explained to him, or has, at some point, been lied to. Because no one could believe in “all citizens are equal” and “always a bigger fish” at the same time.

But, by this thinking, you’re treating most conservatives as people who want, in their hearts, to be liberals, but have so far failed. And maybe that’s why they think liberals are condescending?

What if he doesn’t have the same base assumptions as you? Or what if he does, but he has other assumptions you aren’t aware of, that lead him to different conclusions? He is often misinformed, but what if that isn’t the problem? What if he… actually believes something else?

We’ve been circling around this one for a while. We’ve talked about what liberals believe, we’ve talked about what fascists believe, we’ve talked about what nihilists believe, or rather what they don’t believe, or rather why they aren’t actually nihilists. But this is a tough one: What do conservatives believe?

(o god I’m going to get yelled at so much for this one)

The United States, like much of the Western world, is a capitalist democracy. That’s what we’re raised in, that’s what seems normal to us. And, in our normal lives, democracy and capitalism seem to coexist easily: voting doesn’t feel like a violation of capitalism, buying a bagel doesn’t feel like a violation of democracy. But sometimes they come into tension with one another. And, speaking really broadly, when a choice between them has to be made, a liberal is someone who tends to think democratically, and a conservative is someone who tends to think like a capitalist.

THE OPERATIVE WORD HERE IS “TEND.” Liberals are still capitalists and conservatives still stan for democracy, and the preference for one or the other may be very slight. Nevertheless, which way a person leans reveals their priorities.

The democratic framework - or, at least, a democratic framework - is “one citizen, one vote.” No matter who you are, you are born with certain in- or possibly unalienable rights, and any system that doesn’t guarantee you those rights is a tyranny. Freedom, agency, and a hand in the strictures that govern you; everyone is entitled to these things. It’s an egalitarian mindset; people gain power by electoral process, i.e. when it is granted to them by the masses, with whom the true power resides, and whom the Constitution guarantees the right to take that power away from an electee. Rather than powerful, the elected official is, in a sense, an employee with millions of bosses, all of whom have equal authority. This is the idea of democracy, with the history of democracy being riddled with failures to live up to this ideal, but part of the project of liberalism has been about making the government more closely resemble its ideology.

The capitalist framework, by contrast, is that of businesses and markets, where “big fish eat the little ones.” If two people start businesses in the same field, and one makes more profit than the other, that person can make more investments, open more locations, undercut their competitor’s prices. The more money you have, the more money you can make. So advantage compounds, where even small failures often mean getting muscled out of the field. Now, with some creativity - a novel cost-saving practice or a new delivery method - the underdog can still thrive, and this is part of what conservatives like about the market: that it demands this creativity in a live-ammo environment. But most will not beat the odds; that’s how odds work. Since there will always be more failures than successes, the general trajectory of unregulated capitalism is money pooling into fewer and fewer hands. Things naturally sort themselves into a hierarchy with sharks at top, a million minnows at the bottom.

Since we all live with both of these frameworks in our minds, and most of the things we do in our day-to-day lives can be justified by either one, we don’t often notice the contradictions between them, and it’s easy to imagine whichever one tends to be our default is everyone else’s default as well. But issues like poverty, taxation, and education are areas where the contradictions matter, and we are sometimes shocked by how different the world looks to our conservative friends.

In conservative thinking, this hierarchy is humanity’s natural state. The American Dream is “here, anyone can make it.” No matter who you are or what you start with, you can become a billionaire. But a necessary component of this is: anyone can, but everyone can’t. We’re not all gonna be billionaires, there’s a finite amount of money in this country. For any one person to have so, so, so much more than they need, there must - mathematically - be thousands of people with less. Your conservative friend is often baffled as to what you’re even trying to say when you point out there’s not enough high-paying jobs or affordable health plans for everyone; there’s not supposed to be. The system requires an underclass. Someone’s gotta clean the toilets.

Capitalism, then, is a proving ground. It’s how you demonstrate where in the hierarchy you deserve to be. Do you have more than you need, or less? Anything you’ve got, you beat someone else to it. How resourceful were you? How well did you play? The field is, by no means, level, but any disadvantage just means you have to work harder. We know people who start with nothing can win big; if you are a shark, you will make your way to the top, because that’s where you belong. Anyone complaining about how stacked the deck is against them is making excuses for not being better at the game.

Disadvantage itself is not a problem, so long as it is (quote-unquote) “natural.” What’s necessary is that advantage and disadvantage not be imposed from without. Free tuition, a high minimum wage, taxes on the wealthy, or any other kind of government meddling, these things must be opposed, because, with them, people would end up in the wrong places. Power has to be earned; if it isn’t earned, it won’t be properly wielded, and then society ends up a mess. Conservatives generally feel what’s wrong with the world today can be chalked up to people not being where they should be in the social order. They used to be where they belonged, but then liberals gummed everything up with their government handouts and forced representation. (When, exactly, things were the way they should be is a bit of a moving target: nowadays, they act like it was the 80’s, in the 80’s it was the 50’s, and in the 50’s it was some time before the New Deal. So, following the nostalgia cycle, it’s usually “about thirty years ago.”)

Conservatives are distrustful of any effort to make society more equal because, deep down, they don’t believe equal societies are real. Obviously, “all citizens created equal” needs to be the government’s position, because you can’t trust the government to know where to put people, so it has to treat everyone the same. But this is a legal fiction, like corporate personhood. It just means “the government leaves the market alone so the hierarchy can reveal itself.” You’re not supposed to believe in an equal distribution of power. What are you, seven? This is just the way the world is. Look at alpha wolves, silverbacks; consider the lobster.

You are one, single individual within a system, and it is your job to rise or fall within it on the sweat of your own back. You don’t change the system. Society’s problems come from the rules being too weakly enforced. The answer is always more discipline. Your conservative friend thinks you’re naive for thinking the system even can be changed, and his is the charitable interpretation! Many conservatives assume liberals - at least, the smart liberals - know that the hierarchy is eternal, that there will always be people at the top and people at the bottom, so any claim towards making things equal must be a Trojan horse for something that benefits them. (Why would they assume that? Because that’s what they do.) The real liberal agenda is to put people in the wrong places on purpose. Boost liberal allies, hold back liberal opposition. You don’t want to break up the pyramid, you’re just trying to sneak someone else to the top.

A lot of conservative contradictions start to make sense through this lens. Of any issue, simply ask: does this distribute power, or consolidate it? If power flows up the hierarchy, they’re for it, if it flows down, they’re against it. How can conservatives say $15 an hour is too much for flipping burgers but somehow $11.5 million an hour isn’t too much to run Amazon? Because, if you’re flipping burgers, you’re a minnow, and you don’t need $15 an hour to be a minnow. But sharks, they deserve all they can get because they know what to do with it. They use it to give us Amazon. Don’t you want Amazon?

We keep assuming conservatives defend the rich because they think they’ll be rich someday, and, sure, they would love to be. But it’s more nuanced than that: they defend the rich because they believe the rest of us need the rich. We’d be lost without them. There should be no shame in being beneath the rich, not if the right people are rich; no shame in being a cog in the machine so long as the machine produces something beautiful. There is a real fear that everyone filling their proscribed role is the only thing keeping us from complete and total not-the-fun-kind-of anarchy. There is honor in being in your place and doing your best with it. Most especially if your place isn’t at the very bottom.

The thing about hierarchies is that they’re self-similar on many scales. If you’re in the middle, then you serve the king. Valar dohaeris. But, to everyone beneath you, you are the king. You’ve got a good job and a good wage, that gives you some power over people who don’t. And getting pissed at those above implies that those below have a right to be pissed at you. There’s a real anxiety that liberals want to make room for those people in the middle by putting conservatives at the bottom, and that those people will then treat conservatives the way conservatives treated them. Freedom, respect, and empathy are looked on as finite resources in a competitive marketplace just like jobs and scholarships.

Also, most conservatives are white men, and so are most billionaires. So, but for the wealth, they actually have a lot in common, which makes it easy to empathize with billionaires, and to feel empowered by seeing people like oneself do so well. And white men at the top influence policy in ways that serve people like them them, which materially benefits white men in the middle. The wellbeing of white billionaires becomes a metonym for the wellbeing of all white men. A slight on them is a slight on all of us. White men want to believe that these billionaires earned their station, and not that their gender or race got them preferential treatment, because that would imply their own treatment may have also been biased in their favor, and maybe it’s not the liberals giving people power they don’t deserve.

No matter how much a conservative believes in “earning” one’s place, they have, always in the back of their mind, an image of what society should look like, and any discrepancy between imagination and observation must mean foul play. This feminist is too respected, this Black superhero is too popular, it can’t be because they’re worthy; someone must have put their hand on the scales. Someone got a freebie or played the race card or faked a scandal. This means, even though they claim the hierarchy is natural, what they will or won’t accept as legitimate is a gut feeling. If they like what they see, they take credit for it; if they don’t, it’s the Left’s fault. And what does it say about them that they see a bunch of white, male sharks and think, “Yeah, that’s authentic”?

The innate authenticity of wealth and power is the starting point. Like, OK, you know when they open the door to Kingdom Hearts, and on the other side there’s Mickey with his shirt off, and you’re like, “Why would Mickey with his shirt off be on the other side of that door?” and the answer is “I dunno, we’ll figure it out in like seven games”? Rich people believing “it’s good for everyone that I’m rich” is the starting assumption - that’s Mickey with his shirt off - and conservatism is the pile of games where they make up reasons why that might be true after the fact. It’s a retcon. This hierarchy is not democratic; it’s Birth by Sleep: A Fragmentary Passage.

Savvy viewers may be remembering another political philosophy that is hierarchical, undemocratic, built on nostalgia, and that likes to cloak its policies in progressive camouflage, and that’s the one from two videos ago: fascism. (ooooooohhhhhh golly) Now: I am not calling conservatives fascists. There are distinctions: Under fascism, the hierarchy is much, much less meritocratic, and the nostalgia is much, much older. However: conservative thinking is, at the very least, one that fascism maps more cleanly onto. Fascists appeal to this hierarchical mindset by portraying all of history as struggles between ethnic groups over who gets to be where. “Someone's got to be at the bottom, white man. We'll make sure it isn't you.” You’ll find, throughout history, that fascist movements, though they often pick up dissidents from all over the political spectrum (the “Third Position,” for instance, is fascism for anti-capitalists), when they find purchase in a political party, it’s pretty much always the conservative party. Look at France, look at Brazil, look at here. Whether you want to interpret that as conservatives being uniquely susceptible to fascists, or diet fascism being another name for conservatism, I leave that up to you.

Fascism - and, to an extent, libertarianism - are… ‘roided up extrapolations of the hierarchical mindset, in the same way socialism and anarchy are extrapolations of the egalitarian one. We can see conservatism as a kind of compromise between fascism and democracy, and liberalism as a compromise between capitalism and socialism. They are two different attempts to solve the tensions between these ways of thinking without giving either one up. You could just as easily claim that liberalism is watered-down, ineffectual socialism. A lot of the Left would balk at that, but not me, pinko scum that I am.

The most important thing to understand is that you cannot communicate with nor anticipate the behaviors of a conservative if you don’t understand what they believe. Which is hard, because they’re often in denial. You will never convince them to compromise on any attempt to break up the hierarchy, because even incremental change strikes them as revolutionary and they feel they’ve made too many concessions already. You will never get them, of their own free will, to agree to government regulation, because the government, as a democratic institution, is inherently unnatural. If you don’t like what a business is doing, you don’t regulate it, you take your money elsewhere. You should favor the capitalist solution, not the democratic one. (Also, when you vote with your dollar, people with more dollars get more votes.) They will never be onboard with aiding the poor in any systemic way, and will, instead, champion charity and crowdfunding, because minnows getting to eat should always be framed as a gift rather than a right. You may get individual conservatives to come around on some of these, but, as a body, they will never consent to any of it unless they can work it to their advantage or if you have leverage over them. They will sign on when denying progressivism costs them something, because few things terrify them more than slipping down the hierarchy.

And what’s insidious is that most of us have this thinking ingrained in our own minds as well, myself included. We’re all raised in the same culture. This is why they’re able to control the conversation, because they can, with some priming, get us thinking in their terms. A nice upshot is our thinking is also ingrained in their minds, though they’re a little bit better at fighting it.

But as long as you are trying to meet this mentality in the middle, you are leaving the door open for fascists. Conservatism is and always will be vulnerable to them. A good defense against fascism is to consciously, intentionally, think and act in democratic terms, because newsflash: we’re not actually lobsters. Neither of these systems is natural. They are choices we can make. I recommend this one, because egalitarian thinking is one thing Nazis are bad at infiltrating.

If you want to fight fascism, move left.

[marquis1305]

Silk and Steel Ch 2

AO3 Link

Rating: Mature

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

Additional Tags:

Slow Burn, Reader-Insert, Florists, Reader is an Enhanced Individual, Nick Fury Knows All, SHIELD, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Bucky Barnes Feels, Protective Steve Rogers, Hydra (Marvel), enhanced!reader, Reader's Brother works for SHIELD, POV Female Character, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Rhodey is skeptical, Vision is curious, Tony feeds good behavior with blueberries, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Blueberries, backstory incoming

————————————————————–

Chapter 2: The Team

You are introduced to the Avenger's Facility, and with it the first half of your team. Skepticism and witticism abound, and Blueberries are totally a thing.

The trip to the facility was nerve wracking, all the more so for the security checks you had to pass through to get in. You knew that your record was clean, but despite everything you always hated background checks. 

Maybe you were secretly a criminal. Stranger things had happened. 

Running your hands down the thighs of the jeans you were currently sporting, attempting to mask the nervous energy as it built. Your gaze unable to rest on a single detail for too long as the AI guided your way into the conference room, where Rhodey and Vision were already sitting. 

Apparently discussing you. 

“So we’re just supposed to trust a file anonymously sent to us, on an enhanced individual that the world has absolutely no knowledge of? Because there’s no way that that can go wrong.” Rhodey huffed, tossing the file onto the table. Unaware of your presence. 

“I believe we have reason to trust the information sent to us. The files have already been verified, and Mr. Stark seems to approve.”  You can’t be completely certain, but he seems to have moved into your line of sight on purpose. 

“Tony also approved of half the other people that we ended up needing to lock up, or are we just going to forget that?” Rhodey sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I get that her brother needs help, and taking down Hydra is just something we do. But that doesn’t mean we need to involve more people.”

“Except that the princess here is probably the only one who can break her brother’s code.” A voice popped up behind you, making you jump. Whipping around to catch sight of Tony Stark himself. Rhodey turning to face you at the same time and groaning. 

“You couldn’t warn us that she had arrived?”

“Where’s the fun in that… blueberry?” Tony offered you the bag as he passed you to enter the room. Smiling disarmingly as he did. “Right, so here’s the thing, Fury forwarded us your file. Except not a lot of it makes sense. Mostly because over half of it was redacted even before ‘Tasha spilled the beans on SHIELD.” 

Accepting a small handful of the treat, you followed in behind him, keeping a wary gaze on the other two in the room. “That’s because it was part of the agreement my brother had with whoever was in charge. He works for them, they keep me out of it. Unless I agreed to come on board. It was supposed to help keep me safe if anything like this ever happened.” 

“So what, you’ve just managed to stay under the radar this entire time? I’m not saying that I doubt your story, but it’s got a lot of holes in it. And how did Fury even find out about any of this? He’s not involved with SHIELD anymore.” Rhodey waved a hand towards you, the other crossing over his chest to cup under his elbow. 

“Look, if you think Fury isn’t still pulling strings, then you’re obviously not the person I need to talk to about getting my brother safely home.” You scoff, though meeting his gaze. 

“She’s got a point.” Stark chirped, obviously delighted. 

Vision sighed audibly, moving closer to you, his gaze tracing over your face. “We have no intention of allowing your brother to come to harm, miss. But we do need your cooperation if we are to find him as quickly as possible.”

“Cooperation. Right, because that’s how it always starts. And then somehow people like me end up getting sucked into some crazy scheme or another, and things start blowing up.” You grumble under your breath. Taking a moment before shaking your head. “I stayed out of this life for a reason, the only reason that I’m here is to get my brother out of whatever mess he has gotten himself into this time. The way that I always do.” Looking between each of the Avengers for a long moment as they weighed you. 

“Right, so first things first.” Stark hums, offering you the bag of blueberries once more. “We need to figure out what exactly you can do to help. I mean, all it says is you’re enhanced, but the details get a little blurry after that. So if you can say… I dunno… Walk through walls, or read minds, that would be pretty useful about now.”

“If I could do that, do you honestly think I would have been able to stay under the radar for so long?” A wry smile finding your face as you reached out for another handful of the berries, popping them into your mouth one by one.

“I mean, Bruce turns into a giant green monster and he did a fairly good job of it for awhile.” Rhodey raised a brow at you, obviously still not buying the truth of the matter. 

“Fine. It’s easier to show it than explain it.” Sighing before you were reaching out for Tony’s arm, focusing your power into a single jolt of energy connecting the both of you.

“Whoa! Right… Walking shot of espresso… Can we keep her?”

Vision frowned slightly. “Your heart rate has elevated, and it would appear that she has stimulated the growth rate of your cells. Not to the point of mutation… But almost reminiscent of the healing factor found in Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes.”

“Before you ask, no I’m not a healer. It’s not magic or sorcery or anything like that.” Offering a far gentler smile before stealing another handful of the blueberries. Rubbing your lips together for a moment. “With my brother, I can make the totem aspects he chooses stronger. When he chooses the bear, his strength grows. Panther and his reflexes are quicker. Owl and his perception enhances. Et Cetera. All of that is in his files.” Nodding towards the stack of papers on the table. 

“Right, but that doesn’t explain what you do.” Rhodey butted in. 

“Well that’s the thing… My brother and I were almost inseparable for most of our lives. It wasn’t until I headed to University that we even realized I had any abilities.” You shrug slightly. “I was fine with not being Enhanced, worried with his life choices, but I knew that I didn’t want to be apart of any of this. We had never asked for this. But when he called me almost sick with worry about losing his abilities, or that they were growing less powerful with time instead of being able to hone them with training… I agreed to come in for testing as well. Fury had had a theory.”

“He seems to have many of those.” Vision chuckled softly. Leaning against the wall across from you. 

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” You quip back. “So, as soon as I was within a certain radius of my brother, his powers returned to what we thought were normal.” 

“So you enhance the enhanced.” 

“Not just enhanced.” Here was where things got tricky, running a hand through your hair to shake it out. “Anyone. Any living thing. It’s just more obvious with people like us. I run a floral boutique, my flowers seem naturally longer lasting than most, bouquets last for hours without wilting, no matter the weather. Or as Mister Stark just felt, it can feel like a burst of energy.”

“Right, and you what… chose to pick daisies for a living?” Tony scoffed, brows furrowed in almost confusion. “Think someone with that ability would be more likely to become a doctor or nurse… you know, use your abilities to boost immune systems or something.”

“Yeah well, not all of us want to a be a walking cliche, mister mechanical genius in a walking suit of armor. I just happen to like flowers.”

That drew a snort of laughter from the billionaire, looking at you with something nearing respect. “FRIDAY, can you get Happy in here please? I’ve got a new job for him, and he’ll probably like this one as much as he does watching the kid.”

“Of course Mr. Stark. I am certain he will be eager to assist.”

“Right, well, while we wait for him, why don’t we all move somewhere more comfortable. Not that I don’t appreciate the glass walls and fancy tech, that I designed by the way, Bunny-” “Bunny?” Your brow arched high with that, lips beginning to purse.

“Yeah, as in energizer, not play boy… Not that you wouldn’t fit that description either, but my point being…” Tony waved his hands as he spoke, you wondered if it was a nervous tic, or just left over from the burst he had felt by connecting with you. “Is that we are not the only people that Fury called in for assistance on this matter. And I am going to require something along the lines of liquid courage to deal with the rest of the team. Who are, also, waiting on you.” Nodding his head in your direction before gently placing a hand to your back, guiding you from the conference room. 

Apparently it was time to meet the rest of the team. 

[soriseerakyra]

A Flight of Fancy -2-  (Black!Batmom)

A/N I meant to have this out earlier but I got sick and other parts of life happened. Thank you @faralasunita for requesting this!

“Sorry!” You say quickly and slap a hand over your mouth.

The room had gone quiet at your slip of the tongue. Was there a time when you were even capable of having a normal day? Why did it seem like every time something was going well you ruined it? Maybe, if you were lucky, you could get Kenya to take the attention off of you and you could go hide in the bathroom until the end of the day.

 An amused chuckle causes a pause in your self-deprecating thoughts. You look up to meet those stunning blue eyes again and he gives you another warm smile.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

 The apology seems to soothe the ruffled feathers in the room as the quiet mutterings of business conversations begin to pick up again.

Your shoulders relax when the attention is turned off of you and you take a deep breath to try and center yourself.

 Sure, he’s a famous billionaire that owns half of the city that your live in, but you’re the tech expert here, right? What is there to be afraid of?

 “Um, what would you like to know, sir?”

 His shoulders stiffen slightly when you call him sir and by the amused light in his eyes you can tell that he’s trying not to laugh at your formality. Trying your best not fold back into your shy shell, you use his apparent friendliness as a crutch to calm yourself. After all, he clearly had no problem with your profanity, maybe he wasn’t like the others that Kenya worked with.

 “I was looking over the deigns I was sent and I wanted to be clear before I made any assumptions, but your prototype can make new muscle tissue.”

 “Actually, it just stimulates the cells in your body to promote rapid regeneration. And it works on damaged skin too.”

 “Really?” He muses and for a quick moment his eyes seem far away. “And what about muscle and cartilage that is already gone?”

 “Gone? Like due to injury or just time?” You ask.

 “Both.”

 “Muscle shouldn’t be a problem. But cartilage would be harder especially if its ‘gone.’ But it would be still possible to rebuild it. That’s what I programmed the A.I. for.”

 “Oh?”

 “Theoretically the A.I. should detect the type of degradation and the best type of treatment for each unique case. It also can target areas that are susceptible to the same type of degradation and reinforce those areas to slow and prevent it.”

 “That’s a lot for a prototype.”

 “I suppose,” you say slightly embarrassed. “I was just brought on not too long ago and the team that had already been working on the design had done such a good job I wanted to give them as good I got.”

 He looks like he wants to ask you another question but he hesitates as his hand dips into his pocket. He pulls out a sleek black phone and looks at the screen. His eyes narrow in annoyance before he flashes apologetic eyes back at you.

 “I’m sorry but it seems that I’m need elsewhere. Do you have a card?”

 “A card?” You question dumbly. “I-”

 A warm hand secures itself on your shoulder as a slender body press against yours. Discreetly, you feel the familiar texture of a business card press into your free hand.

 “Yes, I do,” you say almost mechanically as you extend the hand out toward the man.

 Another amused look passes over his face as he locks eyes with not only you but the cunning woman hovering over your shoulder. You’re more than confident that Kenya has set this up somehow.

 “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be in touch.”

 He turned and quickly exited the room, having to turn broad shoulders to make sure that he didn’t hit the doors on the way out. As he left, the pressure in the room seemed to dissipate, and so did the nervousness in your belly.

 “Good job girlie,” Is coyly whispered in your ear.

 A shiver runs down your back as a feeling of dread washes over you. Why did it feel like you had just gotten caught up into one of Kenya’s schemes?

 ***

“Are you okay?”

 The question comes as you swallow thickly, throat still tight with nerves.

 “That was a set up wasn’t it?” You ask, cheeks still warm.

 Kenya looks at you with a raised eyebrow and scrunches her nose up, “Of course it was. You think Bruce Wayne was there by accident?”

 The woman circles her smoothie and takes a sip from the large straw, “We’ve been trying to bait him to invest for months. And here you come, a cute bundle of tech-savvy know-it-all. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the moment he saw you.”

 “Why me?” You question; it comes out as almost a whine.

 “The research says-”

 “Research?” You question with a questioning eyebrow. “Research on what?”

 “The research I had Max do on Wayne of course,” She said looking at you strangely. “You think I go into anything unprepared?”

 “Okay but what do I have to do with anything?”

 “Aside from the fact that he has bad habits when it comes to pretty girls?” She asks rhetorically. “Everyone I’ve ever talked to about doing business with Wayne says that he’s more interested in the shit he’s buying than the actual business behind it.”

 “What does that mean?” You question.

 “He’ll buy the most experimental tech even its just the designs to it, and he pays big too. And it seems like he’s not even worried about what kind of kickback that he gets on it. Half the stuff he buys you never hear about again. He’s like some kind of hoarder.”

 “You must be hoping that he’s going to make you a lot of money.”

 “I’m hoping that you both will,” She says with a smirk crossing her arms around her chest.

 “Both?”

 “He buys the design; the prototype and you build and program it. I’ll negotiate a 60-40 split and make partner in under a year by bringing the most lucrative contract to the company in the past twenty years.”

 “But you just said that he never even the develops the designs that he buys? How am I supposed to get him to build it?”

 “Like I said I do my research,” she said throwing an apple slice in her mouth. “Again, he doesn’t buy things because he thinks they’ll be successful. I’m betting he’s one of those ‘I believe in the inventor’ types. You know, that type of person that’s just more excited to see someone get their shot than they are worried if they’ll be successful. All you gotta do is bat those big eyes at him and tell how this your dream and I’m sure he’ll let you build it.”

 “I feel like you’re making this simpler than it actually is,” you say skeptically. “For one thing, you know I’m not a good liar. And I don’t really want to sound like a jerk, but this project isn’t really one that I care about.”

 “But the A.I. part is,” Kenya corrects smoothly. “I didn’t say that you need to be excited about the whole thing just part of it. It should be enough to get you in there and make him think you’re genuine.”

 “There’s another problem,” You comment with a heavy sigh. “If I look at him, my mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, I can barely talk to him.”

 Kenya let’s out a sigh of her own, but its tinged with annoyance and heavily irritated brown eyes, “This is business, you’re going to have to get over that. I need you to, you need you to. I’ve given you this cushy job and I need you to pay me back. I’m not asking you to engage with him like you guys are friends. All I want you to do is use that big brain of yours.”

 You have to avert your gaze from the intensity of her eyes, but you can’t escape the slightly accusatory tone in her voice. You know she doesn’t mean it, that it’s just part of her way. And she is right, in some ways you do owe her. A part of you knew that she wouldn’t be asking you to do this if she was confident enough that she would be able to close the deal herself. It most likely bothered her that she wasn’t enough to do it by herself. An aggressively independent spirit like Kenya’s more likely to be harder on herself than she would be on others.

 “All right,” you relent.

 “Good,” she said with a satisfied smile. “You’re going to need to by that phone of yours. You never know when he'll call."

 ***

 It was imposing; the dark screen of your sleeping phone. It had been two days. And Bruce Wayne still hadn't called. Kenya's ominous warning that he could called anytime hung of your head. For hours would spend your time thinking about how you would answer the phone.

 Obviously, he knew he would be calling you, but that didn't mean you shouldn't answer the phone professionally, right? But he didn't seem like that type of person, and if Kenya was right, he probably wouldn't have been responsive to something robotic.

 'Be Cool'

 That's probably the essence that you needed to embody in order to talk to him. To talk to anybody. If you had Kenya or Jo Jo's cool demeanor getting through the everyday struggles of the world might have been easier.

 'Ugh I shouldn't have taken this job.'

 Just as the thought runs across your mind your phone begins to vibrate. The black screen suddenly coming alive and flashing a familiar name soothes your anxiety slightly.

 "Ari," you whine answering the phone. "You know this is a crucial time for me. You got my heart going for no reason."

 "Oh, he hasn't called yet," she says with a pop of her lips.

 "Is that why you're calling?"

 "Well, yeah," she says honestly. You could see her shrugging her small shoulders. "One of my best friends is going on a date with a hot rich guy. Am I not supposed to be excited about that?"

 "Date?" You question confusedly, nose scrunching at the insinuation. "Where did you get that from?"

 "Oh, come on." she says slightly exasperated. "You can't be that naive. You know he's slept through more than half this town, right?"

 "And what does that have to do with me?"

 "So, you mean you aren't getting pimped out by Kenya and her bosses?"

 "Pimped out!" You say with more than a little bit of anger in your tone. "She wouldn't do something like that."

 "Please, you're playing yourself, baby girl," Ari says with a chuckle. "She'd sell her soul if it meant she could get a promotion, you know that."

 "I'm not being sold to anyone!" You argue. "It's part of my responsibility on this project to convince people to buy it."

 "And it's part of Kenya's job to know how to lure in those people. Tell me that she didn't mention your looks once when guys talked."

 You grow silent, remembering the conversation from two days ago. She had made mention of people thinking you were pretty. But that was just to butter you up wasn't it?

 "Ooo she did, didn't she?" Ari asks slyly when you don't answer after a few moments.

 "It's not like that," you say somewhat weakly.

 "You're right," Ari relents slightly, but the smug tone is still clear in her voice. "Maybe you can get what you need with your brain, that doesn't mean you're not going to be-"

 A beep cuts her off mid-sentence. You pull the phone away from your ear and look at the phone. An unknown number was flashing across the screen and your heart plummeted to your stomach. This was him; you know it was.

 “I gotta go,” you mumble.

 “Tell me how it goes,” She coos knowingly.

 The phone line clicks, and with a shaky breath you answer the phone.

 “Hello?” You ask nervously.

 “Hello, have I reached the A.I. project manager for Warner and Bobbitt's?”

 Your heart flutters slightly in relief, it’s not him.

 “Yes, this is she,” You respond slightly more confidently than you were before.

 “I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Wayne of Wayne enterprises, in an attempt to set up and appointment.”

 ***

The Wayne Enterprises building was intimidating enough from the outside, but sitting in one of their private waiting rooms, was a different level of scary.

 A secretary had escorted you into the beige room around twenty minutes ago and you’d been sitting quietly and alone ever since. You’d been offered a coffee but you were too scared to let anything drip on to your blouse.

 This was it; this was the moment that Kenya and, in her own way, Ari had tried to prepare you for. What if you couldn’t get him to let you finish the project yourself, or worse. What if he had called you here to tell you that he had changed his mind? Would that mean you would have to resort to the means that Ari had implied? Were you even comfortable doing that? Did Kenya expect that of you?

 “Excuse me, miss.”

 It’s a warm deep voice that breaks you out of your thoughts. Your shoulders jump slightly and turned to see a smiling face.

 He’s an older man, older than both you and Bruce Wayne complete with snow white hair. However, like Bruce Wayne he gives you a more than amused smile at your reaction.

 “Lucius Fox,” He says walking toward your seat with an outstretched hand.

 You stand and shake his hand, trying to smooth out the skirt you were wearing as discreetly as possible.

 “Nice to me you Mr. Fox,” You says smiling and giving your name.

 “I’m here to give you a tour of the facility,” Lucius says.

 “A tour?” You question slightly confusedly. “I thought I was just supposed to be meeting with Mr. Wayne about my project.”

 “Truth be told, Mr. Wayne has a habit of not being on time,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes.

 “So, you’re here to stall for time,” you say with a chuckle.

 “Something like that,” he says with a chuckle and a wave of his hand.

 You follow the man along until you reach a set of elevators.  Once inside Lucius pulls a card from one of his pockets.

 “Employees only,” he comments good naturedly as he waves it slightly.

 “Oh, you don’t have to show me anything off limits,” you say quickly. “I’m not that hard to impress.”

 “Bosses orders,” He says with a shrug.

 “He must be really late then,” You say plainly.

 You earn a hearty chuckle from the man as he swipes a card in the reader.

 Your slightly surprised when the elevator begins to descend, you cast a curious gaze at the man whose accompanying you.

 “Not too far underground I promise,” he says quickly.

 You nod, but you feel slightly uncertain, like there is something going on that has to do with you being more than stalled.

 “All right,” you say reluctantly.

 You aren’t completely sure how you’re supposed to feel. You don’t exactly feel unsafe, but you’re definitely sure that you are being jerked around by your chain. What exactly is it that they want with you?

 “Here we are,” Lucius says once the elevator stops.

 The doors open and you are slightly stunned by what you see.

 “What exactly is this?” You ask slightly confused.

 “Your office,” A voice answers.

 With wide surprised eyes you turn to see another figure joining Lucius.

 Tall and broad shouldered with salt and pepper hair, Bruce Wayne stands there with a confident look in his eye.

 “If you’ll have it,” He finishes with a smile.

 “For me?” You question confusedly. Your eyes flash to Lucius as you try to understand the situation.

 “If you want it,” Bruce says again walking past you into the large open room. It was larger than any lab that you had worked in, even the one Kenya provided you with, and that had been shared by at least four people.

 This was a gigantic room, so large it was hard to believe that it was for you. Who would want to invest this much in you?

 The room was empty save for a console in the middle where the CEO seemed to be making his way toward.

 “It doesn’t look like much now,” He states as he too seems to luxuriate in the vastness of the room. “But you’ll have unlimited resources to experiment and work on what it is that you want.”

 “What’s the catch?” You find yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

 A warm hand squeezes you on your shoulder and you look up to find Mr. Fox staring down at you with another warm smile.

 Lucius begins to lead you over to the stand near where Bruce is and the floor tiles in front of the three of you begin to open.

 Your mouth hangs open as a piece of machinery rises from the ground.

 The main area is about as long as a standard hospital bed, but the structure itself looked more like a chrome plated tanning bed than anything.  On the same platform stood a large free-standing monitor. There were components missing but the attempt was more than recognizable.

 “This is my design,” you say slightly surprised. “You built my design.”

 “Almost,” Lucius says. There is a slight hint of exasperation in his voice. ��Your design is complicated but, on the surface, I could figure it out-”

 “Were you going to steal my work?” You ask accusingly looking at the blue-eyed man with narrowed eyes.

 Bruce Wayne seems slightly surprised at the accusation and your tone, “Not at all. I have every intention in buying your design.”

 “What I gave you, what I gave Kenya, was just a prototype. I’m not even sure that it would completely work at this stage. Why on earth would you try and build it?”

 “Does it matter?” He asks smoothly. The coolness of his tone surprises you, so much so you have to check your own anger. “I’m offering you an opportunity, to build not only this. But whatever it is that you set your mind to. And all I ask, is that you finish your design.”

Your eyes look back and forth between the two men, “What if I say no.”

 Fox frowns, but Bruce reacts differently. There is another amused glint in his eye and its slightly malicious. It causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

 “Then I buy your design as promised, and the rights to its reproduction, and anything derivative of it.”

“That would mean, I wouldn’t be able to finish or improve my own design.”

 “And if you tried, I’d sue you,” He confirms.

 Your shoulders fall. What had you gotten into? What had Kenya gotten you into?

 “Your answer?”