And here is part two of my Post Office Holiday Extravaganza! :)
Clockwise from upper left:
Joy To The World from @amelioratrix. This was a terrible year, but I’m glad I could help :)
A very unique Aussie Christmas card and a lovely koala sketch from @kessira -- your art’s going on my cubicle wall!
A tartan tree in silver and gold from @geekgirl76 -- amusingly, a little hole wore in the envelope right where the tree topper is, so it looked like it was peeking out at me :)
A very cool 3-D card with gingerbread cookies and nutcrackers from @agentpaxieamor -- it’s been good to see you around again :) I share your hopes for 2017...
The brightly-colored snowflake card is from @guinea-goon -- I included the wax seal so that you could see that I opened the envelope around it, since I thought it was lovely. :D And an S, which makes it even better!
The man being destroyed by rats is a FRANKLY AMAZING card which reads “This holiday season be kind to those less fortunate -- because some hoboes can control rats with their minds.” I cracked up laughing. :D Lillian, I can’t quite read your username in the card because I am old but I believe it’s @lillianb -- please let me know if that’s wrong and I’ll correct it!
THOSE ARE SOME BUCKNEKKED SUPERHEROES, and the card is from @karadin, and I believe the art is also? Hit me up with a link if you posted it and I will definitely reblog :D (Sam looks especially smug.)
The Dia De Los Muertos skulls are from @la-rainette, a very apt theme for the holidays I’ve always thought, given how DARK so many christmas carols can be. So it might not be seasonal, but it’s still thematically appropriate :)
And in the middle, some GLITTER PENGUINS from @bookfanatic -- I hope the holiday is everything you’d like it to be too!
Thanks for your lovely cards and good wishes for the new year. I have high hopes for 2017, as insane as that sounds as we drag ourselves out of 2016. And what struck me reading these cards is that it seems like other people do too. It’s been a terrible year and we face a frightening and uncertain future, but what I see in people most clearly is hope. Possibly desperate hope, but hope nonetheless. :)
She nodded, wide-eyed and innocent, turned and walked for the door.
"Ms. Rushman?"
She turned and looked at him, one perfect brow arching in curiosity.
"When you worked for Mr. Stark...what was he like? Did he respect you? Treat you as a valued member of the team? Because I hate to think of someone harassing you. Someone looking at you and seeing you as something he was entitled to. Tony has issues with entitlement. Thinks he deserves everything he wants whenever he wants it." Hammer's mouth was sullen, even as his eyes were avid, and Natasha knew he was both envisioning Tony touching her, getting off on it, and hating it at the same time. Hoping he could go one better, prove himself the better man either by comparison or achieving something Tony hadn't.
Even f it hadn't been a disgusting prospect - which it was - it was far, far too early in the game for him to think she'd let him in her pants. Any increase in accessibility to his private files and possessions would be offset by him thinking he could be inconveniently close whenever he wanted; as thick as he was, he might stumble over something that way that would alert him to something off about her.
No, that wasn't happening. This one could set them up for life--not that she was looking to retire while she was still having fun but there was something to be said for a safety net, for being able to hide out in Provence when things got hot rather than an uncomfortable few weeks in Jersey on Steve's couch.
That, and it would be a sin and a shame if Pepper couldn't afford Louboutins; there was something about the flash of murder-red sole with demure little business suit that felt like a secret kiss, the pirate inside the princess that only she could see. When she'd confessed that to her the first time, Pepper had stripped down to JUST the Louboutins; they'd torn the sheets to shreds.
It had been BEYOND worth it, Natasha thought, pulse speeding up at the memory of all that white skin with its delicate scattering of freckles, the illusion of cool sweetness and the black leather classic pumps with heels just a LITTLE too high and pointed, the way she'd smiled, as innocent as a flower as she'd slid up her body and pinned her hands to the headboard with hers...
She was waiting, leaning against the car, and Natasha blinked. "That's a risk, don't you think?" she said and Pepper smiled as she opened the door for her before getting in.
"You're sweet for worrying, but I was in the mood to celebrate; I found his offshore accounts. By this time tomorrow, we'll be ready to move."
"I love stealing from tax cheats. It's so philosophically satisfying," Natasha sighed as Pepper's fingers curled into hers and they pulled out of the garage, "when they can't complain to the government and don't have the balls to do their own dirty work."
Pepper smiled back at her. "I thought we might go shoe shopping. afterwards."
She imagined Pepper planting a perfect heel in Justin's crotch, except his bank account would probably hurt even more. "Perfect."
Whump fic: Tony Stark or Clint Barton, "Do that and you'll only worsen things."
Natasha's hair spilled across the floor like a splash of blood as the bastard put his foot on her back. "Archer, you have a choice to make," the velvety voice crooned, mad green eyes fixing on him. He can't see you, he told himself fiercely, you're in the shadows. He can't touch you, he's too far away.
Nat, something deeper in him cried out.
Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, but his hands were steady as he nocked an arrow.
"Ah-ah, do that and you'll only worsen things." Loki's grin widened as he pointed his staff at Natasha's head; she was still underneath his foot, too still, crumpled like a doll.
He let fly and watched the bolt sing through the air with fierce satisfaction - except it wasn't an explosive or gas payload, but a milky quartz point like the one he'd found long ago and far away in a streambed. It glistened like glass, like the blue-drenched haze of a door that opened both ways, then crumpled and shattered in the inhumanly fast grip of a mailed fist, and he could feel his heart freezing over...
"Clint. Clint, you're dreaming. Clint, wake up." She was smart enough not to touch him, but her voice was insistent.
"M'wake," he mumbled, hands aching and cramped with the strength of his grip as he became aware of his surroundings, fingers fisted with desperate strength in the bedspread.
"Open your eyes and look at me." Natasha reached over and touched the side of his face, her fingers cool and soft as they brushed the place where desperate tears had tracked unnoticed. " Was it Lo--"
He reached up and lay his fingertips against her lips, unable, unwilling to hear her say it. Superstitious, probably. Asgardians weren't REALLY gods, after all. There was no reason to believe that the name would summon the man. It still made his gut clench, made him look in the shadows for things that he couldn't see even if they were there.
She closed her eyes, turned to rest her cheek against his hand before climbing up to sit next to him, arms around her knees. She looked small and soft and deceptively breakable in black tank top and pajama bottoms; her toenails were painted with something transparent and soap-bubble bright, shifting from green to gold to pink as she moved. "You should try to go back to sleep."
"I will if you will." He lifted the corner of the sheet; with a sigh, she stretched to turn off the lights before slipping under the covers and nestling in, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest. "When did you start wearing nail polish?"
"I haven't, really. I'm deciding if I like it."
"Do I get an opinion?"
She kissed him on the chin. "No."
He smiled wryly into the dark, kissed her on the top of the head, and stared into the dark until he couldn't keep his eyes open, thinking of red hair and warm peachy skin and soap bubbles in sunlight, any and every color that didn't lead him back to ice.
amelioratrix replied to your post “miss-ingno replied to your post “Answers About Combat Class” "keeping...”
Now I'm imagining Steve offering to sleep with Tony so Iron Man doesn't have to do it anymore.
OH MY GOD FUCK YOU SO HARD
When Steve offered, he wasn't expecting laughter, and for a second he didn't know what it was. Sometimes it was hard to tell, with the voice modulator box in the armor.
He'd pulled Iron Man aside after the Avengers meeting, during which he had once more said "I'll talk to Mr. Stark about this" as a way of solving a problem, and Jan had looked at Steve, and so had Wanda, and Clint had winced.
So he'd said "Iron Man, a moment?" and had prepared for Plan Alpha (Alpha was okay, and not as difficult as Beta, which involved covert coercion if not outright murder).
"Sure, Cap, what's on your mind?" Iron Man asked, lingering in the conference room after the others had filed out.
"Look, I think you should know that as much as we value Mr. Stark's contributions," Steve said, measuring his words very carefully, "we, the Avengers, we would be able to find other sources of support if Mr. Stark withdrew his. None of us want to leave the mansion," he added hurriedly, "but we could. I've spoken to the others about it."
"Why...would he withdraw his support?" Iron Man asked curiously. "Mr. Stark has always been dedicated to the Avengers' cause -- "
"And we appreciate it, we do! God knows," Steve had said. "But...look, if we had to, we could find other ways. More than that, I -- I've thought this through and rather than just walk away, I'd be willing to lend a hand, you know, with your duties. If that would work, if you think it would."
Iron Man didn't have facial expressions, but he conveyed emotion very well through movement, and Steve had learned, as the others had, to read his gestures. He tipped his head just slightly, puzzled.
"What duties are we discussing? Mr. Stark hasn't complained about me," he said confidently.
"Oh, ah...your discussions with Mr. Stark," Steve said. All of this hinged very carefully on not implying Iron Man was in any way deficient, or treating him like he was helpless. "When you...convince him to help us out."
"I'm afraid I'm really not following," Iron Man replied. "Mr. Stark is my employer. I bring issues to his attention, he helps out. There's really no need for assistance."
"But we all know what you really do," Steve burst out, then regretted it. Iron Man went still, a sign he was tense, watchful. "We know, Iron Man, and we just don't think you should have to -- to do anything you wouldn't -- "
"Oh my lord," Iron Man said. "What exactly is it you think I do to convince Mr. Stark?"
"You know," Steve said. "And I'm just saying, he's a fine-looking man, he seems nice, so I would help, if you wanted. I could take over for a while. Of course, if it's....consensual, that's a different thing entirely -- I'm not that old fashioned, you know -- but if it's not, if you're trading yourself for toys for the Avengers, just...well, you shouldn't have to, and it's not worth it. To us."
The stillness got, if anything, more intense, and then Iron Man started to laugh.
It came through the modulator as a slightly rusty burst of static followed by clear, ringing, metallic laughter. After a second, Iron Man doubled over, head bowed, shoulders heaving under the armor.
"Oh my god!" he wailed through his glee, while Steve worried he'd driven the poor man into some kind of breakdown. "You think I'm fucking him!"
"Iron Man!" Steve said, scandalized.
"But you do, don't you? Oh my god," Iron Man said, and went off into another peal of helpless laughter.
"Well, can you blame me?" Steve said, as Iron Man collapsed into a chair, leaning on the meeting table, still laughing. "Everyone thinks it, Shellhead, and we're worried about you."
"Haaah, aaah, haaah," Iron Man panted, waving a hand in front of his face to fan himself, as if it would do anything in the suit. "Ahaha. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, thank you, I appreciate your concern, hahahaha, but your face..."
Steve waited, arms crossed over his chest, while Iron Man went into another fit of laughter.
"We all respect Mr. Stark," he said. "But none of us know him very well, and we know he has a reputation -- "
"Stop, oh my God, stop," Iron Man managed, and then to Steve's horror he reached up to his helmet and pressed a button under the jaw. There was a hiss. "Just, don't say anything else about him, okay, hang on..."
The helmet of the suit seemed to hinge apart at the mouth, just below the seam where gold met red, and then it was coming off, tugged off by its owner --
"Mr. Stark!" Steve said, aghast.
Tony Stark settled the helmet next to him on the table, smoothing his hair. His entire face was creased with mirth, tears of glee running down his cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, Winghead, I really am," he managed, then pointed at Steve's face and burst into laughter again. "Oh my God your face, seriously."
"I don't find this funny," Steve complained.
"No! It's not! Ahahaha! I'm so sorry!" Mr. Stark giggled. "I'm sorry, Steve, honest to God. Here. Help me out of this tin can."
He stood and offered one arm, catches clicking back all the way along it, and Steve suspiciously tugged at the armor, helping him shed the arms and shoulders. He tugged on the chestpiece, but Mr. Stark clapped a hand over it.
"This doesn't come off, I'm afraid," he said, shucking the hip plates and leg armor instead. He was wearing a plain pair of mechanic's dungarees, and the breastplate shone with the dull light of Iron Man's arc reactor. Steve set his questions aside for another time. Then he reached out and, without hesitation, drew Steve into a tight hug.
"You are wonderful," he said, as Steve tried to gather his scattered wits. Mr. Stark released him and clapped him on the arms, casually, as if they were still Iron Man and Cap. "I mean, you can see why I couldn't tell you guys. You wouldn't have let me fight half as much as you do. Sweet goodnight, I can't believe you thought Iron Man was trading sexual favors for my sponsorship of the Avengers. It's sweet. I mean, I am thankful, just...it's so funny..."
"I suppose I can see that," Steve admitted, trying to cut him off from yet another round of laughter. "But it came from a genuine concern."
"Oh, Cap. The Avengers are the most fun I've ever had," Mr. Stark said, giving him a sweet, almost wistful smile. "I love being Iron Man more than anything in the world. I'd pay twice what I do just to keep you around."
"But that's just it, you know you don't have to, Mr. Stark," Steve said, distressed. "We'd find another way, and we'd bring Iron Man with us. You don't have to pay for us to stay our friend."
"Yeah, well, what else am I going to do with the money? Eat more?" Mr. Stark shook his head. "No, I owe a certain debt, and the Avengers make repaying it a joy. And call me Tony, Steve. I think we're past Mr. Stark, don't you?"
"Tony," Steve said, trying the fit of the word in his mouth. He smiled at Mr. St -- at Iron Man -- at Tony.
"So," Tony said, leaning on the table, a grin curving his lips. Steve hadn't often seen Mr. Stark smile; usually he was hurrying through the mansion on his way somewhere else -- probably, Steve realised, on his way to get his armor on. "Mr. Stark's not so bad looking, huh?"
"Well," Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat. "You aren't. And clearly if Iron Man liked you, he had to be seeing something in you."
"Oh?" Tony asked. He batted his eyelashes, and Steve knew he was doing it, Iron Man had that kind of stupid horrible sense of humor, but god damn, the man did have his good points.
And this was Iron Man, his best friend, his first friend in the new world. He'd have done anything for him.
"So you'd have been willing to offer me sexual favors to save Iron Man, hm?" Tony continued.
"I -- I didn't -- I mean of course, yes, I just -- " Steve stammered. Tony pushed himself off the table and walked up to him, and Steve had played this game with Iron Man many times -- during bickering matches, once in the heat of anger over a badly-timed quip, sometimes just to measure himself against the Golden Avenger. They'd stood toe-to-toe and just stared each other down, Steve trying to see through the glazed white lenses of the suit. Sometimes one of them would walk away. Most times one of them would laugh.
But this was Iron Man out of his armor, and Steve's lips curved upwards. Iron Man, he knew how to handle.
"So, what is it you want, Mr. Stark?" he heard himself ask. "In return for helping out the Avengers."
"Oh, Captain," Tony said, and his voice after the vocal modulator was a deep growl as he smoothed a hand up Steve's chest, ruffling the small scales of his uniform. "You'll learn this about me. I have a reputation. I always want everything."
amelioratrix replied to your post:Ms. Marvel and BW aren't due until Febuary, I thought...
Black Widow’s definitely out this week. Ms Marvel not till later.
I'm definitely gonna get this--the art by Noto looks lovely, and if I don't than I have a suspicion that tumblr user latkje will break into my house and poison me when I sleep.
