SkysTheLimit

It may just be me, I don’t know. But every single time I see this on my dash or on someone’s blog or anywhere else, I kind of just breathe a sigh of relief. That’s one more person who cares. That’s one more person who doesn’t hate me.

Because it means so much, especially when all the media is spewing out is that I’m a terrible person and no one wants people like me near them. It means so much because I’m tired of people who won’t sit next to me in class, or who choose to join the longer line at the grocery store because they don’t want to be beside me and my family. It means so much when I have to lift my head any time someone says the words Islam or Muslim because I’m scared that they’ll say something that’ll hurt, when I have to pay attention to the news because who knows what so and so is saying now, who knows which of my people are being attacked now, who knows what’s going to happen to me now.

It means so much because I’ve been given the idea that the world is against me. And a huge part of it may be, but at least I’ve been reminded that some of it, just a small group of people, acknowledges that I’m a person too. That people like me are just that, people.

Pierce: The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Two targets, level six. He already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours.

I saw that then I watched the scene on the bridge. Watch the Winter Soldier. He comes in for the attack, and the first person he takes out of the equation is Jasper Sitwell. AKA the man who let the Lumerian Star get captured by pirates. AKA the reason Fury got the intel and had his suspicions raised. AKA the reason that the timetable was moved. AKA the reason they lost Zola.

I always assumed it was Steve and Natasha he was coming after, but no. Steve is Level 8.

Just watch the way TWS attacks. He doesn’t go for Steve or Sam directly. He takes out Sitwell, the easy target, first then aims through the roof of the car at Natasha first. And when the car crashes, he doesn’t go after Steve.

Instead, he fires towards Natasha, and only misses because Steve pushes her out of the line of fire. The blast sends Steve hurtling over the ledge. You would think he would be a priority target after that, but TWS ignores him. Instead, he calmly stalks after Natasha like a predator.

The other HYDRA operatives are firing like mad, shooting at everything, but he just watches for Natasha. He doesn’t fire until he has her in his sites. He only fires three times when she’s still on the bridge, and each shot only just misses her. (Speaking of, I love that the only thing that makes him lose his cool and fire as wildly as the other HYDRA agents, is when she manages to land a hit on him. That’s the one time he doesn’t aim)

When he gets given the machinegun, he also doesn’t waste his ammunition once she’s out of range. He hops over the edge of the bridge and goes after her on foot. The only time he actually bothers himself with fighting Steve is when Steve attacks him.

The only piece that doesn’t fit the puzzle is the ‘level 6′, because both Sitwell and Natasha were Level 7. It might simply be a continuity error, but I always assumed Pierce referred to HYDRA’s own system of threat levels rather than S.H.I.E.L.D.’s clearance levels. A level 6 threat, in this case, would be a trained S.H.I.E.L.D. operative – although arguably, Natasha was a bigger threat than Sitwell. Still, they’re both (more or less) standard humans, unlike Steve. It actually makes a lot more sense that the targets were both the same level if they were in fact Sitwell and Natasha, because Steve was both a higher S.H.I.E.L.D. clearance level (Level 8) and a higher threat level, being a supersoldier, than either Sitwell or Natasha.

Notice also that the Winter Soldier asked Pierce, “the man on the bridge, who was he?” Not “my target.” So I think you’re probably right!

But wait…

If this is true, it also means the Winter Soldier didn’t kill anyone he hadn’t been expressly ordered to kill. In Odessa, he was ordered to kill the nuclear scientist and left Natasha alive. On the roof outside Steve’s apartment, he was ordered to kill Fury and ignored Steve even though he had a high-caliber sniper rifle and a clear line of sight – remember that post about how the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury by extrapolating from where Steve was looking, meaning he could easily have put a bullet through Steve’s eyesocket if he’d wanted to? On the bridge, he was ordered to kill Sitwell and Natasha, ignored Sam, and told his team to go after Steve knowing Steve would take them out. At the Triskelion, he’d been ordered to destroy the loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. air force which posed a threat to HYDRA’s helicarriers until they reached operational altitude, and then went after his target, Steve, after taking out Sam in a way which would give him a chance of survival, however slim, like Natasha in Odessa.

The Winter Soldier was actively opposing HYDRA by obeying their orders in the most literal sense possible. He knew he couldn’t disobey a direct order due to his programming, but given the opportunity to take out a threat to HYDRA, he ignored that threat if he hadn’t been expressly ordered to deal with it. He even had Steve’s shield, Steve’s most powerful weapon, and threw it back to him. 

All this time, we’ve been discussing Bucky in terms of loss of autonomy, how he was HYDRA’s brainwashed puppet, when in fact he was fighting HYDRA all along in the only way left to him – by sparing the lives of HYDRA’s enemies whenever he could.

Pepper approached him not long after Tony’s death. Her eyes were red, but every other part of her appearance was as carefully composed as always. But when she handed Peter the suit, her hands shook. Her voice, though, was steady when she spoke.

“He wanted you to have this, if ever he… yeah.”

So now Peter’s sitting on the edge of his bed, chest heaving with churning grief, the echo of Tony’s voice still ringing in his ears.

“What’ll it be today, Parker?” Tony’s voice had greeted. And after four tries, Peter was expecting it, but it still didn’t make him any more prepared.

So for awhile, he just sits there.

The AI gives him time, though. There’s a second where Peter thinks, I can’t do this, how could he think doing this was okay?

He takes in another deep breath and stands, heading for his window, and climbs to the roof. Everything is always more clear from up high, a bigger picture you just can’t get from anywhere else.

It takes another hour before he’s able to do anything more than breathe.

His voice shakes when he finally speaks. “Tony?”

“Hey, kid,” the AI responds immediately, and Peter’s chest cracks wide open at that. A sob rises in his throat, but he swallows it down.

“Hi,” he chokes out.

“So are we going to fight some criminals or sit in the cold all night?” Tony prompts, and Peter lets out a wet laugh.

“Yeah,” he answers, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. Where to?”

And just like that, they’re a team again.

-

“Left! Take a left!” Tony’s voice yells at him as he swings wildly through the city in hot pursuit of a mugger.

Peter, in a moment of pure panic and disorientation, takes a right.

“The other left, Pete!” the suit yells at him, sounding exasperated, and Peter quickly backtracks.

It’s been a month since the first night Peter went on patrol with the suit. And even though there’s still a pang in his chest every time he hears Tony’s voice, he pushes it down and lets himself pretend.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter apologizes.

Once he finally catches up to the man dressed in all black, webbing him up takes almost no time at all. Peter quickly snags the bag of cargo and rifles through it.

“Seriously?” he asks incredulously, staring down at the man now webbed to a trash can. “All that for some Twizzlers and cheap cologne? Wow, your life must be really sad.”

Peter heads back to the store to return the stolen items, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Just as he gets to his destination, his toe catches on the handle of a metal hatch in the roof, and he falls forward.

“Fuck!” he yells, pitching over the edge of the building. He quickly shoots a web and catches himself, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

Luckily, though, no one seems to have been paying attention. The people of New York are way too used to seeing Spider-Man around to be properly awed anymore.

“Nice, kid,” Tony says wryly, and Peter groans.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” Peter asks, grimacing.

“I recorded the whole thing,” Tony quips. “Whenever you do something stupid now, I’ll just play this video for you to remind you that you’re a reckless dumbass.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter says dryly. “Always good to be humbled.”

“Exactly. What would you do without me?”

I already am without you, a voice in Peter’s head supplies, but Peter shuts it down in favor of saying, “Live in peace, maybe.”

Tony scoffs. “That would be absolutely no fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Peter responds, dropping stolen goods off at the store. “Where to next?”

“Nightclub,” Tony answers without hesitation. “Pretty women.”

“I’m going to mute you,” Peter threatens, but the AI just laughs in his ear.

“You wouldn’t do that. You love me too much.”

Yeah, Peter thinks. I do.

-

Peter’s back on the roof late one night, dressed in the suit.

“Where are we headed, Pete?” Tony asks, but Peter just shakes his head.

“Nowhere. I just wanted to think,” Peter tells him.

“Oh? So why am I here?”

Peter hesitates before he answers. “I just didn’t want to be alone.” Tony doesn’t say anything after that.

These past few months have been much better for him. He’s gotten out more, even hanging out with Ned and MJ on occasion. Every so often, he gets dinner with Pepper and they reminisce. It’s nice. But when he’s not doing that, he’s in the suit.

It’s one of the few times the emptiness left in Tony’s wake doesn’t eat at him.

“It’s been nice,” Peter says finally. “Having you here, I mean.”

Tony takes a moment before responding. When he does, the AI’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle.

“It’s not me, Pete. Not really. Just a piece of tech,” the AI says softly, and the Band Aid that’d been placed over Peter’s grief-cracked soul rips off.

“It’s… no,” Peter protests, shaking his head. “It’s… It’s basically you, right? I mean. It’s close enough.”

“Peter. I’m just an AI,” the voice says firmly, and Peter’s eyes well with tears, not letting himself accept the reality. Because goddammit, it’s much easier to pretend that he’s talking to Tony - the real Tony. Makes his absence seem that much more like a nightmare than a reality.

“But I…” Peter’s voice cracks, words falling from his lips brokenly. “I just want you.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Tony’s voice says sadly, and Peter makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat.

“Why?” he gasps. “Why would you put yourself as my AI? Why would you do this to me?” Peter demands desperately, anger and sadness coloring his words.

When the AI speaks again, Tony’s voice is sad.

“It was the only way I knew how to keep protecting you.”

-

My books sitting unread on my bookshelf:

Look at the way she helps him up. She is TINY and he is so MASSIVE in comparison and she just full on pulls him and he just goes gleefully.

Dear Minerva,

Thank you so much for your kind letter of the 17th. It is always a pleasure to hear from you. I do appreciate your waiving the rules about familiars to allow Wednesday to bring little Homer - she dotes on that spider, and I don’t think she could consider Hogwarts home without his company.

We were delighted but completely unsurprised by the children’s Sorting. Of course Wednesday is a Ravenclaw - she has always had a brilliant mind, and it is rather traditional for the women in our family. Slytherin might have been a possibility, with her cleverness and ambition, but sadly (and quietly, between friends) I must admit the wrong sort have rather taken over that House at the moment. Death Eaters are so vulgar. Gomez, naturally, is over the moon about our little Harry being a fellow Gryffindor - the world does need more dashing, brave, and reckless men. They make life so interesting for the rest of us, don’t you agree? And I am certain he will be safe under your care, after his rather difficult start in life, poor child. That aunt and uncle of his are just too terribly common to protect him adequately - I am grateful Albus saw sense and left him with us rather than her.

I appreciate your bringing to my attention the small difficulty between Harry and Draco - I shall have a word with Narcissa. (Lucius is still being terribly silly about that little peacock incident, and refuses to speak to Gomez at all. Men can be so ridiculously proud. And they really did look so much better in black.) Really, though, Harry was only defending his friend. I probably should warn you that Wednesday writes that she is teaching young Longbottom a few of her more subtle defenses - I sincerely doubt Draco will trouble him in future if he uses those. I assure you, none of them cause permanent damage, only temporary discomfort, and she is well aware that they are only for self-defense, not mere childish aggression. Addamses do not start fights, but we do finish them, and Wednesday has always looked out for her brothers.

At least that little incident allowed you to see Harry’s flying skills in time to recruit him for the Quidditch team. I think he shall be an excellent Seeker - he was always the best at bat-spotting on summer evenings, and then there was the time he “borrowed” Gomez’s broom to rescue Pugsley’s pet octopus Aristotle, who had developed an unaccountable taste for tree-climbing, but had neglected to learn how to climb down. It was a successful rescue, even though he was mildly hampered on his descent by Aristotle clinging to his face in terror.

Please send my apologies to Severus for that unfortunate incident in Potions class. I should have warned him that Wednesday was experimenting with, shall we say, some variant recipes. I am quite certain, however, that Miss Parkinson’s hair will grow back normally, and that the snakes are only a temporary embellishment.

My best regards, and do drop by for tea if you ever happen to be in the neighborhood. Thing has perfected your favorite shortbread recipe - I do believe he has a little crush on you. Or perhaps it is merely that you are the only visitor we have had, outside of family, who is sensible enough to shake hands with him without flinching.

Yours truly,

A tool that I’ve found is really handy is a called the Cash Clock. It’s a simple program that measures both the time that you’re working on a piece as well as how much money you should be earning. You can adjust the hourly wage to whatever you feel is right. Simply start the clock whenever you begin working on a project right up until you’re finished. It can give you a clear indication of what you should charge for commissions.

No artist should make below minimum wage for their artwork.

The Cash Clock is found as a download here. 

My art tumblr