#basically for a german project i was paired with two people -> one who is my friend and one who I don't really like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquilamage · 4 years ago

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New fic dropping time!!!! So, there's german in this fic, which I will be putting translations for at the end. I only have very very rudimentary German knowledge and some research, so if I've gotten something wrong let me know. Also, I decided to lean more into my nonbinary Klavier headcanon and experiment with he/they pronouns for Klavier throughout the narrative! Also also big shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for the conversation that inspired basically the whole framework of this and then being so encouraging with me on writing it ^-^

When Klavier finds themself developing feelings for his former classmate turned recent coworker, they attempt to conceal it behind a language barrier. A plan which, due to some major miscalculations, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Klavier paced the area of their office, fingers snapping at their side with the swaying of their arm. His music was turned up, the kind of loud where he could feel the beat in his body, and yet still not enough to drown out his extraneous thoughts as he tried to concentrate. There were still two days before this robbery case went to trial, but that only meant they had no excuses not to have everything perfekt.

On a dime, he spun around, pointing dramatically at the evidence displayed on his monitors. Of course! There were only a couple of footprints outside the shop, and none of them were the owner’s, which meant……

Well, they weren’t sure.

Sighing, they leaned their elbow against the window. As he gazed out it, he noticed a smudge on the glass, not too high for him to reach, but taller than he’d expect to casually put his hand or forehead. He frowned. Where had that come from? There was a cloth for cleaning that somewhere around here – technically someone came in to clean the prosecutor’s offices, but the one time it had been done for him, their reorganization had sent him into a panic when he couldn’t find what he needed, so now he took care of it himself.

Klavier was in the middle of rearranging their guitar cabinet when they paused, and blinked. What was he doing? He’d realized the display case could look better when he’d walked over to put a stack of papers in his file cabinet, which he’d gathered up after doing something…with his chair? Which they’d only gotten to sometime in looking for that cleaning cloth… They glanced over at the monitors.

Right, the case.

With a groan, he ran a hand up his face, bunching his bangs up into his hair. Coffee. They needed caffeine, and maybe a snack.

The office break room wasn’t exactly his first choice for somewhere to get a drink, considering they only had a half-decent coffee machine, sugar, and a few flavors of creamer, while Klavier’s usual orders were of the sort that ended up sounding like some obscure secret code. But despite the initial hubbub about their leaving mid-tour to return to the legal world dying down, they couldn’t bank on going out without running into at least a small group of fans, and lunch was still a ways off. This way he could go about his business and get back to the office unbothered.

Or at least, less bothered. As he approached, he could hear running water, and faintly some kind of voice. He walked in without pause. So far, none of his coworkers had given him trouble, and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by the potential of it now.

Still, it was a pleasant surprise when they found Sebastian at the counter, filling up the electric kettle. “Schatzi!” they called, “how are you?”

He turned, the tiny frown of puzzlement quickly morphing into a smile. “Klavier, hi! Making tea,” he said, holding up the kettle. “Oh! Do you want some?”

Ach, he was so cute. “Nein, danke. I am here to tackle this beast.” Gently, he slapped the top of the coffee machine. The puff of laughter he received in response made him feel almost dizzy (which they might have blamed on needing to eat had they not already accepted the existence of their feelings).

Even as he began setting up his drink, Klavier couldn’t help but sneak glances over at his former classmate. At Themis, their relationship had been…complicated, although the Sebastian of then probably wouldn’t have described it as such. The last time they’d seen each other had been pre-graduation, and as he embarked on his musical career, Klavier had been perfectly willing to leave even the memory of his old acquaintance behind. Hop forward seven years, though, and…

Some things about Sebastian hadn’t changed. He still had trouble with words, and when he listened to music (and sometimes otherwise), he conducted along with it. This soft, airy piece felt constricted being projected from a mere phone speaker, but the gentle precise looping motions of his hand coaxed it back into life, and something more than that.

Despite the consistencies, much more of Sebastian had changed than hadn’t. When Klavier had started back at the office, Sebastian had been one of the first prosecutors they’d met. Sebastian approached them on his own and introduced himself – whether he was aiming for a fresh start or thought Klavier had forgotten him, they didn’t know. His confidence in his actions was less in volume than Klavier was used to, but solid, and that had piqued their curiosity from the beginning.

At the end of their little talk, he’d glanced up and down the hall and said “I’m sorry about your brother.” It was soft and sad and the only time he brought the subject up. They were still sorting out their feelings about that, although after some research they had an idea of where he was coming from. From that angle, at least, they could appreciate the sentiment.

Sebastian fumbled over words now instead of getting them wrong outright, Klavier had noticed over the following days, as he decided to pursue the connection the other had started. And the conducting...the conducting was very endearing.

He seemed to notice Klavier then, halting mid-motion. “Sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” they said, projecting as much reassurance as they could with the softness of their eyes, the angle of their posture.

“...Okay.” He eased into a little smile, leaning back against the counter. There was just the lightest dusting of freckles under his eyes, a few shades off from his hair.

“Um, do you need help with something?”

“Mm?” Then Klavier realized they were still staring while Sebastian had been looking at them. “Ah, I’m fine! Just a little distracted.” He left off by what. Less information was better in this kind of situation, and if Sebastian did ask, he would just come up with something.

A nod. Then, a few seconds later. “When you’re done, can I get something from that cabinet?”

Fast as he could, he punched the last couple buttons to start brewing and leaned down to open the door. “Let me help you with that. What do you need, liebling?”

“Oh, thanks. The orange blossom?” When Sebastian asked a question, his mouth went together a little, like he was going to pout but stopped midway through.

There were a lot of boxes of tea in there, but eventually they located the right one and emerged holding the bag aloft. “für dich, Süßer,” they said, using their most dazzling smile.

Sebastian laughed. (And people told Klavier his voice sounded pretty.)

After a second, they realized their friend was tilting his head to the side, watching them. “...sorry, did you say something?”

“Is that the only one?”

Klavier shook his head. “Nein, but,” he looked at the mug on the counter (with a colorful logo of some place he’d never heard of on one side and on the other plain text that read “They Didn’t Have My Name”). It was relatively large, but, “how strong do you like this?”

Oh, no, I-” Turning, he moved over a pair of travel mugs. When Klavier raised their eyebrows, he frowned. “It stays really warm that way and it’s easier than going back all the time!”

“Wie geht es dir so süß?” When Sebastian’s defensive look only intensified, he waved a hand. “That’s clever of you.” The little smile they got in response to that made their heart soar. “Ah,” he ducked back down before he started grinning to the point of being obvious even to Sebastian, “three, then?”

“Yes.” Still smiling, he took the tea from them. He poured out the water, carefully unwrapping all the packets before dropping the bags in with an almost meditative kind of concentration. This too, was new for Klavier to witness. And again, something he found himself the opposite of minding.

The coffee maker beeped. As he grabbed his own mug, he realized something. “How do you plan on getting those back?”

Sebastian, who was holding the mug in both shaky hands, grinned and made a motion as if to pick the others up in the crook of his arms.

Ah. “Well, I have a free hand. May I-” they reached toward the mug. “That way if one of us gets spilled on it’s the one with the darker shirt.” More importantly, it would be him and not Sebastian, but he wasn’t saying that out loud. Not today.

Besides, it really would be a shame to ruin the mostly-pastels of his outfit. The blue of his tailcoat especially was. Really nice on him. Had Sebastian always been this cute, and if so how on earth had they missed it before?

They headed out in the hallway. “How are you doing? It’s been a little while.”

“You mean three days?” he smirked. A moment later, his expression drew back to neutral. “That was a joke.”

Klavier simply nodded. Sebastian still didn’t get tone all the time, even if he was more aware of it, so they weren’t about to argue with him trying to be considerate about that kind of thing.

“But...it’s been pretty good. Kay and I got put on the same case, which is a lot, especially since we can’t talk about it when we’re home.” As he talked, his hands moved. He probably would have been more cautious if he had something open, but it still made Klavier glad he was the one holding the mugs. “Yeah. I’m min- managing.”

See, this would be the perfect opportunity to extend an offer to help him take his mind off things for a while. Invite him out to dinner. Smooth and casual, with the potential to back into something platonic, worst case.

And oh, they wanted to. But it wasn’t the right time. He still had his hands full investigating what happened to Kristoph, into that Justice character and his connection to Herr Wright. It would be enough just juggling two careers and keeping a new relationship insulated from the public, without everything else he was dealing with right then.

Besides, he was pretty sure Herr Edgeworth would bite his head off if he got that close to his protege.

So instead they said, “Well, I’m glad you are, liebling,” with all the genuine warmth they had. (He couldn’t help the little bit of pride at the statement; even if he wasn’t able to express his affection directly, it didn’t mean he had to restrain himself either. With his extra language, he could use terms of affection while everyone around remained none the wiser.)

They reached Sebastian’s office. Shifting the thermoses to one side, he opened the door for Klavier. The little half-bow he did after, indicating for him to go inside, almost made Klavier drop a mug.

In the end, though, it got safely to Sebastian’s desk, on a coaster decorated with a pattern of sheet music that seemed like a real song but wasn’t one Klavier recognized on sight. “There. All set.”

“Thanks, Klavier.” He beamed as he walked over next to him.

Something else that had changed: Sebastian had grown a few inches in the years since they’d known him at school. He hadn’t been cute in the ‘small’ sense since he’d shot up what seemed like a foot during the break between their first and second years, but now he’d filled comfortably into his height (the same as Klavier), and it was something to think they could just step forward and-

But Klavier restrained themself. Not now.

Sebastian stopped on the other side of the desk. “Do you...want to stay here for a while? I can move stuff off the couch or the other chair while you get your stuff.”

Ach, be still his beating heart. “I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Sebastian, how are things coming along with the-” Herr Edgeworth stuck his head in through the door, stopping when he noticed Klavier. His expression didn’t change, save for an extra wrinkle on his forehead.

If he wasn’t leaving already…

“Ah, I’ll let you two get to work.” Grabbing up his mug, he smiled briefly at Sebastian before walking out. As he twisted past Herr Edgeworth, who was looking the other direction, he couldn’t resist calling out “bis spater, schatz!”

It was such a little thing, but it made them smile all the way back to their office. And, a little later on in the day, gave them the tiniest of laughs when they went to the Chief Prosecutor’s office. This was just a normal check-in, so things went smoothly. Herr Edgeworth’s few glances at them were a little more like glares, but he said nothing that didn’t relate to the business at hand, so they were more than willing to let it be.

They were interrupted when the phone rang. He checked the number, then frowned. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

“No problem,” they said, leaning back in their chair.

“Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.” A few moments of listening and then he sighed “Yes, Franziska, I know-,” walking to the far corner of the room. There, he continued talking, softer.

Klavier couldn’t make out what was being said. Nor was he interested in listening in. But still, after a few exchanges, something about the sound pricked his ears. As he tried to pay attention, it still took him a second, since he had to switch his brain over to German. They weren’t sure why they’d suddenly started paying attention, though; it was just about a case Interpol needed help wi-

Oh. Something heavy dropped in his stomach, squashing his insides together. His brain was still taking in everything happening around him as if from far away, but neither thoughts nor movement were happening for him. Which was a shame, because if he could control his body he might be long gone by now.

Instead, he sat there for the rest of the conversation, and as Herr Edgeworth walked all the way back over to face him. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he said, usual neutrality tinged with the tone of a polite cough.

For a terrifying moment, he could only stare up at where his boss was carefully rearranging papers on his desk. Thoughts came back first, of course. There was no way circumstances would be kind to them. And the first one was that he knew. Worse, he knew that Klavier knew now. The fact that he was avoiding the subject was a relief in that he didn’t suddenly have to figure out what to say, but it didn’t help the pain in his gut or the heat in his face.

“May I be excused for the rest of the day?” He was already embarrassed enough that the strained tone of his voice, once he finally regained use of it, barely even registered.

There was a slight pause, Herr Edgeworth still staring down at his files, before he said, “...Yes.”

The hall outside was a blur, a few people they saw but didn’t process passing them as they stumbled through with whatever the opposite of mindfulness is. He felt a right mess, but none of that mattered right now. He just needed to get outside, to get home, and not think about this for the rest of the d-

“Klavier?”

The voice jolted him out of his state, and he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground. He managed to pick his bag up, but immediately dropped it again when he saw who it was.

Sebastian rushed over. “Are you okay?” A frown. “You shouldn’t be at work like this.”

Ducking their head to hide the new bout of warmth they felt across it, they said, “Nein, ach, ja that- which is why I am on my way home.” Trying to stand, they were met by an arm being thrust toward them. After a brief hesitation, Klavier allowed Sebastian to pull them upright.

Even once he’d gotten his bearings, though, Sebastian didn’t release him. “Let me help you,” he said and, gentle but insistent, started guiding him down the hall.

“Th-there’s no need. It’s not that bad.” The moment he started to tug out of the grip, Sebastian let go entirely. Not expecting it, he tripped again, although not falling this time.

Sebastian’s frown deepened and he flapped his hands, once. “Well I’m not letting you drive yourself home, so there! I’m taking you.”

Ach, his expression was adorable, and were it not for the twin incidents of this morning putting lead butterflies in his stomach Klavier would have gladly let him. “Nein, I couldn’t take you away from your work. I’ll call a taxi.” They tried for their usual smooth tone. Instead, they got almost as squeaky as their words to Herr Edgeworth.

“It’s fine! I was going to take my lunch now anyway.” With a smile in his eyes, he held out his hand once again.

“...I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only gotten sick off Kay once in all the times she’s ever been sick, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Klavier went to protest again, but his throat was dry and crackly, and worse, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. So he sighed and took the hand.

Even if Sebastian would’ve thought it was from not being well, they were thankful for his gloves keeping him from feeling how gross their palms were – like a teenager on their first date. Sebastian took them along at normal walking speed, with a “let me know if we’re going too fast” after the first couple steps.

All Klavier could think about was the firm, gentle grip on his hand, the place where their arms interlocked (for added stability, but his mind kept going to images of how people led around their dates at formal events), the way their fingers interlaced… He didn’t even notice Sebastian had taken them into the stairwell until the first step. Oh. It was fine. This just meant this would take longer, he thought, as Sebastian held his hand a little tighter.

Not that he fancied this, but being stuck in the elevator with his coworkers as potential witnesses wasn’t any better. Herr Edgeworth wasn’t a gossip; he wouldn’t tell anyone, but if Klavier didn’t know one person’s language capabilities (or even whether they’d look things up, he realized with a jolt, remembering an interviewer joking about spikes in German translation searches after any Gavinners concert), how could he assume anyone’s?

(Would Herr Edgeworth tell Sebastian, considering? Or would someone else, if they knew? Had they not been on a landing at the moment of that thought he certainly would’ve taken a real tumble.)

By the time they got to the parking lot, Klavier would've believed they were sick themself, their head dizzy and fever-flushed. They didn’t protest at all as Sebastian helped them into the passenger seat. A brief glance in the side mirror revealed their hair to be out of place just enough to bother them and them alone, face if not red then certainly off from their usual color. Closing their eyes, they sank back against the cushions and headrest. Now they could sleep, or at least pretend to (and ignore the phantom feeling of Sebastian’s hand on theirs).

Although he did peek them open when the radio crackled on with the car, playing some upbeat pop song that Sebastian quickly turned off.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want me to switch it to something you like, or keep it off?”

Ah, he was so considerate it made Klavier want to cry. He’d probably ask about the temperature next. (He did, once Klavier said he was fine with whatever).

All that time spent sleeping on tour buses really helped him sit comfortably during the ride, the biggest bother being that Sebastian was right there. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about it, with everything that was happening. So it only kind of felt excruciatingly long. They were ever so grateful that Sebastian seemed fine with silence between them.

Finally, they pulled up at Klavier’s house. “Do you want me to-” Sebastian asked as Klavier unbuckled his seat belt.

Even though his legs did feel a bit wobbly, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another round of being so close to Sebastian. Or that he wouldn’t have trouble letting go at the end. “I can manage this much, don’t worry.” They almost added a ‘schatz’ at the end, catching themself just in time.

A nod. Then, he reached into the center console, grabbing some receipt. Even as Klavier watched, transfixed, he scribbled out a phone number and handed it to him. “Uh, here. If you start feeling worse and need something, let me know, ok?”

Klavier could only nod back and try not to think about the fact that Sebastian had just given him his number (step two: immediately failed). With a lack of grace that would've made headlines had a music reporter been around, he got out of the car and in through the door, shutting it behind without a single backwards glance. They collapsed face first onto the couch and screamed into the cushion – the kind of head and throat scream exactly how they’d long ago been trained not to do.

Once he finally stilled into silence, Vongole padded over, pushing her head under his palm.

With a sigh, he moved just enough to scratch her behind the ears. The soft warmth of her fur was grounding to run his fingers through, and soon, between that and simply lying down, his body relaxed.

When he finally sat up, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag before heading to his room. After all they’d been through, they needed to relax. He took off his makeup and changed to a t-shirt and the one pair of sweatpants he owned. As he threw his other clothes over a chair, the paper he’d stuck in a pocket earlier fell to the ground. Sebastian’s number. Klavier snatched it up and threw it on their bedside table – they’d deal with the...everything...related to that later.

A while later he sat back on the couch, this time with lunch and Vongole curled up at his feet as he picked out a movie. (His first instinct was one of the bubblegum teen movies he re-watched when he wanted something fun – the romance plot in those might hit a little too close to home, though. Instead, he went for a cooking show. Safe, basic, still entertaining). He watched it through, and then several more, with breaks for more food and a brief walk with Vongole. It was nice. Klavier couldn’t remember when they’d last just taken some time off – usually having too little to do made them antsy, but between also petting Vongole and idly shopping on their phone, it made for a pleasant one-off afternoon.

He was dozing off when a knock at the door startled him. Groggily pushing a few loose strands of hair back, he stared in that direction. Just as he was about to lie back down, the knock repeated itself.

Only after a third repeat, moments later, did they actually get up. The list of people who would know where he lived was short, and his phone had lost battery a little while ago without him getting up to recharge it.

It was Sebastian. There was a surge of panic at how he’d gotten there before he remembered being given a lift earlier. “Hallo,” he managed, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi. Uh,” he ran his thumb over the ridges of the lid of the plastic container he was holding. “Sorry about showing up without saying anything, but I’d already made the soup when I ra- realized I didn’t have a way to message you, and I know it’s hard cooking when you don’t feel good so-” He held it out to Klavier.

It was warm, and as the container got closer they could faintly smell rich broth. Sebastian had made them food. Made them food and brought it over without being asked because he was concerned for them.

Then he realized he was staring. “Ach, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! You seem pretty tired; have you been resting?”

Oh, heck. In answering the door, he’d completely forgotten to take his appearance into account, and now here he was, top three most disheveled he’s ever been in front of someone not family, and it was with Sebastian. “Ja,” he squeaked out, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him already.

Instead, Vongole bounded out the door and at Sebastian, barking happily.

“You have a dog!” he said, reaching down to pet her even as she insistently pushed herself up against him. With a laugh, he ruffled her fur, muttering something Klavier couldn’t quite pick up.

“Ah, Vongole, sitz.”

She did, still basking in Sebastian’s attention, tail thumping against the porch.

Sebastian laughed again, and scratched her behind the ears. Looking up at Klavier, he said, “oh, those glasses are cute on you.”

Ah, they’d forgotten about those too. He rarely wore them; glasses covered up too much of his face and just weren’t very comfortable. The only reason he had them on now was because he didn’t want to fall asleep in his contacts again. It was regular ones for work and everyday, with color for-

Wait, did Sebastian just call them cute?

Before they could react, though, he spoke again. “I should probably get going.” The end of his sentence turned up almost into a question, but he stood up. A smile. “Um, let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow, if you’re up for it?” Then, even softer. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Klavier waved, staying at the door until Sebastian’s car pulled away. Then he buried his head in his hands. As he brought Vongole inside, he considered screaming again, but he was too tired. Instead, he had just enough presence of mind to put the soup in the fridge before collapsing into bed, asleep.

They woke up disoriented, this time because it was completely dark out. Reaching to the other side of their bed, they went to check the time on their phone. Except it wasn’t there. A panicked five minutes of searching later and they remembered leaving it in the living room, battery dead.

It was a bit past eleven. Well, he was hungry, so he went to the fridge, and of course the first thing he saw was the soup. It was a rich chicken noodle, a hearty mix of vegetable and grain and meat, and when he taste-tested to check the temperature he had to take a minute. Klavier didn’t consider himself a cook by any stretch of the definition, but he knew good food when he ate it. This was simple, but well made, and remembering that Sebastian had made it for him put a lump in his throat for a second.

They were going to have to go back into work tomorrow, and face the facts of what they’d done. Which…really, they were fine. Probably. Klavier wasn’t doing anything wrong, at worst being a little unprofessional. It was just that Herr Edgeworth didn’t approve – and he would never leverage his power against Klavier for something personal, he knew that.

The easiest option, in terms of avoiding potential future issues, was to back away from contact with Sebastian completely. But they didn’t want to avoid their friend, even if they would only ever be friends, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sebastian either. But if he simply dropped off the endearments and did nothing else like it, within a week or so it would be like they never happened, and everything would be fine for all of them.

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translations:

schatz/schatzi - treasure

nein, danke - no, thank you

liebling - darling

für dich, Süßer - for you, sweet/honey

Wie geht es dir so süß - how are you so cute

#I will be getting this up on the fic sites but it's too late for that tonight. will put the links for that in my morning rb #Klavier Gavin #Sebastian Debeste #klavbastian #Miles Edgeworth #Ace Attorney #rambles #my writing #fanfiction

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teriwrites · 4 years ago

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I’ve-Been-Neglecting-My-Tags Tag Game

So basically, I’ve been dead to the world for awhile, and instead of individually going back and making posts for tag games I’ve neglected, I decided to just compile them into one bigger post!

Meet the WIP Tag

So @cecilsstorycorner tagged me like two months ago and I’m pretty sure I straight up did not process it. But I found it now, and it looks really fun! Thanks for the tag! I’m going to pull out Castle on the Hill for this because it’s been awhile so this can be like a mini reintroduction.

Title: Castle on the Hill

Logline (1-3 sentence premise): In the early 1960s, a group of young German students face the struggles of university life - finding ambition, relationships, discovering identity, surviving finals, and coming to terms with their nation’s dark past as they look to its future.

Favorite theme explored: There’s kind of a lot going on under the surface, but I think one of the biggest is recognizing internalized biases and understanding the importance of how personal context shades perspective.

A character I’m proud of and why: It’d be easy to say Klaus because he’s one of those characters that just basically writes himself, but I’ll always have a soft spot for Josef. He was the first character I created for the story, and he arguably undergoes the most intense change from start to finish.

That characters tag: yeah, so... if you just search ‘josef’ on my blog he’ll show up. Technically I think I made tags for the Lads, but it didn’t really stick.

Link to a piece/excerpt/post that I’m proud of: So this is a little old but it sums up the group dynamic pretty well. This one has more focus on Josef and Klaus.

Any additional info I want people to know/am proud of: I haven’t posted about it in awhile since I’ve been a little more active in other projects, but I’m still working on it! I need a bit of an overhaul on some of the broad strokes (re: basically I’m working on having a little more structure to the plot) but it’s still kicking.

Manuscript Search Tag

Thank you @regan-wickworre for tagging me in this, sorry that it took like a month to respond to! I’m going to use Beneath Alder Creek because that’s the last large project I’ve worked on.

My words: eyes, friend, chance, fear, desire

Eyes

He was standing several paces back, half-hidden by a wide tree trunk, but there was no disguising the wide-set eyes staring at her incredulously.

Friend

“Would you like a ride home, Miss Pewitt?” Leslie asked amicably, as though the two had been longtime friends and not mere acquaintances with an unfortunate history.

Chance

Still looking away, Winnie raised the pin between her forefinger and her thumb. “You’ve been skittish ever since you saw this at Pryderi’s estate. I might not be the most worldly woman, but I’m smart enough to recognize that stabbing my own guide might delay my chance to find my brother.”

Fear

“He left. He’s afraid of the Evenfall Vault and he left,” she said evenly, hoping it would mask the fear gripping at her chest.

Desire

“Do tell.” There was a dullness to her tone, like she had heard of Enid’s offerings before and was merely amusing her, but Queen Ceridwen examined Winnie and Taliesin with interest. Winnie didn’t dare look over at him, in case she couldn’t resist the wild desire to laugh.

Words I’m leaving: accept, voice, near, resent, silence

Tag Game: This or That (Fantasy Edition)

Thank you @medeaes for the tag!

spell or curse ∙ abandoned mansion or haunted cemetery ∙ vampire slayer or ghost hunter ∙ phoenix or griffin ∙ wrist bite or neck bite ∙ fairy godmother or evil stepmother ∙ herbs or potion ∙ ghost or wraith ∙ dragon scales or werewolf claws ∙ druid or mage ∙ elf or hobbit ∙ divination or necromancy ∙ wand magic or hand magic ∙ centaur or unicorn ∙ dark fairytale or disney-style fairytale ∙ sword or bow & arrow ∙ siren or water nymph ∙ garlic or silver ∙ talking animal or walking tree ∙ demon trap or crossroads pact ∙ enchanted fairy forest or mermaid lagoon

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thank you for tagging me, @em-dashes and @akindofmagictoo!

(I can’t do the last seven because I just finished something and it’d spoil the whole thing, but here are a random seven)

“You have new merchandise, Ms. Kim,” Mike pointed out as he dug through his pockets. “I didn’t even know there were spells for maintaining battery life.”

“Yeah, well, some companies intentionally provide weak batteries to make you replace your phone after a couple years. This cheats seems the lesser of the two evils.” I rested my elbows on the top of the register as I watched Mike stack the contents of his pockets onto the countertop. Books, empty potion bottles, a pair of gloves. After withdrawing a black notebook with an engraved monogram and a full-sized human skull, he finally pulled out his wallet.

I had to ask him what spell he used to get that kind of pocket space.

I’m just gonna start tagging people, and you can respond with whichever tag game you want!

@booksnotbookies @rhikasa @tate-lin @parafoxicalk @absolute-nonsense-scribblings @de-profundis-ad-astra and @riaisntwriting and literally anybody else who wants to!

#no pressure to participate of course!#tag games #writing #my writing

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silverliningsrpg · 4 years ago

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I. CHARACTER BASICS.

FULL NAME: Tereik Rashid al-Damiri.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Male & He/Him.

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: May 12, 1981 (39).

ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus.

HOMETOWN: Cairo, Egypt, and Atlanta, GA.

CURRENT LOCATION: Finch’s Lake.

OCCUPATION: Temporarily retired archaeologist, Egyptology consultant at a museum in New York City, and author.

HOW LONG THEY HAVE BEEN IN AMORY? Newcomer — 1 month.

FACECLAIM: Rami Malek.

II. BIOGRAPHY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Childhood Illness, epilepsy, head injury, life-threatening injury, seizure mentions, parent death.

Tereik Rashid al-Damiri was born on May 12, 1981 to Rashid and Halima al-Damiri in Cairo, Egypt. He was their 7th child and only son. Tereik had a very loving childhood, but was in very poor health from birth until his mid teen years. He was born with a condition called Ebstein Anomaly, which required an intense heart surgery when he was seven, and he was diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of three. Once his heart problem was fixed, his overall health began to improve, and his seizures lessened in frequency, going from 1 to 2 dozen a month, to 2 to 3 a month.

When he was 12 years old, Tereik’s father Rashid left his long term career as a pediatric cardiologist and moved his family to Atlanta, Georgia to work for the CDC. Though he was still with his family and his health was better than it had been in a long time, Tereik hated life in Atlanta. He loved his sisters, but they were his only friends, as his English wasn’t great and his years of poor health left him poorly socialized. He was incredibly intelligent and was really only happy when he was reading about Egypt and it was during this time he decided he wanted to become an archaeologist. As a child he’d loved hearing about the Pharaonic period and was particularly fascinated by Tutankhamun; his dream was to one day work directly with his mummy and in his tomb.

Tereik was close to all of his siblings, but he and his sister Kamilah were the closest, unfortunately, by the time he was ready to graduate from high school, she had run off with her boyfriend and cut ties with the family, so he was feeling lonely and decided that he was going back to Cairo. His parents did try and talk him out of it, as he’d never been away from them, but he couldn’t bear the thought of staying in Atlanta any longer, so he moved back to the penthouse he’d grown up in, as his parents’ still owned it, and enrolled in AUC (the American University in Cairo).

He was a very enthusiastic student and worked so hard that he caught the attention of a famous, if not a bit controversial, Egyptologist named Dr. Hawass who offered to be his Doctoral Advisor while he worked on his PhD and Tereik was thrilled to work with him, as he was in the process of getting permissions to do an all Egyptian study on Tutankhaman and Tereik would have done anything to get on that team. In 2008, the project moved ahead and Tereik was officially involved as the Junior Egyptologist on the project, and even though he spent the next two years being ordered around by the rest of the team, he was thrilled. Just as the project ended, he finished his PhD and applied for the opportunity to lead a team of his own and do a dig in the Valley of the Kings.

In 2011, after a full year of pitching himself to the government and calling in just about every connection his family had in the city, Tereik was granted the position as team leader and their team began digging in an area of the Valley of the Kings that was long believed to be empty. Tereik and his team knew it was unlikely they would find anything, but he and his team were young and excited to be on their first dig, so it didn’t matter that. They worked for a little over a month with no sign of anything, until one day they returned to their dig site to find that an overnight sandstorm had destroyed all of their work. Most of the team was ready to give up, and as their contract was nearly over, he understood why, but he convinced them to at least try and go over things to see if they could find their tools, if nothing else.

It was at this point that Tereik stepped back to survey the area and some sand gave way, revealing a hidden staircase that he immediately fell down. At that point, things took a real turn, he hadn’t been expecting much of anything and now all of a sudden he was the discoverer of a tomb. Though it wasn’t a royal tomb, it was still an amazing discovery that thrust Tereik into the spotlight and he found himself giving interviews, getting mobbed by people and becoming a local celebrity, as well as a well-known figure in the field. The tomb, KV65 as it was called, was the resting place of a nobleman and Tereik spent the next several years devoting his life to cataloging every inch of the tomb and every artifact within, as well as writing a book entitled “Fool’s Errand” which sold very well in Egypt, though it has never been sold in the US.

Life was going very well for Tereik, but as it always did, his health got in the way. He was still working in the tomb every day, usually alone, and when he finished at night, he would go back to the penthouse that he was now sharing with his girlfriend, Akila. He was sure that she was the one and was planning to bring her home to Atlanta to meet his family before proposing, but in July of 2014 he didn’t come home at his usual time, and she got in touch with one of his coworkers who promised to go and check on him. When he arrived, he found Tereik unresponsive on the floor of the tomb and called him an ambulance.

Eventually it was determined that he’d suffered a seizure while he was working and hit his head, knocking him unconscious, and if this wasn’t bad enough, he’d been out in the Valley so long he was also suffering from severe heatstroke. He spent the next several months fighting for his life in the hospital, and was finally released in November of 2014, only to return home to find that Akila had left, saying that this “wasn’t what she signed up for.” His eldest sister, Huriye, stayed with him for a little while as she was a doctor and he needed full time care at first, but she had to go home to her husband and children after a few weeks and suddenly he was totally alone.

In December of 2014, at the insistence of his former advisor, Tereik was hired on another project involving Tutankhamun. He was still in very bad shape, physically, and was (and still is) battling not only with more frequent seizures, but with being underweight and immunocompromised, and couldn’t work in the field, but focused on leading a group of students in the research portion of the project instead. ��It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to be doing, but he was still recovering and was glad to have something productive to do with his time instead of sitting at home alone.

In March of 2018, his sister Kamilah, who’d rejoined the family after leaving her partner with her son (and his godson) Ladon, called to let him know that their father was seriously ill and was asking that all of his children come back to Atlanta. Tereik didn’t want to leave, and wasn’t even sure he was well enough to travel, but he couldn’t say no to his father, so he returned to Georgia and spent the next year with his family and when his father died in early 2019, Tereik wasn’t ready to leave his family, so he stayed in Atlanta and helped his mother settle his father’s affairs and spent some time living with his sisters.

He considered his options and decided that even though he didn’t want to stay in Atlanta, he didn’t want to return to Egypt, so he took a job at a museum in New York City, setting up the Egyptology program and hiring one of his former students to run it once he was done with the set up. That kept him occupied for a while, but he was still struggling with his health and going back to full time work caused his recovery to backslide a little, so when the project was done, he found a house in a town about an hour away and decided to buy it.

Amory was very different from what he was used to, but since he was still struggling so much, it was nice to be somewhere quiet and since he was going to be living alone somewhere more private, he was paired with a service dog, a German Shepherd named Meeko. The museum in the city had offered to start selling his book in the gift shop, so his current project is to translate his book into English and write an update about what had happened in his life after the discovery of his tomb. He’s only been in Amory for about a month, but he’s looking forward to his new life there and seeing where this next chapter will take him.

III. PERSONALITY TRAITS.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind, generous, intelligent.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Self-absorbed (slightly), shy, gloomy.

#childhood illness tw #epilepsy tw #head injury tw #seizure tw #parental death tw #rami malek #tereik al damiri #m #finch's lake

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penguin-artist · 5 years ago

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Nick Radel

My Bandstand Headcanons!

Okay I didn’t really write much for him but I didn’t want to leave him out bc that’d be Nick erasure and we can’t have that. We love everyone in the DNB here

He doesn’t give music lessons much anymore, as touring takes up his time, but every once in a while there’s an ad with the dates he’d be back in town.

He likes to cook and worked as a chef before he got drafted.

It’s not that he’s rude, he just gets easily frustrated and has an intimidating face. (I have the same issue rip)

The two people he has a soft spot for are Julia and Davey.

He worked a couple of small jobs after high school before becoming a chef. It was at one of these jobs where he met a Davey (who was still in high school at the time). He was annoyed with him at first because Davey would goof off a lot but he eventually came to care about him and actually enjoyed his light-hearted antics (don’t tell him that).

He is lactose intolerant.

His parents were very reserved and strict as he was growing up. They also always pushed him to be the best (yeah, he grew up in that household) which sort of contributed to his trust issues as in school he would always take it upon himself to do a whole group project in order to get that A+. It also led to a rocky relationship with his parents because they held him to such high standards.

His uncle (who was way more relaxed compared to his parents) was the one who introduced him to music and got him to start playing trumpet.

His parents didn’t mind and didn’t care that he played an instrument. One if the things that mattered, though, was that he didn’t make it a career choice.

He became a music teacher after the war not only to get some extra cash, but in spite of his parents.

His uncle also thought he was an excellent trumpet player and wanted him to share his techniques with younger generations.

He became a spy in the army and was paired with his best friend from basic training for a mission which involved infiltrating a German camp. Just before they got there his “friend” pulled a gun on him and revealed he was a Norwegian spy working for the Germans, then dragging him into the camp. He was sent to a P.O.W camp where he stayed for about a month and managed to sneak out with a few other Americans just before the war ended. This event piled onto his trust issues.

He‘s fine doing house chores (like washing dishes and tidying up the living room) but when it comes to handling his personal items he’s a slob (includes folding laundry and organizing his bedroom. He gets no joy doing either task so he avoids it. It’s his stuff anyways so why should it matter).

He met Wayne after the war at a club. Apparently there was a miscommunication in scheduling and they were both scheduled to play a set at the same time. They argued with the staff so much that both their sets were forced into cancellation. He offered to buy Wayne a drink as they cooled down from the incident and they just had small talk up until Wayne had to leave. Later on he stumbled upon Wayne again, who was playing a set before him. That’s how he knew he was a good trombone player.

Headcanon List

#sorry i was supposed to post this yesterday #bandstand #bandstand musical #bandstand broadway #bandstand nick #nick radel #my headcanons

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anonsally · 5 years ago

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Day 63 of COVID-19 shelter-in-place

I am struggling to get any work done.

Today I somehow missed a meeting at 11am (though it turned out not to be that important). At noon, our group meeting went okay, though my boss is feeling a bit antsy about our lack of progress. I got through a few things in the afternoon, but most of what I need to do at this point are larger projects, rather than little tasks. I did at least manage to deal with a couple of things in my role as Associate Editor at a journal, and I worked on some data management stuff for a dataset I haven’t used before. I also had a phone meeting with a colleague, who couldn’t do a video meeting because her daughter was using the account for her Girl Scouts meeting, and her husband was using her computer anyway.

I was also invited to participate in a survey about scientists’ opinions and perceptions about the pandemic. It turned out the survey was being run by a pair of German academic economists, so a lot of the questions were... actually pretty offensive, basically trying to force me to take a utilitarian approach (and then at the end asking some questions explicitly to get at how well I align with that philosophy), including a few where I was supposed to imagine there were not enough hospital beds and I had to decide between two patients. I refused to answer most of those, but was annoyed that there was no open-ended “feedback” question at the end, because one question had been actively ambiguous: by “allowing immune people to do essential work (e.g. caring for elderly) on a voluntary basis”, did they mean allowing people to return to their paid employment in essential jobs if they chose to, provided that they were immune, or did they mean allowing immune people to work for free in those jobs? I also wanted to tell them to fuck off, because deciding between patients --though tragically a reality for many doctors in overburdened health care systems during the pandemic-- is essentially a false way of getting at scientists’ priorities in this survey. My priorities would be to have enough beds in the first place and prevent the infection rate from getting so high that this becomes an issue. These decisions are preventable.

Anyway, after work I took a short, relaxed walk as my faux commute. It was reasonably sunny, but not very warm after another rainy night. I didn’t have my binoculars with me, but I did see many mourning doves, a scrub jay, and a female Western bluebird (unless it was immature?). I also saw a kid (I would estimate his age to be between 4 and 6) learning to ride a bike. He was struggling with steering, and at one point veered off the sidewalk and fell off the bike in the street. His dad was right there and tried to prevent it from happening, but wasn’t quite quick enough. While the father collected the bike, I was amazed at how quickly this child jumped up and back onto the sidewalk before checking whether he had skinned his knees. He got right back on the bike, too.

Dinner was... questionably nutritious. And I have a bunch of Adulting to do, but at least I cleaned up the kitchen and washed our face masks.

Important news: the Campanile peregrine falcon chicks have grown a lot! They have now been banded (a week ago). Two are male, one female. Their feathers are coming in, but they’re still pretty downy, so they look extremely dorky. Livecam here.

#personal #birdwatching #epidemiology #career

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tenpin-boleyn · 5 years ago

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Rebellious Parr at School!

These were thought up by @wolfies-chew-toy and I- mostly MB- because Cathy going through teenage rebellion is I C O N I C

There are some teenage Anne in here too but mostly our girl Cathy P 🖤

Also I’m sorry about the length- I’m on mobile so I can’t add a read more :)

•Anne got her heelys confiscated, so she decided to sandpaper the bottom of her shoes so she can slide around like a penguin. No wheels? No problem.

•Catherine being the feminist icon that all teachers fear:

“NO I AM NOT READING ROMEO AND JULIET AS ITS A DEROGATORY REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH”

Then Catherine promptly gets removed from the class.

“Catherine don’t you have English right now?”

“Don’t you have your funeral!!.... oh my god Mrs lynn I’m so sorry” because Cathy is a badass but she still has feelings

•Confusing the teachers on a daily basis:

"Hitler is kinda like Kim Jong Un dont you think?"

"Miss Parr and Miss Seymour what are you talking about?"

"Miss, isn't Kim Jong Un rather like Hitler?"

"Please stop discussing your Kpop idols in my class."

•The school has different colors led name tags for the different years, eg. Seventh year, yellow, eighth year green etc.

You can bet your ass Parr has a name tag in each colour and wears them all at once. It ranges from her actual name to Catradora. She has a name tag that just says CatParr420 and wears it everywhere.

And 90% of the time she wears a blank one and carries around a marker

“Umm excuse me what’s your name?”

Which prompts Cathy to draw on a fake name.

“Anita Willtolive”!

•She draws penises on all the whiteboards of every class she enters in permanent marker.

•One time the school used a drone to film the morning assembly and the noise annoyed Cathy so much she picked her book from morning reading up and h u r l e d it at the drone.

All you can hear before the recording stops is “YEET”

Did she get detention? Yes

Was it worth it? HELL YES

•You can bet your bottom dollar that Anne is in that detention too.

Anne's reasons for detention range from stuff like chatting to general shenaniganery but Cathy is just oPEN DEFIANCE

•She only is nice to her classmates

•And selected teachers

•She's a dick to everyone else

•But if she sees a kid on their own she’ll go out of her way to be lovely to them and to that one annoying teacher she hates, she’s a hell raiser

•She once moved the empty table next to her desk away to the other end of the class to stop teachers from sitting next to her- whilst the teacher was trying to sit at said desk.

•Catherine openly questioning EVERYTHING

“But if everyone is only nice to get into heaven surely that defeats the purpose and they’re being fake”

•She would fall asleep in front of the teacher

She'd just yell goodnight really loudly and knock out on her desk

•Honestly it’s a wonder she hasn’t been kicked out, but Jane thinks it’s because her grades bring up the school average

•She does her homework the moment she gets it and is finished by the end of the day

•Anne just puts in her file and lets it rot

•Parr gets in trouble for handing in Anne’s homework that Parr did but Anne has no idea. Cathy just wanted to make sure she didn’t fail

•Anne teaches Parr how to get discounts in the cafeteria, because Parr needs free cookies.

•Parr is Anne's defender when it comes to detentions

•She gives the teacher her Stare™️ and they instantly clam up

•Their detention desks are side by side and they have like those partners in crime necklaces but instead of two halves on their necklaces they’re carved into the tables

They they put them together they just line up

“Parr scares all the teachers except the German teacher who is literally Satan.

•Anne looks scary but she is basically harmless

•Parr looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly but given the chance she would 100% bite her teacher's hand off

•Anne has like five piercings and the messiest uniform in existence while Parr has only one piercing in each ear and the neatest uniform in existence but the moment Parr opens her mouth you better run

•She once bit a first year because they got in her way

•Cross any of Parr's friends or Parr herself and you might as well drop out because you'll be on a hit list for your whole education career

•She’s got a little black book of people that’s annoyed her because eventually she forgets but she’s too petty to let her memory get the better of her

•Anne has been on it at least once but Parr always strikes her name out

•She once kicked Parr in the stomach trying to show off her sandpapered shoes

•The shoe flew off and hit Parr in the stomach

She would have screamed at Anne but Anne’s puppy dog eyes are irresistible

Especially at 12 years old because she’s literally a baby

Like not even in a sexual way, you just can’t say no to those eyes

•Seymour has also been on the list once

But Parr got her revenge

What did Seymour do? She keeps taking Parrs highlighters

So Parr makes her pay money for every time she uses her highlighters

And one day a teacher sees and thinks it’s a drug deal

Every late payment is + 1 quid

Jane knows better than to accumulate late payments because Parr is ruthless when it comes to money

•When a classmate lost Parrs calculator and didn't pay her back, Parr literally carved owe money pay money onto her desk and got that person's friends to remind them daily till they paid her back

•Every time that person saw Parr in the hallways they'd turn around and head the other direction

•Tardies don't matter when the most trigger-happy person in school is out for your blood

•The day that she’s sat next to Parr in the seating plan is the day she moves schools

•Even then Parr still tracks her down

•She waits for them at the school gate with the most murderous smile on her face

•You just see Anne behind her chewing gum, snapping her fingers and doing jazz hands

•And the person is rapidly dialing their parents while screaming MOM COME PICK ME UP I'M SCARED

•Suddenly Aragon pulls up with the others and shouts at the pair “get in losers we’re going shopping”

"How the hell did you even find them Cathy?"

"I just followed the smell of crippling debt and it led me here."

“No seriously how?”

“Anne never turns her snapmaps off”

•Also Parr made the PE teacher cry more than once. More than twice. Okay it was 27 times.

•Parr has a pen knife and people try to confiscate it but she just brings out a printed sheet of paper that says that “a knife may be carried as a self defence weapon if it is under 9 inches and is retractable”

•She made the history teacher quit.

•One time she threatened to give someone salmonella because they were giving Anne and Kat a hard time

•Both Anne and Kat are in special ed and someone thought it'd be funny to bully them cuz of it

•She was skipping class in the toilets and two girls walk in and start bad mouthing Anne and Kitty so she kicks open her door and looks at them whilst sucking a lolly pop “hello bitches say goodbye to ur eyebrows”

•Parr is super defensive of the two of them

•She teases them sure but if anyone else tries, they have to sleep with one eye open

•Anne and Kat don't understand why people keep coming up and apologizing to them

•When they ask Parr, she just shrugs and smiles

•Parr used to be super motivated back in year seven. When year eleven rolled around, she became a little more rebellious, first the name tags, then the mouthing off. Then it escalated further and further. No one else but Parr and Anne knows what happened to cause this change

•Parr is soft for Anne and Kat and Anne and Kat alone

•She roughs up Aragon, Seymour and Cleves bc she knows they can take it. She's soft when she needs to be and not many people see that side of her

•Her favourite teachers rarely see that side either. Only during teacher's day when she sneaks into the staffroom to give them homemade cookies

•Parr wears leather jackets to class and no one dares question her.

•Anne learnt Chinese and how to play the guitar during detention so that she could sing for Parr the next time they had a session together

•Anne singing Unchained Melody exactly like in ghost the musical, and does the little elvis riff too

•Parr and Anne facetime and do Kahoots together because they need to study aka theyre competitive as shit

•Cathy gets excited in class and stands on her chair and yells "I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK. U COMING TO KILL ME???" And promptly gets removed from the class.

•Parr gets a "Little Miss Adventurous" award for having the most travelled converstation.

BONUS:

•The queens doing that egg project where they have to bring an egg home and keep it for a week

•Anne calls hers Eggward Eggburt.

•Aragon drops it the moment she gets it

•Anne brings the egg home and makes it into an omelette

•Jane does well till the sixth day where she goes fuck it and uses it to bake cookies.

•Cleves breaks it during lunch after Anne called her a name and she threw it at her

•Kat gives hers to Jane and it's baked into chocolate chip cookies

•Parr shuts hers in the fridge for a week and takes it out at the end of the week

•Anne gets asked where her egg is and she pats her stomach which results in Kitty yelling “YOURE PREGNANT?!”

•Jane gets asked where her egg is and she holds up this cookie jar and offers the teacher one

•Parr is praised for being the only one in class for having an intact egg and then she grabs the egg and breaks it on the teacher's head cuz she 'needed to shut up'

#anne boleyn #six the musical #millie o'connell #aimie atkinson #katherine howard #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #grace mouat

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supersoldiersruined-me · 5 years ago

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Caelus

A/N: This is my entry (super late yet again) for @ruckystarnes Summer of AUs challenge! And for a lack of inspiration, the titlte is space in latin! loll I had an inital idea when I signed up but this honestly took me so long to grasp and then it just poured out! So here it is, thank you for being so patient love! 💖 Beta: babyboo @eyesfixedonthesun22 Warnings: language, smut, gay sex, mention of blood Word count: 5714 Prompt: Space AU, Stucky

Main Masterlist | Challenges Masterlist

“Steve, you jackass! Come back!” There’s no point in yelling twice. Bucky knows. But his best friend is storming towards the recruiting line-up with a mighty will. When they had denied him to join the army, Steve jumped on every last occasion to prove himself.

Not two weeks ago, Stark Industries announced a new advanced project that would allow a select group of candidates to participate in a space camp tryout. They’d be secluded into experimental ships, given some basic training and then experts would monitor their behavior, their reactions to simulated situations. If they made it out alive - and sane - a month later, they’d be taken to Stark’s secret facility and given proper training and instructions. Every boy in New York reached out like little kids given the gift of their lives.

So Bucky is standing there in the busy streets of Brooklyn, arms up in disbelief. The sick boy was going to go against the odds once more. He was a foot shorter than the men around him. Arms frail, and thrown into an asthma attack once he reached the building. Security threatened to keep him out - much to his safety - but Steven Grant Rogers does not back down because of some disability.

“I swear to God,” Bucky mumbles under his breath as he begins to make his way towards the atroupment of testosterone.

“There’s no reason for me to be doing less than these men!” Comes as a shout out of Steve’s mouth. He’s red and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s the rage or yet another one of his problems surfacing.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go home,” he tries to reason with him.

“No Buck! Don’t you get it?” Steve turns back to the guard. “I’ll fucking die anyway! Might as well it be doing something important…” His face winces at the thought; he’d never mentioned his illness as something so weighing, so dark.

“Steve…” He brings his hand to his best pal’s shoulder as he tries to comfort him. “Your value isn’t measured with what you can do for the world. You take care of me and that’s plenty.” Steve sighs and accepts defeat.

“Fine,” he looks into Bucky’s eyes, tears of anger filling his own, “I guess we can go.”

They turn towards the street and start walking home. As he looks over his shoulder at the line of people still hoping to get a shot, he sees a strange man scribbling down a notepad, looking at the two of them leave with a smile. Round glasses frame his face, he hasn’t shaved in a week. From his outfit and his demeanor Bucky knows he’s German. He shrugs it off and turns his attention back to his friend, throwing his arm around his neck.

It’s a week later when a knock at the door startles the boys out of their sleep. It must be around three in the morning, as far as Steve can tell. He turns on the lamp on his nightstand and looks over at Bucky in annoyance.

“Jerks,” he whispers as he recalls the nights of torment the kids from the neighbourhood had him endure - it was the reason Bucky had moved in with him.

“Let me take care of it,” the dark haired man replies.

“Bucky, stop. I can take care of myself.”

“See, the thing is, you don’t have to.” He shakes his shoulder before walking over to the door. There’s a paper taped to it, bright and clear texts surround a pointy, metal ship image. There’s the Stark logo on it, and it makes him shiver in excitement.

“Steve…” He trails. “Get your ass over here.”

He hands him the poster and gives him a minute to read. It begins to tremble in his hands when he reaches the last sentence: “We are glad to announce that you have been selected to participate in an experimental camp supervised by the Stark Industries.”

There’s a place and time for them to be the next day, and they spend the rest of the night getting their luggage ready, along with making up stories and tripping out over the opportunity.

The rustic walls of brick have transformed into sterile steel. The floors are made of a plastic-like material - something easy to clean, Steve notices. It would be impossible to reach the ceiling and he’s wondering how they even managed to build this facility anyway. It’s highly distinct from the level of ingenuity of the current construction standards. The white building stands out absurdly in its secluded forest location.

Robots roam around, tacking and bolting steel plates to one another. Prototypes of deadly weapons are hung on the walls as they walk behind a seductive lady to what they presume is the reception. Their stuff, along with themselves, go through metal detectors - something they had only heard of until now - before making their way to a large office.

“Good evening, boy.” There’s a thick accent to the greeting, one that both can easily distinguish. “I hope we haven’t given you too much trouble.”

“Not at all, um...” Bucky begins, words failing him as he’s still processing the amount of discoveries they are about to do. He sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping.

“I’m Dr. Erskine. Responsible of the Biological Enhancement department here at Stark Industries. This here is Lady Carter, she’ll be assisting you on your journey.” The voluptuous woman nods their way and it has them both swallowing hard. She has a confidence they had never witnessed, and it has them nearly humiliating themselves.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve manages to say as he struggles to gain composure. He hopes she doesn’t notice him drying his palms on the back of his pants.

“Likewise,” she says. Her British accent runs a shiver up Bucky’s spine.

“Now, we wouldn’t want to keep you up too late. If you please follow Miss Carter to your assigned pod. We’ll go through the logistics in the morning.” The German man hands them a pair of overalls; nothing flattering, Bucky thinks.

It takes only three weeks for the boys to be fully independent, allowing them to be part of the first team to launch the program. Their uniforms along with their tools and weapons get a significant upgrade. They’re already anticipating the look of their new quarters.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Steve mentions.

“Really? After twenty-something attempts I would highly believe that you’d be given a chance,” Bucky answers with a hint of sarcasm. They both laugh until a voice requests them to be at the main quarter in the next ten minutes.

The spaceship is a hundred feet tall or so, its body is quite narrow and it feels pretty sturdy. They gulp nonetheless, this would be for real and they couldn’t just drop out with a snap of their fingers. The team of eight wait by the cabin door, ably putting on their masks and equipment.

“This is it!” Bucky shouts.

“We’ve been working so hard for this. Maybe a few years after this we’ll be able to finally see what Earth looks like from up there.” Doug, who’d been the fittest one of them until he took Bucky under his wing and made him an even bigger beast, contemplates the unimaginable.

“Remember when just last year they presented the concept of flying cars and it failed. Seems like they were either lying to us or they made phenomenal progress since then…” Bucky remembers his astonishment after the Stark Expo; he was always a fan of progress and technology used for the good of the population. This journey would be an experiment of a life-time.

“Alright everyone settle in.” The German accent demands over the intercom. The small group walks into the ship and find their respective seats. With his wit and quick thinking, Steve was assigned board commander. Bucky was in charge of the combat tactics. It felt like, for once, their lives had meaning and it was an honour to be going through this together.

“‘Til the end of the line.” Steve captures his friend’s hand in his.

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky answers. They feel the ship ‘shake off the ground’, and the team howls in enthusiasm.

Once the orbiting procedures are done, they find their way into their seperate quarters, each sharing rooms in teams of three, except for Bucky and Steve who have the room to just the two of them. They walk to the door as they chit chat. Their smiles fade when the door slides before them and they notice the size of the room.

A large window gives out to a realistic CGI galaxy. The moon roams by slowly and it’s enough to have them holding their breaths, eyes watering at the beauty.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. He turns to see his friend nodding at him, his lower lip bitten as he tries to hold in his emotions. “This wouldn’t have happened without your stubborn little head.”

“You deserve this as much as I do Buck.” They turn around and freeze at the sight of the one king sized bed that sits right in the middle of the room. Around it is a flowy drape they can pull closed - something to keep the sun out as it never sets, they think. At the corner of his eyes, Steve can see Bucky blush. His body shivers, his numerous dreams coming to his mind again.

“Is, um. Is that okay with you?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s fine Stevie.” He walks over and sets his bag on a small bench. They begin to set their things in the abundant storage space. Neither of them talk for the next couple of minutes, too shy, perhaps. Too caught in their own fantasies to acknowledge their separate peaks at the one bed as they eyeball the distance that will be left between them.

“I’m exhausted. I’ll hit the showers and be right back.” Bucky is first to say, a foot already out the door.

Steve sheds his clothes, leaving only his briefs on. The sheets are the softest thing he’s ever touched. Everything is plushy and so welcoming. There’s Bucky’s sweatshirt on the left side pillow; he’s tempted to take it and wear it, knowing he’s always cold at night. But he only pulls it close and brings it to his face, feeling the material on his heating cheeks, inhaling the masculinity of his best friend. It’s inevitable he’s growing hard at the thought of being able to smell it directly from his neck. To have his head on his chest.

His free hand reaches under the band of his briefs, tentatively groping himself to try and relieve some tension. He loses himself in it though, and starts moving and twisting his hand faster. He’s staining his underwear but he doesn’t care. He knows Bucky’s hand would feel much better, much more unforgiving. There’s a pinch in his gut at the thought of teaching him all his sweet spots - or worse even, letting him discover them as he becomes a panting mess on this very bed.

“Shit,” he whimpers into the balled up sweater. His hips find a slow rhythm to go along his hand movements. His dick is out of its hiding spot by now; he’s big for his frame and he needs the extra room to pump harder. The door opens but he’s too lost to notice. There’s another muffled moan before he hears someone clear their throat.

“Steve, I-”

“Fuck! I’m sorry.” No no no! he thinks. “Buck I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine Rogers, just... Maybe finish in the bathroom?” He suggests with an uncomfortable smile. He’s scratching his scalp, looking anywhere around the room but the bed. When Steve doesn’t budge, he allows himself to look down. His friend had simply pulled the cover over his head, and he knows Steve is cursing himself for being careless.

“You can keep the hoodie, if you’re cold.” Steve nods no and doesn’t move. “Alright,” he adds before shuffling into his spot. He’s careful to stay along the edge of the bed, enough not to fall off but granting his friend personal space. He closes his eyes and tries to let his mind wander into sleep. It’s no use now that he’s seen his pal touching himself like that. Not that he’d never imagined it - he was much smaller in his mind though. He didn’t sound as heavenly either. Bucky had caught Steve jerking off already, their apartment being quite small for two people, but it was always discreet and he mostly had to spy on him to see anything.

The more he thinks about it, the more each scenario comes out clear. Steve had touched himself whenever they had been close, like when they got back home from the drive-in, or if Bucky walked around shirtless after a rather intense training. Steve had touched himself every time he felt bothered with Bucky’s presence, and fuck if that wasn’t something he’d dreamed about.

He inhales deeply before shifting to face Steve. His hand slowly lifts and comes to rest on his friend’s shoulder, which surprisingly relaxes under his touch rather than tense up.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m sorry, okay?” It’s a half plead, half demand as the physical effects of his actions still haven’t dissipated. Bucky knows from the speed of his heart when his Stevie is nervous of agitated. Or in this case aroused.

“No. I’m sorry Steve.” Without turning completely, Steve gives him more of his attention. His silence is enough to note his questioning. “I should’ve realised before.”

“Wh-what do you mean, Buck?”

He answers with his body rather than try to explain his thoughts out loud; Bucky could be the clumsiest person when his mind got hazy. His hand moves to Steve’s chest, and in a swift pull he brings him closer. Close enough to kiss along his shoulder, then up his neck, until his nose tickles the base of his scalp.

“Buck,” Steve shivers.

“Let me. Please Stevie,” he says, his breath warm on the poor boy’s frigid body. When he doesn’t feel a protest, he lowers his hand onto his stomach, takes extra time just under his navel before he ventures under the waistband of his briefs. He’s perfectly hard under his touch, it takes a longer stroke than he anticipated before his thumb can reach the soaked tip. Steve hums deep in his throat. Bucky’s hip jerks forward in response. He’s already a mess and he’s only been touching him for a few seconds.

“Yes,” Steve whimpers. It earns him a soft bite to the shoulder; tender action meant to stifle a moan. “Bucky, don’t hold back.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear this,” he answers.

He’s got Steve on his stomach as soon as he’s done answering, a low grunt escapes his lips when he kneels over Steve’s legs, admiring the boy’s slender body. He snakes his hands over his shoulders, over his arms. He feels every inch of his skin as if he’d seen it for the first time. It feels new, strange even, to be able to give his pal what he’d always dreamed of; but it’s the best sentiment he’s ever experienced. From the soft moans he can pull from Steve, Bucky knows he’s enjoying this as well. Once the muscles under his touch have gone slack, he proceeds lower, kissing the trail he makes in the valley of his back. Steve jerks his hips up slightly when Bucky’s thumbs come to rest over his back dimples. He’s longing for what’s next; for the frightening act of intimacy.

“Bucky, you don’t-” He’s cut short in his suggestion by the inevitable. He moans Bucky’s name over and over every time his tongue flattens over his puckered hole. Bucky’s at work like a hungry man who’s just discovered the sweetest fruit. He licks and sucks and pokes intently at the flustered mess of man underneath him; and /he’s/ already done for. He’s rock hard in his own boxers at the way he can get Steve to squirm.

“Ja-james! Ah!” Steve’s got both hands fisting the sheet and his face flat into his pillow. He moves his hips along with the tactful intrusions. There’s a sticky mess already glueing his stomach to the mattress but he doesn’t care. If anything it allows for the lack of friction on his aching dick. “More. Please,” he pants.

He can hear Bucky spit but his rear is already too worn out from the previous actions to feel a thing. There’s a light poke, then a sting as Bucky’s slowly inching two fingers into him.

“So fucking tight, Stevie. God… You’re going to ruin my cock, aren’t ya?” His words send shivers up their bodies.

“All yours Buck,” Steve adds before choking on his words when he feels a third finger joining the others. “Always been yours.” With that said, Steve stretches back as best he can and brings a hand to the brunette’s hair. He plays with the curls, eyes fixed on the icy blues and his stomach tightens when Bucky leans into the touch. He moves his hand to his chin and pulls him up so their eyes are leveled.

“Will you let me take care of you now?” Bucky asks and regrets the way he phrased that.

“I can ta-”

“No, punk.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “It’s not about bullies anymore Stevie. I want you to feel wanted. Desired. It always pissed me off to see how the ladies treated you. They don’t know what they’re missing.” There’s a moment of silence while Steve turns around and sits straighter. His brows furrow but he doesn’t argue.

“Bucky, it’s fine. Those girls didn’t really have anything going for me, anyway.”

“So… Will you?” He’s still not looking at Steve. Afraid that maybe this was all he could allow himself to take. He ruined his chance, he thinks. But then Steve’s thumb comes to his chin and he’s forced to look up. The pretty blond is all smiles; the sweet pink on his cheeks warms Bucky’s heart. Steve dives in and crashes his lips to his friend’s. His boyfriend? Lover? He isn’t sure yet but that doesn’t matter for the night.

“Would that include letting me come before the morning?” There’s a gasp coming from Bucky as the question comes out, but he smiles and nods stupidly at Steve’s confidence. He pounces on him, their lips meeting again in a heated kiss.

“Only if it’s while I’m fucking that prefect little ass,” he taunts.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve answers.

The following nights are spent identically. Several years of hidden feelings are finally being rewarded and the boys know exactly how to make up for lost time. Most of their breaks are spent in their room, in the sauna or in the private lounge each team gets to share alternatively. Between trainings and meals, before, during and after showers. It’s an insatiable feeling to be wanted and taken care of, which never came easily to Steve until the very moment Bucky had his face between his hands and seemed to dwell into his eyes. Everything went on so quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, for Bucky soon found himself feeling guilty. Dirty. To be filling his needs with his favourite boy, while he knows he’s building a really fragile castle around them. To be imagining a life of happiness that had no place to be. Amongst the group, none seem to have caught up on their shenanigans. They were safe. Safe in the confines of this ship until the mission was over and they’d have to go back to being best buddies; friends since playground. It’s a thought that has Bucky’s stomach churning. He’d been glued to bed with a pounding headache for two days, and a raging boner he kept denying Steve. This has to stop, he thinks.

The curtains rush open, startling him out of sleep. Through the bright, manipulated daylight he sees Steve’s silhouette standing in front of their window.

“What’s up, Stevie?” His voice barely makes it out of him.

“I could ask you the same,” Steve accuses right away. He can hear Bucky fall back into his pillow and grunt.

“Care to explain…”

“You’re unbelievable.” He paces, his hands on his hips. “What’s so hard for you to accept? I thought you realised that we had been hiding these mutual feelings. I thought you were on my side, Buck. You haven’t touched me, haven’t even looked at me in the eyes for a week…”

The anguish in his voice has Bucky up on his feet in a second - he’s ready to lay down his point of view but Steve retorts faster.

“Look around! We’re in a fucking ship that’s meant to be in space, man.” His finger taps the glass behind him. “Everything around us is astonishing progress.”

“Yeah, simulated,” Bucky says.

“But progress nonetheless. Forget what people think. Gosh I wish this thing could take us to the future. Maybe things would have changed…” Bucky takes a step closer and he’s ready to fold. He wants Steve in his arms. Wants to keep his word and hold him tight. He reaches his arms out but quickly retracts when a sharp object flies over his upper arm.

“What the-”

There’s a rush of wind that sends a dozen more pieces their way. The back wall of their room is fractured, smoke coming in from the adjacent room, followed by a muffled scream. The strident screeching of metal makes it hard to focus. Alarms have gone off and an external team is running around, trying to find everyone.

It suddenly becomes hard to breathe but the medics have surged to rescue the guys who were stuck behind the flames. When Bucky turns around to grab onto Steve, he finds him lying on the ground, hands clenching his stomach and he swears that even through all the back-alley fights he’s never seen Steve’s face so contorted. A piece of steel bigger than his hand pokes out of a gash just under his left rib. Bucky knows not to pull it from him. He’d seen the consequences first hand on the field.

“Don’t move, don’t move.” He’s got a hand on his shoulder and the other beneath his head. There’s a glance around his body before he’s sure he can lift him up. Luckily, Steve’s about half the size of the guys Bucky had to carry in boot camp. He makes sure to keep the wound close to himself, and he heads towards the nearest door, the floor plan of the ship something he knows like the back of his hand.

“I got you Stevie,” Bucky says when he hears him weep.

Bucky’s fidgeting on the chair around the corner of two narrow hallways. His arm still burns from the alcohol-drenched bandage someone put on him while he was passed out. He turns to the one on his right. It’s bright from all the fluorescents and much too lifeless to his liking. The same nurse keeps shuffling through the different doors with a pad in hands. His head is about to explode from all the beeping of the life support machines and the aftermath of inhaling so much smoke. Someone at the end of the hall in front of him keeps coughing and Bucky’s throat is suddenly tingling. He’s a moment away from bolting up from his seat when Peggy walks out of the room.

“Barnes.” She has an apologetic look, but she offers a sweet smile. “He’d like to see you.”

There’s a blink before he can react, before blood goes back into his legs and he can head towards her. She reaches for his arm and guides him over, stopping just before the curtain around the bed.

“Now,” she begins. “We’ve had to um… They did someth-”

“He’s fine?” He practically screams.

“Yes. Yes James he is fine.” She takes a step back and stretches her arm to direct him forward. He takes a deep breath, flattens his shirt over himself as a habit and nervously pulls onto the edge of the curtain.

His heart skips a beat when he lays eyes on him. He recognizes the flowy blond hair; he wants to run his hand through it. But he’s taken aback when he gets closer. The under shirt they put on him is about to burst from the width of his shoulders. His jaw, man, his jaw is square and strong, just like the rest of him. He scans him up. Once. Twice. He thinks it’s the illusion of Steve being laid down, but he knows he’s gotten taller. Before he can wonder further a hand comes to his shoulder.

“Stark. What happened?” He asks, not taking his eyes off his friend.

“The infection spread like wildfire. His frail disposition made it impossible for him to surpass this. He needed a little...boost...if I can say so.”

“Well, a boost he got!” Bucky answers a tad enthusiastically. He sees Peggy smirk and his cheeks heat up. “Sorry,” he mouths.

“Yes. Well. We had this experimental serum going around for a while. A project run by Dr. Erskine. It was meant to help soldiers heal faster. Make their ability to bulk up easier. Let’s say we might have dosed up a little on him.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Peggy joins in.

“Did it... hurt?” There’s a new concern in Bucky’s voice. The same gut wrenching feeling he had whenever he found Steve beat up to the ground. He closes his eyes to keep the imminent tears from spilling out.

“Did it like a champ,” comes Steve’s voice next.

“Steve, listen,” Bucky begins as they walk into their apartment, bags of groceries in arms - the first one since they’ve been back from the mission. He’s walking behind him, still astounded by the two inches Steve has won. Their elbows bump as they walk around in the kitchen - they’ve yet to adjust to the two of them taking a lot of space; the conversation of them moving out into a new place was impending.

“Bucky, stop. I know you didn’t want to hurt me.” He means it, but Steve continues to set the things away without looking at him.

“I got caught off guard, Stevie. The lady asked the question but the tone in her voice made me uncomfortable. I should have s-”

“Yes. You should have said we were together. But it’s fine,” he adds. Bucky steps up and grabs one of the blonde’s hands. He brings it to his chest, over his heart, and his eyes begin to water when they get lost in his. There’s a synched deep breath before Bucky composes himself.

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s shoulders loosen at the small admission - he watches as Bucky kisses his fingers one by one before leaning into him. His lips come to his neck and Steve can’t help but shiver. The serum surely had enhanced everything.

“Why is it still so hard for you to acknowledge this,” Steve says as he rubs Bucky’s back. “Every time you say ‘friend’ my stomach flinches.”

“Strict family. It’s been coded into me when I was young. Every time I would hang out with you I’d get deathly stares at the dinner table.” Steve hugs him tighter. Bucky had never mentioned this before. Never said a word about being roughed around as a kid. He feels guilty. A feeling of remorse stikes through him as he recalls the numerous times he asked Bucky to pose for his sketches. Or when he needed a hand climbing somewhere and Bucky would hold onto him /just that way/. He didn’t know that his father was overlooking their every move from his office window. Didn’t know that his own mother was being lectured about their behavior.

“Plus, I still look at you and kind of freak out that I don’t have my little Stevie anymore. But you know… I’m really looking forward to what /this/ Steve can do.” He takes a step back to better look at him. His hands are on his hard chest, making their way onto his shoulders and he can feel Steve relax under his touch. One hand moves up to his nape before settling onto the side of his face; the other has made its way south, tracing every muscle on the way down.

“How about you knock some sense into me?” Bucky taunts, eyes dark and glimmery. It takes Steve out of his thought - pulls him out quite harshly in fact - but he lets the brunette palm him through the thick fabric of his chinos.

“But, Buck. We always-”

“I know. But I want to, baby. At least once…” There’s a soft whine along Bucky’s words and Steve melts into his embrace. Their lips stand close, waiting patiently for the right opportunity; though Bucky’s hand has made its way past Steve’s zipper by now. “For once, Stevie...please fuck me.”

It’s beastial. The way Steve picks his lover like he’s not heavier than a pillow. How he has him pinned to the wall by their room - they had finally started sleeping in the same bed, and eventually turned the spare room into a small art studio.

It takes a minute for Bucky’s hand to land onto the door handle, and another second for his mind to command it to turn it open. Steve’s grunt follows when it finally pries wide, allowing them to adventure further. Three steps later, Bucky finds himself thrown onto the stiff mattress, shirt gone missing while strong hands are already working at the button of his pants.

“Don’t break anything, Rogers.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to look down at the brusque man between his legs.

“The only thing I might be breaking is the bed,” he begins, his words muffled as he bites down on his tongue in concentration. He looks up at the headboard. Surely this was the first time they’d be intimate since ‘the change’. It most likely frightens Bucky more than it does Steve. A grin autographs his next words. “We need a new one anyway.” And with that he hooks his fingers into the waistband of both Bucky’s pants and underwear, and glides them off his thighs.

“Always so fucking hard for me,” Steve growls. “No wonder, you had /me/ on my back like that. I could get used to this view.”

“Don’t linger, Stevie.” Bucky’s words are low, but stern. His hips buck in agreement.

“Was I so whiny all the time?” They both chuckle before Bucky swats him on the chest.

“Only when I was balls deep in that fantastic ass,” he answers, both hands on the plump flesh he mentioned. The action causes Steve to grind into him - and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the plan all along. Bruises would appear on his shoulders the next day with how hard Steve’s biting down on them.

“I swear to God-" The enhanced man has his prey on his stomach in a flash, barely taking a breath of effort. He reaches forward to present two fingers to Bucky who gladly coats them in a generous amount of saliva. A hum rumbles into his chest when he feels them swipe over his hole, Steve taking his turn in exploring his man. The stretch is new, although Bucky had done this to himself in the past. The sweet tickling feeling of the intrusion is brain numbing. He's not sure he’s going to last. Surely Steve’s new physique could give more than he bargained for.

“Holy shit,” he cries when he feels the head of his dick press against him. They both moan when Steve inches into him with ease until his hips meet with Bucky’s ass and he stops, giving both of them a moment to adjust.

“Never thought it would be this good,” the blond grunts, eyes shut as he focuses on not painting the walls that so tightly envelop him. He pulls out just a tad, before pushing back in and establishing a smooth rhythm. Bucky contorts and mewls beneath him, his eyes go white as they roll to the back of his head.

“Like that, huh?” Steve asks. “I sure as hell fucking like it.”

Bucky can only make faint noises. Steves and ahs and what not escape his lips in the smoothest symphony Steve has ever heard. He’s fucking him relentless, unsure of how he can even get his hips to move this way as he never found himself in this exact position. But he’s going. And going. And he’s loving every moment, so much so that he’s not sure he can ever go back to the old ways. Inevitably him or Bucky would succumb. Both giving and receiving felt amazing, but he’d always be James’ little Stevie.

“You take me so well, fuck,” he adds.

“Ste-eve.”

“I know. Poor little face is all red and hot. You’re so close, love.” The praise comes naturally from Steve, but it seems to have Bucky blushing even more. He bends down and snakes an arm under Bucky so his hand can come around and hook onto his neck. His right knee spreads his legs even further, allowing him to bottom down into him; the head of his cock nudges that sweet spot and as if the words weren’t enough, it has Bucky pulsing and making a mess on the bed.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” He exclaims as he empties himself completely while Steve still pounds into him. He reaches back and grabs his lover by the head to bring him in for a heated kiss. A moment later it’s Steve’s turn to fall over the edge. He groans and shakes as he gives three more thrusts before pulling out and letting his seed splatter over the spent brunette’s back. Hot spurts reach up to his shoulders and onto his cheek. Steve is quick to lean forward and lick him clean.

“So good,” he says.

“Stevie, that’s your own cum,” Bucky replies with a shy smile. Who’d have thought Steven Rogers would be the kinky one.

“Mmm. And?”

“And… I want some.” They both chuckle before Bucky can grab onto the man’s broad shoulders and fetch what he wanted.

#rae'sausummer #rssummerofaus #challenge entry #my writing #stucky smut #steve x bucky #space au #stucky space au

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villlaneve · 5 years ago

Text

Life Update (I need help)

Hey, everyone. I’m sorry I haven’t really been active on here for quite a while. I want to explain myself. Just making this post has taken me lots of time and courage to get myself to do it but here I am.I feel hesitant to share this, as I don’t want this to seem like a pity party and feel like I should have higher standards for myself and should be able to do this on my own. My therapist and others have told me to be kinder to myself and cut me some slack once in a while so here I am.

I felt guilty reblogging posts on Tumblr after not having the energy to do so in a while and I wasn’t caught up with the shows so I punished myself by saying I shouldn’t be able to reblog anything. I will try to stop this way of thinking and am happy to go back to my usual reblogging after this!

What’s the problem?

I’ve been suicidal and struggling with depression since I was 16. I am 23 now and feel like I haven’t really accomplished all that much even though my therapist tells me that fighting for mental health and the way I am doing it is progress as well. I can’t really work up any energy to get up out of bed everyday and when I do I feel empty and can’t get myself to do things I enjoy. I can’t remember the last time I was able to read a book. My attention span and concentration is basically non existent so I cannot even watch the few things I can’t get excited about. TV shows such as Killing Eve, Supergirl and other female centric shows are the few things I DO get excited over and can find the energy to enjoy. I follow the posts on tumblr about Supergirl but the last time I watched an episode was about 6 months ago so sometimes not even that excitement makes me able to focus and watch what I love. Focusing on anything feels nearly impossible.

You can imagine that applying this to every day situations it gets even worse. I’ve lost my job around October and have so much anxiety and fear about applying somewhere else. Trying to get into new hobbies that could motivate me to do anything like photography or making videos on youtube is impossible without the money and right equipment. I grew up and still live in a household where if something I do isn’t perfect then it’s bad and doesn’t matter at all. I apply it to every action I take and am trying to actively unlearn it but so far it isn’t working. When a task or opportunity appears all I think about is the possibility of failing and not being good enough so I end up scared and freezing up. I do nothing. I can’t apply for a job or a university/apprenticeship because of that fear and have been stuck in the past few years of my life.

Why don’t you get a job/degree?

I want to address my university education. University in Germany is quite different than in the US. You choose a major once you start university and that’s what you’re stuck with. I got scared after already taking a gap year right after high school and started studying something that ultimately I realized was not right for me. I convinced myself that I should just finish it and work hard and that it could be right for me. otherwise I would be a failure once again. I froze up and stayed in this path. Except eventually I stopped going to classes all together and became more and more depressed and desperate as I did not know what to do next. I don’t know who to ask for help and am scared to do it to begin with.

I finally worked up the courage to apply to a different major earlier this year. That opportunity fell through/I did not get the spot and now I am back to not knowing what to do. Starting another path and applying for spots even if I decide what to do is going to lead me to more freezing up and thus more complications. On top of all this there is another factor that’s weighing on me.

I am in a long distance relationship and have been since I was 18. This relationship gives me a lot of strength to go on and try fighting but at the same time it is another pressure and weight on top of everything. As my girlfriend lives in the US and her plan is for me to move there, originally I was supposed to be finished with my degree at this point.

Now I am still basically at 0 and cannot move to the US in the foreseeable future. I’ll have to finish a degree here for 3-4 years, find a way to see if my career path is even transferrable to the US. Speech therapy is an apprenticeship here; a german system that includes school and work experience at the same time and lets you start a career after finishing it; its an alternative to a university degree in a way. I feel like the pressure of tests, writing papers and failing at a university is too much for me too handle with my mental health anyway and the only universities that offer speech therapy as a university degree are private and cost money that I cannot afford!

We try to make things work and see eachother as often as possible but financially making a transatlantic flight work and having to pay for food, transportations etc everytime I am visiting her 1-2 times a year is getting way too much for me to pay for. Especially now that I do not have a job. Only having to do this for another year or two would have been fine but now it will be another few years before we can even think about me going there. Safe to say this is a hard situation and is putting a big strain on our relationship, financially and emotionally on both sides. Having to spend so many more years apart and not knowing how to afford to see eachother. My mental health is blocking me from finding a job to start alleviating the financial side of this at least and I am frozen in panic and fear.

Why don’t you get help? You can go to a hospital or clinic to treat this

I would like to add that on top of all this most of the friends I did have here are on a semester abroad or have moved out of the country all together. Despite that I am glad to have my family and the 1-2 people I see about once a month to give me comfort. It gives me a bit of levity and strength and I tried checking myself into a clinic to face my fears and mental health problems head on. However, they completely isolated me from any cellphone usage there and going outside at any time. Visitors were only allowed on weekends. I had no way of communicating with anyone aside over a landline and only in very limited time slots (that landline was broken for several days when I got there mind you). I had to scramble to somehow find a way to talk to my partner with her buying a skype international landline and even then most of our calls were spent with us trying to find a way of when we could talk the next time and being frustrated when things would not work on some days because of commitments. If there was a change of plans there was no way for me to call her and let her know something was up. Only she could call and it was anxiety inducing for both of us having no way to reach out to eachother. The people there all had their own issues and as a person who already worries about triggering other people being around very emotionally vulenrable people only and upsetting them (they told me all the things I had done wrong during a group therapy session) launched me into the worst panic attack of my life. No one checked up on me after in the clinic and I no longer felt it was the right or safe place for me and had to leave. Moreover, having a 1 days notice on when I’d get into the clinic They gave me no time to prepare for these new and extreme conditions (they called me and said I have to decide on the spot if I wanted to come in tomorrow, otherwise I couldnt come into the clinic until March next year).

I am thankful to be back in the little safety net of therapy, being in the city I love with cafes and parks that can somewhat relax me and calm me down and my cousin and aunts to support me. Unfortunately, my parents put me under pressure to “contribute” more in the household. I never know what “enough” is. Everday I get home and do chores I live in fear that it is not enough and will result in them yelling at me again claiming arbitrarily that what I did was not enough in their opinion. Things are tense to say the least. They want me to start something and get better with my mental health but never really offer to help me themselves and I feel lost and alone. Because of this treatment I always feel that nothing I do is good enough and I can’t/shouldn’t even try in the first place. I am never sure if the standards they set for me are too high or if I am just being whiny and weak or not good enough objectively?

What part of this is my mental health? am I just being lazy? are they right?

Here is the part I feel especially guilty about: Asking for help.

I wanted to accurately explain why and how I am struggling. I hope at least some of you can empathize and understand why this seemingly easy situation is so hard for me because of my family history and mental health.

Money doesn’t buy happiness but it does help alleviate certain financial problems. Being currently unable to get myself to get stable income I feel even more stuck and am struck with panic about how to visit my girlfriend at all.

What will you do when you have money? How will you spend it?

I am commited to fixing my mental health and will do weekly updates on what progress I’ve made. Therapy, looking into speech therapy paths, finding deals and dates for the cheapest possible flights to the US, hobbies like photography or making videos. Having people looking and validating the process makes me feel like I can do this and gives me a project to focus on. I just hope for your kindness to spare any money you have to contribute to bettering my current situation. If you want me to write anything for you, I am happy to just tell me which pairing and the general plot idea and if you want any specific things included. I’ll sincerely do my best.

Moreover, the money would truly be spent on what I need to get better and stabilize i.e. medication, plane tickets to see my girlfriend, equipment for filming/photography, semester fees and occasional mental health treats like going out to a warm cozy cafe to relax and not be faced with the constant stress and pressure at home (max. 15€ a week). I am happy to document these spendings for you.

As soon as my life has stablized enough and therapy or others around me have helped me to get back on my feet, get a stable income, etc you don’t need to feel an obligation to donate and I can take my posts down if necessary.

My PayPal is https://www.paypal.me/ninin96 and I am truly grateful for anything you are willing to give me or comission me.

Thank you for your time.

#personal #I am happy to add receipts/pictures etc of me being in a clinic #plane tickets etc #and ofc I would do this when planning all the updates and the thing on spendings #anything helps #this would literally save me so much stress/anxiety and help me work on myself #like I said I am happy to do comissions #I realize my writing in this is not up to par but it was because its basically my life story #and something that is still so raw and confusing to me

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learninglinguist · 6 years ago

Link

Learning a new language through immersion doesn’t mean you have to pack your bags and move to Europe for three months. Now, you just need to turn on Netflix. Language Learning with Netflix is a Chrome extension that lets you watch shows with two subtitles on at the same time so you can visually pair translations with dialogue and learn some new vocabulary in the process. It’s a clever service that makes use of Netflix’s massive catalog and all of the major languages in which it already offers subtitles, including Danish, Dutch, English, French, German, Italian, Norwegian, Portuguese, Spanish, Swedish, and Turkish.

The extension was created by developers David Wilkinson and Ognjen Apic who experimented with making their own language learning software before collaborating on Language Learning with Netflix. “For some languages (Farsi, for example), there’s only a limited amount of learning materials available,” Wilkinson said in an email. “I think a lot of people would enjoy studying a language with material they are already familiar with.”

The tool works best as a supplement for people who already have some basic understanding of the language they’re learning. There’s a vocabulary-highlighting feature that grays out less common words, which is adjustable to match your vocabulary level. Hovering over a word produces a pop-up dictionary, and clicking the word lets you hear it. You can also slow down the dialogue or automatically pause playback at the end of every subtitle, so you can learn line by line. There’s even a catalog of recommendations for movies and shows that are good to study.

The Chrome extension is free to use, but Wilkinson and Apic are planning to add more features, like additional subtitles for dubbed dialogue, which would only be available for paid users. “Netflix has alternative audio tracks for many well-known series, but the subtitles in other languages don’t match the audio,” Wilkinson said. “We’re considering creating new subtitles for these alternative audio tracks, so you could study German, for example, with Breaking Bad with matching German audio and subtitles.”

One of the few downsides is that the tool only works on Google Chrome, so you can’t use it with your Netflix app on tablets or streaming services like Roku or Apple TV. Hopefully, the service can make its way beyond browsers soon because it’s obvious that the potential for language learning through media is huge. Viki, a streaming service for Asian dramas, implemented a “Learn Mode” in 2017 that essentially does the same thing by showing two subtitles at once. The developers say they haven’t contacted Netflix yet, but “the project could likely go faster and further with their support.”

#netflix #learning languages #langblr #learninglinguist #languages #steph talks #hi guys im back kinda

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Truth Pt. 13

Master List @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Everything. Seriously. Feels, angst, violence, death, smut, fluff, trauma, literally everything.

A/N: The moment this crazy story ran away with me I knew so much of this was coming. It’s partially why I wrote the last chapter just to put off writing this one. I don’t want to say anything more because I just can’t but yeah.

Also HUGE thanks to @wonderlandmind4 and @courtmr for betaing this monster.

OH! And there is another chapter after this.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

Tony insisted everyone meet for brunch on Sunday around 11am. While you appreciate the gesture, after the late-night surrounded by so many people you’re kind of dreading it.

“We should make an appearance.” Bucky insists, slipping into his jeans while you’re still in one of his tee’s and your underwear in bed.

“Who even are you?”

“What?”

“Since when are you so keen on socializing?”

He laughs, “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah,” begrudgingly you crawl from the bed.

“It’s a low bar babe.” As you walk to the closet he grabs you and places a nipping playful kiss on the back of your neck.

“Mmm, sure you wanna go?” You purr, reaching back and pulling his hips close.

“Yep,” he slaps your ass hard. “Get dressed.”

Just about everyone is lounging in the common space save for Hill, who you saw leave the party last night with a knockout blonde.

“Morning!” Steve booms from the kitchen, pouring himself some OJ. From across the room, a blueberry hits Steve right between the eyes.

“We talked about this Rogers. Inside voices,” Clint groans, head falling back on the couch.

“Go a little hard last night Clint?” You pat his forehead as you walk by, he grunts in response.

Tony rounds the corner, “Oh the IT couple is here finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony laughs and plucks the paper Sam holds up from his hands.

“Check out who’s gracing the front of the Styles section.” He presses the Times into your hands and you stare down at a picture of you and Bucky from the night before.

The story is just a general overview of the gala but there, big and in color, are you and Bucky on the dance floor. It must have been just after the song ended. His hands are on your waist, the smile on his face brighter than the sun, your head is tossed back in a laugh. You look like any happy couple… Save for the fact that you weren’t just any couple.

“You’re on the website too,” Nat walks up and hands you her tablet.

There’s a gallery from the evening featuring everyone but there are quite a few candid photos of you and Bucky. One your head is resting on his chest, his lips pressed to your forehead. The caption reads: “Avenger team members, Barnes and Michaels, share a tender moment.” You aren’t sure how you feel about it. From the tension in Bucky’s jaw, he doesn’t know either.

“You can’t buy good PR like that,” Pepper says making herself and Natasha mimosas. “The two of you were just perfect.”

You both only stay for a bit. Unsettled by your images being so widely shared after living your lives in shadow for so long. It was a very abrupt change…

Back in the apartment, you pick up the paper that was always left by the door, Bucky liked doing the crossword. You look at the picture again. Shaking your head.

“You ok?” Bucky comes up behind you, gently rubbing your back.

“Yeah… just… my mom is definitely turning in her grave right now.”

“Good or bad way?”

“Good,” you laugh a small hollow sound. “Her daughter in the society pages. She’d be beside herself. I can hear her now,” your accent tries to echo your mom’s soft German accent. “Finally you got it right my little firefly.”

“Firefly?” His expression is achingly soft.

“Mhm. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little. Always chasing them and catching them for her. So it became a nickname.”

“I bet they’re both very proud of you, doll.”

You shrug. “I’m… I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Two days later you go into the office for a pen to keep score in Scrabble and notice something new on the wall. The picture of you two from the paper beautifully framed. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s placed next to a picture of a young you with your parents, all three of you smiling and happy and a photo of him with his sisters and Steve, all of them smiling. Happy moments spanning almost a century, the two of you connecting them…

“Ich liebe euch beide,” (I love you both.) you whisper to your parents’ photo. “Sorry, it took me so long to get it together… I wish you could meet him… you’d like him.” Your eyes slide to the picture of you both.

You kiss your fingers and press them to the picture of your little family before wiping your eyes and heading out.

Bucky’s leg is bouncing at a ridiculous rate until you set your hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. He looks at you, knowing he looks like he’s about to burst open. It’s taking everything in him to shut up.

“So,” your voice is so steady, he can’t understand how you’re not as nervous as he is right now. “You’re sure this one is legit?”

Tony sighs, “Yeah. After the last two, we figured if we came across something similar to your signature again we’d monitor the area for a bit longer, see if or how the readings change.”

He runs a hand over his face as he looks over the images floating over the table. “The readings are strong… really strong. The draw on the power grid is insane. And… well, we’ve picked up all the variations of your energy signature… it’s not coincidence.”

The fact that the chances of them finding assets similar to you are incredibly high isn’t what has him on edge. It’s that the industrial complex the readings are emitting from is just outside of Odessa in Ukraine… It’s too close to what was once Hydra’s hotbed… It’s very possible that this is the facility you were made at, he knows you have to realize this.

The last place with a matching energy signature had been a place they’d housed you for a while. That alone wrecked you. To go back to where it all started… who knew what that may do to you emotionally.

“How volatile is this, Tony?” Steve’s tone is gravel.

Tony just stares a bit and Bruce answers, “Very. The emissions have been steadily climbing over the past couple of weeks. Only thing is we can’t really get a lock on how many are running the place… no way to know what we may run into.”

“But we can’t ignore it,” Sam’s gaze is locked on the screen’s, determination setting his features.

“No,” Tony agrees in a solemn voice. “We absolutely can’t.”

They head out tomorrow evening so they’ll land in Ukraine in the early morning hours. The hope being that the cover of darkness will give them a tactical advantage, the last thing they want is for them to abandon ship and set up elsewhere again. With any luck, this will be how they put an end to this particular project once and for all. He knows that will bring you peace of some kind.

Once the tactical brief is over and you’re back in the safety of your apartment Bucky wordlessly pulls you toward the bedroom. He needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to touch you, set you alight in the best way possible, see the sparkles in your eyes.

“Buck-” he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands sliding under your hoodie. Your body responds to his touch the way he hoped it would goosebumps rising, heart rate increasing, your hands grasping the waist of his jeans to hold him close.

At this point, you’ve learned the ins and outs of the other’s body. Even so every time he feels your touch it feels like the first time. He still is amazed you want him. He’s still so goddamn thankful.

He pulls your hoodie over your head and slides your leggings down your powerful thighs. Holding you by your hips he lifts you just a touch and gently tosses you back on the bed. Your small giggle fills him with warmth.

Once you’re free of your leggings entirely he runs kisses down your thighs, letting his stubble rub against the tender skin in that way that makes you shudder. His tongue flits across your clit causing you to let out a low sensual sound. He’s aching, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He ignores it. Right now he wants to make you feel good. To chase away any thoughts that aren’t pleasure.

After he’s lost count of the number of times he’s made you come you pant, “No more, please. I… you, I need to feel you, Bucky, please.” He smiles. It’s cute how you said please as if he’d ever say no.

Morning comes too quickly for his liking.

You shower together and it’s not until you’re drying your hair he finally says something about the mission, “If you can’t handle this, Y/N it’s ok. No one would judge you.”

Turning you give him a weak smile, “Are you really worried that I can’t handle it, babe? Or can you not…”

He traces your brow with his metal fingers, “I just don’t want this to get to you like the last one or… the first one… with the woman…” You take his hand in yours, studying his face.

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.”

“I do.” This time your smile is full, lighting up your features. “I have you. Nothing will ever be like it was before.” You look away, your brow knitting before meeting his gaze once more, “Bucky… I… you… I don’t feel broken anymore. Because of you.”

His chest constricts. Immediately he pulls you to him, crushing you to his chest. “You were never broken, Y/N. Never.”

As soon as the jet lands a mile away from the facility, you steel yourself. The fizzing in your head and a sick feeling in your stomach that began the moment you saw the shots Tony pulled up told you everything your own memories couldn’t really touch.

You had done your best to relay what information you could in today’s briefing. Everything from writing and drawing to miming, like some weird party game, was utilized. Hydra was smart, they knew it was always best for their dogs to know where home was but to never be able to lead anyone to it.

For what it was worth they knew the three-story building in the center of the complex was the main hub. The others were just storage, additional offices, nothing worth too much note and as best they could tell they weren’t being used at the moment. Underneath that building and snaking under the complex were at least four stories of labs, R & D facilities, medical facilities, training areas, holding cells, etc.

Since Tony and Bruce’s scans had revealed the same shifting energy signature that you emitted it was safe to assume they had, at least somewhat successfully, created another asset with abilities like your own if not multiple. The team is aware there’s a chance these people will likely be similar to the one you Nat, Steve, and Bucky faced all those months ago. Because of this the general consensus was to put them down, they couldn’t save them and they would be too big of a risk otherwise.

The main goal is to remove the possibility of these assets being sent out to wreak whatever havoc Hydra had planned. After that, they would get any intel they possibly could hard copy or otherwise and destroy any means they used to create you. With any luck, this would be the end of this branch of Hydra’s research. And you could close this chapter of your story once and for all.

“Alright,” Steve gets everyone’s attention, standing near the front of the jet. “We’re all clear on what we’re facing? And that Y/N has point here?”

A resounding Yes sends chills up your spine. No one knew what they were walking into, not really, and the idea of being the lead… You weren’t a leader. You were an asset. Trained to infiltrate, kill, obey. You didn’t lead you were led… led until you’d finally tell someone to go fuck themselves. Then they just reset you… a machine made, for one thing, destruction.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is soothing next to you.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m good.” Bucky’s metal hand gives yours a gentle squeeze.

Sighing heavily you release Bucky’s hand and stand next to Steve. “Like Tony said earlier, Jarvis can scan for energy signatures and alert everyone if something is about to go haywire but it’s not perfect. If you feel your skin begin to prickle, the temperature drop, or anything that’s remotely odd move on quickly. You engage with someone like me one shot to the head or the heart is the best course of action,” the tension around this point is palpable. “Physically attack as little as possible because it could trigger them to blow and if they’re good enough they can kill you on contact.”

You feel the energy shift under your own skin, “And if I say run, get the fuck out. We’re not losing anyone over this.” Your fist flexes by your side, thin tendrils of static glowing around it.

“Let’s end this.” Steve plants a heavy reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Everyone knows what their role is. Sam and Clint are covering the perimeter and outbuildings, taking out anyone they see and being their eyes on any suspicious activity that may indicate something going wrong inside. Tony is with Natasha and Hill while you’re with Steve and Bucky, the idea being that each grouping had someone who could lock in on energy signatures quickly. They would take the upper levels while your team would take the lower.

Though energy made it hard to scan for movement and heat signatures Tony was able to modify the coms to work. They had tested it over and over with your own power thrumming nearby and you were both confident he had it sorted. At the very least, you’d all be able to communicate what was happening.

Sam stops the van just outside the first building in the complex and you all file out before he tucks it away somewhere.

No one engages with you all on the first floor. It’s eerily quiet but you can feel that low pulse of power coming from somewhere below you, generators and something far more familiar. Bile rises in your throat and you struggle to force it down.

Tony’s group splits to head up while Steve and Bucky look for an access point down. You can’t seem to move. After a minute Bucky realizes you’re stuck.

“Baby,” his arms encircle you, the feeling of his touch and his familiar scent grounding you. “If you can’t do this-”

You shake your head. When you open your mouth at first nothing comes out, some part of your brain screaming that you aren’t supposed to speak here. “I w… want t… to.” You stutter but manage it. Small as it is it feels like a victory.

Steve lays a warm hand on your upper back, it's comforting to have both of them with you. “I got nothin’ but there’s gotta be a way down.”

There’s a ringing in your ears as you try to think, you press your forehead into Bucky’s chest squeezing your eyes closed trying your best to focus. It hits you, no stairs from here, an elevator hidden. Without a word you pull away from the both of them and walk robotically toward an office to the right.

The walls are wood paneling, a desk and chairs and books sit as though they’re just waiting for someone to come back from lunch. You know they’ve been in the same position for near 30 years. Automatically your hand reaches for the pencil cup, fingers effortlessly locating the one pen that doesn’t move. The innocuous sound of a pen clicking is followed by the whooshing of an elevator.

You all exchange a glance. An elevator was risky but… it would be faster.

“Y/N found an access point down. Elevator, fifth office door on the right, click the red pen in the cup. We’ll take it to the bottom and work our way up.” Steve updates the rest of the team.

“Be careful,” Natasha responds.

“We’ve cleared the second level, no one here. Once we’re done we’ll head down too.” Tony sounds tense. Someone should be here. Likely they were all downstairs… waiting.

Steve presses the fourth button, at least you were right about that. The doors close and each of the men takes one of your hands. From the corner of your eye, you see Bucky cast Steve a small but appreciative smile. As the elevator slows Steve releases your hand and moves in front of you both, shield out.

The doors open and there’s silence for a moment. All three of your heads swivel to the left, enhanced ears picking up on the slightest sounds. It’s over quickly. Steve shields you all from the bullets. One asset is like you, but like the other their attacks are unrefined. Steve manages to block a bolt with the shield.

“Down!” You command Steve and Bucky.

They hit the ground and a second later you send a white-hot bolt of energy slicing through the group. Some dodge of course but none save for the asset is fast enough to avoid your next volley. The asset lunges at you, hands sparkling. Bucky plants a bullet between their eyes in an instant and they’re down, energy dissipating.

As you make your way through the level you’re met with two other factions, neither have another asset like you though. There are a couple of muzzled assets but they go down like all the rest. This is not, after all, a mission where mercy can be afforded.

You’re picking your way through the medical ward. The pulsating energy from the generators makes your skin tingle, small sparks rising from you every now and then. A couple of computers are still running and you wipe them clean, hoping there’s something useful there. Once you take what you need you fry them to a pile of bubbling metal and plastic.

The underground levels are expansive, and after almost two hours of fighting and searching, you’re still not done here. Every passing minute seems to bring a new fragment of memory shooting through your skull. You keep them to yourself though, it’s not the time for them.

Tony’s voice crackles in through the coms. “Nat’s down. Entered what looked like a room with a boxing ring, it was electrified or something. Her vitals are steady but she’s unconscious.”

You grasp your head in your hands, trying to convince yourself that your skull isn’t going to fly apart. “T… training,” is all you can get out.

“Didn’t copy,” Hill’s voice chimes in.

“Y/N says those are training areas,” Steve looks to you for confirmation and you nod. “Avoid any room like that you see.”

You shake your head redirecting your mind to thoughts that weren’t about the facility so your tongue would obey you. “Go help them.” Steve looks like he’s going to argue, “We’ve got this. With Nat down, they’re down a person up there and someone needs to have an eye on her while she comes too since we can’t just leave her in the jet.”

“She’s right Steve. And in charge,” he throws his friend a wink. “We can handle ourselves. Go.”

Steve nods, “I’m heading to you, hold your position.”

You think this area is almost clear. At least until you cautiously you open two double doors that lead into a viewing area. Chairs are aligned in rows, bolted to the ground. Maybe enough for 20-30 people However they don’t face a screen.

In the corner of the room is a clear wall of what seems to be some kind of reinforced glass set between steel beams. Beyond that wall is a decently sized room. The only entry from where you stand is a door made out of the same clear material lined in metal supports. The two other walls of the room are stark white save for a window revealing a dark space beyond.

Your breath hisses out of you, Bucky turns concerned. “What is it?” Like a fish dropped on dry land your mouth opens and closes, nothing but small noises escaping, your brain screaming to tell him but your body unable to comply. “It’s ok baby,” the fingers of his right hand caress your cheek. “It’s ok.” Quickly he leans down and kisses you softly.

His touch. That’s what you focus on. Grabbing his hand you think about how good it feels when his skin is against yours, how good it felt last night to be with him. This seems to work, to allow you to take back some authority.

“There’s more.” Your voice is low but steady. “Through there.” You point toward the glass. “Research I think.” Bucky nods and you both proceed.

As you get closer though the energy levels rise higher. This room is like the one that zapped Nat… His hand goes for the handle.

“Wait!” He freezes. “Let me go first. I think it… it’s…” Fuck them for taking your words. You hold up your hand and let the power lash out in mini lightning bolts to demonstrate.

“Got it. Then we leave it.”

“No.”

His expression is exasperated when he turns to you. “Y/N you said-”

“It won’t hurt me. We have to clear everything.”

“Fine, if it goes too far back though.”

“I won’t proceed. There’s gotta be a way to shut it off close by anyway. I’ll look for that first.” He’s clearly not thrilled and honestly, you’re not either but you want to do this right. You kiss his cheek before opening the door.

The door and the walls are at least ten inches thick, the space around the door reinforced to a ridiculous amount and clearly only meant to be opened from the outside. Immediately you’re flooded with that energy, pure power, electric and hot flowing into you. After a few steps, you stop, having to take a moment to gather yourself.

“Doll?” Bucky calls after you, his voice dripping with concern.

“I’m ok,” you hold your right arm out thin strands of energy flowing from you to the ground. To your surprise the feeling clears your head a bit, you feel more in control than you have this whole time.

“I think… I think there’s one more level.” You turn to him. “Down. Where this,” you hold open your hand and light pulses so bright it’s almost blinding, “comes from. “Where I-”

“Y/N!” Bucky bellows moving to enter the room despite the risk. You’re incredibly thankful the door slams, preventing him from killing himself in here. You hear him fire his gun at the glass to no avail as you turn.

The room to the back is lit all the sudden, the power around you beginning to dissipate. A comm seems to switch on and you can hear Bucky’s voice screaming.

“Goddamnit! Steve, we have a situation back and left of where we split. Double doors. Backup now!”

You’re about to turn to tell him there’s gotta be another entrance and that you can hear him when a panel in the wall opens. You brace yourself for a fight, light coursing up your arms, lashing out ready to be released. A smirk plays on your face, they charged these rooms to trap people but only managed to give you a boost, unfortunate for them.

Instead of an asset or an agent though, a dignified older woman walks out. Her hair white and pulled into a familiar high bun. The set of her shoulders, the way her head is held, the way her eyes settle on you…

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, pounding on the door, trying in vain to get it open.

“Please, Sargeant Barnes, don’t make a fool of yourself,” the woman looks at him in disgust her accent softly Germanic. “This room was built to contain someone far more powerful than a recycled grunt like you could ever be.” She looks back to you, “Hello my little firefly.”

“Hurry!” Bucky bellows into the com. “Y/N! Baby doll, look at me.” He sounds like he’s a world away.

“M… mom?” You’re going to be sick you can feel it.

“Yes liebling,” she keeps her distance but gives you a smile. “It’s been too long. Longer to you I know. I wish that wasn’t the case but-”

You press the heels of your hands to your forehead as images flash. She was here… she had been… everywhere? What-

“This was not my preferred way my firefly but as always you have forced my hand.”

“I don’t-” you manage to breathe out. She takes a step toward you and you step back. Bucky is still pounding at the door with his metal fist, determined.

“You were born to be a wunderkind.” You can hear Steve in your crackling com, trying to find you but her voice cuts through everything. “My wunderkind. The honor to be chosen to be your mother…” She places her hand over her heart, “You were going to be the beginning of a new order for Hydra. A child raised in power-”

“W... what?!” This doesn’t make sense.

“Do you think you just happened to be stronger, faster, smarter all around better than your peers. No, my firefly.”

Suddenly you remember doctors visits throughout your childhood always with her. Your mother giving you injections telling you not to worry your dad because he was already so busy… The pushing the requirement to be perfect, it all takes on a sinister air.

“No, we made you better, all so you could become who you were meant to be. But instead, you threw it all away.” She sighs, a sound you grew familiar with as a teenager. “You forced my hand then, you’ve done so now.”

Steve is there, pounding with his shield, it’s not doing much, they call for Tony but you just can’t seem to care.

“It was one thing to work with trash like that,” she gestures to Bucky and Steve. “We could, I could, tolerate it while we got things sorted but to be with it. To debase yourself with Zola’s dog. I couldn’t stand by.”

“What did you say…” You growl, power once more pulsing.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N!” Bucky calls out.

“I created you to surpass everyone, to stand above humanity. I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” A bolt crashes just in front of her. Unimpressed she looks down.

“I made you into a god!” She sneers, “You made yourself into a disappointment.” That word hits you like a bullet to the chest. “Filling your body with filth. Associating with low lives. I did what any mother would do when it was clear there was no hope. I saved you from yourself!”

She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We would have brought you back home in a gentler fashion. But when I saw those photos… I knew I had to extract you sooner.”

“Home,” you spit the word.

“Yes. This is your home, Y/N. With me.” You hear Tony in the com he’s coming. Once more she sighs, “No matter, soon you’ll remember who you are, what you were born to be. Doch’,” the Russian word for daughter zings through you.

Immediately you lift a glowing hand in threat, “Don’t.”

“Ubegay,” a smirk lifts her lips.

Your hand shakes as does your voice, “Mama, don’t.” Even after everything… the thought of killing your mother…

“Boginya,” you try to shoot her but you miss. “Rassvet.”

“Bucky!” You scream, power slipping away from you in response to the words. Frantically you run to the glass by the door.

“Y/N! Tony hurry!”

“Vybrannyy.”

He presses close as Steve keeps pounding at the handle, “Look at me baby,” his voice echoes over the com. “Stay-”

“Zashchishchat’.” You scream and fall to your knees holding your head. He kneels mouth moving but you can’t really understand the words. “Pod’yem.” Your body feels so heavy your head filled with humming, static, pain.

“Y/N!” He screams your name over and over. This man…

“Dvadtsat’,” another man outside, metal man. You rise slowly and turn toward the woman speaking. The woman with the words. “Dtanovit’sya.”

She smiles broadly, “Svetlyak.” Everything in you... freezes. “There’s my firefly.”

There’s a loud noise behind you. You don’t think to look, haven’t been told to. No orders. Just wait.

Something circular swooshes through the air hitting the woman with the words in the stomach, she crumples to the ground. You don’t care, she didn’t give you orders to protect her.

“Y/N! Baby!” A man with a metal arm takes you by the shoulders, shakes you. “Y/N?! Come on, fight it! Come back to me.” He looks so upset… did he give you orders? He seems familiar…

“Soldat?” That’s right, the arm. The Soldier. Not a handler but he sometimes was like one. He looks at you horrified. The other men just watch.

Would he know what you were to do? “Kakovy nashi zakazy?” (What are our orders?)

“Oh god.” He runs a hand over his face and through his hair, turning away. When he turns back he strikes you, hard, with his metal hand.

You hit your knees. Head reeling from the blow. From Bucky’s blow.

“Barnes!” Tony bellows.

Bucky ignores him collapsing next to you. “I’m so sorry baby,” he pulls you to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

He’s pressed your face to his chest, rocking you a little, “Thank you,” you croak.

He holds you at arm's length, “Y/N?!”

You nod, “Thank you. You kept your promise.”

His face collapses. For a minute you hold one another both knowing that the end had just come so close.

There’s a wheezing, a cough, before, “Pathetic.”

That bitch. You release Bucky and stand, pushing past Steve and Tony who are dumbfounded at everything they’ve seen. Standing over your mother you feel power pulse up your spine.

“I thought you’d be my biggest victory, you’re nothing. Too weak for greatness like your father.” She forces herself up coughing once more, blood at the edges of her mouth. “I should have put you both down.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. About to blast a hole through her chest.

“Hail, Hydra.” Immediately she begins to foam at the mouth.

“No you don’t get to-” A wild feral scream tears through you and you blast her straight to the chest once, twice, before you let loose a third Bucky wraps you in his arms turning you away from your mother's corpse.

You break. Screaming and screaming until it doesn’t even seem to be coming from you. Body pulsing bright all over. Your whole life… everything you thought you had known or that you had tried to draw peace from was a lie. Your own mother… Had she killed your dad… All because you…

Bucky’s lips are next to your ear, softly he begins to sing. Fly Me To The Moon. “In other words, hold my hand,” his hands slide over your own, sparking with energy. “In other words, baby, kiss me…” Slowly you both sink to the floor, your screams giving way to sobs. “You are all I long for, All I worship and adore,” he rocks you gently your back to his chest. “In other words, I love you.”

As he finishes you’re able to get a hold of yourself, body no longer glowing dangerously. Breathe a little normally.

“It’s clear back there,” you hear Hill’s voice say softly to Steve and Tony. “Got some data from the computer. I don’t think she expected to lose, there’s a lot there.”

“Great,” Tony whispers. He kneels in front of you, “Sparks,” his gauntleted hand rests gently on your thigh, “let’s get you outta here.”

Bucky releases you and you stand on shaky legs. “Natasha?” You ask looking to Hill.

“She’s ok,” she gives you a warm smile.

The relief from that statement is short lived. A massive pulse of energy thrums somewhere beneath your feet.

Your eyes shoot to Tony’s as Jarvis pipes over the com, “There seems to be some sort of anomaly, I cannot get a lock on it but I suggest immediate evacuation.” You nod agreeing.

The elevators are down, likely an automatic shut off when there’s a breach like the one you’re feeling. You know that somewhere there have to be stairs but no one had found them yet. Tony blasts through the doors without a thought.

“We could climb up,” Steve says.

“Too slow.” He steps in and rips a hole through the roof, “Get in, I can pull it up.” You do as he says and Tony pulls the car up at the first-floor doors Steve pulls them open. The three of you let Hill out first before crawling out yourselves. Once everyone is clear he releases the car and it plummets to the ground.

Another pulse of energy rattles the windows on the building. It’s so like your own for a moment you’re scared it’s coming from you.

“Sir, I believe the facility is set to demolish itself,” Jarvis’ unfazed tone rings in your ear.

“Right. Let’s get going. Wilson, get that van ready we need to get the hell out now,” Steve calls out as he starts for the exit.

Hill is fast but she's not enhanced and the distance between the main building and the van is about 150 yards. Tony scoops her up and the three of you run at full speed. Almost to the van, you feel a massive pulse vibrate the ground under your feet, curling up your burning legs you freeze.

Bucky looks at you from the door, “Y/N, come on baby.” Another wave, this time you hear the buildings around you groan.

It’s not just the building that’s set to blow… You realize with a sick feeling… it wasn’t that your mother didn’t think she’d lose… she just knew it wouldn’t matter either way. When this detonates, you don’t know if it’s an asset or multiple or what… but the blast will be devastating. If it’s even fractionally as powerful as it feels Odessa will be in the bottom of a crater in the coming minutes… All those innocent people…

Bucky’s approaching you, to drag you to the van. Tony hovers close by, you look to him as you start to back up, “Remember that promise, Tony?”

“Yeah…”

“Time to cash in.” Bucky is almost to you and you shoot a light shock toward him to slow him down before you bolt back to the main building.

“Y/N!”/“Goddamnit!” You hear Tony and Bucky exclaim simultaneously. There are the sounds of a scuffle.

“Tell me what’s happening Sparky!” Tony grunts, the sound of metal on metal ringing in your com.

“It’s bad, the blast, the energy, real bad. I can stop it just get him!” You look over and see Bucky in hot pursuit before Tony grabs him.

You don’t look back again. You can’t. Despite hearing Bucky call out over and over.

Unable to stand it you rip the com out of your ear, crushing it in your hand. Even without it, even with the rumble of the earth, you can make out the fight. Should have told them to go, get away… But you can keep them safe. You will keep them safe.

At the face of the building, you take a deep breath and jump, releasing a blast from your palms to propel you up. This wasn’t something you did often, and sometimes it didn’t work but right now you have no choice, you’ve got to get to the roof. From there you can channel the energy through the building pull it up, focus it into something concentrated rather than an uncontrollable destructive blast. It will be unlike anything you had ever done but… you had to try.

It gets you about halfway. You grab a window ledge with both hands, using everything you have you push yourself up, releasing your grip and letting out more energy. Another wave of force almost causes you to lose your grip on the edge of the roof but you hang on and get there.

Kneeling at the edge you place your hands flat on the concrete, much as you had that day you thought of killing Bucky in the field you send your sense out to find your target down, down, down using the metal supports of the building itself to guide you. There.

It feels like people, three of them, assets, just like you… all about to blow…

Looking out you can see them still. Bucky and Tony are struggling, the whisper of Bucky’s screams echoing through the abandoned buildings. Everyone else standing unsure of what to do. All these people you… love.

You focus with all your might to draw the power of the three hopeless souls into something you can control. As you do so your heart shatters in your chest because now you know you aren’t getting through this, not if you want to save them all… and you never fucking said it.

Not to any of them and not to the one person who really needed to hear it… You told him with your body, with your concern, in every subtle sweet way a person can but those three words… words you knew with all your being were true… you never let them fall from your lips… and now…

Your own power, coursing through the frame of the building, begins to act like a sort of intangible conduit as it harnesses that of the three assets. Strangely it’s easy, their force so undisciplined, seems almost happy to find a path to flow into. The building groans, smoke emitting from it here and there, windows blowing from the rising heat. White streaks of light are beginning to become visible, like concentrated lightning, running straight for you.

As this overload flows into your body it takes everything in you to not scream, the pain is so blinding. You don’t want them… him to hear that though. Raising your other arm to the pink early dawn sky you pray to anything that will hear you that this plan will work… that you’re strong enough to contain this force. Like some bizarre lightning rod, the power thrums through you crackling from your fingertips, your body glowing bright…

“Like a firefly,” you think.

“Straight up, straight down, not out, not out, contain this contain it.” You focus on those words, determined. The power is about to break, you can feel it. The light almost blotting out everything, taking away your view of them.

“I love you,” you whisper wishing he could hear.

Then there’s nothing but light, and pain, and surrender.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 years ago

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Germany demands an end to working cryptography

Germany's Interior Minister Horst Seehofer -- a hardliner who has called for cameras at every "hot spot" in Germany -- has announced that he will seek a ban on working cryptography in Germany; he will insist that companies only supply insecure tools that have a backdoor that will allow the German state to decrypt messages and chats on demand.

He's said that he'll ban any service or app that does not comply with the rule.

If this sounds familiar, it should: it's basically the rule Australia enacted in December 2018. It's also been repeatedly proposed by Rod Rosenstein in his capacity as US Deputy Attorney General; and by GCHQ's Technical Director, Ian Levy.

I wrote a comprehensive explainer about this in 2017 when Theresa May proposed it. Here it is again, because honestly, the idea hasn't gotten any less stupid over two years.

Aaron Swartz once said, "It's no longer OK not to understand how the Internet works."

He was talking to law-makers, policy-makers and power-brokers, people who were, at best, half-smart about technology -- just smart enough to understand that in a connected world, every problem society has involves computers, and just stupid enough to demand that computers be altered to solve those problems.

Paging Theresa May.

Theresa May says that last night's London terror attacks mean that the internet cannot be allowed to provide a "safe space" for terrorists and therefore working cryptography must be banned in the UK.

This is a golden oldie, a classic piece of foolish political grandstanding. May's predecessor, David Cameron, repeatedly campaigned on this one, and every time he did, I wrote a long piece rebutting him. Rather than writing a new one for May, I thought I'd just dust off a pair of my Cameron-era pieces (1, 2), since every single word still applies.

Theresa May says there should be no "means of communication" which "we cannot read" -- and no doubt many in her party will agree with her, politically. But if they understood the technology, they would be shocked to their boots.

It’s impossible to overstate how bonkers the idea of sabotaging cryptography is to people who understand information security. If you want to secure your sensitive data either at rest – on your hard drive, in the cloud, on that phone you left on the train last week and never saw again – or on the wire, when you’re sending it to your doctor or your bank or to your work colleagues, you have to use good cryptography. Use deliberately compromised cryptography, that has a back door that only the “good guys” are supposed to have the keys to, and you have effectively no security. You might as well skywrite it as encrypt it with pre-broken, sabotaged encryption.

There are two reasons why this is so. First, there is the question of whether encryption can be made secure while still maintaining a “master key” for the authorities’ use. As lawyer/computer scientist Jonathan Mayer explained, adding the complexity of master keys to our technology will “introduce unquantifiable security risks”. It’s hard enough getting the security systems that protect our homes, finances, health and privacy to be airtight – making them airtight except when the authorities don’t want them to be is impossible.

What Theresa May thinks she's saying is, "We will command all the software creators we can reach to introduce back-doors into their tools for us." There are enormous problems with this: there's no back door that only lets good guys go through it. If your Whatsapp or Google Hangouts has a deliberately introduced flaw in it, then foreign spies, criminals, crooked police (like those who fed sensitive information to the tabloids who were implicated in the hacking scandal -- and like the high-level police who secretly worked for organised crime for years), and criminals will eventually discover this vulnerability. They -- and not just the security services -- will be able to use it to intercept all of our communications. That includes things like the pictures of your kids in your bath that you send to your parents to the trade secrets you send to your co-workers.

But this is just for starters. Theresa May doesn't understand technology very well, so she doesn't actually know what she's asking for.

For Theresa May's proposal to work, she will need to stop Britons from installing software that comes from software creators who are out of her jurisdiction. The very best in secure communications are already free/open source projects, maintained by thousands of independent programmers around the world. They are widely available, and thanks to things like cryptographic signing, it is possible to download these packages from any server in the world (not just big ones like Github) and verify, with a very high degree of confidence, that the software you've downloaded hasn't been tampered with.

May is not alone here. The regime she proposes is already in place in countries like Syria, Russia, and Iran (for the record, none of these countries have had much luck with it). There are two means by which authoritarian governments have attempted to restrict the use of secure technology: by network filtering and by technology mandates.

Theresa May has already shown that she believes she can order the nation's ISPs to block access to certain websites (again, for the record, this hasn't worked very well). The next step is to order Chinese-style filtering using deep packet inspection, to try and distinguish traffic and block forbidden programs. This is a formidable technical challenge. Intrinsic to core Internet protocols like IPv4/6, TCP and UDP is the potential to "tunnel" one protocol inside another. This makes the project of figuring out whether a given packet is on the white-list or the black-list transcendentally hard, especially if you want to minimise the number of "good" sessions you accidentally blackhole.

More ambitious is a mandate over which code operating systems in the UK are allowed to execute. This is very hard. We do have, in Apple's Ios platform and various games consoles, a regime where a single company uses countermeasures to ensure that only software it has blessed can run on the devices it sells to us. These companies could, indeed, be compelled (by an act of Parliament) to block secure software. Even there, you'd have to contend with the fact that other EU states and countries like the USA are unlikely to follow suit, and that means that anyone who bought her Iphone in Paris or New York could come to the UK with all their secure software intact and send messages "we cannot read."

But there is the problem of more open platforms, like GNU/Linux variants, BSD and other unixes, Mac OS X, and all the non-mobile versions of Windows. All of these operating systems are already designed to allow users to execute any code they want to run. The commercial operators -- Apple and Microsoft -- might conceivably be compelled by Parliament to change their operating systems to block secure software in the future, but that doesn't do anything to stop people from using all the PCs now in existence to run code that the PM wants to ban.

More difficult is the world of free/open operating systems like GNU/Linux and BSD. These operating systems are the gold standard for servers, and widely used on desktop computers (especially by the engineers and administrators who run the nation's IT). There is no legal or technical mechanism by which code that is designed to be modified by its users can co-exist with a rule that says that code must treat its users as adversaries and seek to prevent them from running prohibited code.

This, then, is what Theresa May is proposing:

* All Britons' communications must be easy for criminals, voyeurs and foreign spies to intercept

* Any firms within reach of the UK government must be banned from producing secure software

* All major code repositories, such as Github and Sourceforge, must be blocked

* Search engines must not answer queries about web-pages that carry secure software

* Virtually all academic security work in the UK must cease -- security research must only take place in proprietary research environments where there is no onus to publish one's findings, such as industry R&D and the security services

* All packets in and out of the country, and within the country, must be subject to Chinese-style deep-packet inspection and any packets that appear to originate from secure software must be dropped

* Existing walled gardens (like Ios and games consoles) must be ordered to ban their users from installing secure software

* Anyone visiting the country from abroad must have their smartphones held at the border until they leave

* Proprietary operating system vendors (Microsoft and Apple) must be ordered to redesign their operating systems as walled gardens that only allow users to run software from an app store, which will not sell or give secure software to Britons

* Free/open source operating systems -- that power the energy, banking, ecommerce, and infrastructure sectors -- must be banned outright

Theresa May will say that she doesn't want to do any of this. She'll say that she can implement weaker versions of it -- say, only blocking some "notorious" sites that carry secure software. But anything less than the programme above will have no material effect on the ability of criminals to carry on perfectly secret conversations that "we cannot read". If any commodity PC or jailbroken phone can run any of the world's most popular communications applications, then "bad guys" will just use them. Jailbreaking an OS isn't hard. Downloading an app isn't hard. Stopping people from running code they want to run is -- and what's more, it puts the whole nation -- individuals and industry -- in terrible jeopardy.

That’s a technical argument, and it’s a good one, but you don’t have to be a cryptographer to understand the second problem with back doors: the security services are really bad at overseeing their own behaviour.

Once these same people have a back door that gives them access to everything that encryption protects, from the digital locks on your home or office to the information needed to clean out your bank account or read all your email, there will be lots more people who’ll want to subvert the vast cohort that is authorised to use the back door, and the incentives for betraying our trust will be much more lavish than anything a tabloid reporter could afford.

If you want a preview of what a back door looks like, just look at the US Transportation Security Administration’s “master keys” for the locks on our luggage. Since 2003, the TSA has required all locked baggage travelling within, or transiting through, the USA to be equipped with Travelsentry locks, which have been designed to allow anyone with a widely held master key to open them.

What happened after Travelsentry went into effect? Stuff started going missing from bags. Lots and lots of stuff. A CNN investigation into thefts from bags checked in US airports found thousands of incidents of theft committed by TSA workers and baggage handlers. And though “aggressive investigation work” has cut back on theft at some airports, insider thieves are still operating with impunity throughout the country, even managing to smuggle stolen goods off the airfield in airports where all employees are searched on their way in and out of their work areas.

The US system is rigged to create a halo of buck-passing unaccountability. When my family picked up our bags from our Easter holiday in the US, we discovered that the TSA had smashed the locks off my nearly new, unlocked, Travelsentry-approved bag, taping it shut after confirming it had nothing dangerous in it, and leaving it “completely destroyed” in the words of the official BA damage report. British Airways has sensibly declared the damage to be not their problem, as they had nothing to do with destroying the bag. The TSA directed me to a form that generated an illiterate reply from a government subcontractor, sent from a do-not-reply email address, advising that “TSA is not liable for any damage to locks or bags that are required to be opened by force for security purposes” (the same note had an appendix warning me that I should treat this communication as confidential). I’ve yet to have any other communications from the TSA.

Making it possible for the state to open your locks in secret means that anyone who works for the state, or anyone who can bribe or coerce anyone who works for the state, can have the run of your life. Cryptographic locks don’t just protect our mundane communications: cryptography is the reason why thieves can’t impersonate your fob to your car’s keyless ignition system; it’s the reason you can bank online; and it’s the basis for all trust and security in the 21st century.

In her Dimbleby lecture, Martha Lane Fox recalled Aaron Swartz’s words: “It’s not OK not to understand the internet anymore.” That goes double for cryptography: any politician caught spouting off about back doors is unfit for office anywhere but Hogwarts, which is also the only educational institution whose computer science department believes in “golden keys” that only let the right sort of people break your encryption.

(Image:

Facepalm

, Brandon Grasley, CC-BY)

https://boingboing.net/2019/05/24/koenig-canute.html

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mayareth · 5 years ago

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Please welcome another Cradlesona in our ranks

Basic info:

Name: Grace

Birthday: January 9

Age: 25

Height: 168 cm

Blood Type: B+

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Personality Type: ISFJ-T

Physical:

Eyes: azure blue

Hair: wavy long golden blond hair

Accessories: she is never seen without the ruby and diamonds silver ring she has received from Jonah on her first birthday as a couple (which was also the day they officially became fiancés). Even before that day, she had always been wearing some jewellery: Victorian era inspired choker, discreet yet elegant earrings but also, as a firm believer in the medical properties of stones, different bracelets made of natural stones, each one corresponding to one of her problem/emotion.

Social:

Affiliation: it has always been a Red Army girl.

Occupation: as a high-ranked lady, she never had to work to live properly. She is often invited to balls and frequently organises tea party BUT not with her rich friends, more with middle/lower-class red people. Despite her way of life, she really wants to help others and is not afraid of having blood on her hands if it's to serve a great cause. (By ”blood on her hands” I mean operating people of course but if she has to kill, I think she would)

Relationships:

Clemence family: has always been partner with her own family

Jonah Clemence: arranged marriage partner then true lover

Kyle Ash: trained her to operate

Luka Clemence: appointed as her little brother by Jonah himself. Surprisingly, Luka seems to appreciate her new big sister.

Personality:

PERFECTIONIST. That's her main personality trait and the reason she will often argue with Jonah. Yeah, she is stubborn too so if her vision of perfection differs slightly from Jonah’s idea, there will be a clash. It never lasts long though, often a few hours. The Queen of Hearts can't stand to be in bad terms with her beloved wife so he will go to her room with a mountain of her favourite sweets as an apology that she will gladly accept (she had already ordered a millefeuille to do the same but Jonah is always faster). Make out session afterwards and they disappear until the next morning because love is the strongest magic, isn't it? Despite her high position, she will never hesitate to get involved to help others. From raising found to operating people and soldiers for free during war times, she will always do what seems to be right following her own opinion. She despises superficial people and once you disappoint her, it's permanent. Better not be on her bad side if you want to achieve your projects. However, Grace can forgive but she never, never forget. She might seem haughty at first but she deeply cares for the others.

Family and History:

Grace was born in a noble red family. As the first of four children, she had an important duty since her first day on this world. Grace will get the best tutors, be a great student, knows all her family history as well as Cradle history and geography, dance and sing perfectly, learn how to play piano and violin, perfectly behave in society as the lady she has to be. The only thing she doesn't master is art. The pressure on her shoulders will only increase the day her three siblings are discovered dead in the Lake of Tears, seemingly drought by their nanny, a psychologically unstable woman from Black Territory whose corpse was found a few days later, hanging on a tree. From this day, Grace will develop a fierce hatred towards people from Black Territory. When she was a teenager, as a rebellion against her so strict education, she decided to become a vegetarian. If it was to go against her parent's convictions at first, it quickly turned out to be a real challenge for her but also a fight against animals suffering she wanted to lead. Determined and stubborn, remember.

Skills:

Would have been a talented surgeon of she wasn't born to be a lady!

Can speak five languages from the Land of Reason fluently (French, Russian, Swedish, German and Spanish -> I suppose English is her native language)

She. Never. Gets. Drunk. She often does vodka shots contest with Lancelot and while he is crawling on the floor, she is still discussing scientific concepts with Kyle, when he is not drunk too from drinking beer with her earlier.

Paired with: Jonah Clemence

Life in Cradle:

Now that she is an only child, she has an important duty: marry a high-ranked man to keep the comfortable position of her family. The latter will choose for her at her 24th birthday: she will marry the Queen of Hearts, the eldest son of the powerful Clemence family. Grace had already met him a few times at parties before but she never really talked with him. We can tell it wasn't really love at first sight. He found her too independent and boring while she saw him as superficial and heartless. Pressured by both families, Jonah finally accepted to take her on dates, where they discovered both of them had a sweet tooth. They started to talk calmly around a cup of tea and discovered they had a lot in common. More than that, it’s like they were soulmates. For her 25th birthday, the young couple decided to officially get fiancés. Both families didn't want to let the occasion slipped and organised the perfect wedding in... Three months time. Before Grace's birthday, surprisingly, the couple hasn't really done more than some chaste light kisses on the lips. However, as the Clemence family had been invited to stay at Grace’s family mansion, Jonah and the young woman decided to secretly spend the night together. (Well, not so secretly if you pay attention to the disproving looks the parents gave to their children the next breakfast). Grace had met Margareth and Cassiopée (my other Cradlesonas) during some army meetings and if she tends to appreciate Margareth’s company, that's not the same with Cassiopée. She considered her as a traitor to the Crimson blood that runs through her veins. However, they finally got closer during a party to celebrate the peace between the two sides, where they found side by side at the table. Grace also met Luka on this evening (without him knowing who she was) and they got along very well until Jonah came to greet his dear little brother. The purple haired man had one last look for Grace, wishing her all the luck in the world to stand his arrogant older brother. (Luka will accept to be the godfather of their first child though)

Ta-daaaa! As promised, here is a Cradlesona for the lovely Queen of Hearts! As for Cassiopée, Grace is not really close to my personality but I wanted to do one to get with the man I share my birthday with 😁. This is another daughter for @lovingsiriusoswald, please welcome her in your big family!❤️

#ikerev #cradlesona #my writing #Grace #jonah clemence #my cradlesona #my ocs #ikesonas

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sineala · 5 years ago

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Captain America: Holocaust for Hire

Next up in my reviews of 1970s Marvel Comics prose novels, we have Captain America: Holocaust for Hire. This is #4 in the series (Iron Man was #6) and once again comes to us all the way from 1979. It's credited to Joseph Silva, apparently a pseudonym for an author named Ron Goulart. I have never heard of him, but he seems to have had a long career writing a large number tie-in novels under various pseudonyms.

Trigger warnings: Also, before I start, you may want to know that this book contains animal harm; specifically, a young woman breaking out of Hydra's captivity basically clubs a German Shepherd to death as she runs away. I, uh, wasn't really expecting that part.

Anyway! On the off-chance that you actually care what happens in the plot of this book, it's a thriller/action-adventure sort of story in which Captain America faces off against (of course) the Red Skull, in case you missed the part where the Red Skull's face is splashed all over the cover. The holocaust in the title is really more metaphorical, although at one point Steve is stuck in an incinerator, so, uh, that's a thing that happens. Hydra -- yes, of course, there are lot of Hydra machinations and people secretly working with Hydra and so on -- has kidnapped a scientist who has made a "seismic gun" that creates earthquakes and is forcing him to work for them out of threat of harm to his daughter. Naturally, Steve has to stop them.

But he's not alone in this quest! There's also a whole lot of Nick Fury and SHIELD action in this book, as Fury backs him up, and at one point Steve actually ends up rescuing Fury from Hydra. This isn't reflected in the back cover copy or anything, so I was a little surprised to find that Fury and SHIELD played such a big role, but as Steve on SHIELD missions is generally a big part of this era of Cap comics, it was nice to find that reflected here. Also, we get to see SHIELD's ESP machine. They have some weird technology.

(Also, in a... let's just call it a difference from how Marvel Comics likes to portray them today, Hydra is explicitly Nazi-aligned. Like, they repeatedly say that their goal is to bring about the Fourth Reich. This is sure not what Marvel is currently doing with Hydra, as far as I can tell from the last time I read Secret Empire.)

As for POV, this story is spread across a whole bunch of narrators, but for the most part it's Steve, Fury, a pair of (original-character) journalists independently investigating the weird seismic phenomena, and the daughter of the kidnapped scientist. Also we occasionally get the POV of random mobsters and Hydra goons who are getting their faces kicked in by Captain America, presumably because that way it's easier to see how stunning Steve is in action from the POV of the people he's beating up. The POV is actually pretty consistent here -- unlike the Iron Man book, which went for third person omniscient, this is a more familiar third limited, with the narrator changing every chapter. (They're very short chapters.)

I would have to say that the strength of the book is actually in the action scenes; technically, it's pretty well-written, and it manages to make the action (and there is a lot of it) fairly tense and exciting. I think this is where we really get the bulk of Steve's characterization, in the way he fights and his banter and so on. So it has that going for it. If you want some 70s comic action with Steve and Nick Fury teaming up to take down the Red Skull, this is the book for you. (Naturally, the Red Skull is ambiguously "dead" by the end, but, conveniently, no one ever sees the body.)

And now, the downsides! I have only read two of these novels so far but it's pretty obvious that the series is being written to some stringent editorial standards, because both of these books have been exceedingly formulaic in very particular ways. For example, there are a lot of what I can only assume are editorially-mandated flashbacks of origin stories. Toward the beginning of the book, Fury spends a lot of time reminiscing about the war and how Steve joined Project Rebirth -- oddly, the lead scientist here is named Jonah Erskine -- and became Captain America. Then slightly later, we get the Red Skull's origin story. And then, even later than that, we get Steve having a flashback about how it is the Red Skull managed to survive the war in some kind of suspended animation when everyone thought he was dead. Weirdly, what we don't get in any of these flashbacks is an explanation of how Steve -- or even Fury, but especially Steve -- ended up in the present day still in fighting condition. There's no mention of Steve getting frozen or being found by the Avengers. It seems like a really odd omission given how much the book clearly wants you to know that Steve is from World War II. If I had picked up this book knowing nothing about Captain America, I think I would be confused about that.

(During the origin flashback we learn that the serum has been tested "only on lab animals with gratifying results." Where are my super-mice, Marvel?)

The other weird thing is that there are multiple points in this book when people don't recognize Captain America. Now, I will grant that Steve is terrible at undercover work -- but this was Steve running around in his uniform and people had no idea who he was. And the first one, sure, okay, I will admit is probably there as a clumsy way to do infodumping; the Mafia guy whose POV we're in in Chapter 1 gets to yell "hey, who's that?" as Steve bursts in, swinging his shield, so someone else can explain that that is in fact Captain America. I see what they were doing. But there's also a bit where Steve is talking to a doctor and the doctor basically asks him if he's wearing that getup for a costume party and... it's Earth-616, dude. You'd think people would just know.

None of the narration is very close inside anyone's head, which is kind of disappointing to me, as I would have liked to know more about how Steve felt about the things that happen to him in this book. Even more distancing is the fact that I'm pretty sure the only time he's referred to as "Steve" (or "Steven") is in the origin-story flashback and the rest of the time he's "Captain America" or "Cap" even from his own POV. Which is a little weird. I guess I'm just really used to the way fanfiction wants to make you have all the feelings and this wanted to... really just tell a story.

There also aren't really any great characterization moments for Steve; I was hoping for, say, one of those big rallying Captain America speeches, the kind he occasionally does in the comics. The Iron Man book pretty much opened with that kind of speech from Tony and it was lovely and character-defining and I was sad not to get any of that here. I think I got more about Fury than I did about Steve. I think it's technically a better book than the Iron Man book in terms of the prose and plotting, but the Iron Man book had a lot more overall nice characterization moments.

So overall, I feel like the action scenes were very good and if you're here for Steve and Nick Fury fighting Hydra, that's what you're going to get, with this one. I was just hoping to feel more feelings than it made me feel. But it was fun!

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shewantedtobeasecretgirl · 6 years ago

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Dangerous Type

Sooo... there was this writing prompt of @shadowsonoureyes ... that I really liked and I immediately started working on it... But something happened in the meantime. I think everyone who understands my username knows what I’m talking about... and I’ll probably feel weird or even guilty about writing my dumb little stories for a while, although I always tried (and keep trying) to do it as respectful as I can. Despite all these feelings I decided to finish and post this one shot, please don’t judge me because of doing it. And... as my side project called “real life” allows, I’m going back to work slowly on my “regular” fic... seeya...

Seattle, Friday, August 17th, 1990

When I stop my car opposite Central Tavern, I can already see the crowd gathering at the entrance. I agreed with Cee, my roommate on meeting each other somewhere there. It’s not difficult to spot her: being a young, aspiring artist, she always wears something extreme. And she always gets clues about the most promising gigs in town from her bohemian friends. I was still at the bureau when she called me on my office number so that I didn’t go home after my self-defense class but met her here. Normally, I don’t accompany her to these occasions but today is somehow different; that “carpe diem” vibe that strikes me once in a blue moon led me here.

“Hey, Al, what a babe!” she greets me. Gosh, I hope not many people heard that; I feel embarrassed enough in my classy “little black dress”. But you don’t really have a choice if you work at one of Seattle’s leading law firms…

“Don’t tease me, I’ve had a terrible day.” I roll my eyes as we’re heading to the bar counter. “Unbearable clients, piles of documents, impatient bosses… I can’t wait to have a blast.”

“The good girl in party mode? Finally!” she glances up at the ceiling with an exaggerated, victorious arm move. “Couldn’t you get the everyday shit out of yourself at the training?”

“Negative. Today, we worked in pairs and I had to fight against that menopausal hammer thrower… you can imagine, I spent the whole class lying on the mattress, searching for my internal organs.”

“Oh, you poor baby… You should…”

She’s cut off by an annoying teenage guy-like voice.

“This place is getting worse and worse, they already let cheap sluts in too.”

No. This too? Not today. I turn with a lightning fast move to find the owner of the voice. The first guy I spot is a tall, lanky kid leaning against the counter. He’s wearing a baseball cap with bandana and his hair down, so I can’t really see his face of the shadow of the visor, only the spaniel shape of this whole combination. A little move of his head reveals the region of his mouth and I realize he’s staring us with an obnoxious, challenging smirk. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Excuse me???” I spit and instead of apology, I receive a short, nasal chuckle as answer. After a few seconds of blackout, the first thing I perceive is that the guy sits on the ground surrounded by lying bar stools and I feel a dull pain in my fist.

“Allison Holmes, what the fuck are you doing?” Cee screams and jumps to him. She crouches down and starts desperately examining his face.

“I… I don’t know… I probably… punched him?” I rather question than answer.

“Yes, you punched him, are you crazy?”

“Am I?” I mutter but slowly, I’m getting able again to recall what happened.

“Jesus, girls, are your conversations always that effective?” he laughs getting up leaning on Cee’s shoulder.

“Shut up, you jerk! And it’s me who should ask that, Cecilia, are you serious? He just called us sluts and you help him? You should punch him too!” I yell.

“Cool down, Al. Nobody will punch nobody, this is Stoney.” she explains and I feel my blood pressure dropping, I have to hold of the counter to prevent myself from fainting.

“Who?” I breathe although I exactly know the answer.

“Stone Gossard, from Northwest High.” she repeats. Of course. Jesus, a few minutes earlier I could have sworn this day couldn’t get worse but it can. It definitely can.

“What’s going on here, people?” I hear a male voice and as I turn back, I see a doorman approaching us, followed by a police officer. I burry my face into my palm, not that this way of hiding helps me get away with this.

“Nothing, everything’s fine, officer.” Stone answers but I wish he didn’t, his nose is bleeding and the purplish-blueish spot around his left eye doesn’t make his look better either.

“Where’s the other troublemaker? Someone reported disorderly and…”

“There’s no other troublemaker, officer. I punched myself.” Stone mimes hitting himself in the face with his fist.

“Of course, and I’m Ronald Reagan. Where is he?” the cop doesn’t let himself be tricked.

“There’s no one else, only me. You know, I’m not really satisfied with my nose, it’s kinda big, hard to miss it, I thought some intervention couldn’t hurt… but it did… Seriously, I think you deserve more complex crimes than inconsiderate self-harm at a bar… You seem to be a man of conscience, don’t waste your skills on idiots like me…”

‘Oh… well… even if I don’t believe a word from what you said, I’m sure you’re a nice kid so… I warn you, next time I won’t be that lenient.”

“There won’t be next time, officer.” he grins, knowing his tactics worked.

“I hope so. Take care of yourself, son.”

I wait until he gets out of earshot before I react anything.

“You’re familiar with talking your way out of shit, aren’t you?” I grunt.

“He’s known for his smooth-talk abilities, you’ve seen a classic Stoney performance.” Cee wraps her arm proudly around his shoulders.

“I do what I can… but do you have paper handkerchief? I’m already standing in a puddle of blood…”

“Jesus, of course…” I hand him a packet of it and try to repress my giggle as he stuffs Kleenex carefully into both of his nostrils.

“Look, I still don’t know what’s going on here but you look awful. I came by car, I’ll take you to the hospital… your nose seems to have been broken, you should see a doctor…” I offer.

“That’s the least you can do after having attacked him.” Cee agrees giving me a stern look. “I accompany you, I don’t want to leave you unsupervised.” she adds and I can’t decide if it’s only me whom she addresses with her words…

***

“Uhm… I’d pick the backseat, if you don’t mind… I want to feel safe until we get there.” Stone mumbles. I open the backdoor for him rolling my eyes but prevent myself from saying anything sarcastic. I would behave probably the same way if it was me whose nose got swollen to the size of an eggplant. Cee takes place next to him with a large packet of handkerchief we bought at the corner store in the meantime.

As I start the engine and begin to direct the car towards the closest hospital, I can’t help glancing in the rearview mirror. Stone is listening to Cee’s rambling with a straight face but his well-tamponed nose reminds me of a walrus, which makes me smile even if I feel terrible about that whole embarrassing incident. Stone Gossard. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard this name… Cee and him have met as old friends from time to time, Cee is even dating one of their common friend, Josh, so his name came up occasionally in our discussions… but as Cee was witnessing the hopeless episodes of my love life, these occasions got regular. Unrequited, platonic crushes, awkward dating attempts with disastrous consequences, endless ice cream and movie sessions on the couch with her… and the final conclusion was always the same: “I should introduce you to Stoney.” And this sentence was usually followed by an endless tirade about his smart, funny, handsome, talented friend who could be a perfect match for me. But her praises had exactly the opposite effect on me as intended: I refused even the thought of meeting him, the annoying superguy, who’s a musician by the way. What probably means he doesn’t know at all what to do with his life, he’s a rock guitarist in a town when there are more bands than inhabitants, he pulls espressos in a café and makes her girlfriend pay his rent. Sometimes I wondered if Cee mentioned me to him with the same idea in her head and if yes, what he might think of me… But I got these kinds of thoughts easily out of my head convincing myself about the logical fact: we wouldn’t like each other and I don’t need one more disastrous love affair.

And now we’re here. I managed to introduce myself to him in a pretty memorable way, which basically puts an end to the dilemma: I knocked him out, I can be happy if I’m not prosecuted by him, let alone go on a date with him…

“And… ahem… what’s this inside joke about cheap sluts?” I inquire to shut the voices in my head up.

“Everything began when we performed Cabaret at Northwest.” Cee begins. “I didn’t manage to earn any of the main roles so I was put in the choir that basically meant I had to play a random German prostitute. I was wearing fishnet stockings so I started calling them my “cheap slut stockings” and Stone started teasing me with it every time I was wearing them. And as you know, I’m wearing fishnet stockings today so…”

“Did you think I was serious? Or that I was talking about you? Your dress is not slutty at all… I mean, it’s a nice dress… but not slutty enough. I mean…” Stone giggles in a more nasal voice than earlier. Great, now I’m sure I broke his nose.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I was tired and angry, okay?” I answer harshly. “Anyway, you used the plural form. Sluts…”

“She’s got two legs, for God’s sake…”

“Watch the road, Al.” Cee stops our developing debate about the grammatically correct way of calling someone a slut.

In the remaining part of our way I fume silently; I only notice after stopping the car that my hands got all sweaty, I must have gripped the steering wheel to tightly. We walk into the building and I lean my back against a pile waiting for them to arrange the registration at the counter of reception.

“What, four hours?” I hear Cee screaming.

“What happened? I approach them.

“We’ve just have been informed that the waiting time takes about four hour… which is a huge problem, since I have to get up early tomorrow, I promised Josh to accompany him to that outdoor video shooting… that can be true…” Cee whines.

“I’m a big boy, you don’t have to…” Stone clucks in.

“I can stay with him and drive him home.” I jabber and swallow hard at the end of the sentence.

“Really? That’d be great! I could even catch the bus! ” Cee grins and I start doubting in the existence of that video shooting. Whatever… I did what I did, I must take the consequences. “You’re the best!” she pulls me into a tight hug. “I’ll call you later, Stoney. Behave yourself!” she shouts back storming down the stairs.

Stone and I glance at each other with the same embarrassment for seconds that seem like an eternity until he speaks up finally.

“Uhm… I’m unbeatable at Twenty Questions.”

***

Gosh, that’s so embarrassing. We’ve been sitting here next to each other for like fifteen minutes and we’re just staring in front of ourselves. No questions have been asked yet, let alone twenty... I glance around and look desperately for excuses to leave him at least for a few minutes, I can’t stand this. A vending machine, bingo!

“Uhm… do you want to drink something?” I ask nodding towards it.

“Uhm… yup, a cola would be nice!”

Thank goodness! I walk to the machine and drop the coins into it but of course they land in the hole of change. As I lean down to fish them out I spot him staring at my direction but realizing I noticed him, he quickly turns his head in the other direction. Wait, was he checking me out? Stop Allison, you’re not a femme fatale at all, why would he…? I give a next try and this time the machine accepts the money and the can slowly moves… and gets stuck on its way. I can’t believe this. I beat with my fist a few times against the glass without any success. I try it more aggressively until I completely lose my temper and push it at full strength, using my entire body.

“Come on, work, you pile of thrash! Work!!!” I yell and finally, it reacts to my efforts. Luckily, I don’t have to fight that much for my ginger ale.

“Thanks” he smiles when I sit back next to him and hand him his drink. “To you anger issues!” he grins lifting it towards me and I can’t help reciprocating his expression.

“To your criminal introduction.” I answer as we clink our cans.

“Sooo… you’re that lawyer chick, huh?”

Great, if I ever had doubts about him having heard about me, now I can forget them. He definitely knows who I am.

“Almost. I still study and work as an intern at a law firm. I rather like to call myself an office monkey.”

“Ah. In that case, I’m not going to prosecute you. You must have a lot of slick colleagues who are ready to save your… backside.”

Am I out of my mind or did he actually emphasize the last word “that way”?

“Eheh, not really… they’d only undertake my case if I paid a shitload of money, I’m their droid, not their friend… Aaaand… you’re that rock star dude, huh?” I try to impersonate him.

“An almost-famous good-for-nothing with no band, at your service.” he lifts his baseball cap slightly.

“World famous rock band looks for a singer, lead guitarist, bassist and drummer?” I grin at him and we both start chuckling and silently smile at each other for a few second.

“Actually, you’re not far from truth. My former band… stopped existing this spring and now I’m trying to put together something new.”

“I’m said to be very talented at playing the pocket comb with parchment paper.”

“Nah, thanks, I rather need a washboard specialist.”

“I learn fast… anyway… Cee mentioned what happened with your last band… I’m really sorry about it.” I add in a lower voice and his smile evaporates immediately.

“Yeah… it was hard… but our record was released, we had to promote it not to breach our contract while we all knew it’s over… it’s crazy.”

“I know… Cee told me what happened… I don’t know much about record labels but I’m sure they are only interested in profit, no matter what happens with the band in the meantime.”

“It’s ridiculous, you haven’t even played one single note in the studio but you have already paid a shitload of money, as you said, and you have to decide with your bandmates in questions from which you don’t even have a clue. Not to mention that in our case, they try to overhype “the tragic death of the singer” situation.” he rolls his eyes while drawing air quotes with his hands.

“It’d be nice if someone helped young and unexperienced bands know their way around the business… But it’s difficult to find anyone who’s not only interested in money.”

“Right?” he agrees enthusiastically. “I wish I could have my own label and help other musicians.”

As we go on with discussing the topic, I realize he’s not that unreliable slacker I thought. On the contrary, he’s a rational, left-brained, down-to-earth guy who’s able to analyze everything without being blinded by his emotions. A lawyer brain. And Cee was right, he’s really smart, very smart and funny. It’s too bad he’s not my type. He’s cute but come on, that bandana, the baseball cap…

When the nurse calls him by his name, I glance at the clock on the wall and almost let out a scream of surprise. We’ve been talking for four and a half hour.

***

“Home, sweet home…” Stone groans stretching his arms in the air entering the kitchen of his tiny apartment that also serves as hall and living room. It’s almost 2 a.m., I offered to drive him home since public transport is basically non existing in that crazy hour. My assumption proved to be right: I did break his nose. The doctor re-tamponed his nostrils (obviously with more professional methods than Stone’s stuffing technique) and fixed it with a bandage; he also wanted to call the police seeing the nature of his injury but Stone managed to dissuade him from doing it by claiming he was attacked by an angry ape in a dark alley who also robbed his wallet. Surprisingly, he didn’t get to the psychiatry ward due to his improvised story…

“Do you need anything? Do you have enough painkillers, don’t you?” I ask although I can barely speak coherently and I feel I could fall asleep anywhere, this day is much longer than planned.

“I think I can handle pain.” he grins as he opens the cupboard that is full of alcoholic beverages.

“Whoa, I didn’t think you drink that much.” I remark and I can hear signs of disappointment in my own voice… but why do I care at all…

“I don’t. That’s why you can see the result of hoarding. I only drink beer… okay, sometimes a good, smoky whiskey can’t hurt.” he shrugs closing back the door.

“So no sex and drugs and rock and roll, right?” I smile fidgeting with the hem of my dress. I can’t believe I’ve said this, I started acting like an idiot, I should go…

“Sex and rock and roll are pretty okay to me.” he answers raising one eyebrow meaningfully. Damn, I’m blushing.

“Fuck, this headache… You did a proper job…” he presses his palm on his forehead.

“Uhm, maybe some cold poultice or ice would help. Do you have anything in the freezer?” I ask but I don’t even wait for his answer, I step to the fridge and open it. Okay, opening is a smooth expression, the door of the fridge is stuck in so I basically tear it off.

“Whoaaa… I knew you were going to try to finish the job and kill me before the sun rises.” he laughs and I realize he came nearer in the meantime so I almost managed to slap him in the face with the door.

“Ugh… do you prefer frozen peas or corn?” I inquire basically putting my face into the freezer so that he can’t see my embarrassed face. And the ice cold air maybe helps me win my normal face color back.

“Peas, please.”

As I close the fridge, I find him leaning against the counter squinting at me expectantly. I reach the package towards him but he doesn’t move. Does he want me to do it?

“You should take that cap off.” I walk to him reluctantly. He obeys and lets me cautiously remove the bandana too. I overcome the urge to dig my fingers into his thick hair and I brush one rebellious strand out of his face. He stares into my eyes for a moment, which I respond but I wish I didn’t since I find myself in the middle of some wild whirl, dazing and weakening, pulling me closer to reach those fathomless, green irises… Luckily, he closes his eyes, which pushes me back to reality and forces me to rearrange my breathing. I slowly lean closer and cool his nose area with my own breath before pressing the frozen bag against his forehead.

“Mhm, that feels good…” he moans softly as the ice meets his skin. Great. And now? I’m standing here holding frozen peas to his head… Do I have to wait in this position until they thaw out?

“Ahem… I think that’s all I could do for you so…” I clear my throat after a while and put the bag on the kitchen counter.

“Anyway, when I was sick or got some injury, my mom would give me healing kisses.” he goes on still holding those damn green eyes closed. Okay, this is ridiculous, this is the lamest pick-up line I’ve ever heard…

“Are you trying to say I should drive your mom here too?”

“Nah, that’s definitely not what I’m trying to say.” he snorts shaking his head. With still closed eyes.

“I think my job’s done here sooo…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward scene again but he’s still standing at the counter with a sassy smile.

“…sooo…?”

“…sooo… I’m sorry again, I wish you a quick recovery and... bye.” I jabber.

“Uhm… but you’re still standing in my kitchen.”

And blackout occurs again. A few seconds go by and I’m standing at the door again… but what happened in the meantime?

“I definitely feel better.” he smirks. No. Oh no. The first thing I start to remember is his scent, then the texture of his skin and I might have put my hand on his shoulder too when I pressed that short, light and most importantly, mindless peck on his face. I can’t believe I couldn’t resist, he’s not even my type, he’s only a kid...

“I really have to go.” I mutter and run out of the building not even looking back.

***

Seattle, Friday, September 1st, 1990

“Allison, are you ready with that memo?” I’m woken up by my boss calling my name.

“Ugh… I need only ten minutes and I’ll bring you.”

I glance desperately at the piles of files and documents in front of me. Okay, if I force myself to focus on work I can do it in ten minutes. Actually, I haven’t been very effective in these days… I haven’t met Stone since the incident, but Cee called him a few times to check his condition. I don’t know if he told her about what happened after she left, I guess he didn’t… but he began to send me funny messages about our first meeting through her and I responded them… so I’m not sure whether something started between us or not… his messages weren’t particularly flirtatious… but the fact he didn’t forget my name immediately and decided to stay in touch even if we haven’t seen each other in the meantime… See, Allison, that’s why you’re not able to proceed with work. You’ve sworn so many times you give up daydreaming… and you’re still doing it. You build up a romantic plotline around the first guy who smiles at you, which already implies disappointment. But he’s smart and funny and amusing… Not that they all aren’t like this for the first time… they play the attractive, sweet guy only to pick you up but slowly and surely, they always show their true colors. And he isn’t an exception either, no matter what Cee tells you. She just wants you to date him to have a company on double dates, that’s all. But Cee is a friend, she wouldn’t promote someone who doesn’t deserve it… Gah…

“Allison???”

Ugh, fuck…

…

I somehow manage to survive the day and drive home. All I want is to order a pizza, curl up on the couch and watch a good movie. But as I get home, I find Cee in the kitchen in the company of a large amount of sandwich ingredients and crackers.

“What the hell…?”

“Oh, hi Al. Would you help me? Otherwise I won’t be able to finish the food by the time the guys arrive.” she tweets.

“Guys? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, haven’t I mentioned to you we’re throwing a party tonight?” she asks innocently.

“Cee, you’re impossible, I’m tired and I don’t really want to meet anyone and you haven’t even asked me…” I grunt at her.

“Come on, Al, it’ll be a very small party. Not that “everyone should bring one more person” sort of party. Only our friends…”

“…that means…”

“Josh, Karen, Steve, Sally, Regan, Tony… and Stoney.” she adds the last name in a casual voice.

“Stone?” I squeak. “I can’t believe you invited Stone…”

“Why? He isn’t angry at you because of what happened at all… plus… the phone calls… you seemed to get on well with each other and I thought you’d be happy to see him again.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” I throw my arms in the air. “I’d be happy to see him again and that’s exactly why I can’t see him again. I don’t need one more trouble.”

“You’re crazy. Anyway, he got super psyched when I told him about the party and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. And now help finally.” she puts a knife in my hand.

I began to chop vegetables and cheese with automatic moves but my brain keeps processing. What if he’s not as handsome as I remember? What if he’ll ignore me? What if he turns out to have a girlfriend? What if he even brings his girlfriend here? What if…

I almost drop the knife by the loud knock on the door.

“I’m coming!” Cee shouts and hurries to the door. Our guests arrive with loud laughter greeting us with hugs, waving with the wine bottles they brought as contribution. Stone is the last one to enter.

“Miss Balboa.” he nods at me with a deadpan and touches his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap briefly like a real Texan cowboy would do with the brim of his hat. Following the others he takes it off and hangs in on the hook on the wall, his hair spread all over his shoulders and… I have to grasp the edge of the table since he’s truly not as handsome as I remembered. He’s much more handsome. Okay, now that he’s not wearing that ridiculous bandana and baseball cap combo and he doesn’t have purple bruises around his nose, it’s pretty obvious that he’s the most handsome guy I’ve ever met. And he’s funny. And smart. And talented. And interesting. Shit.

I follow them in the living room and settle down on the couch. As I glance at him our eyes meet for a second and I can’t help sending a little smile at him that he responds and moves towards me but Regan plops down next to me. Great. Thanks, Regan. Stone takes place right in front of me, in the armchair. During our usual social activities – talking, playing card games, teasing each other –, the well-known game begins. Stolen glances, squints, awkward moves when we accidentally touch each other while serving ourselves from the food… it’s been the same embarrassing routine since my teenage years. Did he just look at me or am I just hallucinating? Was that a smile? Is he following me with peripheral vision the same way as I do with him? Jesus, I don’t dare watch him for too long, what if he notices it… What if he told the guys about our flirtatious scene in the kitchen? What if it wasn’t our scene, only mine? What if it wasn’t flirtatious but ridiculous? But fuck, I don’t care, who cares, apart from a few, punch-related jokes with which he addressed explicitly me, he hasn’t shown any interest in me. Inviting him was the idea of the year, thanks Cee.

We quickly run out of sandwiches so I decide to provide the bunch with supplies and head to the kitchen. I open the window and lean out to fill my lungs with fresh air. I feel immediately better as if it cleared my head too, making me realize we’re not in a tragedy, it’s no big deal if he doesn’t like me.

“Don’t jump.” I hear a nasal voice from behind my back.

“Hah, funny…” I close the window with a bitter smile. I open the fridge and pile the ingredients on the table ignoring him standing aimlessly in the room. I start spreading butter on the slices of bread signaling I’m busy.

“Hey, they don’t need to be stabbed… are you angry?” he chuckles examining my moves.

“I’m not angry!” I answer in a sharp voice. “I just thought we…” I flail but due to my intense moves the knife slips out of my hand and flies right in his direction.

“Whoa, knife throwing… that’s new to me but I’m in.” he leans away laughing as the knife bounces back from the wall and falls down with a loud jangle.

“Will you help me or did you come only to crack jokes about what happened two weeks ago and about which I’m really sorry? How many times should I repeat it?”

“Hey, easy girl, I didn’t want to hurt you. And I know you’re sorry. And I don’t mind it happened at all. And please tell me in which drawer I can find the cutlery.”

I point pouting at the drawer in question and reach my hand for a clean knife but he shakes his head with a severe expression.

“Ha, did you think I let you take pointed objects in your hands after this performance? I spread the slices and you put the ham and cheese on them.” he declares undeterred and I obey shrugging. We work silently for minutes when he speaks up again. “So what did you think?”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t finished the sentence you began when trying to kill me.”

“I…” I take a deep breath before going on “I just thought you were over it.”

“I am, just as I told you a few minutes ago…”

“But you keep joking about it…”

“Hey, I joke about everything in case you hadn’t noticed it… Plus, I haven’t known you very well yet so that’s the only thing related to you I can joke about…”

“Hey!!!” I nudge him.

“’I’m just kidding… just kidding…” he giggles nudging me back.

Okay, I can’t procrastinate it, I have to come up with it to avoid misunderstandings.

“And… I hope you don’t feel bad about the other thing either…” I jabber fixing my eyes on the table.

“About what thing?”

“You know… the other thing… the embarrassing one… I mean the other embarrassing thing that happened after the first embarrassing thing.”

“Uhm…” he scratches his chin. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about. I mean, I do remember one more thing from that night but that one was rather pleasant than embarrassing… no, it was considerably pleasant.”

I finally muster my courage and look up at him and our eyes linger on each other’s smiling face. It does exist. We have a thing. I wasn’t imagining it. It’s not only my fantasy. Maybe I should…

“Hey, guys, what takes you so long? Do you also butcher the pig and make the ham by your own?” Regan opens the door and peaks in putting his head in the doorway. “Oh sorry, I didn’t want to bother you…”

Thanks, Regan, again.

***

I hate this bowl. It’s so damn difficult to wash it without flooding the whole kitchen. And I hate these plates too, I’ve always hated that ugly pattern on them. And I hate these cutleries with their sticky plastic handle. Fuck, I hate everything. The dirty and disgusting dishwater gets mixed up with my teardrops, I try to wipe my eyes with my hand but it’s wet, I can’t even wipe my eyes, I hate, hate, hate…

I knew this was gonna happen. I don’t even know what I was thinking when I hoped he’s interested in me. After we had gone back to the living room, Regan sat down meaningfully in the armchair, and I took it for granted Stone would sit next to me and he did. And we talked and made each other laugh the whole evening like we’d done in the hospital and I got in that easy, happy bubble again with the guy with whom I couldn’t feel bored for a single moment… And that was it. I was hoping he’d ask me out or we agreed on meeting each other later or anything… But nothing happened. He left with the others, all he said was a short “seeya” and that’s all. It was only a flirt to him. And I rather don’t start daydreaming about him calling me later or looking for my company because it’s not gonna happen. He’s the first guy I’ve been really interested in since my latest relationship ended but obviously, he only wants me to be the girl in the bunch with whom he can flirt only not to be bored.

And Cee went with Josh to his place so I’m alone with my anger. At least I can beat my fist against the furniture and kick in chair legs as loud and strong as I can. And no one would laugh at me if I pummeled pillows. Ugh, but I’m swimming in tear and snot, I should restore my dignity at first. I walk to my jacket since I always keep a small packet of handkerchief in its pocket. And I spot that baseball cap on the hanger. He forgot to take it back… Great… Whatever, Cee can give it back to him anytime. Or what if he comes back for it? Or should I call him later or… No, stop, Allison. The guy has just ditched you and you’re already looking for excuses to see him again? And what about your dignity? If he wants the cap, he will…

I freeze as I hear a knock on the door again.

“Who’s that?” I ask loudly and try overcome the trembling in my voice.

“A dangerous criminal. Calls decent girls sluts, provokes fistfights and stabbings.” I hear a familiar nasal voice from behind the door. And I’m grinning from ear to ear again, how can he make me laugh in like two seconds every time he’s around?

“I take the risk.” I answer as I open the door for him.

“I forgot my baseball cap here.” he explains still standing in the door.

“I know, I’ve just noticed it.” I stare at him paralyzed.

“Are you okay? You’re eyes are red and swollen.” he leans closer and I lean back terrified.

“Oh, I was… I was washing the dishes and the detergent got into my eye so…

“I’ll help you.” he enters, closes the door quickly behind himself and marches in the kitchen and I can’t do anything but follow him. “I’ll do the dirty work, you dry.” he puts on the apron and throws the dish towel towards me. Since I’m still numb of surprise, it lands on my head and we both burst out in loud laughter. We start to work in the utmost harmony and I must admit, my anger evaporates in seconds to make place for this new-found comfort.

“Ugh, I’ve always wondered how delicious food can turn so quickly into alien snot due to a few drops of water.” he frowns cleaning kitchen sink with the sponge and then disappears behind my back probably to dry his hands and take off the apron.

“Actually, I’ve always thought they’re not food residues, there must be an alien base in the pipeline and they come up through the drain.” I explain drying the slotted spoon.

“Whoa, you almost put out my eyes.” he startles. “I’ll take this from you, nice try, again.” he takes the spoon out of my hand. Ouch. I didn’t notice he was standing that close behind me. Wait, why was he standing that close behind me?

“And… we’re ready… thanks for helping.” I wipe my hands in the towel hanged on the cupboard.

“You’re welcome.” he nods standing with his hands stuck deep in his pockets. “It’s late, I should let you sleep and go.” he adds but still, he makes a step towards me.

“Yeah, it’s late and I don’t want to waste your time, thanks again.” I walk closer to him too and began to examine my shoes.

What if this time I didn’t wait for the guy to make the first step? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You know, I thought, once we could…” I perk my head up and…

“OUCH!!!” we both yell as our foreheads collide with each other.

“Do you always try to kill guys who like you?” he groans pressing his palm against his head.

“I don’t… what? Who???” I stutter on the verge of fainting not because of the splitting ache in my head but due to the wild pace dictated by my heart.

“I glance a pretty girl with my friend but she punches me. We’re talking all night but she tries to knock me off with the fridge door. She touches and kisses me so softly that I nearly melt but then she runs away. I try to approach her again but she throws a knife at me. I leave my baseball cap intentionally at her place to be able to come back and stay alone with her and as I’m about to embrace her finally, she attacks me with a slotted spoon. I make an attempt to kiss her and she headbutts me. You’re a dangerous type, you know?”

“Am I?” I send a timid smile at him biting my lower lip. “You know… I only try to kill guys whom I like…” I utter slowly not taking my eyes off him.

“I want to try something, but you have to cooperate, okay? It’s extremely risky.” he explains stepping to me again, trying to keep a strict face. “First, I have to make sure you won’t make any sudden, unexpected move.” He wraps his arms around my waist pulling me closer.

“But my hands still have a clear way… that’s not safe enough… what if I put them here… like this?” I tiptoe and lace my arms around his neck.

“Excellent idea.” he mutters brushing his nose against mine.

I can’t stop smiling even when our lips finally meet in a long, light, gentle kiss caressing and tasting each other for long moments.

“I think we’re both still alive” he breaks the kiss breathing against my skin.

“I’m… I’m not sure… if I am…” I mumble between further stroking kisses.

“Actually… there’s one more thing I really want to try out with you… as for now…” he pulls away for a second. “But it’s very dangerous… we need to take more precautions…”

His one hand wanders slowly upwards on my back and his fingers end up in my hair while the other hand of his slips under my shirt to touch my bare skin.

“Precautions are important…” I whisper against his neck as I mirror his moves. He’s about to capture my lips again but this time it is me who cuts in.

“Stone?”

“Mhm?” he starts swaying with me impatiently.

“I’m so glad I punched you…” I sigh and let him pull me into a deep, greedy, relentless kiss…

#pearl jam fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #one shot

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