#basically for a german project i was paired with two people -> one who is my friend and one who I don't really like
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i hate group work
#context uhh:#basically for a german project i was paired with two people -> one who is my friend and one who I don't really like#and the one I didn't really like did one slide#and me and my friend did like. 6#so then we decided to put a picture in and came up with an idea to replace one of the other kid's ideas#so she got mad#deleted her slide#and removed her access from the slide#and me and my friend were like#what the fuck??? we didn't do anything#i almost cried and then had to go to the bathroom to cool off#it sucked#I fucking hate group work man âčïžâčïž#i have to do it in the same group again tomorrow#i think shes sped based on what my teacher said (âher mind doesn't work the same as oursâ)#so I do want to cut her some slack#but still#she had some really good ideas too and I liked her slide#we just didn't like the green cake man#anyways. long ass rant#these are a lot of tags#lalalala#ahem#professional yapper#yap yap yap#just yappin#certified yapper
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What if the BSD Great War...
So while doing some digging around while working on one of my many analysis projectsâŠmy brain began to create a weird rabbit hole theory that seems so crazy but it could be like 10% possible.Â
As we all know as members of this fandom, there was âThe Great Warâ that occurred 15 years before the start of the running manga. Yet, we are given such little details about such a detrimental event for multiple big-name characters within the series. It makes me question why this might be the case. While I can't pick apart Asagiri to the point where I can figure out his own personal crazy thinking, I can theorize the plausibility that this war was based on a real-life historical event, given the fact that a good 90% of our cast was real people as well, with their BSD relationships reflecting large similarities as the real-life relationships between the authors.Â
Now that is said, here is what i came up withâŠWHAT IF this war we speak off is a odd play off World War II.Â
Donât throw me to the wolves here, I have no clue if anyone else has thought this either⊠But hear out at least my breakdown:Â
Evidence piece number one: Basically as mentioned above, Asagiri uses historical authors and plays the switcheroo game, religiously.
What started as me just trying to figure out what chapter Yosanoâs backstory began in, I came across this line in an article breaking down her experience with the war that reminded me that in true international history, WWI was considered The Great War. I stated our Great War is the second one though, but here's why I say it is indeed the second one. We know Asagiri brings in characters that influenced or knew each other in real life, but he does not keep all the facts true with a lot of rearranging of the order of ages and who mentored who, For Example, look at Dazai and Akutagawa; where in the series Aku looks up to Dazai, but in real life it was Aku that inspired Dazai. Yet on the other hand, we also know that if you were to look at the average period most of the authors came from, taking out our lovely Russian friends and a few others, the majority come from the years that are considered pre-WWII to post-WWII. So would it not make sense that he would use people who did experience wartime in real life to have experienced a similar war in this worldly universe as well, which was WWII. This brings us to the next part that looks at the question: so he switched around some things, but why would he need to do that?Â
Evidence piece number two: If you look at details from light novels and certain parts of our main storyâŠthe alliances between certain countries look oddly familiar.Â
I will not lie that I have not read these light novels in a hot minute and I've consumed a lot of other media, so my memories are a bit hazy. But from skimming plot summaries for the books âStormbringerâ and â55 Minutesâ(credit to the ppl on this website that give these details) I began to notice something. There are three major groups of authors, once again taking out the Russians, we have the French (who worked in tandem with the English), the Japanese, and the unnamed Germans (besides our man Johann who is mentioned in 55 minutes, I believe). Now pair the countries with how the events played out with the relaying of information about the singularity research, the research that is considered to be one of the major reasons the Great War had even begun, the pairing between countries reflected eerily familiar to the allied and axis powers during the real WWII. The timeline that I have worked it out to be is Germany theorized it first then stolen by France, who succeeded, then stolen again by Germany, and then handed over to Japan, who then also succeeded.Â
Evidence number three: Comparing the facts to WWII and the descriptions we receive from the characters in Bungo about the Great War, there are a lot of indirect overlaps.
Since Asagiri made it that out of any event of the series prior to the start of the running manga, he chose the Great War to have the least amount of number facts to its name. Yet, by looking at how the great war within the series is described by the characters who experienced it and then looking at the basic facts about WWII as well, the "events" of Bungo's war are quite familiar. I will say that history was never a class I paid close attention to at any point in my life, but Wikipedia is helping the case here. Whether it is the fact they focus on how it was filled with science and technology advances that led to the deadliest parts of the war. Or the fact that islands played a huge role in many events from the war. There are just enough overlaps for me to consider this as evidence.
And more recently discovered...evidence number four: The book that inspired Asagiri to even create bungo stray dogs was, you can guess, related to WWII.
While I was looking into the career paths that Asagiri had before he became an author, it was mentioned that a book by the late author Shusaku Endo named Ryugaku, which is set post WWII. There are also similarities between the countries used during the great war in Europe and the countries mentioned in this book. This book, combined with Dazai's own novel that also inspired him, gives great sway to the time frame Bungo is actually set in.
Overall all of this could be my delusions doing its delusion things, but I do believe that I can fancy my brain for one minute. Thanks if you decided to read all the way through!
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Adventures with PhDs #4
At least one story should be a happy one. This one was.
The whole story is rather long. I was working for a company that made water rides. We got an inquiry from a HUGE entertainment firm. They are still a money no object kind of organization for certain things. Sales received a request for a special ride system for a pair of cruise ships they were building. Part of this was a strange feature where water is used to push boats up small inclines. I was the expert on that so I was asked to look at that part and check what they had done.
The basic ride had been laid out with standard fiberglass tubes and they had a price figured out. The Client was less than happy with it. It was OooKaay. I had done projects with this company before. They lavish designers on the smallest details. I asked the salesman did they send artwork? Yes, but we can't build what they asked for. Show me the artwork. He did a bit reluctantly.
I cannot say exactly who the client was as I signed an NDA. They do not admit to having outsiders design their stuff.
They had prepared several renderings and even a set of story boards for their vision. It was really cool actually. Big crystal clear tubes wrapped around the top deck of the ship. Curved loops and long straight runs above happy people playing and stuff like that. Very Jetsons kind of look if you know what that is. If it were any other company wanting this it was impossible. But these guys will often spend whatever it takes to get what they want.
I told the salesman we can build exactly what they want. It will be very expensive but they wont mind. I know who can build those big clear tubes. I can do a full design for it and we can requote it. AND they will buy it.
There was a meeting in two weeks. Credit to the salesman and the owner that they told the customer that we were going to "try" to build exactly what they show in the pictures. and give them another price. I did a design for the whole layout in 3D CAD. I got sizes and quantities for the big tubes to be made from acrylic. We did computer renderings of the finished ride.
There are two companies in the world who can make acrylic that heavy to the size and quality required. I had done work with both. I got prices for the parts I needed. I took the most expensive option for costing it. The price quoted for the full blown concept was 10 times more expensive than the first one. They loved it. The PM (which that company calls the "producer") said if they could not get this exact thing it was not worth building the boats. ( Calling them boats was to piss off the ship people a bit)
So the adventure began. There was a lot to do. Key to this was the ships were to be built in Northern Germany. They had a full engineering team. (German Engineers!) They also had a consulting marine architect firm in Norway working on it. That was a bit scary. Lots of number crunchers. We had two guys. Me and one other to push numbers.
So I called another firm nearby that does very complex stuff and knew the ropes and had several PhDs on staff. I wanted someone not to actually do the work, but to look over our shoulders while we did it. They came back and said they couldn't, they did not do consulting and were very busy. But they knew a guy. This guy was a full professor at the local university and had several PhDs. Why you need more than one is a question, but hey he had them. I went to meet him and we hit it off. A fun good humored person and German to boot.
We showed him the plans and he was generous and helpful. He kept his eye on what I was doing, and what our structural engineer was doing. There were some things new to us like vibration in the structure from the engine exhaust pulses, and propeller speed. He was an expert on vibration. One of his PhDs involved aeroelasticity. My idea was to have him familiar with all our work just in case.
I went to a big meeting in Germany where I helped the ship designers to route access stairs and loading stations which was going inside one of the ship's stacks. There were also many mechanical items to sort with water flow and weight of the ride and the water in it that high in the ship. If affected stability. It was crazy and fun. I actually like hard things like that.
Unfortunately while all this was going on one of the managers was after me as I was not "on his team". No kidding he was an ass. So I was asked to leave the company just as the project was starting fabrication. Me delivering a big success would hurt his status. A real ass.
Then just in case happened.
A few months later there was a crisis. People flew in from California, Germany, and Norway. They found a problem with the ride supports. Everything was put on hold. I was not there, but I was told this later by my old boss told me what happened and it was great.
A phalanx of German engineers sat on one side of the table. The ride project team joined by our PhD was on the other. I am sorry they did not call me in to watch. The ship engineers laid out what they thought was the problem. The professor listened carefully and thoroughly shot down all their concerns. "I was brought in at the beginning. I saw everything they were doing. I checked much of it. They have done a brilliant job and thorough. I see issues with your work. Oh and I have several PhDs from Germany how many advanced degrees do you have?"
The client went from very concerned to ecstatic. It was the ship's teams problem for not taking certain things into account. They had to go home and fix their work.
That is one of my many regrets about that project not being in that room. My biggest was I did not get a ride on the new ship when it was finished.
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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 ownerâs, which meantâŠâŠ
Well, they werenât 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 heâd 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 â technically someone came in to clean the prosecutorâs offices, but the one time it had been done for him, their reorganization had sent him into a panic when he couldnât 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? Heâd realized the display case could look better when heâd walked over to put a stack of papers in his file cabinet, which heâd gathered up after doing somethingâŠwith his chair? Which theyâd 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 wasnât 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 Klavierâs 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 couldnât 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 wasnât 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. âSchatzi!â they called, âhow are you?â
He turned, the tiny frown of puzzlement quickly morphing into a smile. âKlavier, hi! Making tea,â he said, holding up the kettle. âOh! Do you want some?â
Ach, he was so cute. âNein, danke. I am here to tackle this beast.â 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 couldnât help but sneak glances over at his former classmate. At Themis, their relationship had beenâŠcomplicated, although the Sebastian of then probably wouldnât have described it as such. The last time theyâd 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, andâŠ
Some things about Sebastian hadnât 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 hadnât. When Klavier had started back at the office, Sebastian had been one of the first prosecutors theyâd met. Sebastian approached them on his own and introduced himself â whether he was aiming for a fresh start or thought Klavier had forgotten him, they didnât 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, heâd glanced up and down the hall and said âIâm sorry about your brother.â 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. âSorry,â he muttered, folding his arms.
âItâs nothing to apologize for,â they said, projecting as much reassurance as they could with the softness of their eyes, the angle of their posture.
â...Okay.â 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.
âUm, do you need help with something?â
âMm?â Then Klavier realized they were still staring while Sebastian had been looking at them. âAh, Iâm fine! Just a little distracted.â 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. âWhen youâre done, can I get something from that cabinet?â
Fast as he could, he punched the last couple buttons to start brewing and leaned down to open the door. âLet me help you with that. What do you need, liebling?â
âOh, thanks. The orange blossom?â 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. âfĂŒr dich, SĂŒĂer,â 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. â...sorry, did you say something?â
âIs that the only one?â
Klavier shook his head. âNein, but,â he looked at the mug on the counter (with a colorful logo of some place heâd never heard of on one side and on the other plain text that read âThey Didnât Have My Nameâ). It was relatively large, but, âhow strong do you like this?â
Oh, no, I-â Turning, he moved over a pair of travel mugs. When Klavier raised their eyebrows, he frowned. âIt stays really warm that way and itâs easier than going back all the time!â
âWie geht es dir so sĂŒĂ?â When Sebastianâs defensive look only intensified, he waved a hand. âThatâs clever of you.â The little smile they got in response to that made their heart soar. âAh,â he ducked back down before he started grinning to the point of being obvious even to Sebastian, âthree, then?â
âYes.â 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. âHow do you plan on getting those back?â
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. âWell, I have a free hand. May I-â they reached toward the mug. âThat way if one of us gets spilled on itâs the one with the darker shirt.â More importantly, it would be him and not Sebastian, but he wasnât 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. âHow are you doing? Itâs been a little while.â
âYou mean three days?â he smirked. A moment later, his expression drew back to neutral. âThat was a joke.â
Klavier simply nodded. Sebastian still didnât get tone all the time, even if he was more aware of it, so they werenât about to argue with him trying to be considerate about that kind of thing.
âBut...itâs been pretty good. Kay and I got put on the same case, which is a lot, especially since we canât talk about it when weâre home.â 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. âYeah. Iâm min- managing.â
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 wasnât 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, âWell, Iâm glad you are, liebling,â with all the genuine warmth they had. (He couldnât help the little bit of pride at the statement; even if he wasnât able to express his affection directly, it didnât 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 Sebastianâs 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 Sebastianâs desk, on a coaster decorated with a pattern of sheet music that seemed like a real song but wasnât one Klavier recognized on sight. âThere. All set.â
âThanks, Klavier.â He beamed as he walked over next to him.
Something else that had changed: Sebastian had grown a few inches in the years since theyâd known him at school. He hadnât been cute in the âsmallâ sense since heâd shot up what seemed like a foot during the break between their first and second years, but now heâd 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. âDo you...want to stay here for a while? I can move stuff off the couch or the other chair while you get your stuff.â
Ach, be still his beating heart. âI appreciate the offer, but-â
âSebastian, how are things coming along with the-â Herr Edgeworth stuck his head in through the door, stopping when he noticed Klavier. His expression didnât change, save for an extra wrinkle on his forehead.
If he wasnât leaving alreadyâŠ
âAh, Iâll let you two get to work.â 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 couldnât resist calling out âbis spater, schatz!â
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 Prosecutorâs office. This was just a normal check-in, so things went smoothly. Herr Edgeworthâs few glances at them were a little more like glares, but he said nothing that didnât 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. âExcuse me, I need to take this.â
âNo problem,â they said, leaning back in their chair.
âChief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.â A few moments of listening and then he sighed âYes, Franziska, I know-,â walking to the far corner of the room. There, he continued talking, softer.
Klavier couldnât 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 werenât sure why theyâd 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. âProsecutor Gavin,â 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 didnât suddenly have to figure out what to say, but it didnât help the pain in his gut or the heat in his face.
âMay I be excused for the rest of the day?â 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, â...Yes.â
The hall outside was a blur, a few people they saw but didnât 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-
âKlavier?â
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. âAre you okay?â A frown. âYou shouldnât be at work like this.â
Ducking their head to hide the new bout of warmth they felt across it, they said, âNein, ach, ja that- which is why I am on my way home.â 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 heâd gotten his bearings, though, Sebastian didnât release him. âLet me help you,â he said and, gentle but insistent, started guiding him down the hall.
âTh-thereâs no need. Itâs not that bad.â 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.
Sebastianâs frown deepened and he flapped his hands, once. âWell Iâm not letting you drive yourself home, so there! Iâm taking you.â
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. âNein, I couldnât take you away from your work. Iâll call a taxi.â They tried for their usual smooth tone. Instead, they got almost as squeaky as their words to Herr Edgeworth.
âItâs fine! I was going to take my lunch now anyway.â With a smile in his eyes, he held out his hand once again.
â...I wouldnât want to get you sick.â
He shrugged. âIâve only gotten sick off Kay once in all the times sheâs ever been sick, so you donât need to worry about that.â
Klavier went to protest again, but his throat was dry and crackly, and worse, he couldnât think of anything else to say. So he sighed and took the hand.
Even if Sebastian wouldâve thought it was from not being well, they were thankful for his gloves keeping him from feeling how gross their palms were â like a teenager on their first date. Sebastian took them along at normal walking speed, with a âlet me know if weâre going too fastâ 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 didnât 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 wasnât any better. Herr Edgeworth wasnât a gossip; he wouldnât tell anyone, but if Klavier didnât know one personâs language capabilities (or even whether theyâd 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 anyoneâs?
(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 wouldâve 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 didnât 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 Sebastianâs 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.
âSorry,â he whispered. âDo you want me to switch it to something you like, or keep it off?â
Ah, he was so considerate it made Klavier want to cry. Heâd 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 couldnât 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 Klavierâs house. âDo you want me to-â Sebastian asked as Klavier unbuckled his seat belt.
Even though his legs did feel a bit wobbly, he wasnât sure if he could handle another round of being so close to Sebastian. Or that he wouldnât have trouble letting go at the end. âI can manage this much, donât worry.â They almost added a âschatzâ 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. âUh, here. If you start feeling worse and need something, let me know, ok?â
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 â the kind of head and throat scream exactly how theyâd 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 theyâd 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 heâd stuck in a pocket earlier fell to the ground. Sebastianâs number. Klavier snatched it up and threw it on their bedside table â theyâd 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 â 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 couldnât remember when theyâd last just taken some time off â 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 heâd gotten there before he remembered being given a lift earlier. âHallo,â he managed, leaning against the door frame.
âHi. Uh,â he ran his thumb over the ridges of the lid of the plastic container he was holding. âSorry about showing up without saying anything, but Iâd already made the soup when I ra- realized I didnât have a way to message you, and I know itâs hard cooking when you donât feel good so-â 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. âAch, sorry.â
âNo, itâs fine! You seem pretty tired; have you been resting?â
Oh, heck. In answering the door, heâd completely forgotten to take his appearance into account, and now here he was, top three most disheveled heâs ever been in front of someone not family, and it was with Sebastian. âJa,â 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.
âYou have a dog!â 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 couldnât quite pick up.
âAh, Vongole, sitz.â
She did, still basking in Sebastianâs attention, tail thumping against the porch.
Sebastian laughed again, and scratched her behind the ears. Looking up at Klavier, he said, âoh, those glasses are cute on you.â
Ah, theyâd forgotten about those too. He rarely wore them; glasses covered up too much of his face and just werenât very comfortable. The only reason he had them on now was because he didnât 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. âI should probably get going.â The end of his sentence turned up almost into a question, but he stood up. A smile. âUm, let me know if youâre coming in tomorrow, if youâre up for it?â Then, even softer. âI hope you feel better soon.â
Klavier waved, staying at the door until Sebastianâs 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 wasnât 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 didnât 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 theyâd done. WhichâŠreally, they were fine. Probably. Klavier wasnât doing anything wrong, at worst being a little unprofessional. It was just that Herr Edgeworth didnât approve â 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 didnât want to avoid their friend, even if they would only ever be friends, and it wouldnât 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.
--------------
translations:
schatz/schatzi - treasure
nein, danke - no, thank you
liebling - darling
fĂŒr dich, SĂŒĂer - for you, sweet/honey
Wie geht es dir so sĂŒĂ - 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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Iâve-Been-Neglecting-My-Tags Tag Game
So basically, Iâve been dead to the world for awhile, and instead of individually going back and making posts for tag games Iâve neglected, I decided to just compile them into one bigger post!Â
Meet the WIP Tag
So @cecilsstorycornerâ tagged me like two months ago and Iâm pretty sure I straight up did not process it. But I found it now, and it looks really fun! Thanks for the tag! Iâm going to pull out Castle on the Hill for this because itâs been awhile so this can be like a mini reintroduction.
Title: Castle on the HillÂ
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 nationâs dark past as they look to its future.
Favorite theme explored:Â Thereâs 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 Iâm proud of and why: Itâd be easy to say Klaus because heâs one of those characters that just basically writes himself, but Iâll 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 âjosefâ on my blog heâll show up. Technically I think I made tags for the Lads, but it didnât really stick.Â
Link to a piece/excerpt/post that Iâm proud of:Â So this is a little old but it sums up the group dynamic pretty well. This one has more focus on Josef and Klaus.Â
Any additional info I want people to know/am proud of:Â I havenât posted about it in awhile since Iâve been a little more active in other projects, but Iâm still working on it! I need a bit of an overhaul on some of the broad strokes (re: basically Iâm working on having a little more structure to the plot) but itâs still kicking.
Manuscript Search Tag
Thank you @regan-wickworre for tagging me in this, sorry that it took like a month to respond to! Iâm going to use Beneath Alder Creek because thatâs the last large project Iâve 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
âWould you like a ride home, Miss Pewitt?â 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. âYouâve been skittish ever since you saw this at Pryderiâs estate. I might not be the most worldly woman, but Iâm smart enough to recognize that stabbing my own guide might delay my chance to find my brother.â
Fear
âHe left. Heâs afraid of the Evenfall Vault and he left,â she said evenly, hoping it would mask the fear gripping at her chest.
Desire
âDo tell.â There was a dullness to her tone, like she had heard of Enidâs offerings before and was merely amusing her, but Queen Ceridwen examined Winnie and Taliesin with interest. Winnie didnât dare look over at him, in case she couldnât resist the wild desire to laugh.
Words Iâm leaving: accept, voice, near, resent, silence
Tag Game: This or That (Fantasy Edition)
Thank you @medeaes for the tag!
spell or curse â abandoned mansion or haunted cemetery â vampire slayer or ghost hunter â phoenix or griffin â wrist bite or neck bite â fairy godmother or evil stepmother â herbs or potion â ghost or wraith â dragon scales or werewolf claws â druid or mage â elf or hobbit â divination or necromancy â wand magic or hand magic â centaur or unicorn â dark fairytale or disney-style fairytale â sword or bow & arrow â siren or water nymph â garlic or silver â talking animal or walking tree â demon trap or crossroads pact â enchanted fairy forest or mermaid lagoon
Heads Up, Seven Up
Thank you for tagging me, @em-dashes and @akindofmagictoo!
(I canât do the last seven because I just finished something and itâd spoil the whole thing, but here are a random seven)
âYou have new merchandise, Ms. Kim,â Mike pointed out as he dug through his pockets. âI didnât even know there were spells for maintaining battery life.â
âYeah, 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.â 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.Â
Iâm 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!
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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: Finchâs Lake.
OCCUPATION: Temporarily retired archaeologist, Egyptology consultant at a museum in New York City, and author.
HOW LONG THEY HAVE BEEN IN AMORY? Newcomer â 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. Â He was their 7th child and only son. Â Tereik had a very loving childhood, but was in very poor health from birth until his mid teen years. Â 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, Tereikâs father Rashid left his long term career as a pediatric cardiologist and moved his family to Atlanta, Georgia to work for the CDC. Â 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. Â He loved his sisters, but they were his only friends, as his English wasnât great and his years of poor health left him poorly socialized. Â 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. Â As a child heâd 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. Â His parents did try and talk him out of it, as heâd never been away from them, but he couldnât bear the thought of staying in Atlanta any longer, so he moved back to the penthouse heâd grown up in, as his parentsâ 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. Â 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. Â 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. Â 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 didnât matter that. Â 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. Â 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. Â At that point, things took a real turn, he hadnât been expecting much of anything and now all of a sudden he was the discoverer of a tomb. Â Though it wasnât 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. Â 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 âFoolâs Errandâ 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. Â 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. Â 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 didnât come home at his usual time, and she got in touch with one of his coworkers who promised to go and check on him. Â When he arrived, he found Tereik unresponsive on the floor of the tomb and called him an ambulance.
Eventually it was determined that heâd suffered a seizure while he was working and hit his head, knocking him unconscious, and if this wasnât bad enough, heâd been out in the Valley so long he was also suffering from severe heatstroke. Â 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 âwasnât what she signed up for.â Â 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. Â
In December of 2014, at the insistence of his former advisor, Tereik was hired on another project involving Tutankhamun. Â 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 couldnât work in the field, but focused on leading a group of students in the research portion of the project instead. Â It wasnât 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. Â
In March of 2018, his sister Kamilah, whoâd 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. Â Tereik didnât want to leave, and wasnât even sure he was well enough to travel, but he couldnât 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 wasnât ready to leave his family, so he stayed in Atlanta and helped his mother settle his fatherâs affairs and spent some time living with his sisters. Â
He considered his options and decided that even though he didnât want to stay in Atlanta, he didnât 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. Â 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. Â
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. Â 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. Â Heâs only been in Amory for about a month, but heâs 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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Nick Radel
My Bandstand Headcanons!
Okay I didnât really write much for him but I didnât want to leave him out bc thatâd be Nick erasure and we canât have that. We love everyone in the DNB here
He doesnât give music lessons much anymore, as touring takes up his time, but every once in a while thereâs an ad with the dates heâd be back in town.
He likes to cook and worked as a chef before he got drafted.
Itâs not that heâs 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 (donât 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 didnât mind and didnât care that he played an instrument. One if the things that mattered, though, was that he didnât 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 âfriendâ 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.
Heâs fine doing house chores (like washing dishes and tidying up the living room) but when it comes to handling his personal items heâs a slob (includes folding laundry and organizing his bedroom. He gets no joy doing either task so he avoids it. Itâs 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. Thatâs how he knew he was a good trombone player.
Headcanon List
Donny | Jimmy | Davey | Wayne | Johnny | Julia | DNB ft. J.T. | Jimmy x Wayne
#sorry i was supposed to post this yesterday#bandstand#bandstand musical#bandstand broadway#bandstand nick#nick radel#my headcanons
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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 havenât used before. I also had a phone meeting with a colleague, who couldnât do a video meeting because her daughter was using the account for her Girl Scouts meeting, and her husband was using her computer anyway.Â
I was also invited to participate in a survey about scientistsâ 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 âfeedbackâ question at the end, because one question had been actively ambiguous: by âallowing immune people to do essential work (e.g. caring for elderly) on a voluntary basisâ, 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 scientistsâ 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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.Â
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.Â
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 theyâre still pretty downy, so they look extremely dorky. Livecam here.
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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 đ€
Also Iâm sorry about the length- Iâm on mobile so I canât add a read more :)
âąAnne 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.
âąCatherine being the feminist icon that all teachers fear:
âNO I AM NOT READING ROMEO AND JULIET AS ITS A DEROGATORY REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCHâ
Then Catherine promptly gets removed from the class.
âCatherine donât you have English right now?â
âDonât you have your funeral!!.... oh my god Mrs lynn Iâm so sorryâ because Cathy is a badass but she still has feelings
âąConfusing 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."
âąThe 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
âUmm excuse me whatâs your name?â
Which prompts Cathy to draw on a fake name.
âAnita Willtoliveâ!
âąShe draws penises on all the whiteboards of every class she enters in permanent marker.
âąOne 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 âYEETâ
Did she get detention? Yes
Was it worth it? HELL YES
âąYou 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
âąShe only is nice to her classmates
âąAnd selected teachers
âąShe's a dick to everyone else
âąBut if she sees a kid on their own sheâll go out of her way to be lovely to them and to that one annoying teacher she hates, sheâs a hell raiser
âąShe 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.
âąCatherine openly questioning EVERYTHING
âBut if everyone is only nice to get into heaven surely that defeats the purpose and theyâre being fakeâ
âąShe would fall asleep in front of the teacher
She'd just yell goodnight really loudly and knock out on her desk
âąHonestly itâs a wonder she hasnât been kicked out, but Jane thinks itâs because her grades bring up the school average
âąShe does her homework the moment she gets it and is finished by the end of the day
âąAnne just puts in her file and lets it rot
âąParr gets in trouble for handing in Anneâs homework that Parr did but Anne has no idea. Cathy just wanted to make sure she didnât fail
âąAnne teaches Parr how to get discounts in the cafeteria, because Parr needs free cookies.
âąParr is Anne's defender when it comes to detentions
âąShe gives the teacher her Stareâąïž and they instantly clam up
âąTheir detention desks are side by side and they have like those partners in crime necklaces but instead of two halves on their necklaces theyâre carved into the tables
They they put them together they just line up
âParr scares all the teachers except the German teacher who is literally Satan.
âąAnne looks scary but she is basically harmless
âąParr looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly but given the chance she would 100% bite her teacher's hand off
âąAnne 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
âąShe once bit a first year because they got in her way
âąCross 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
âąSheâs got a little black book of people thatâs annoyed her because eventually she forgets but sheâs too petty to let her memory get the better of her
âąAnne has been on it at least once but Parr always strikes her name out
âąShe once kicked Parr in the stomach trying to show off her sandpapered shoes
âąThe shoe flew off and hit Parr in the stomach
She would have screamed at Anne but Anneâs puppy dog eyes are irresistible
Especially at 12 years old because sheâs literally a baby
Like not even in a sexual way, you just canât say no to those eyes
âąSeymour 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 itâs 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
âąWhen 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
âąEvery time that person saw Parr in the hallways they'd turn around and head the other direction
âąTardies don't matter when the most trigger-happy person in school is out for your blood
âąThe day that sheâs sat next to Parr in the seating plan is the day she moves schools
âąEven then Parr still tracks her down
âąShe waits for them at the school gate with the most murderous smile on her face
âąYou just see Anne behind her chewing gum, snapping her fingers and doing jazz hands
âąAnd the person is rapidly dialing their parents while screaming MOM COME PICK ME UP I'M SCARED
âąSuddenly Aragon pulls up with the others and shouts at the pair âget in losers weâre going shoppingâ
"How the hell did you even find them Cathy?"
"I just followed the smell of crippling debt and it led me here."
âNo seriously how?â
âAnne never turns her snapmaps offâ
âąAlso Parr made the PE teacher cry more than once. More than twice. Okay it was 27 times.
âąParr has a pen knife and people try to confiscate it but she just brings out a printed sheet of paper that says that âa knife may be carried as a self defence weapon if it is under 9 inches and is retractableâ
âąShe made the history teacher quit.
âąOne time she threatened to give someone salmonella because they were giving Anne and Kat a hard time
âąBoth Anne and Kat are in special ed and someone thought it'd be funny to bully them cuz of it
âąShe 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 âhello bitches say goodbye to ur eyebrowsâ
âąParr is super defensive of the two of them
âąShe teases them sure but if anyone else tries, they have to sleep with one eye open
âąAnne and Kat don't understand why people keep coming up and apologizing to them
âąWhen they ask Parr, she just shrugs and smiles
âąParr 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
âąParr is soft for Anne and Kat and Anne and Kat alone
âąShe 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
âąHer favourite teachers rarely see that side either. Only during teacher's day when she sneaks into the staffroom to give them homemade cookies
âąParr wears leather jackets to class and no one dares question her.
âąAnne 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
âąAnne singing Unchained Melody exactly like in ghost the musical, and does the little elvis riff too
âąParr and Anne facetime and do Kahoots together because they need to study aka theyre competitive as shit
âąCathy 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.
âąParr gets a "Little Miss Adventurous" award for having the most travelled converstation.
BONUS:
âąThe queens doing that egg project where they have to bring an egg home and keep it for a week
âąAnne calls hers Eggward Eggburt.
âąAragon drops it the moment she gets it
âąAnne brings the egg home and makes it into an omelette
âąJane does well till the sixth day where she goes fuck it and uses it to bake cookies.
âąCleves breaks it during lunch after Anne called her a name and she threw it at her
âąKat gives hers to Jane and it's baked into chocolate chip cookies
âąParr shuts hers in the fridge for a week and takes it out at the end of the week
âąAnne gets asked where her egg is and she pats her stomach which results in Kitty yelling âYOURE PREGNANT?!â
âąJane gets asked where her egg is and she holds up this cookie jar and offers the teacher one
âąParr 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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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! đ Beta: babyboo @eyesfixedonthesun22 Warnings: language, smut, gay sex, mention of blood Word count: 5714 Prompt: Space AU, Stucky
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âSteve, you jackass! Come back!â Thereâs 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. Theyâd 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, theyâd be taken to Starkâs 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.
âI swear to God,â Bucky mumbles under his breath as he begins to make his way towards the atroupment of testosterone.Â
âThereâs no reason for me to be doing less than these men!â Comes as a shout out of Steveâs mouth. Heâs red and Bucky isnât sure if itâs the rage or yet another one of his problems surfacing.
âCome on, buddy. Letâs go home,â he tries to reason with him.
âNo Buck! Donât you get it?â Steve turns back to the guard. âIâll fucking die anyway! Might as well it be doing something importantâŠâ His face winces at the thought; heâd never mentioned his illness as something so weighing, so dark.
âSteveâŠâ He brings his hand to his best palâs shoulder as he tries to comfort him. âYour value isnât measured with what you can do for the world. You take care of me and thatâs plenty.â Steve sighs and accepts defeat.
âFine,â he looks into Buckyâs eyes, tears of anger filling his own, âI guess we can go.â
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 hasnât shaved in a week. From his outfit and his demeanor Bucky knows heâs German. He shrugs it off and turns his attention back to his friend, throwing his arm around his neck.
Itâs 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.
âJerks,â 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.
âLet me take care of it,â the dark haired man replies.Â
âBucky, stop. I can take care of myself.â
âSee, the thing is, you donât have to.â He shakes his shoulder before walking over to the door. Thereâs a paper taped to it, bright and clear texts surround a pointy, metal ship image. Thereâs the Stark logo on it, and it makes him shiver in excitement.
âSteveâŠâ He trails. âGet your ass over here.â
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: âWe are glad to announce that you have been selected to participate in an experimental camp supervised by the Stark Industries.â
Thereâs 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 heâs wondering how they even managed to build this facility anyway. Itâs 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.
âGood evening, boy.â Thereâs a thick accent to the greeting, one that both can easily distinguish. âI hope we havenât given you too much trouble.â
âNot at all, um...â Bucky begins, words failing him as heâs still processing the amount of discoveries they are about to do. He sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping.
âIâm Dr. Erskine. Responsible of the Biological Enhancement department here at Stark Industries. This here is Lady Carter, sheâll be assisting you on your journey.â 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.
âNice to meet you,â Steve manages to say as he struggles to gain composure. He hopes she doesnât notice him drying his palms on the back of his pants.
âLikewise,â she says. Her British accent runs a shiver up Buckyâs spine.
âNow, we wouldnât want to keep you up too late. If you please follow Miss Carter to your assigned pod. Weâll go through the logistics in the morning.â 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. Theyâre already anticipating the look of their new quarters.
âCanât believe weâre doing this,â Steve mentions.
âReally? After twenty-something attempts I would highly believe that youâd be given a chance,â 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 couldnât 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.
âThis is it!â Bucky shouts.
âWeâve been working so hard for this. Maybe a few years after this weâll be able to finally see what Earth looks like from up there.â Doug, whoâd been the fittest one of them until he took Bucky under his wing and made him an even bigger beast, contemplates the unimaginable.Â
âRemember 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 thenâŠâ 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.
âAlright everyone settle in.â 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.
ââTil the end of the line.â Steve captures his friendâs hand in his.
ââTil the end of the line,â Bucky answers. They feel the ship âshake off the groundâ, and the team howls in enthusiasm.Â
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 itâs enough to have them holding their breaths, eyes watering at the beauty.Â
âSteve,â Bucky whispers. He turns to see his friend nodding at him, his lower lip bitten as he tries to hold in his emotions. âThis wouldnât have happened without your stubborn little head.âÂ
âYou deserve this as much as I do Buck.â 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.
âIs, um. Is that okay with you?â He asks.
âYeah. Yeah itâs fine Stevie.â 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.
âIâm exhausted. Iâll hit the showers and be right back.â 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 heâs ever touched. Everything is plushy and so welcoming. Thereâs Buckyâs sweatshirt on the left side pillow; heâs tempted to take it and wear it, knowing heâs 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. Itâs inevitable heâs growing hard at the thought of being able to smell it directly from his neck. To have his head on his chest.Â
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. Heâs staining his underwear but he doesnât care. He knows Buckyâs hand would feel much better, much more unforgiving. Thereâs 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.Â
âShit,â 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; heâs big for his frame and he needs the extra room to pump harder. The door opens but heâs too lost to notice. Thereâs another muffled moan before he hears someone clear their throat.
âSteve, I-â
âFuck! Iâm sorry.â No no no! he thinks. âBuck I didnât mean-â
âItâs fine Rogers, just... Maybe finish in the bathroom?â He suggests with an uncomfortable smile. Heâs scratching his scalp, looking anywhere around the room but the bed. When Steve doesnât 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.
âYou can keep the hoodie, if youâre cold.â Steve nods no and doesnât move. âAlright,â he adds before shuffling into his spot. Heâs 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. Itâs no use now that heâs seen his pal touching himself like that. Not that heâd never imagined it - he was much smaller in his mind though. He didnât 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 Buckyâs presence, and fuck if that wasnât something heâd dreamed about.
He inhales deeply before shifting to face Steve. His hand slowly lifts and comes to rest on his friendâs shoulder, which surprisingly relaxes under his touch rather than tense up.Â
âBucky, itâs late. Iâm sorry, okay?â Itâs a half plead, half demand as the physical effects of his actions still havenât dissipated. Bucky knows from the speed of his heart when his Stevie is nervous of agitated. Or in this case aroused.
âNo. Iâm sorry Steve.â Without turning completely, Steve gives him more of his attention. His silence is enough to note his questioning. âI shouldâve realised before.â
âWh-what do you mean, Buck?â
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 Steveâs 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.
âBuck,â Steve shivers.
âLet me. Please Stevie,â he says, his breath warm on the poor boyâs frigid body. When he doesnât 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. Heâs 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. Buckyâs hip jerks forward in response. Heâs already a mess and heâs only been touching him for a few seconds.
âYes,â Steve whimpers. It earns him a soft bite to the shoulder; tender action meant to stifle a moan. âBucky, donât hold back.â
âYou donât know how long Iâve wanted to hear this,â he answers.
Heâs got Steve on his stomach as soon as heâs done answering, a low grunt escapes his lips when he kneels over Steveâs legs, admiring the boyâs slender body. He snakes his hands over his shoulders, over his arms. He feels every inch of his skin as if heâd seen it for the first time. It feels new, strange even, to be able to give his pal what heâd always dreamed of; but itâs the best sentiment heâs ever experienced. From the soft moans he can pull from Steve, Bucky knows heâs 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 Buckyâs thumbs come to rest over his back dimples. Heâs longing for whatâs next; for the frightening act of intimacy.
âBucky, you donât-â Heâs cut short in his suggestion by the inevitable. He moans Buckyâs name over and over every time his tongue flattens over his puckered hole. Buckyâs at work like a hungry man whoâs just discovered the sweetest fruit. He licks and sucks and pokes intently at the flustered mess of man underneath him; and /heâs/ already done for. Heâs rock hard in his own boxers at the way he can get Steve to squirm.Â
âJa-james! Ah!â Steveâs got both hands fisting the sheet and his face flat into his pillow. He moves his hips along with the tactful intrusions. Thereâs a sticky mess already glueing his stomach to the mattress but he doesnât care. If anything it allows for the lack of friction on his aching dick. âMore. Please,â he pants.
He can hear Bucky spit but his rear is already too worn out from the previous actions to feel a thing. Thereâs a light poke, then a sting as Buckyâs slowly inching two fingers into him.Â
âSo fucking tight, Stevie. God⊠Youâre going to ruin my cock, arenât ya?â His words send shivers up their bodies.Â
âAll yours Buck,â Steve adds before choking on his words when he feels a third finger joining the others. âAlways been yours.â With that said, Steve stretches back as best he can and brings a hand to the brunetteâs 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.
âWill you let me take care of you now?â Bucky asks and regrets the way he phrased that.
âI can ta-â
âNo, punk.â He sighs and closes his eyes. âItâs 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 donât know what theyâre missing.â Thereâs a moment of silence while Steve turns around and sits straighter. His brows furrow but he doesnât argue.
âBucky, itâs fine. Those girls didnât really have anything going for me, anyway.â
âSo⊠Will you?â Heâs 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 Steveâs thumb comes to his chin and heâs forced to look up. The pretty blond is all smiles; the sweet pink on his cheeks warms Buckyâs heart. Steve dives in and crashes his lips to his friendâs. His boyfriend? Lover? He isnât sure yet but that doesnât matter for the night.Â
âWould that include letting me come before the morning?â Thereâs a gasp coming from Bucky as the question comes out, but he smiles and nods stupidly at Steveâs confidence. He pounces on him, their lips meeting again in a heated kiss.Â
âOnly if itâs while Iâm fucking that prefect little ass,â he taunts.
âWouldnât have it any other way,â 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. Itâs 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 heâs 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 theyâd have to go back to being best buddies; friends since playground. Itâs a thought that has Buckyâs stomach churning. Heâd 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 Steveâs silhouette standing in front of their window.Â
âWhatâs up, Stevie?â His voice barely makes it out of him.
âI could ask you the same,â Steve accuses right away. He can hear Bucky fall back into his pillow and grunt.
âCare to explainâŠâ
âYouâre unbelievable.â He paces, his hands on his hips. âWhatâs 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 havenât touched me, havenât even looked at me in the eyes for a weekâŠâ
The anguish in his voice has Bucky up on his feet in a second - heâs ready to lay down his point of view but Steve retorts faster.
âLook around! Weâre in a fucking ship thatâs meant to be in space, man.â His finger taps the glass behind him. âEverything around us is astonishing progress.â
âYeah, simulated,â Bucky says.
âBut progress nonetheless. Forget what people think. Gosh I wish this thing could take us to the future. Maybe things would have changedâŠâ Bucky takes a step closer and heâs 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.
âWhat the-â
Thereâs 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 heâs never seen Steveâs 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. Heâd seen the consequences first hand on the field.Â
âDonât move, donât move.â Heâs got a hand on his shoulder and the other beneath his head. Thereâs a glance around his body before heâs sure he can lift him up. Luckily, Steveâs 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.
âI got you Stevie,â Bucky says when he hears him weep.
**
Buckyâs 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. Itâs 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 Buckyâs throat is suddenly tingling. Heâs a moment away from bolting up from his seat when Peggy walks out of the room.
âBarnes.â She has an apologetic look, but she offers a sweet smile. âHeâd like to see you.â
Thereâs 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.
âNow,â she begins. âWeâve had to um⊠They did someth-â
âHeâs fine?â He practically screams.
âYes. Yes James he is fine.â 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 heâs 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 itâs the illusion of Steve being laid down, but he knows heâs gotten taller. Before he can wonder further a hand comes to his shoulder.
âStark. What happened?â He asks, not taking his eyes off his friend.
âThe 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.â
âWell, a boost he got!â Bucky answers a tad enthusiastically. He sees Peggy smirk and his cheeks heat up. âSorry,â he mouths.
âYes. 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. Letâs say we might have dosed up a little on him.â
âIs it permanent?â
âSo far.â Peggy joins in.
âDid it... hurt?â Thereâs a new concern in Buckyâs 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.Â
âDid it like a champ,â comes Steveâs voice next.
**
âSteve, listen,â Bucky begins as they walk into their apartment, bags of groceries in arms - the first one since theyâve been back from the mission. Heâs walking behind him, still astounded by the two inches Steve has won. Their elbows bump as they walk around in the kitchen - theyâve 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.Â
âBucky, stop. I know you didnât want to hurt me.â He means it, but Steve continues to set the things away without looking at him.
âI got caught off guard, Stevie. The lady asked the question but the tone in her voice made me uncomfortable. I should have s-â
âYes. You should have said we were together. But itâs fine,â he adds. Bucky steps up and grabs one of the blondeâs hands. He brings it to his chest, over his heart, and his eyes begin to water when they get lost in his. Thereâs a synched deep breath before Bucky composes himself.
âIâm sorry.â Steveâs 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 canât help but shiver. The serum surely had enhanced everything.
âWhy is it still so hard for you to acknowledge this,â Steve says as he rubs Buckyâs back. âEvery time you say âfriendâ my stomach flinches.âÂ
âStrict family. Itâs been coded into me when I was young. Every time I would hang out with you Iâd get deathly stares at the dinner table.â 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 didnât know that his father was overlooking their every move from his office window. Didnât know that his own mother was being lectured about their behavior.
âPlus, I still look at you and kind of freak out that I donât have my little Stevie anymore. But you know⊠Iâm really looking forward to what /this/ Steve can do.â 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.Â
âHow about you knock some sense into me?â 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.Â
âBut, Buck. We always-â
âI know. But I want to, baby. At least onceâŠâ Thereâs a soft whine along Buckyâs words and Steve melts into his embrace. Their lips stand close, waiting patiently for the right opportunity; though Buckyâs hand has made its way past Steveâs zipper by now. âFor once, Stevie...please fuck me.â
Itâs beastial. The way Steve picks his lover like heâs 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 Buckyâs hand to land onto the door handle, and another second for his mind to command it to turn it open. Steveâs 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.
âDonât break anything, Rogers.â He lifts himself onto his elbows to look down at the brusque man between his legs.
âThe only thing I might be breaking is the bed,â 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 theyâd be intimate since âthe changeâ. It most likely frightens Bucky more than it does Steve. A grin autographs his next words. âWe need a new one anyway.â And with that he hooks his fingers into the waistband of both Buckyâs pants and underwear, and glides them off his thighs.
âAlways so fucking hard for me,â Steve growls. âNo wonder, you had /me/ on my back like that. I could get used to this view.â
âDonât linger, Stevie.â Buckyâs words are low, but stern. His hips buck in agreement.
âWas I so whiny all the time?â They both chuckle before Bucky swats him on the chest.
âOnly when I was balls deep in that fantastic ass,â he answers, both hands on the plump flesh he mentioned. The action causes Steve to grind into him - and heâd be lying if he said that wasnât the plan all along. Bruises would appear on his shoulders the next day with how hard Steveâs biting down on them.
âI 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 heâs going to last. Surely Steveâs new physique could give more than he bargained for.
âHoly shit,â 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 Buckyâs ass and he stops, giving both of them a moment to adjust.
âNever thought it would be this good,â 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.
âLike that, huh?â Steve asks. âI sure as hell fucking like it.â
Bucky can only make faint noises. Steves and ahs and what not escape his lips in the smoothest symphony Steve has ever heard. Heâs 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 heâs going. And going. And heâs loving every moment, so much so that heâs not sure he can ever go back to the old ways. Inevitably him or Bucky would succumb. Both giving and receiving felt amazing, but heâd always be Jamesâ little Stevie.
âYou take me so well, fuck,â he adds.
âSte-eve.â
âI know. Poor little face is all red and hot. Youâre so close, love.â 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 werenât enough, it has Bucky pulsing and making a mess on the bed.
âFuck fuck fuck!â 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 itâs Steveâs 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 brunetteâs back. Hot spurts reach up to his shoulders and onto his cheek. Steve is quick to lean forward and lick him clean.
âSo good,â he says.
âStevie, thatâs your own cum,â Bucky replies with a shy smile. Whoâd have thought Steven Rogers would be the kinky one.
âMmm. And?â
âAnd⊠I want some.â They both chuckle before Bucky can grab onto the manâs 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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Life Update (I need help)
Hey, everyone. Iâm sorry I havenât 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 donât 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 wasnât caught up with the shows so I punished myself by saying I shouldnât 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!
Whatâs the problem?
Iâve been suicidal and struggling with depression since I was 16. I am 23 now and feel like I havenât 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 canât really work up any energy to get up out of bed everyday and when I do I feel empty and canât get myself to do things I enjoy. I canât 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 canât 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. Iâve 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 isnât perfect then itâs bad and doesnât matter at all. I apply it to every action I take and am trying to actively unlearn it but so far it isnât 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 canât 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 donât 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 thatâs what youâre 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 donât 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 thatâs 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.Â
Now I am still basically at 0 and cannot move to the US in the foreseeable future. Iâll 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 donât 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 Iâd 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 âcontributeâ more in the household. I never know what âenoughâ 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 canât/shouldnât 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?Â
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 doesnât 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 Iâve 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. Iâll 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.Â
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 donât 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.Â
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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Learning a new language through immersion doesnât 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. Itâs a clever service that makes use of Netflixâs 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.Â
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. âFor some languages (Farsi, for example), thereâs only a limited amount of learning materials available,â Wilkinson said in an email. âI think a lot of people would enjoy studying a language with material they are already familiar with.âÂ
The tool works best as a supplement for people who already have some basic understanding of the language theyâre learning. Thereâs 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. Thereâs even a catalog of recommendations for movies and shows that are good to study.Â
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. âNetflix has alternative audio tracks for many well-known series, but the subtitles in other languages donât match the audio,â Wilkinson said. âWeâre 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.âÂ
One of the few downsides is that the tool only works on Google Chrome, so you canât 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 itâs obvious that the potential for language learning through media is huge. Viki, a streaming service for Asian dramas, implemented a âLearn Modeâ in 2017 that essentially does the same thing by showing two subtitles at once. The developers say they havenât contacted Netflix yet, but âthe project could likely go faster and further with their support.âÂ
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Truth Pt. 13
Master List @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin
Request:
Whatâs up sug! sorry youâre struggling right now but Iâve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me Iâd 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 donât then buck taking care of her while sheâs 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 canât seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But⊠a simple game reveals that maybe things arenât 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. Itâs partially why I wrote the last chapter just to put off writing this one. I donât want to say anything more because I just canât but yeah.Â
Also HUGE thanks to @wonderlandmind4 and @courtmr for betaing this monster.Â
OH! And there is another chapter after this.
Tags are open!
@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos âharder @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 youâre kind of dreading it.
âWe should make an appearance.â Bucky insists, slipping into his jeans while youâre still in one of his teeâs and your underwear in bed.
âWho even are you?â
âWhat?â
âSince when are you so keen on socializing?â
He laughs, âGuess youâre rubbing off on me.â
âYeah,â begrudgingly you crawl from the bed.
âItâs a low bar babe.â As you walk to the closet he grabs you and places a nipping playful kiss on the back of your neck.
âMmm, sure you wanna go?â You purr, reaching back and pulling his hips close.
âYep,â he slaps your ass hard. âGet dressed.â
Just about everyone is lounging in the common space save for Hill, who you saw leave the party last night with a knockout blonde.
âMorning!â Steve booms from the kitchen, pouring himself some OJ. From across the room, a blueberry hits Steve right between the eyes.
âWe talked about this Rogers. Inside voices,â Clint groans, head falling back on the couch.
âGo a little hard last night Clint?â You pat his forehead as you walk by, he grunts in response.
Tony rounds the corner, âOh the IT couple is here finally.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Tony laughs and plucks the paper Sam holds up from his hands.
âCheck out whoâs gracing the front of the Styles section.â 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 werenât just any couple.
âYouâre on the website too,â Nat walks up and hands you her tablet.
Thereâs 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: âAvenger team members, Barnes and Michaels, share a tender moment.â You arenât sure how you feel about it. From the tension in Buckyâs jaw, he doesnât know either.
âYou canât buy good PR like that,â Pepper says making herself and Natasha mimosas. âThe two of you were just perfect.â
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 changeâŠ
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.
âYou ok?â Bucky comes up behind you, gently rubbing your back.
âYeah⊠just⊠my mom is definitely turning in her grave right now.â
âGood or bad way?â
âGood,â you laugh a small hollow sound. âHer daughter in the society pages. Sheâd be beside herself. I can hear her now,â your accent tries to echo your momâs soft German accent. âFinally you got it right my little firefly.â
âFirefly?â His expression is achingly soft.
âMhm. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little. Always chasing them and catching them for her. So it became a nickname.â
âI bet theyâre both very proud of you, doll.â
You shrug. âIâm⊠Iâm gonna hop in the shower.â
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. Itâs 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 themâŠ
âIch liebe euch beide,â (I love you both.) you whisper to your parentsâ photo. âSorry, it took me so long to get it together⊠I wish you could meet him⊠youâd like him.â 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.
-
Buckyâs 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 heâs about to burst open. Itâs taking everything in him to shut up.
âSo,â your voice is so steady, he canât understand how youâre not as nervous as he is right now. âYouâre sure this one is legit?â
Tony sighs, âYeah. After the last two, we figured if we came across something similar to your signature again weâd monitor the area for a bit longer, see if or how the readings change.â
He runs a hand over his face as he looks over the images floating over the table. âThe readings are strong⊠really strong. The draw on the power grid is insane. And⊠well, weâve picked up all the variations of your energy signature⊠itâs not coincidence.â
The fact that the chances of them finding assets similar to you are incredibly high isnât what has him on edge. Itâs that the industrial complex the readings are emitting from is just outside of Odessa in Ukraine⊠Itâs too close to what was once Hydraâs hotbed⊠Itâs 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 theyâd 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.
âHow volatile is this, Tony?â Steveâs tone is gravel.
Tony just stares a bit and Bruce answers, âVery. The emissions have been steadily climbing over the past couple of weeks. Only thing is we canât really get a lock on how many are running the place⊠no way to know what we may run into.â
âBut we canât ignore it,â Samâs gaze is locked on the screenâs, determination setting his features.
âNo,â Tony agrees in a solemn voice. âWe absolutely canât.â
They head out tomorrow evening so theyâll 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 youâre 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.
âBuck-â 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, youâve learned the ins and outs of the otherâs body. Even so every time he feels your touch it feels like the first time. He still is amazed you want him. Heâs 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 youâre 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. Heâs 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 arenât pleasure.
After heâs lost count of the number of times heâs made you come you pant, âNo more, please. I⊠you, I need to feel you, Bucky, please.â He smiles. Itâs cute how you said please as if heâd ever say no.
Morning comes too quickly for his liking.
You shower together and itâs not until youâre drying your hair he finally says something about the mission, âIf you canât handle this, Y/N itâs ok. No one would judge you.â
Turning you give him a weak smile, âAre you really worried that I canât handle it, babe? Or can you notâŠâ
He traces your brow with his metal fingers, âI just donât want this to get to you like the last one or⊠the first one⊠with the womanâŠâ You take his hand in yours, studying his face.
âIt wonât.â
âYou donât know that, Y/N.â
âI do.â This time your smile is full, lighting up your features. âI have you. Nothing will ever be like it was before.â You look away, your brow knitting before meeting his gaze once more, âBucky⊠I⊠you⊠I donât feel broken anymore. Because of you.â
His chest constricts. Immediately he pulls you to him, crushing you to his chest. âYou were never broken, Y/N. Never.â
-
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 couldnât really touch.
You had done your best to relay what information you could in todayâs 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 werenât 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 Bruceâs 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 thereâs 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 couldnât 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 Hydraâs research. And you could close this chapter of your story once and for all.
âAlright,â Steve gets everyoneâs attention, standing near the front of the jet. âWeâre all clear on what weâre facing? And that Y/N has point here?â
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 werenât a leader. You were an asset. Trained to infiltrate, kill, obey. You didnât lead you were led⊠led until youâd finally tell someone to go fuck themselves. Then they just reset you⊠a machine made, for one thing, destruction.
âY/N?â Samâs voice is soothing next to you.
âYeah, sorry. Iâm good.â Buckyâs metal hand gives yours a gentle squeeze.
Sighing heavily you release Buckyâs hand and stand next to Steve. âLike Tony said earlier, Jarvis can scan for energy signatures and alert everyone if something is about to go haywire but itâs not perfect. If you feel your skin begin to prickle, the temperature drop, or anything thatâs 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,â the tension around this point is palpable. âPhysically attack as little as possible because it could trigger them to blow and if theyâre good enough they can kill you on contact.â
You feel the energy shift under your own skin, âAnd if I say run, get the fuck out. Weâre not losing anyone over this.â Â Your fist flexes by your side, thin tendrils of static glowing around it.
âLetâs end this.â 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 youâre 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, youâd 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. Itâs 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.
Tonyâs group splits to head up while Steve and Bucky look for an access point down. You canât seem to move. After a minute Bucky realizes youâre stuck.
âBaby,â his arms encircle you, the feeling of his touch and his familiar scent grounding you. âIf you canât do this-â
You shake your head. When you open your mouth at first nothing comes out, some part of your brain screaming that you arenât supposed to speak here. âI w⊠want t⊠to.â 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. âI got nothinâ but thereâs gotta be a way down.â
Thereâs a ringing in your ears as you try to think, you press your forehead into Buckyâs 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 theyâre just waiting for someone to come back from lunch. You know theyâve been in the same position for near 30 years. Automatically your hand reaches for the pencil cup, fingers effortlessly locating the one pen that doesnât 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.
âY/N found an access point down. Elevator, fifth office door on the right, click the red pen in the cup. Weâll take it to the bottom and work our way up.â Steve updates the rest of the team.
âBe careful,â Natasha responds.
âWeâve cleared the second level, no one here. Once weâre done weâll head down too.â 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 thereâs silence for a moment. All three of your heads swivel to the left, enhanced ears picking up on the slightest sounds. Itâs 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.
âDown!â 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 theyâre down, energy dissipating.
As you make your way through the level youâre 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.
Youâre 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 thereâs 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, youâre 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, itâs not the time for them.
Tonyâs voice crackles in through the coms. âNatâs down. Entered what looked like a room with a boxing ring, it was electrified or something. Her vitals are steady but sheâs unconscious.â
You grasp your head in your hands, trying to convince yourself that your skull isnât going to fly apart. âT⊠training,â is all you can get out.
âDidnât copy,â Hillâs voice chimes in.
âY/N says those are training areas,â Steve looks to you for confirmation and you nod. âAvoid any room like that you see.â
You shake your head redirecting your mind to thoughts that werenât about the facility so your tongue would obey you. âGo help them.â Steve looks like heâs going to argue, âWeâve got this. With Nat down, theyâre down a person up there and someone needs to have an eye on her while she comes too since we canât just leave her in the jet.â
âSheâs right Steve. And in charge,â he throws his friend a wink. âWe can handle ourselves. Go.â
Steve nods, âIâm heading to you, hold your position.â
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 donât 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. âWhat is it?â 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. âItâs ok baby,â the fingers of his right hand caress your cheek. âItâs ok.â Quickly he leans down and kisses you softly.
His touch. Thatâs 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.
âThereâs more.â Your voice is low but steady. âThrough there.â You point toward the glass. âResearch I think.â 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.
âWait!â He freezes. âLet me go first. I think it⊠itâsâŠâ Fuck them for taking your words. You hold up your hand and let the power lash out in mini lightning bolts to demonstrate.
âGot it. Then we leave it.â
âNo.â
His expression is exasperated when he turns to you. âY/N you said-â
âIt wonât hurt me. We have to clear everything.â
âFine, if it goes too far back though.â
âI wonât proceed. Thereâs gotta be a way to shut it off close by anyway. Iâll look for that first.â Heâs clearly not thrilled and honestly, youâre 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 youâre 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.
âDoll?â Bucky calls after you, his voice dripping with concern.
âIâm ok,â 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.
âI think⊠I think thereâs one more level.â You turn to him. âDown. Where this,â you hold open your hand and light pulses so bright itâs almost blinding, âcomes from. âWhere I-â
âY/N!â Bucky bellows moving to enter the room despite the risk. Youâre 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. Â A comm seems to switch on and you can hear Buckyâs voice screaming.
âGoddamnit! Steve, we have a situation back and left of where we split. Double doors. Backup now!â
Youâre about to turn to tell him thereâs 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 youâŠ
âY/N!â Bucky screams, pounding on the door, trying in vain to get it open.
âPlease, Sargeant Barnes, donât make a fool of yourself,â the woman looks at him in disgust her accent softly Germanic. âThis room was built to contain someone far more powerful than a recycled grunt like you could ever be.â She looks back to you, âHello my little firefly.â
âHurry!â Bucky bellows into the com. âY/N! Baby doll, look at me.â He sounds like heâs a world away.
âM⊠mom?â Youâre going to be sick you can feel it.
âYes liebling,â she keeps her distance but gives you a smile. âItâs been too long. Longer to you I know. I wish that wasnât the case but-â
You press the heels of your hands to your forehead as images flash. She was here⊠she had been⊠everywhere? What-
âThis was not my preferred way my firefly but as always you have forced my hand.â
âI donât-â 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.
âYou were born to be a wunderkind.â You can hear Steve in your crackling com, trying to find you but her voice cuts through everything. âMy wunderkind. The honor to be chosen to be your motherâŠâ She places her hand over her heart, âYou were going to be the beginning of a new order for Hydra. A child raised in power-â
âW... what?!â This doesnât make sense.
âDo you think you just happened to be stronger, faster, smarter all around better than your peers. No, my firefly.â
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.
âNo, we made you better, all so you could become who you were meant to be. But instead, you threw it all away.â She sighs, a sound you grew familiar with as a teenager. âYou forced my hand then, youâve done so now.â
Steve is there, pounding with his shield, itâs not doing much, they call for Tony but you just canât seem to care.
âIt was one thing to work with trash like that,â she gestures to Bucky and Steve. âWe could, I could, tolerate it while we got things sorted but to be with it. To debase yourself with Zolaâs dog. I couldnât stand by.â
âWhat did you sayâŠâ You growl, power once more pulsing.
âDonât listen to her, Y/N!â Bucky calls out.
âI created you to surpass everyone, to stand above humanity. I made you-â
âYou made me into a monster!â A bolt crashes just in front of her. Unimpressed she looks down.
âI made you into a god!â She sneers, âYou made yourself into a disappointment.â That word hits you like a bullet to the chest. âFilling 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!â
She takes a deep breath and composes herself. âWe would have brought you back home in a gentler fashion. But when I saw those photos⊠I knew I had to extract you sooner.â
âHome,â you spit the word.
âYes. This is your home, Y/N. With me.â You hear Tony in the com heâs coming. Once more she sighs, âNo matter, soon youâll remember who you are, what you were born to be. Dochâ,â the Russian word for daughter zings through you.
Immediately you lift a glowing hand in threat, âDonât.â
âUbegay,â a smirk lifts her lips.
Your hand shakes as does your voice, âMama, donât.â Even after everything⊠the thought of killing your motherâŠ
âBoginya,â you try to shoot her but you miss. âRassvet.â
âBucky!â You scream, power slipping away from you in response to the words. Frantically you run to the glass by the door.
âY/N! Tony hurry!â
âVybrannyy.â
He presses close as Steve keeps pounding at the handle, âLook at me baby,â his voice echoes over the com. âStay-â
âZashchishchatâ.â You scream and fall to your knees holding your head. He kneels mouth moving but you canât really understand the words. âPodâyem.â Your body feels so heavy your head filled with humming, static, pain.
âY/N!â He screams your name over and over. This manâŠ
âDvadtsatâ,â another man outside, metal man. You rise slowly and turn toward the woman speaking. The woman with the words. âDtanovitâsya.â
She smiles broadly, âSvetlyak.â Everything in you... freezes. âThereâs my firefly.â
Thereâs a loud noise behind you. You donât think to look, havenât 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 donât care, she didnât give you orders to protect her.
âY/N! Baby!â A man with a metal arm takes you by the shoulders, shakes you. âY/N?! Come on, fight it! Come back to me.â He looks so upset⊠did he give you orders? He seems familiarâŠ
âSoldat?â Thatâs 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? âKakovy nashi zakazy?â (What are our orders?)
âOh god.â 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 Buckyâs blow.
âBarnes!â Tony bellows.
Bucky ignores him collapsing next to you. âIâm so sorry baby,â he pulls you to him. âIâm so sorry. Iâm so-â
Heâs pressed your face to his chest, rocking you a little, âThank you,â you croak.
He holds you at arm's length, âY/N?!â
You nod, âThank you. You kept your promise.â
His face collapses. For a minute you hold one another both knowing that the end had just come so close.
Thereâs a wheezing, a cough, before, âPathetic.â
That bitch. You release Bucky and stand, pushing past Steve and Tony who are dumbfounded at everything theyâve seen. Standing over your mother you feel power pulse up your spine.
âI thought youâd be my biggest victory, youâre nothing. Too weak for greatness like your father.â She forces herself up coughing once more, blood at the edges of her mouth. âI should have put you both down.â
âFuck you,â you growl. About to blast a hole through her chest.
âHail, Hydra.â Immediately she begins to foam at the mouth.
âNo you donât get to-â 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 doesnât 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 youâŠ
Buckyâs lips are next to your ear, softly he begins to sing. Fly Me To The Moon. âIn other words, hold my hand,â his hands slide over your own, sparking with energy. âIn other words, baby, kiss meâŠâ Slowly you both sink to the floor, your screams giving way to sobs. âYou are all I long for, All I worship and adore,â he rocks you gently your back to his chest. âIn other words, I love you.â
As he finishes youâre able to get a hold of yourself, body no longer glowing dangerously. Breathe a little normally.
âItâs clear back there,â you hear Hillâs voice say softly to Steve and Tony. âGot some data from the computer. I donât think she expected to lose, thereâs a lot there.â
âGreat,â Tony whispers. He kneels in front of you, âSparks,â his gauntleted hand rests gently on your thigh, âletâs get you outta here.â
Bucky releases you and you stand on shaky legs. âNatasha?â You ask looking to Hill.
âSheâs ok,â 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 Tonyâs as Jarvis pipes over the com, âThere seems to be some sort of anomaly, I cannot get a lock on it but I suggest immediate evacuation.â You nod agreeing.
The elevators are down, likely an automatic shut off when thereâs a breach like the one youâre 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.
âWe could climb up,â Steve says.
âToo slow.â He steps in and rips a hole through the roof, âGet in, I can pull it up.â 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. Itâs so like your own for a moment youâre scared itâs coming from you.
âSir, I believe the facility is set to demolish itself,â Jarvisâ unfazed tone rings in your ear.
âRight. Letâs get going. Wilson, get that van ready we need to get the hell out now,â 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, âY/N, come on baby.â Another wave, this time you hear the buildings around you groan.
Itâs not just the building thatâs set to blow⊠You realize with a sick feeling⊠it wasnât that your mother didnât think sheâd lose⊠she just knew it wouldnât matter either way. When this detonates, you donât know if itâs an asset or multiple or what⊠but the blast will be devastating. If itâs even fractionally as powerful as it feels Odessa will be in the bottom of a crater in the coming minutes⊠All those innocent peopleâŠ
Buckyâs approaching you, to drag you to the van. Tony hovers close by, you look to him as you start to back up, âRemember that promise, Tony?â
âYeahâŠâ
âTime to cash in.â 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.
âY/N!â/âGoddamnit!â You hear Tony and Bucky exclaim simultaneously. There are the sounds of a scuffle.
âTell me whatâs happening Sparky!â Tony grunts, the sound of metal on metal ringing in your com.
âItâs bad, the blast, the energy, real bad. I can stop it just get him!â You look over and see Bucky in hot pursuit before Tony grabs him.
You donât look back again. You canât. 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 wasnât something you did often, and sometimes it didnât work but right now you have no choice, youâve 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⊠Â
Looking out you can see them still. Bucky and Tony are struggling, the whisper of Buckyâs 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 arenât 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 nowâŠ
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 itâs 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 donât 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 youâre strong enough to contain this force. Like some bizarre lightning rod, the power thrums through you crackling from your fingertips, your body glowing brightâŠ
âLike a firefly,â you think.
âStraight up, straight down, not out, not out, contain this contain it.â 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.
âI love you,â you whisper wishing he could hear.
Then thereâs nothing but light, and pain, and surrender.
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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.
Itâs 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 â on your hard drive, in the cloud, on that phone you left on the train last week and never saw again â or on the wire, when youâre 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 âgood guysâ 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 âmaster keyâ for the authoritiesâ use. As lawyer/computer scientist Jonathan Mayer explained, adding the complexity of master keys to our technology will âintroduce unquantifiable security risksâ. Itâs hard enough getting the security systems that protect our homes, finances, health and privacy to be airtight â making them airtight except when the authorities donât 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.
Thatâs a technical argument, and itâs a good one, but you donât 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 whoâll 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 Administrationâs âmaster keysâ 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 âaggressive investigation workâ 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 âcompletely destroyedâ 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 âTSA is not liable for any damage to locks or bags that are required to be opened by force for security purposesâ (the same note had an appendix warning me that I should treat this communication as confidential). Iâve 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 donât just protect our mundane communications: cryptography is the reason why thieves canât impersonate your fob to your carâs keyless ignition system; itâs the reason you can bank online; and itâs the basis for all trust and security in the 21st century.
In her Dimbleby lecture, Martha Lane Fox recalled Aaron Swartzâs words: âItâs not OK not to understand the internet anymore.â 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 âgolden keysâ 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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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 âblood on her handsâ 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 Jonahâs 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, itâs like they were soulmates. For her 25th birthday, the young couple decided to officially get fiancĂ©s. 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 Graceâs 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 CassiopĂ©e (my other Cradlesonas) during some army meetings and if she tends to appreciate Margarethâs company, that's not the same with CassiopĂ©e. 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 CassiopĂ©e, Grace is not really close to my personality but I wanted to do one to get with the man I share my birthday with đ. This is another daughter for @lovingsiriusoswald, please welcome her in your big family!â€ïž
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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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