#his name is chris and its seems that i take the habit of killing him off horribly :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seung-mong · 1 year

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shoot to kill - bangchan

includes: ex (?) bf! chan x fem reader, ANGST idk im in the mood to break hearts ig, fluff at the end, soft smut, mostly chan reassuring and praising reader

"alright fuck, then maybe we should just take a break."

the words leave chan before he can really think about it, hanging in the air like a knife that's been thrown and stops midair, your gaze ice cold and freezing it in it's track.

"really. thats your solution? a fucking break?" you scoff, your (chan's) shirt that usually hangs loosely suddenly suffocating you, wrapping you in a snake-like grip and making your head feel like you're going to explode.

"yea, i just dont think us being together is good for us anymore."

chan has a bad habit. he says shit he doesnt mean, blames the anger that builds in his chest and spits out words he knows will hurt. because thats what he wants to do. he knows its wrong, fucked even. the way he wants you to hurt the way he hurts.

"christopher."

its a plea. take it back, please. you stand there in front of him, defenseless. the way his full name falls off your tongue sounds wrong. it's devoid of all the emotions you'd usually call him with. where's the gentleness, the softness you usually regard him with?

"maybe we just.. need to stay away from each other right now." chan's voice is steady, betraying the way his insides seem to shake, he's not sure if he's shivering from the cold, or the way your eyes seem to look at him as if you're seeing him for the first time.

"you can't be serious." it hurts to speak, your words squeezing out of you as you struggle to breathe, tears freely flowing.

he should turn this around. surrender. no, he isn't serious. he's so stupid and he loves you and he's just so hurt by what you said a while ago and he's tired and- "i'll sleep at changbin's tonight."

your chest hurts, physically feels like its being ripped apart as you stare at your lover with empty eyes. "thats your solution? to run away? over such a stupid-"

"stupid?" chan laughs hollowly, running a hand through his hair, feeling all the anger rise in him again. "it isn't stupid, y/n. you're the one who keeps running away. you're the one who keeps pushing away this conversation every single time i bring it up." he's raising his voice now, can see how tense his body is from the reflection on the glass window.

"you're asking me to pick up my whole life and move to seoul with you. this isn't some silly request like asking me to pick where to eat for dinner, it's my whole fucking life, chris!" you raise yours in response, taking a step closer to him.

"that's what i did for you! i dont understand it, y/n. i moved to chicago. for you. picked up my whole fucking life and moved because i loved you. so why can't you fucking do that for me? this is my work, y/n." he takes a step, towering over you.

"no, don't twist it like that. we made plans, chan. we talked about it for months. it wasn't some spontaneous decision. we both wanted this-"

"well maybe i dont want this anymore."

oh.

...

"you don't mean that."

...

"channie? please. you don't mean that." your voice is breaks, shaky as you step away from him, clutching at your chest.

he can feel guilt eat at his stomach as he watches you, whole body shaking as sobs rack through your frame. he needs to apologize, he knows it. but you've hurt him too.

"i just... i need a break, y/n."

you sink into the couch behind you, shaking your head when chan hesitantly approaches you, kneeling on the floor in front of you. he places a hand on your knee, and his chest tightens when you flinch away from him.

"love-"

"don't." you spit the word out, refusing to even look at him.

"love, please-"

"a break's what you want? you fucking have it. tell changbin to expect you." you push his arm away when he makes a move to reach for you. you unfurl yourself from the couch, stepping aside from the man who holds your heart, ignoring his calls of your name as you walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

sleep comes quickly when you cry yourself to sleep, curled into a ball in your bed, heart empty as the overwhelming scent of chan sticks to his pillows. you faintly hear the soft click of the front door, and then complete silence.

it's hard to remember how you fell asleep, almost as if there was a smooth transition from sobbing heavily into your pillow and breathing into a deep sleep. your head is pounding when your eyes open, puffy and sore from your tears. your throat is dry, stomach aching, and heart heavy.

there's a chance chan will never sleep beside you again.

you push aside the bitter feeling, letting out a painful groan when you stretch your limbs, swinging your feet off your bed. the floor is cold, and you have to tiptoe to the bathroom to freshen up.

you look as horrible as you feel. you try not to spend too much time looking at yourself.

the thought of spending your whole day alone in your big apartment makes you uneasy, part of you wishing you could stay cooped up in your room forever. but you know deep down that's not what's truly bothering you, not when the uncertainty eats at you from the inside.

how is he?

is he thinking about you?

why hasn't he messaged you?

...... is it really the end?

you walk to the door, taking a deep breath as tears brim just below your waterline, promising to be productive today, and not to wallow in self pity all day. your scream leaves you before you can register what exactly is sitting by front of your door, large frame leaning against the door toppling over in his sleep.

"what the hell!" you scream, heart suddenly beating too fast at your liking as you finally take the scene in.

"baby?" chan's voice is croaky, as if his throat had been scratched raw. he's still wearing the clothes from last night, shoulder leaning against the doorframe before you swung the door open, causing him to lose balance.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you sigh, guilt tugging at your heart when chan stands up, groaning and rubbing at his back.

"i- i didn't...."

you stare at him in silence, unable to control the way your brows furrow in anger. he stares back at you, lips suddenly going dry when he sees the way that you look at him, as if he was a bother.

"i thought you went to bin's." you push past him, heading straight to the kitchen as if you had no worry in the world, pretending to busy yourself with dishes despite there not being a single dish in the sink.

"i..... i couldn't leave you." his voice cracks as he takes another step toward you. you turn your back to him, denying him of your attention as you pretend to busy yourself with breakfast, pulling open drawers and taking out pots.

"wow. that's rich." your voice is laced with pure venom when you bite back, sinking deep into chan's heart as he shuffles awkwardly to stand by the kitchen counter.

"you locked the door."

you only hum in response.

"i.... i tried to go in, thought i'd apologize to you but.... it was locked."

"yea. you don't really expect anyone to go in your room when you're on a break."

the silence is heavy on your shoulders, but you know if you say any more the tears will start pouring. you're too mad at chan to break down in front of him, pride and ego wrestling as you maintain your unbothered facade, working your way around him as if his presence meant nothing to you.

"i turned down the job offer last night."

you drop the spatula you were holding in your hand, letting it clank against the metal pot.

"you what?" you finally turn to face him, disbelief etched onto your face.

you finally soften when you see chris mere feet away from you, eyes red and puffy a sign that he had been crying too. his hair is a mess, and his clothes from last night look rumpled, as if he had been restless all night.

"i- you have to know, my love. i will always choose you, nothing else. i was stupid and-"

"christopher, i never said no." you feel irritation rise in you again, but you take another step closer to your lover. "i never said i didnt want to go. i needed time to think, chris. time. to process. and now you've turned down your dream job and i-"

"i know, i know." chris reaches out to you, letting out what you think is a breath of relief when you dont push him away as he wraps his fingers around your wrists. "but i.... this job, it's going to be demanding and i'm constantly going to have to move and.... look, chicago is your home." he raises a hand to cup your face, wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down your cheek.

"and seoul is yours." you argue back.

"no, you are."

you let out a sob at that, allowing yourself to fully melt into chan's warm embrace. he immediately scoops you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest as he kisses the top of your head repeatedly, patting your hair down.

"it doesnt matter what im doing or where i am, as long as you're there." chan starts to choke up, pulling your face away to properly look you in the eyes. "i dont know what the future holds for me, love. all i know is that i want you by my side. in ten, twenty, thirty years." he plants soft kisses all over your face as you sniffle.

"but i- i feel so bad. i dont want to stop you from doing what you want." you groan, but chan simply giggles lovingly at you.

"i dont want you to think that, i dont even think that. its just a job, y/n. its not even a job i really want. it pays well yea, but it's not something id drop everything for. especially not you." he wipes away the tears that are still falling, cooing at you when you hiccup.

"i love you, chan. i'm so sorry." you sob, pushing your face into his shirt.

"don't apologize. i should be the one saying sorry. i was such a dick last night, i-" he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "you know i dont mean what i say, right?"

god he hopes you say yes, he prays to any god, even those he doesnt believe in that you know he never means those things. he doesnt think theres anything worse than the possibility that you could actually think he doesnt want you or a life with you.

"i- i know. but... still hurts when you say it." you sniif, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

chan pulls away to look down at you. "i know, my love. im sorry. i'll work on that, i promise. can't stand it when you're sad. i hate knowing im the one who hurts you." he leans down to kiss you, the salty taste of your tears making his chest hurt.

"let me love on you, yea? let me take care of you baby, please."

you nod, jumping up when chan taps at your thighs. he catches you, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom. "need to feel you," you sigh when chan gently places you on the bed.

he stands in between your spread legs, quickly throwing off his hoodie and letting it fall to the floor, leaving him half naked. he leans down to hover over you, lips instantly finding yours in a messy, heated kiss. his hands find their way under your shirt, tips of his fingers grazing your underboob.

"wanna fuck you in my shirt." chan hums against your cheek, squeezing your sides when you squirm against him.

"wanna feel your skin on mine though, please baby?" you beg, holding onto chan's shoulders as he kisses down your chest. he hums in agreement, rolling his shirt off so it sits on top of your breast.

"i'll give you whatever you want, baby. just ask me. promise i'll give it to you, i'll take care of you." he presses soft kisses across your stomach and chest all the while, only pulling away to lift the fabric off you. chan eyes you hungrily, only dressed in your underwear.

"you're the most beautiful girl ive ever seen, my love. so perfect for me." he sighs, fingers tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeply.

"want your pants off, need to feel all of you." you whine, fingers already flying to undo his pants.

"such a good girl, using your voice. you know id do anything you asked." he hums, kicking everything off until he lays bare against you, cock already hard as it rubs against your thigh.

"enough with the teasing, channie. need you in me."

"there's no rush, baby." chan hums, fingers dipping down to see how wet you are, surprised to find you already soaking.

"huh. guess she was crying for me too, hmm?"

you lightly slap at his shoulder, fighting the scolding smile that threatens to paint your face. "just put it in already, please."

"hmm. since you asked so nicely." he kisses your cheek, lips still against your skin as he pushes in you, holding your legs as par apart as he can. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you, fingers digging onto his broad back as he settles deep within you.

"feel good?" he asks, pillowy lips trailing across your face.

"so deep- love you, channie." you babble, and chan can't help but giggle. he presses his bare chest against yours, feeling satisfied when every inch of his skin is met with your own. his hands find yours, interlocking them before he dips down to kiss you on the lips.

"lets go slow, kay baby? need to feel all of you. every inch." he coos, hips slowly pulling back before he sinks back in, keeping the same torturously slow pace.

you whin when it starts to get too much and yet not enough at the same time, heels digging into his lower back to push him in quicker everytime he pulls out. "please, channie. need it faster."

"greedy," chan tuts, rubbing his nose against your jawline. "but, what my love wants, she gets."

his pace starts to pick up, lewd sounds of skin against skin filling up the room aside from the occassional moan you let out. chan grunts against your ear, letting out deep sighs and high pitched whimpers everytime you clench around him or reach up to kiss at his neck.

"m close," you whine, throwing yoru arm around your lover's neck to pull him closer. he easily complies, keeping the same rhythm as you press yourself against him.

"wanna feel you cum, baby. wanna feel that pretty pussy clench around me." he groans, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.

you let out a silent scream when you cum, legs shaking against chan's waist as he fucks you through your high, letting out a breathy whimper when he feels how tight you've become.

"fuck! love you so much, channie." you sob.

that's what pushes him over the edge, shooting his load deep inside you as his hips stutter, groaning lowly with every thrust. he buries his face into the crook of your neck as you hold him, back sweaty from all the movement.

your breathing seems to sync as you both calm down, chan's hands rubbing up and down your sides as yours curl into his hair, holding him snuggly against you.

"i love you more than anything, y/n." chan suddenly breathes against your neck. he pulls away to look at you, and your breath catches in your throat when you see his eyes are brimming with tears.

"channie?" you pout, gently carressing his cheeks with your thumb. he leans into your touch, quickly kissing the palm of your hand before he nuzzles into it.

"don't wanna lose you. hurts so fucking much just thinking about it."

you're caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability, but you coo at him all the same. "you won't lose me, baby. we'll get through everything." you promise, heart squeezing when his tears start to fall.

"almost did. hate myself so much for hurting you." he sniffs, quickly wiping away his tears.

"baby, listen to me, okay?" you sigh. you try to sit up to look at him better, but chan whines, resting his head in between your chest and tightening his hold around your body. you giggle at him, hands quickly finding its way to his hair as you play with it. "you won't lose me. we just gotta... talk through everything, okay?"

"but i hurt you.... i dont think when i get mad. say things i dont mean."

"and you said you'd work on it. i trust you." he lifts his head up so he looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach.

"i love you. i hope you believe me when i say that. honestly, i dont think those three words can even begin to describe how i feel for you." he sighs, pinching at your side.

you giggle at him, thinking back to how he called you his home.

you push away the curls that cover his eyes, smiling down sweetly at him. "i know what you feel for me channie." you reassure him, pulling him up by the shoulders so he hovers directly above you.

"'s exactly what i feel for you, my beautiful boy." you coo, pulling him down for a kiss.

taglist: @abcdefgiwsmcty@n034sy@148-seungmin

#seung mong!#skz smut #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst #bangchan smut #chan smut #chan x yn #chan fluff #chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #i need a chan honestly #he loves yn your honor!#youre my home trope is one of the best like what the hellll

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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[AU, SMUT] What Are You? | Bucky x Steve x Reader

Category: AU, Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Mafia themes, derogatory language, intercourse Ship: Steve x Bucky x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky Are Planning Some Work With a Client, But What Happens When That Client Doesn't Respect Their Girl? Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2.6k

—

Almost everyone knew - there was no doubt about that. Everyone should’ve known, at least, but those who didn’t pay enough attention… sorry for them.

Everyone who heard the sound of the heels clacking against the marble flooring would straighten themselves up as if the sound was coming from the men themselves.

Which men? Oh, which men indeed.

That’s not to say that the woman couldn’t have any kind of friendships with any of the men in the building - she does need a little bit of platonic fun here and there.

“Slow down, Aphrodite, you might chip the flooring.” A mocking voice calls from behind her. Despite it being from a familiar face, the other men still stiffen as if they were the ones doing wrong.

“You might shatter the mirrors if you look in them for any longer.” The woman retorts as she attempts to hide the grin that forms at her own comeback.

The man, however, doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he turns his strides into a jog to catch up with her.

“How do you even know how often I stare in the mirror? You spying on me?” Sam asks, the pair glancing at each other and both now smiling.

“So you admit that you stare at the mirror, and not just look at it?” The woman tactically avoids his question with her own retort.

Sam’s laugh echoes through the corridor they’re walking through. It’s quite spectacular really - some would mistake it for being a palace. A place where only the good-willed people reside. Almost a shame that it’s full of the likes of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and Steve Rogers - the two men who own just about all the power there is in New York, let alone Manhattan.

“You know they’re not done yet, right?” The man quizzes, a content smile still on his lips as his hands rest in the front pockets of his black trousers.

The woman doesn’t respond, simply nods.

Sam catches it out the corner of his eye and simply shakes his head.

“You have a habit of interrupting their meetings.”

“And you have a habit of saying things that might get you killed one day.” (Y/N) answers, but her gentle smile admits that that’s not entirely true.

Her attire consists of a loose but very fitting crimson dress that sits mid-thigh, along with the matching red heels that are buckled around her ankles. A simple silver chain around her neck that has two small, but very expensive, black and red diamonds resting in the centre of her collarbone.

“Tell Steve that his car’s being valeted if he needs it anytime soon.” The man comments as he turns off down another corridor, different to (Y/N)’s route.

She simply nods again.

Why is it that she’s heading toward her husbands’ meeting? Because she’s interested in seeing how it will end. The man who has been persisting to speak with Steve and Bucky for the last sixteen months is desperate, to say the least. He wants investment in their three hotels that are situated across NYC, in Queens, Brooklyn and Manhattan.

She was the one who decided on where those hotels would be built, so she wants to see the man, John Walker, crumble as her partners’ pretend they care, only to tell him no.

It might seem like a waste of time but in reality, it’s to see how the man deals with hearing the word no, and whether Bucky and Steve need to deal with him.

“Ma’am.” Christopher greets as (Y/N) approaches the door of the conference room that her men are in.

“Chris.” She responds, nodding her head as he opens the door for her. “How’s it going, gentlemen?” The woman adds as she casually struts into the room, grabbing everyone's attention.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone turns to look at the woman who’s interrupted their meeting. Steve and Bucky simply smile as they take a moment to admire their wife.

“Excuse me?” John is the first to speak up and everyone’s attention turns to him, including (Y/N), who doesn’t seem phased by his evident frustration.

“You’re excused.” Her response is simple but ignites a spark inside of the man.

“Do you usually let whores just stroll around and cause inconvenience in their wake, gentlemen?” He asks, but his eyes remain on (Y/N).

The woman’s eyebrows raise, and a surprised but impressed smile etches its way onto her face. She says nothing. John stares at her with a quirked brow, waiting for a response from the two men his question was directed to, so obliviously aware of the fearful stares he’s now getting from everyone else in the room.

Bucky and Steve’s heads turned very slowly, in sync, back toward their guest, their smiles now distorted into that of pure fury.

“Would you like to say that again?” Steve speaks up first, John now turning his head toward the boss in curiosity of his sudden change of voice.

That’s when the man notices all the stares on him. His eyebrows furrow as he acknowledges everyone’s expression. His eyes flick from the other men in the room to Bucky and Steve, to (Y/N), and back to the two leaders.

He gulps.

“I said: Say. It. Again.” Steve enunciates.

“Come here, doll,” Bucky speaks up also, his eyes flicking from John to (Y/N) for a brief moment, his arm opening up and inviting the woman to situate herself on his knee.

The woman obliges, striding over to her husbands and letting the brunet’s arm wrap around her as she sits.

John’s eyes haven’t left Steve’s, too mortified to even blink, but he catches the action of Bucky and (Y/N).

Steve’s eyebrow quirks, reminding his guest that he’s waiting. And Steve hates waiting.

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t know she was- gentlemen, please, look, this is all a big misunderstanding, I just-”

“Called our woman a whore and an inconvenience.” Bucky finishes his sentence, his expression just as murderous as Steve’s, despite the soothing actions of his hand stroking his wife’s waist.

“I didn’t know she was your-”

“And you think that excuses it?” Steve interrogates. “You think calling any woman a whore is acceptable? An inconvenience?”

John gulps and the sound echoes in the room. His eyes flicker away from Steve’s for a moment to the woman herself, intentionally or not, but his eyes drop to the prominent cleavage on display.

Bucky smirks at the action that most definitely didn’t go unnoticed by himself.

“Sweetheart,” Steve begins, John’s attention darting straight back to the blond’s once more. (Y/N) hums in response. “Who do you belong to?”

(Y/N) bites her lip, core throbbing at the obvious dominance and possession of the two men.

“You and James.” She whispers, Bucky’s hand gripping her waist tightly at the use of his birth name.

The sweat glistening on John’s forehead is clear as day.

Knowing what’ll get everyone in the room riled up even moreso, (Y/N) turns herself around so she’s facing Bucky, sat on his lap, legs on either side of his body. Everyone else in the room keeps their eyes firmly locked on the glass table or the white ceiling.

A pleasant hum resonates from the brunet’s throat, his hands naturally adjusting to rest on her hips.

The moment John’s eyes flicker to (Y/N) once more and then drift down her back, a gun is cocked and metal is pressed firmly against the back of the man’s head.

The woman goes to turn her head around to see what’s happened but Bucky’s lips locking with hers prevents that from happening. She whimpers against his mouth and he absolutely adores it.

“Bend over this table for me, doll.” The man murmurs. “Let’s show Mister Walker what a proper whore looks like.”

The excitement that sparkles in his wife’s eyes makes his cock throb between his legs.

“Yes, sir.”

The pet name makes both men throb.

The woman stands up and turns herself around, making sure every sway of her hips is a show to be watched. Her eyes lock with none other than their security lead, Tony Stark, who’s holding the gun up to Walker’s head, as she bends herself over the table, dress drooping at the front to display her cleavage.

Tony’s eyes don’t even flicker away from her own. The staff in this building know better than to try and indulge in what is rightfully Bucky and Steve’s. John, however, sees this as a prime opportunity to stare at what he believes he’s being offered, his trousers getting tighter.

(Y/N) sees it. She finds is humorous.

Bucky’s hands slide their way up the backs of his wife’s bare thighs, pushing up the crimson material as he reaches it.

Her eyes flutter shut and lips part in satisfaction at the feeling.

“Tell us what you want, doll.” Bucky mumbles, sitting the bottom of her dress at the base of her back, grinning at her lack of underwear.

“Touch me.”

The explicit word that escapes John’s lips are heard clear as day and he knows it, face once again panicking as he looks back at Steve, whose expression still hasn’t changed.

“Where do you want me to touch you, princess?” James continues, not paying an ounce of attention to anyone else in the room right now besides his missus.

His fingers stroke the top of her inner thighs, seeing her soaking wet core already dripping down them.

“Want you to touch my pussy.” (Y/N) breathes, eyes flitting open barely a millimetre.

James presses soft kisses on his wife’s ass before sliding his middle and ring finger lightly over her slit. The action gets a mewl out of her.

Fifteen men in this room in total, only two of them can touch this woman yet all fifteen are dreaming about it.

“Move.” Steve states, prompting John to widen his eyes once more, but this time the words aren’t directed at him.

Bucky grins and obliges, removing his hands from his girl and stands up.

(Y/N)’s eyes open fully this time as she whines in complaint at the loss of contact, but a large smack on her ass distorts her whine into a large gasp.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, sweetheart.” Steve states, manoeuvring himself so he’s stood directly behind his wife, Bucky casually pulling his own gun out of his inner blazer pocket and wiping it down with his hands.

John’s face stays facing Steve, but his eyes follow Bucky as the brunet moves behind him and out of his sight.

Tony takes the sign to back away and let his boss take over from here.

Steve has no shame as he unbuckles his belt, undoes his trousers and pulls out his rock-hard cock, stroking it with his hand a few times while his other hand returns to Bucky’s previous actions.

“You see that?” Bucky whispers in John’s ears, prompting the man to gasp and jump in his seat. He gulps again but remains silent. “I asked you a question.”

The man frantically nods, fearful for his life, and absolutely humiliated.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Steve murmurs, leaning down and moving her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck.

Before the woman can even respond, her husband thrusts himself inside of her in one go, (Y/N)’s back arching and moaning so loud that Christopher can probably hear outside the door, and Steve’s head being thrown back, his own moan equally loud.

Bucky almost loses his composure if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew not to falter when making sure a man like John Walker was wanting his woman.

“Fuck…” Walker whispers, lips parted as he stares at the woman in front of him being railed by none other than Steven Rogers.

“Keep watching because this is your death wish.” Bucky whispers, John’s eyes widening. “Does she look good?”

John nods his head almost desperately.

Her moans only get faster and louder as Steve fucks her.

“Remind him what you are, sweetheart?” The blond groans, grabbing the woman’s hair and pulling her head back so she’s more or less face-to-face with Walker alongside her other husband.

“A whore.” (Y/N) practically begs.

“Louder.” Steve demands.

“A whore!”

“I said: fucking louder!”

“A WHORE! I’m your whore, sir!” She screams, John losing it and standing up to lean forwards but a gunshot firing beside his head makes him stumble back down to his seat.

(Y/N) flinches are the known noise but settles quickly as Bucky strokes her face with the hand that’s not holding the freshly-fired weapon.

“Don’t you fucking dare move an inch toward our wife.” Bucky threatens to the man he’s leaning over.

John gulps but nods, not taking his eyes off (Y/N).

“Is she inconvenient now, Walker?” Steve asks, glaring daggers at the man. He only shakes his head, eyes only meeting Steve’s for a split second. “No?” He breathes. “Then what is she?”

The guest falls speechless, shaking his head as his eyes flicker between Steve and (Y/N).

“Hot as fuck.” He whispers, Bucky growling in his ear.

“Fuck!” (Y/N) cries out, desperate eyes staring at Bucky’s, who smirks at her state.

“Think our girl wants to cum, Steve.” He comments, John panting in his seat.

“Yeah? You wanna show this scum what a good girl you are for us, baby girl?” Steve grunts, not slowing down but rather speeding up as he too reaches his peak.

The woman’s head nods in desperation, face flushed as her eyes flicker across all men in the room, including Tony’s, who simply winks at her before removing his stare.

“Say it, doll.” Bucky demands.

“I wanna cum.” (Y/N) gasps, watching her brunet lover shake his head.

“Gonna have to do better than that, doll.”

“Please,” She begs. “Please, daddy. Sir. Please, let me cum!” Her voice screams, Steve grunting in response to the feeling of her squeezing his cock, milking him for all his worth.

“Cum, baby girl.” He permits. “Cum like the whore you are.”

And how she does.

Her scream could shatter glass, Christopher would be concerned if he hadn’t already established the differences between the woman’s fearful screams and her pleasure-filled ones.

Taking full advantage of Bucky’s distraction, John leaps forward to get a taste of the woman who’s almost passing out from the pleasure, but that’s the last move he makes as a bullet is shot through his back, knocking him down onto the table.

Tony doesn’t seem phased as he shakes the smoke from his gun, settling it back into his pocket.

Making sure the woman doesn’t collapse atop the, now dead, man on the table, Bucky holds her up while Steve sorts himself out before pulling her back across the table and into his lap.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The blond whispers, smoothing the hair out of her face.

(Y/N) nods but keeps her eyes shut as she rests against her husband’s chest.

“Words, baby.” He requests.

“M’okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Two of the security men alongside Tony head over and remove the body from the room, Bucky asking for someone to clean up the mess whilst walking over to his two lovers.

“We okay?” The brunet murmurs, Steve smirking and nodding before both paying attention to their girl who’s still half unconscious.

“Does anyone else in the room have anything to say before we carry on?” Steve asks, everyone shaking their heads frantically. “Good, now leave.” And they do.

“You okay, baby doll?” Bucky whispers, cocooning her cheek with his hand.

The woman nods and manages to open her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“That’s our girl.”

Tag List

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: @polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

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thirddoctor · 3 years

Text

Doctor Who spoilers below.

So I’ve been pretty positive about Flux the whole way through, in spite of my issues with this era and with the Timeless Child stuff in particular. It was fun and engaging, even if the writing definitely isn’t on the same level as previous eras, and I’ve really given it a chance. I’d rather enjoy Doctor Who than complain about it.

Unfortunately, it’s time to complain about Doctor Who.

I was sceptical that they would be able to stick the landing, but I didn’t expect it to be this much of a mess. There was so much crammed into this season, but none of it really amounts to anything? Except a lot of people are dead now, I guess? I can’t even tell how much of the universe the Flux is supposed to have destroyed. Is the solar system gone?? Like, once they stop the Flux, everyone acts like everything is fine, but it still caused so much damage???? And then the Lupari were all wiped out offscreen, which sucked. Chris Chibnall is way too casual about killing off whole species. Maybe I’m just too empathetic towards fictional people but I don’t enjoy that.

Anyway, some point by point stuff:

Vinder and Bel aren’t the Doctor’s parents (unless the specials bring them back and make that happen), so now I’m just confused as to what purpose they served. Vinder I kind of get, but a lot of attention is given to Bel even though her plot relevance turns out to be basically zero. And what was the point of her being pregnant? It felt like it was all building to something, and then it just didn’t. I mean, I didn’t want them to be the Doctor’s parents, but at least that would’ve been a payoff.

The Sontarans don’t work as a big bad for a season finale, sorry. I like them but I just do not take them seriously as a threat. Shout out to the Sontaran who loved chocolate though.

I don’t know what the point of the Grand Serpent was either? Again, they built him up... and it didn’t matter? Does the fact that he has a double heartbeat and refused to name his species mean anything, or is his story really wrapped up now? Like, it’s possible it’s going to be relevant later (and since Vinder is tied to him, he and Bel may come back too), but I really can’t say with Chibnall because he has a habit of building up characters and then abruptly dismissing them when he feels they’ve served their purpose.

Which brings me to Tecteun. A lot of people seemed to assume she would turn out to have survived because killing her off the way they did in the previous ep would be too underwhelming. I remembered what happened to Ashad, though, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t come back and was totally irrelevant in this ep.

I still don’t really understand Swarm and Azure’s motivations and honestly, I don’t really care. Also, why was Azure on Earth disguised as a human? That’s never brought up again.

The personification of Time (and Death) was a bit of EU nonsense I always hated, so I can’t say I’m thrilled to see it here.

Don’t know why Kate was here, but it was good to see her again I guess.

The Doctor and Yaz actually have a scene together, so that’s nice, but she and Dan still barely know each other. The Doctor/companion relationship used to be the heart of the show and I miss that.

idk there’s more I could talk about, but overall it’s just a disappointing conclusion to the season. I appreciate Flux’s ambition, but it bit off way more than it could chew and needed a far more skilled writer at the helm, as well as some actual themes at its core to turn into a cohesive story instead of just a series of Things Happening.

And they went for the cheapest possible emotional punch and killed off Professor Jericho 0/10

Okay if I’m being fair, uh, 4/10 maybe? The Doctor flirting with herself was fun.

And finally, re: the specials: Another New Year’s Dalek special? Why? Can we not switch it up a little?

Anyway, I already knew he was coming back but despite everything I’m looking forward to seeing my boy next year. I’m always ready to be let down one more time.

#Ranger shut up about Doctor Who #DW spoilers #DW criticism

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insaneoldme · 3 years

Note

Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone!

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

#buddie #buddie recs #recs #fic recs #911 on fox #911fox #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ao3

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

A Hand in the Matter

Chapter 11: All Your Friends in One Place

Tina was grinning at him over her beer glass, “So this new boyfriend of yours. When will Chris and I get to meet him?” Gavin groaned. They’d had this discussion at least a dozen times by now. Or at least it felt that way, “Tina, we’ve been over this. Richard isn’t my boyfriend. We’re just friends.” “Two things with that Gav.” Chris cut in, “Tina didn’t sat his name, and two, you spend all of your free time with this guy.” “He’s helping me with psychology. Midterms are coming up and they’re going to kick my ass.” Gavin took a drink from his beer, “Besides I doubt if he was interested in anyone at all that I would even be on that list.” Tina rolled her eyes, “Alright, gay crisis aside; what I meant is that we would like to meet him Gavin.” “Exactly.” Chris agreed, “He seems like a nice guy. We won’t scare him off.” Gavin let out a dry laugh, “You might not Chris, but Tina would send him away with his tail between his legs.” “I will be on my best behavior.” Tina pleaded and frowned when Gavin raised an eyebrow, “I cross my heart.” “Have a little faith.” Chris pushed, “We’re your friends after all.” Gavin gave a defeated sigh, “Fine, but we’re meeting at the cafe if I can even get him to agree. The bar would give him a panic attack.”

Tina whooped loud enough to turn a few heads despite the music and other conversations happening in the bar. Gavin and Chris both stared at her until she composed herself. This was exactly why Gavin was hesitating. As much as he loved his friends, they could be a bit much at times. “Does he know about Elijah?” Tina asked, “Does Elijah know about him?” “No to the first, yes to the second.” Gavin said flatly in hopes to avoid having this conversation before it turned into a game of twenty questions. “Teens, that’s enough.” Chris said, once again coming to Gavin’s rescue. That particular conversation died down and they made small talk until last call. They left their bar and went their separate ways with plans to do this again once Gavin’s midterms were over. Tina made Gavin promise to talk to Richard about meeting them, and with Chris as his witness he gave in. There was no getting out of this. He supposed he could see if he could convince Richard to wait until midterms were over or even after finals had ended to meet them. Assuming he wanted to meet them at all. Gavin got into his cab with the plan to at least approach Richard about it tomorrow while they were studying. He could possibly bribe Richard to say no with coffee. The last thing he needed was all three of them badgering him about his health. He and his bad habits wouldn’t survive.

Morning came with a slight hangover, but that’s what he got for coming home and immediately going to bed instead of having something to eat or something to drink before hand. He could still study, he just needed to take something for the headache. He rolled over to check the time, he had about two hours before he needed to leave. He got out of bed to get ready. After he showered and got dressed he made toast and filled a glass with water. He took the pain pills and chased them with his small breakfast. When that was done he checked his bag to make sure he had everything he needed. He fed Franklyn and checked his phone for the time and found two new messages from Richard.

Tall Phcker from Psych: The cafe is closed for a few days because a pipe broke. Tall Phcker from Psych: Is there another place where we could meet? Gavin: There’s a place near me called Pawsome Coffee. Its a cat cafe if that’s okay. Tall Phcker from Psych: That works. Can you send me the address? Gavin: Sure!

He wouldn’t admit to having to google it if he was asked, but as soon as he found the address he sent it to Richard. Gavin had been wanting to show Richard this place for a while and now he had the perfect excuse to. He was pretty sure Richard was going to love it. There was only the matter of not getting distracted by the cats.

As it turned out, getting distracted by the cats was the last thing that Gavin needed to worry about. Once they had ordered their drinks and sat down Richard was buried in them. A short haired white cat settled across his shoulders, a black one with longer hair settled into his lap, and two more; one grey and the other a red-orange; hopped up onto the table. The grey one pawed at his arm to try and get his attention. Gavin couldn’t help but chuckle as he came back with their drinks. “Well aren’t you Mister Popular.” He joked as he set their drinks on the table. He leaned over to grab what they would need once his hands were free, “Normally it takes a few visits for them to warm up to people.” ‘I Not Do Anything Special.’ Richard signed before he reached out to pet the grey cat. “I think you just have that effect on cats and some people.” Gavin remarked as he set the textbooks down on the table, “Are you even going to be able to study like that?” ‘Yes.’ He replied, ‘S-I-L-A-S Worse.’ Gavin laughed, he supposed that was true. Silas was quite the character from what he had been told, “There is that I suppose.” ‘Will You?’ Richard asked. “Yeah.” Gavin answered as he settled in, “I used to study here all the time before I adopted Franklyn. She doesn’t like it too much when I come home smelling like other cats.”

‘Dirty Cheater.’ Richard signed with a straight face and Gavin inhaled his coffee and started coughing. “God damnit Richard.” Gavin wheezed when he caught his breath enough to speak again, “You can’t just say things like that when a guy is drinking his coffee. You could have killed me.” Richard only rolled his eyes at Gavin’s dramatic antics as they settled in to study. Gavin asked questions when he had them, and if Richard couldn’t answer them he pointed Gavin to the part of the book where he could find what he was looking for. It was nice. They managed to study for a few hours before Richard gave in and began petting the cats that had elected him as their new tower. Gavin figured they were probably done for the day. He was out of distractions. “Hey, so I have a question.” Gavin started. He only continued when Richard was looking at him, “Chris and Tina were wondering if they could meet you. Apparently I talk about you a lot and they’re curious. Obviously if you don’t want to, just say so and I’ll let them know.” ‘Not Today.’ Richard said and Gavin nodded, ‘This Weekend Maybe? If You Not Busy?’ Gavin wanted to groan. Of course Richard would want to get it done as soon as possible, “How does Saturday sound? That’s Chris’s day off.” ‘Saturday Works.’ Richard agreed, ‘Can We Meet Here? Hand Brewed Hope Not Open.’

They spent a little while longer at the cafe talking and making plans for Saturday. Gavin him told him a little bit about Chris and Tina so he would know what he was getting into. He seemed excited which helped Gavin relax some. They parted ways in the early afternoon because they both had other classes to study for. The plan was to meet at Pawsome on Saturday around noon. Gavin messaged Chris and Tina on the walk back to his apartment.

Oh No! Its the Cops: Gavin: Pawsome Coffee Saturday at noon. Gavin: You’re lucky I love you guys. Pocket Police: The cat cafe from high school? Talk about nostalgia. I’ll have to pack allergy pills. In Chris We Trust: Cool. See you then Gavin: Don’t forget that you promised to behave Tina Pocket Police: Fine Pocket Police: You’re not any fun Gavin: I am plenty of fun under the right circumstances Pocket Police: No thanks, I’m gay Gavin: You are the actual worst Pocket Police: I have to have it out of my system by Saturday. Gavin: Fair enough

The week passed in a series of tests that Gavin was less ready for than he would have liked. It was Saturday before he was ready for that either. He loved Tina, but he didn’t exactly trust her to behave; especially with as curious as she had been about Richard. Her mouth had a tendency to runaway with her before her brain had the chance to catch up. Gavin wasn’t looking forward to having to play damage control if she got too excited. He wasn’t expecting the three of them to be settled in at a table and talking by the time he arrived. Chris was pretty fluent in Sign Language because he had taken it in high school, he was playing translator and also signing as he spoke. Gavin ordered his usual Carmel Macchiato and made his way to the table once it was ready. The cat he had to pick up so he could sit beside Richard let out an indignant squawk. “I swear you keep treats or some shit in your pockets.” Gavin said in way of a greeting. ‘I Thought You Said I Have Captivating Personality.’ Richard signed with a grin. Gavin rolled his eyes, “With people as well as cats apparently.” “Captivating personality huh?” Chris said with a laugh. “Oh shut up Chris.” Gavin remarked. “So am I the only one that doesn’t know Sign then?” Tina asked. “Yeah.” Gavin replied, “But I’m still learning so don’t worry.”

‘I Teach You If You Want.’ Richard said. “He said he could teach you if you would like.” Gavin translated, “ Or we could add him to the group chat.” “Why not both?” Tina suggested, “But it seems like he has enough on his plate with tutoring you so Chris can teach me instead. Lord knows we have enough time between all the hours we spend on patrol together or at our desks.” “Thanks for asking T.” Chris said dryly, “But that’s not what we’re here for.” “True.” Tina agreed, “We’re here to have coffee and a good time.” They talked for a while before they split into separate conversations. Tina and Gavin started talking about high school since that was the last time they had all ben at the cafe. Chris was signing rapidly to Richard about something. From time to time they would cross conversations, or someone would say something that caught all of them off guard and the conversation would stall for a while. It was a nice change of pace and Gavin found himself smiling so broadly that his cheeks hurt. They were getting ready to leave when Tina spoke up again. “We go out for drinks at a local bar on Fridays if you ever want to join us.” She offered, and her hand was half way to his shoulder before she stopped herself. ‘Sounds Fun.’ Richard agreed and Gavin groaned.

Gavin stared at Richard for a long moment, “We can cab together then I guess.” Richard grinned and Gavin found himself returning it. ‘Thank You.’ Richard signed. They parted ways outside the cafe and Gavin felt his phone vibrate a few times on the walk back to his apartment. He didn’t check it until he was inside.

In Chris We Trust added Tall Phcker from Psych to Oh No! Its the Cops.

Tall Phcker from Psych: Thank you for today. I had fun. Pocket Police: Of course! It was great to finally meet you. In Chris We Trust: See you Friday! Gavin: I’m in danger. Tall Phcker from Psych: Only if you don’t take care of yourself. Pocket Police: I like him In Chris We Trust: Same

Gavin rolled his eyes and locked his phone so he could relax for a bit. He was glad to see them get along but he didn’t want to read a play by play of them planning the demise of his bad habits. His biggest worry had been that Richard would be overwhelmed, but he was relieved that hadn’t been the case. Richard deserved all the love he could get.

#A Hand in the Matter #AHM #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh

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oliverstarked · 4 years

Text

chase the light

[R, 2.3k words, pure fluff] read on ao3

“I’m in love with you,” Buck tells Eddie, like it’s a fundamental truth of the universe, the thing that keeps the stars in the sky and the ocean tides anchored to the moon.

And Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What?” he rasps, like maybe he misheard. His head is spinning. He’s got a sleeping Christopher in his arms and is halfway out of Buck’s apartment having spent an evening stuffing his face with tacos and losing spectacularly at Mario Kart. All he’d said was ‘see you later’, and then Buck had to go and say that.

Buck smiles, soft and uncertain, like he hasn’t just tipped Eddie’s world upside down.

“I used to be scared to even think it,” he tells Eddie, in that earnest and honest way of his. “I’m not anymore. And I’ll say it as many times as you need until you’re ready to hear it.”

Eddie just stares at him.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck says, not unkindly, and then shuts the door in his face.

Eddie drives home on autopilot. He tucks Christopher in, reads a page and a half of a story when Chris tiredly demands it but can’t stay awake to hear it, uses the bathroom, strips down to his boxers, and collapses into bed, where he stares at his ceiling and replays what Buck said over and over and over in his head.

It’s not like Eddie didn’t know, on some level, that what he has with Buck surpasses just friendship. He’s felt too many times the overwhelming fear and grief that comes with Buck being too close to death to pretend like it’s all platonic.

But the swaying into each other’s space, testing boundaries, and innuendo-based teasing could all easily be chalked up to a crush or innocent flirting. Eddie has excused his own behavior that way more times than he count. It’s not like they’ve ever actually pushed things further.

Except then Eddie thinks about when he was in the hospital a few weeks ago, about how Buck wouldn’t let go of his hand the whole way in the ambulance, or when the doctors were trying to tend to him, even though his knuckles were crusted with mud, dirt caught under his fingernails, an icy chill under his skin. He thinks about Buck eventually falling asleep with his head on the bed, Eddie’s entire arm trapped underneath him. Buck had looked so exhausted, yet Eddie was the one who’d fought his way out from underground.

He remembers the way Buck had taken him home after, collected Chris from Abuela’s and scooped him into bed next to Eddie, layering blankets over the two of them and touching Eddie’s forehead as he fell asleep. He definitely remembers the next morning, unaware Buck had crashed on the couch until he woke to the smell of bacon and a blinding smile.

So maybe Eddie thinks about it, lying there in bed. And maybe he thinks about getting to touch Buck, or kiss him, or hold his hand — things he’s never allowed himself to imagine could actually happen but are now within arm’s reach.

But he knows himself, and he’s not good at relationships. He loved Shannon so much but he still joined the army to get away from her and his unborn child. Even when she came back into their lives he wasn’t good enough, couldn’t be what she needed him to be. He wants so badly to be better, to teach Christopher that it’s okay to feel and cry and talk about things, but he can never seem to take his own advice. The words just get jammed up in his throat. He’s a closed book, and the story isn’t even worth reading.

A dull buzz from his phone makes him tense up, because it’s nearly midnight and there’s only one person who’d text him this late.

From: Buck 11:37pm not gonna apologize but do wanna make sure you’re not freaking out too bad! remember to use your words not your fists

And Eddie can’t help but choke on a laugh, because even now Buck is checking in on him. They both know that normally Buck is the one Eddie would go to about something like this, and here he is still trying to be that person. But Eddie doesn’t know how to reply. What does he say? That yeah, he is freaking out? That maybe he’s not freaking out enough? That they should talk properly about all this because there’s more to consider than just feelings , there’s Chris and their jobs. That in the end none of that matters because all he really wants to do is climb Buck like a tree?

He can’t say any of that.

Sent to: Buck 11:44pm I’m ok I think. I’ll come over tomorrow after I’ve dropped C at school. We’ll talk?

Eddie presses send. Then, before he can doubt himself, he taps out:

Don’t want to hurt you.

He realizes how it sounds as soon as it’s gone, like he’s planning on letting Buck down gently. And maybe he is, Eddie doesn’t fucking know. But what he’d meant is that he’ll only end up hurting Buck the way he hurt Shannon, the way he hurt his parents when he left Texas, the way he hurt Christopher when he reenlisted.

From: Buck 11:46pm you won’t

Eddie huffs out a breath that feels a little shaky. He rests his phone on his chest and closes his eyes. A tentative hope blossoms in the small spaces between his ribcage, wraps its tendrils around his heart and squeezes and he slowly falls asleep between one maybe and the next.

Things are a little harder in the cold light of day. Chris notices something is off during their morning routine but he just gives Eddie a side-eyed look that is way too grown up for a nine-year-old. When they get to school Eddie kills the engine and twists in his seat, bites his lip and blurts out, “How would you feel if Buck was around a bit more?”

Chris lights up as he always does at Buck’s name and really, stupid fucking question Edmundo.

“He’s already around a lot,” Chris says, matter of fact, “how much more are we talking?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “That’s a good point. Maybe, more sleepovers? But instead of on the couch, Buck might share my bed.”

Even saying it aloud sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. He feels his face heat up and wills Christopher not to notice.

“Carla says we have to find things that make us happy and hold them really tightly,” Chris explains haltingly. His arm comes out and thwacks uncoordinatedly into Eddie’s, so Eddie gently takes his hand and rubs his thumb over the tight muscles in Christopher’s little fingers out of long-standing habit. “Buck is your happy thing, Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, maybe he is. Hey, how’d you get so clever, huh? You tryna outsmart your dad?”

A boisterous laugh escapes Chris and it’s infectious, leaves Eddie still grinning when he gets back to the truck after saying goodbye. His phone beeps as he’s buckling his seatbelt and his stomach swoops as he picks it up.

From: Buck 8:04am you still coming over? I got coffee and bear claws from that place you like

Eddie replies to say that he’s on his way then lurches out of the parking lot into the tangled knot of LA traffic. It takes him forever to get to Buck’s and his nerves only increase with each mile until his knee is jumping and he’s practically sweating through his shirt. Which is dumb because this is Buck . He knows Eddie better than anyone, he’s not gonna expect some poetic outpouring of love from him.

Although there’s a brave part of Eddie that wants to try anyway.

By some goddamn miracle he manages to pull himself together by the time he reaches Buck’s apartment. Usually he lets himself right in but today he knocks, because this feels important. When the door swings open, Buck grins at him. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hair soft and ruffled. He looks stupid hot. Eddie lets himself think that and feels no regret about it because he’s sure Buck has done it on purpose.

“Hey,” Buck says, a little too loudly. It’s only because Eddie can see right through him that he spots the hint of apprehension there. “I, uh, wasn’t actually sure if you’d come.”

Truthfully, Eddie tells him, “I’ll always come, Buck. Doesn’t matter what’s going on between us, you know that.”

A little guiltily, he thinks of the time during the lawsuit when that wasn’t really the case. He wasn’t there for Buck then, not like he should have been. And he didn’t let Buck see how much he was hurting, either. But he likes to think they’ve learned from that. Eddie’s not the same man he was then.

Buck reaches behind Eddie to push the door closed, bounces a little on the balls of his feet like he does when he’s anxious and heads into the kitchen where there’s a pastry box and two cardboard coffee cups on the counter. “Well, I figured coffee would sweeten the deal,” he says, holding one of the cups out for Eddie.

“The deal being, what? You? ” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I know, it’s pretty sweet already,” Buck winks, and Eddie laughs despite himself. He could melt in relief at how uncomplicated this is, how comfortable he instinctively feels around Buck.

Eddie takes the coffee cup only to place it back down on the counter. He takes a step closer to lessen the distance between them.

“Tell me again,” he says quietly.

Buck’s smile gentles. “Eddie. I’m in love with you.”

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie could get used to hearing that. He takes another step, until he’s so close he can feel Buck’s chest rise with each inhale. From there it’s easy to lean in until their mouths brush.

Buck tastes faintly like toothpaste, his lips a little chapped, and his smile becomes so wide that it breaks the kiss. A lump forms in Eddie’s throat at the look on Buck’s face; wide-eyed wonder and delight. Like he can’t believe he gets to have this. And Eddie wants to give it to him, he really does, but he swallows and places a hand on Buck’s chest.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, voice quiet in the air between them. “I want this with you, Buck, I really do. But I’m—”

“Scared?” Buck interrupts. He makes a face. “Me too. But we have each other’s backs, right? So I’m diving in. Head first. ‘Cause… I think this could be really good, Eddie.”

Whatever scrap of hesitation Eddie had left dissolves in the face of Buck’s words and Eddie crashes into him, kissing him hard. He grips Buck’s waist, skin warm and solid beneath his palms, moans a little when Buck hauls him closer and places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck, stroking his hair there.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck laughs between kisses and graceless footsteps as they fall over each other trying to get upstairs while also removing their clothes.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck whispers as they tumble onto the bed, lips pressed desperately against Eddie’s jaw, collarbone, navel, thighs — hickeys blooming to life under his touch. Eddie gasps, hand in Buck’s hair, urges him on.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck pants into his mouth, arms bracketed either side of Eddie’s head as they rock against each other, Eddie’s fingers digging into Buck’s back, feeling the smooth slide of muscles under skin as Buck jerks his hips forward and they both groan.

And, a little while later, “I’m so in love with you,” Buck sighs, as his release stripes Eddie’s trembling stomach, hot and tacky, and Eddie follows straight after with a string of fierce curses and the overwhelming sensation that everything has fallen perfectly into place.

They kiss and kiss in the aftermath as they slowly come back down to earth. Eddie’s knees feel weak and his lips swollen. Eventually Buck smirks at him and says, “We are too damn good at that not to do that again. Lots.”

Eddie chuckles and shifts them so that Buck can rest his head on his shoulder. He presses his nose into Buck’s hair, loosely draping an arm around him. Buck sprawls out, inordinately pleased with himself as always, leg and arm flopping over Eddie and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

“Hey,” Buck says.

“Yeah?”

“Did I mention that I’m crazy in love with you?”

“Buck…” Eddie groans, even as his lips twitch and his face heats.

“I can’t help it,” Buck laughs. “The floodgates have opened, man. Get used to it.”

All Eddie wants in that moment is to say it back as quickly and confidently as Buck says it. Because he does feel it, so wildly and completely that he thinks it could kill him one day.

“I feel,” he starts slowly, deliberately, “more for you than I have for anyone, ever , apart from Chris. I don’t know what the right words are for how much I love you.”

Buck’s breath catches and he kisses Eddie’s chest once, twice, three times before he says lightly, “Pretty good words right there.”

They should get up. They’re sticky and stink of sex and need a shower. There’s cold coffee sitting in the kitchen and Eddie’s got errands he needs to run. But right now, none of that seems as important as Buck kissing him back into the pillows and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eddie decides everything else can wait.

#buddiefic #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck/eddie #fluff #911 fox #911fic #*fic

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

HaMakom

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2146 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 3 Power Broker

In the plane to Riga, once Sam has fallen asleep, Bucky and Zemo find themselves in an atypical conversation: what is it like, to fight beside a god when you are yourself a believer?

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Part 25 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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“I wonder, James, what is it like, to fight beside a god when you are yourself a believer?”

Bucky looks up from where he was staring, a fine wrinkle on Sam’s skin, at the corner of his right eye, a mark of laughter and joy.

He meets Zemo’s eyes then. Zemo still looks tired, but he also looks awake, interested, ready to talk. Bucky sighs. Of course he is. There’s no getting any peace and quiet with a man like Zemo around, desperate to open you up and play with the inside of your brain like you’re nothing but a science experiment.

The question itself is too pointed and specific for a time like this, but it’s not surprising.

“Who says I’m a believer in anything?” He asks, voice sharp, with a hint of threat. He doesn’t like talking about religion, not with people like Zemo, not with anyone. How would Zemo know he’s Jewish anyway?

“Your files,” Zemo replies smoothly, undisturbed. “They report you called out for three people as you were tortured. The good Captain, Steve Rogers. Your mother. And God.”

Bucky shudders. Of course they would have recorded that. It’s the kind of leverage that could have proven useful if he took even longer to break than expected. And of course Zemo would know. This might actually be another attempt to show off.

Hasn’t he done enough already? Proven that he knew Bucky in the same way his Hydra handlers did? Is he that desperate to make sure Bucky’s aware that he has too much control over him, that he can make Bucky fold back into the role and space of the Asset?

“A lot of people call for God when they die, Zemo.”

The man hums. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a sharp needle of a rhetorical question. After all, Bucky’s made his own number of hurtful pointed remarks. He guesses he can take that one. It doesn’t sound like an insult, though. They’re both aware of what he’s done, and Zemo doesn’t seem to be that disgusted by it. After all, he’s a killer himself. Commander of a paramilitary death squad…

Bucky saw those skills at Buccaneer Bay, he saw the ease with which Zemo killed those bounty hunters. And that was after eight years in prison. Zemo is nothing if not competent, and Bucky can appreciate that. When you can look past the murder, it’s a beautiful, skillful display.

The Soldier would still have torn him apart, had they met in the field. There is no doubt in Bucky’s mind.

“So, what is it like, to meet the God of Thunder?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. So it’s about Thor.

“Thor’s not a God,” Bucky replies. “He’s just a man. A strong, powerful one. But a man nonetheless. He bleeds.”

“Is that the sum of a god to you?” Zemo asks, sharp eyes still on Bucky. “A person that doesn’t bleed?”

Oh, he wants to talk, he wants to have a conversation. He’s trying so hard to get Bucky to talk to him. A desperate, lonely man. Eight years in solitary confinement must have been torture to someone like Zemo, who obviously is no loner.

Bucky decides to humor him. “That’s actually it,” he starts. “God can’t have a body. Because God is everywhere at once, all the time. If he had a body he’d have to be in one single place at one single time. And God is omnipresent, and omnipotent. Unlimited, by definition.”

The words come easy. They’re words he pulls from the back of his mind, from the unsullied memories of his childhood, from Hebrew school and its Torah commentary lessons on Thursdays at 4pm. He’d run from his secular school to the little room at the back of the synagogue, where only the Romanian kids ever came, and they’d lovelingly insult each other in Yiddish until the class started.

Zemo leans forward, a bright light of interest in his eyes, resting his chin on his hand, watching him intently. “Yesodei haTorah also says that if there were many gods, they would have body and form, like entities are separated from each other only through the circumstances associated with body and form,” he replies and Bucky can’t help but stare at him.

The Hebrew words sound off on his tongue, but he sounds like the kids from down the street who went to the German synagogue, too, the annoying ones whose mom didn’t like Bucky’s.

“Thor could be a god. Because if he is the god of something as specific as thunder, he would have a body,” Zemo continues.

Bucky just keeps staring, for a long moment. He didn’t think Zemo would know this. He didn’t think Zemo would know this and be able to answer, to debate it properly, using the quote and the name of the text. He didn’t think Zemo actually wanted a complex conversation with him. But if he wants it… Bucky’s gonna give it to him.

“He could also just be a prophet. A prophet given the opportunity to show God’s miracles on Earth, through his physical form. A mouthpiece, of sorts,” Bucky replies to that. “But there is a whole species of Thor’s kind out there. There is no such thing as a species of prophets.”

Fucking hell, he hasn’t felt this steady, this self-assured in decades. This is something he remembers, something he knows. Something Hydra never got to touch. Something they never got to twist against him like they did everything else. He’s missed being certain, he’s missed being an authority on something, even if he’s far from an authority on the works of Rambam.

“Doesn’t the Talmud say there were hundreds of thousands of prophets?”

Bucky shakes his head. He was expecting that answer. “Maybe, but it still doesn’t make it a species. Being a prophet isn’t an innate biological property. It’s a result of specific personal spiritual and ethical achievements. The Shechinah doesn’t rest upon you because you are of a specific genetic makeup, or of a specific people. There were gentile prophets too. You can’t breed a race of prophets.”

Zemo nods after a moment, holding up his hands. “You know more about this than I do,” he admits and Bucky rolls his eyes. It’s unlike the man to admit defeat in a verbal debate.

“Says the guy who quoted the Mishneh Torah to me.”

He hasn’t pulled from his childhood lessons from Hebrew school in forever. It feels strange, but good. No one has asked something like that of him in years.

Zemo shrugs. “I have an interest. I dabble, you might say. Knowing what people believe in is interesting to me. It gives me an excellent window into their psyche. We are shaped by what we believe.”

“You don’t seem like the type who believes.”

Zemo has a slow, low chuckle. Bucky’s skin erupts in goosebumps at the sound. “I believe in human ingenuity. I believe in science.”

Bucky snorts at that. “Of course you do,” he mutters. “You’re that sort of guy.”

Zemo raises an eyebrow at him, sharp brown eyes trained on Bucky, the corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly. He’s enjoying this. Unsurprising. Metaphysical debates seem perfect for Zemo’s spank bank. Bucky would be lying if he didn’t admit he was enjoying it as well.

“And what sort of guy is that, James?”

He’s one of the few who know his identity, who have met him while fighting alongside Steve in the 21st century that call him that. He admits he appreciates it. Zemo doesn’t force him into familiarity.

Once upon a time, he’d told him to call him Bucky and not James. Now he’s thankful Zemo has decided that request had an expiration date.

“The... atheist, crazy into evolutionary science and philosophy sort,” Bucky supplies. “Wealthy intellectual. Too much time on his hands.” He means it as a small poke at Zemo’s ego.

Zemo opens his hands in a sign of acceptance. “What can I say? My family was royalty, and I’ve spent the last eight years in a prison cell, all by my lonesome, except for the company of some literary treasures. I believe that qualifies me for ‘wealthy intellectual with too much time on his hands’. Besides, you seem to also enjoy evolutionary science and philosophy. Do not blame me for finding a common ground between us.”

Bucky huffs again. “It’s not exactly a niche interest.”

They fall into silence for a moment, the engine of the plane a comforting, soothing white noise.

“I don’t believe,” Bucky says after a moment. “I stopped in 1945 when the Soviets had me. I kept screaming his name out of habit,” he mutters. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that back, but I don’t think I want to.”

“Who wants to believe in a God that would make you suffer in such horrifying ways?” Zemo punctuates, nodding quietly, understandingly. “The fall of Sokovia and my family’s passing didn’t make me stop believing. I don’t think I ever really did. Perhaps, as a child… The same way one might believe in Father Christmas. I grew out of it.”

Like one grows out of shoes.

“What are you? Catholic?”

There’s another nod. Bingo. Though it wasn’t that hard of a guess. After all, Zemo’s European royalty. At this point, Bucky would have been surprised if he was anything else. Still, knowing things, being able to figure it out, feels good. He gets where Zemo’s penchant for analysis comes from.

“The Zemo line has Habsburg blood,” Zemo adds, as if Bucky asked for his pedigree. “Catholicism is nearly a genetic marker at this point.”

Bucky makes a slight face at that. “Habsburg. Those were the inbred ones.”

The man chuckles again, low and compliant. “I hear it has the tendency to happen, when people insist on reproducing with members of their own group,” he mutters, inhaling deeply. “I will not defend the stupidity of that part of my family tree, distant as it may be,” he adds on an exhale.

“Testament to your intelligence, then.” Bucky hums and looks back out of the window.

Catholicism. The only reason he was really in contact with it was Steve. Steve was Catholic. Like Zemo, it wasn’t something he actually believed in. He said grace because his mother taught him to, he went to church on Christmas and Easter and on the other important holidays. His priest must have been highly entertained by his confessions.

“For what it’s worth,” Zemo starts again, circling back. “I do agree with you that, if he exists, God isn’t a man like Thor. Or a man like Nagel.”

Bucky’s eyes snap back to the man’s face. He is serious, dark. There isn’t a hint of regret in his expression. Zemo’s eyes meet his.

Maybe he hadn’t been dead set on killing Nagel when they’d walked into his lab, but hearing him call himself a god for what he’d done, what he’d made, that had been the deciding factor. Bucky doesn’t need to ask to know. He agrees wholeheartedly.

The serum shouldn’t exist. It shouldn’t have existed in the first place. It had only brought horror into this world. Without it, there would have been no Red Skull, no Zola, no Winter Soldier program, no experimenting on Isaiah Bradley.

From the second it enters your veins, your life is forever changed. First, the pain. Then, the uncontrollable senses and heightened feelings, all of it overwhelming you and making you dangerous to yourself and to others. And then, you become a weapon. Someone’s weapon, or something’s. And judging from the fact the Power Broker is racing to recreate the serum, the market for that kind of weaponry still exists.

Bucky is thankful Steve got to live a full life, free of his medical conditions. But the list of good ends there, and he’s not sure it’s worth it, even for someone he loves.

Despite it all, if someone came to him offering to cure him, to take the serum out of him, he doesn’t know what he’d say. The one thing he doesn’t hate about it is how easy it makes protecting the ones he cares about. He can take a bullet for them, and he doesn’t have to worry too much about it. He can stay awake, cut off his rations, give away his coat or his water for a while. Sacrificing his own comfort for those he loves has never been this easy.

“The serum isn’t a gift from God. It’s a human creation,” Zemo keeps going, as if he doesn’t believe Bucky gets what he means.

Bucky hums. “Horror always comes from humans. At least in my experience.” And fucking hell he has plenty of that.

There isn’t a single piece of proof of God’s existence, or Satan’s existence, he’s ever seen in his days of being the Soldier.

#jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #marvel #mine

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masterthespianduchovny · 4 years

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Steve, Bucky, and Peggy: The Love Triangle that Isn’t

There is a popular narrative among a certain crowd that Steggy only happened so Steve isn’t perceived as gay or having feelings for Bucky. And maaaaaybe this is true, but honestly, I don’t agree.

Peggy was supposed to be the great love of Steve’s life that never got to happen due to circumstance. And then comes along Sharon who is supposed to be his great next love. But, what happened is that not that many people were interested and, funny enough, more were drawn to Steve’s reaction about Peggy—him visiting her and her later dying than they actually have a fuck about Staron or whatever the ships name is.

Coincidentally, this is the SAME movie that Bucky as winter soldier is reintroduced in. The movie where they try to establish a new romantic relationship for Cap and have us met the new Bucky, which the former isn’t Bucky.

What happened is this: fans essentially completely rejected Sharon and salivated for Bucky and this devotion Steve had towards him. It was a shipper’s dream the way Steve behaved. BUT, Steve and Bucky was never on the menu and it was never teased canonically.

I cannot say if the actors or those connected to the MCU queerbaited fans, but actors and connected employees have the habit of trying to be supportive of fans and ships by entertaining things they aren’t necessarily invested in or care about all that much. Some of that is because they appreciate the fans enthusiasm and the other part is it being apart of the job to have enthusiastic fans.

It reminds me how how John Boyega supported two/three ships on Star Wars, but it wasn’t necessarily because he was a shipper himself. The only actor in the current series who seems like an actual shopper is the one who plays Poe.

So, after they got rid of Sharon in the third cap “movie”, they had to figure out what to do about his love interest. Again, the only significant and canonical one people gravitated to was Peggy, but she was dead. BUT, there was also a consistent thread about Cap’s feelings for her. Almost every movie that desires cap prominently has some small scene or moment that references her.

So, for people to act like Peggy was Sharon is dishonest. Or how they want to act like Peggy was some random girl. Peggy met Steve before he was cap—I know, I know, Bucky did too—but, this is important because it sets up their relationship about how she cared for him and took him seriously as a person even then. Her feelings grew romantic as did his, but their feelings was based on friendship and their mutual respect for one another. Peggy also helped Steve to defy orders to do what he felt was right, so they share values as well. I believe all this happened over a span of two years.

When she is in the hospital Steve regularly visits her and is distraught when she dies. His behavior is a call back to that old fashioned romanticized love in which one half of a spouse is loyal, dedicated, and (always) by their beside. Despite Steve still having g his youth and presumably young, interested women clamoring for him, he is devoted to Peggy and takes time out of his week to visit her. When she dies, he’s even her pallbearer.

This behavior is more than “a connection to the past.” I guess since it’s muted and not fighting to save someone you care about at all cost, it doesn’t read a love or romantic.

But, it’s clearly established that Steve’s love has never faded and even though he has young women interested in him, he’d rather sit by the side of his 90 year old (former) love.

We even see him carrying a locket with her picture in it as well. The MCU has gone out of its way to show how very real Steve’s feelings are.

Enter in Bucky.

When we first meet Bucky, we see he’s the best friend of Steve. The charming ladies man who exudes confidence. He looks out for Steve, esp because Steve likes to get up for trouble when standing up for his values. Yet, neither Steve nor Bucky are particularly attached to one another—meaning to subtext of homoeroticism that speaks to deeper feelings known or unknown.

We could argue that Steve’s feelings became prominences, but not known to him, when he saw Bucky again, but I’ll continue to lay out for my reasoning for not believing that.

Winter soldier sets for the foundation of how captain American went from a loyal patriot to questioning and distrusting his government. Despite his camaraderie with the avengers, he still feels alone and like a man out of time. He leans on his patriotism to get him through this totally unique and indescribable experience. But, I’m the second movie, he’s on the run from that very same government and is finding out about their secrets and lies.

During this time he runs into Bucky, his best friend who he thought died.

We must keep in mind that Cap’s two direct connections to the past in this moment are both Peggy and Bucky. We see his loyalty to Peggy due to reasons I mentioned, but there is another factor going on with Bucky: it’s him, but it’s NOT him.

It was completely disorienting for Cap to see a man who was supposed to be dead and in his 90s looking youthful and a unrelenting killer. There was no way they was the Bucky Cap knew. Cap has to get to the bottom of what happened to Bucky and, later, avenge his friend. His autonomy and agency was violated, he was experimented on, and brought back to life to be a trained killer.

Of course Steve feels that deeply, especially because he underwent a similar experiment, but willingly and retained his agency and independence. But, it’s also about corrupting the past for Steve. The way the government manipulates and pushes things forth for the agenda. There’s levels to this.

Then, when Bucky saved Steve, and then disappeared, Steve was largely fine, but concerned about Bucky. And why wouldn’t he be? Bucky almost killed him, saved him, and then left—he doesn’t know how Bucky is dealing and coping with what happened to him. How could he know?

Steve fighting and protecting Bucky in his third movie and, eventually, fighting against Tony is about how we shouldn’t punish an exploited person for something that were manipulated into doing. And how they’re being used as patsy’s to shift blame. Bucky was a victim in the second and third movie. Bucky needed someone to stand up for and advocate for him, which only Steve did.

I mean, did Bucky deserve to die for something he had no choice over? Or imprisoned?

That doesn’t mean that they couldn’t have been two men in love, but once Cap knows he’s safe and protected—meaning, he’s allowed to make a “full” mental and emotional recovery without further exploitation—Cap doesn’t worry or obsess over Bucky. Bucky was on the way to regaining agency and independence and that’s all that cap wanted.

Once Bucky looks happy and healthy when they see each other again, cap goes to treated him like he did in first avenger.

And I fill that this must be pointed out: some friends do go above and beyond for people who 1. Have mental illnesses, no systems in place to assist them, and no advocates other than them 2. Someone who has been harmed/manipulated/exploited, is triggered, and potentially down spiraling. 3. PTSD.

Steve is being a damn good friend and advocate to/for Bucky.

With that being said, some don’t feel that stucky was going to be canon, but that the MCU went out of its way to prove Steve was straight. As a reminder, the Steve and Peggy thread has been CONSISTENT since day one. Since Sharon failed, they wanted to find a love interest for Steve’s endgame, no pun intended. Personally, I think that they went Natasha/Steve because Natasha/Bruce doesn’t work. I understand Natasha and Steve has a great friendship for the “why can’t men and women be friends” crowd, but Natasha also has other male friends, sooo....

To use Star Wars as an example again, this isn’t Poe and Keri Russell’s character who exists solely to prove Poe is STRAIGHT.

Peggy was never created to be someone who existed to prove Steve’s sexuality, but she was someone he was in love with and never stopped loving. She was someone that we knew Steve loved deeply and could never get over.

I know people feel that Steve going back undermines his values both in the comics and the series, which I fee is valid. But, honestly, Steve has spent a good chunk of protecting others and putting his life on the line. We see many of the other avengers be in relationships, have families, and overall fulling lives and Steve just has the avengers.

Which isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but he’s allowed to want more than that. His life shouldn’t be dictated by if he can be of service to others.

Steve didn’t “abandon” anyone. Most of the avengers are adults who don’t need Steve. He may have been the leader, but anyone in the group can be the leader. There are other heroes.

And Bucky doesn’t need him.

Bucky understand all that cap went through and sacrificed. He doesn’t need cap to always near and hold his hand. That’s not how friendships work. That’s not how families work or, at least, healthy ones.

I’m fine with people who ship stucky, but this animosity against Steggy and Peggy is ridiculous. No movie or show owes you an open ending so you can ship who you want. From what I can recall, there was no canonical queerbaiting (I believe Chris Evans supported both ships, but I think Steggy more). And Peggy isn’t some random woman or a woman he knew for three seconds, she was important to him and their relationship meaningful to him for the rest of his life.

#steggy #peggy carter #steve rodgers #captain america

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lantur · 4 years

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royai week 2020: day two, “little pistol”

summary: Riza works for the Fuhrer for two months before she cracks.

rated: t for teen

tags: canon-compliant

words: 3122 | read on ao3

Riza works for the Fuhrer for two months before she cracks.

The Fuhrer dismisses her late. It’s the most petty of the several little power plays that he engages in. He always has her work late, and not in a predictable fashion, either. Sometimes he keeps her half an hour past five; sometimes he keeps her until eight or nine at night, despite the fact that she reports for duty at seven every morning.

Riza hadn’t minded the occasional late nights when she had been her Colonel’s assistant, but this is different. This is so different.

Half the times that Bradley asks her to stay late, he only has the most menial, inconsequential tasks for her to do. Hardly anything of urgency. It’s nothing more than a reminder that she is utterly at his disposal. Riza is careful never to reveal her irritation or impatience, or her worry for Hayate, alone for so many hours and probably in desperate need of a walk. She schools her expression into blankness. She doesn’t pick at the skin underneath her fingernails or tap her fingertips against the desk, or twirl her pen through her fingers (a habit she had unconsciously picked up from her Colonel, and never realized until Havoc had pointed it out. She misses Havoc.) She doesn’t look at the clock.

On this Friday evening, two months to the day that she had first reported for duty in his office, the Fuhrer dismisses her at half past six. “Have a good evening, Lieutenant.” Bradley glances away from the window, giving her a small, genial smile, the corners of his visible eye crinkling in the same way Lieutenant General Grumman’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. It looks so human.

Riza salutes him. “You as well, Fuhrer.”

She walks home briskly, her heart in her throat. The sound of the cars speeding past on the road makes her startle. When one of them honks, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

Normally, spending time with Hayate, stroking his soft fur, admiring the shine of his warm brown eyes, watching his tail wag and his nose twitch as they walk together, is enough to soothe her. Center her. It doesn’t, this evening, though Riza takes him for an extra long walk. They get home and she measures food out into Hayate’s bowl and stands and watches him eat. Her shoulders feel rigid and achy, her nerves rubbed raw after another long week in such close proximity to the Fuhrer.

Riza pets Hayate for a few minutes, and then grabs her keys and her access card to the range.

It’s nearly empty, at this time on a Friday night. Riza normally enjoys the solitude, but tonight, she keeps looking twice at every shadow. No witnesses, she thinks, every time.

She stays until closing, trying to take comfort in the muffled sound of the gunshots, the subtle kickback of her weapon, the smell of the gunpowder, even the weight of the protective coverings on her ears. It normally helps her feel calmer. More in control. Tonight, when every shot hits its target, Riza just sees Lust and Gluttony in front of her, advancing on her, completely undeterred.

It’s almost ten when the range closes. She should go home and try to sleep. She can’t remember the last time she had a good night’s rest. It must have been back in East City, before Hughes was killed. But she isn’t tired. The shooting had burned time, but not energy.

It’s impulsive, it’s not like her - at least, not like the old her - but Riza takes the train, the Sanderson Line, to the very outskirts of Central. She gets off at the last stop on the line and she just wanders, for a while, her hands shoved in the pockets of her coat. It’s a chilly night, and she lets her hair down to warm her neck, relieved that she had thought to put on tall boots underneath her skirt before leaving her apartment. The warmth of the Nimble Bar, when she steps in, is a welcome sensation.

Riza takes in her surroundings at a glance. It’s a large space, but somewhat run-down. It’s dimly lit and smoky - good for privacy. It’s busy, but not too busy, which is another point in its favor. The deciding factor is its distance from Central Command. She doesn’t see a single familiar face here.

Thankfully, no one pays her much attention as she walks up to the bar and orders her drink, or when she takes it back to a corner booth far away from the billiards tables. It’s white lightning moonshine, stronger than what she normally likes. She hasn’t had this particular drink since returning from Ishval. Something inside Riza is telling her that this isn’t a good idea, but she ignores it.

It’s good moonshine. It’s smooth. It’s potent. It burns. Riza curls her hands around the glass and takes a deep breath, and she savors the way it burns all the way down. It nearly hurts.

She sits there, nursing her drink, and she lets it all wash over her. She thinks of the Fuhrer, and of Selim Bradley, and Gluttony and Lust, and the Philosopher’s Stones, and Ishval.

Riza finishes the glass faster than she should, and goes back for a second. She is close to finishing her second glass, and is staring into it, contemplating ordering a third, when a man slides into the booth beside her, without even asking if she would like company.

Riza looks up a second too late, and her angry words die on her lips.

“Drinking alone, Elizabeth?” Roy gives her an affable smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s very unlike you.”

He’s wearing his usual, overly formal, civilian clothes, and he looks so out of place here that Riza blinks, wondering if the moonshine is hitting her too hard (now that she thinks about it, she hadn’t had dinner), and whether she’s seeing things. Colonel, she almost says. She catches herself, just in time, but she can’t bring herself to think of a codename.

“What are you doing here?” This isn't one of his usual haunts. As far as she knows, he’s never conducted business on this side of town before. It’s clear on the other end of the city from Chris Mustang’s bar.

“I came to find you, of course.” Roy studies her glass. “Is that white moonshine?”

He sounds a little shocked. Riza closes her eyes. “How did you know I was here?”

“Vanessa was here, on a date, when you came in.” Roy’s voice is low. “She gave me a call. She said that you looked down - that you were probably having troubles with your new man - and suggested that I check in.”

She doesn’t even know what time it is. It could be close to midnight. It could have taken him half an hour to get here. Riza rubs her temples. “You shouldn’t have.” Her voice doesn’t sound quite right. It’s less steady than usual. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

She doesn’t want to argue. She’s too tired, all of a sudden, for that. Riza lifts her glass for another sip, and her Colonel presses a gentle hand to her arm, lowering it. “I think that you’ve had enough for tonight.”

She wants to snap at him, like he has done to her whenever she’s tried to cut him off - so many times, over the past years. Especially after Ishval, and after Hughes. But Roy’s hand is lingering on her arm, and he’s sitting so close that she can smell his aftershave and feel the warmth radiating off him, and he’s wearing that dark coat he always wears, the one that’s as familiar to her as anything she owns. Riza feels the tears burn the back of her eyes. She sets the glass down. She presses the heels of both of her hands to the skin underneath her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“That’s better.” Roy pauses, and she wishes he wasn’t sitting so close. The temptation to lean against him, to press her aching head to his shoulder, is almost overwhelming. “I don’t think I need to ask you what’s wrong.”

“No.” Riza actually laughs, though she feels anything but happy, and she wipes her eyes as discreetly as she can. “You don’t.”

“Talk to me, Elizabeth,” Roy says quietly. “Has anything happened? Did he do anything to you?”

Their shoulders are mere inches from one another. She feels how tense he is; how tightly wound. Riza shakes her head. “It’s more about what I want to do than anything he’s done.” She struggles with the words; with her thoughts. “Every day. Every hour. I think of going to the mansion, at night, and burning it down. I’d pour gasoline around the perimeter, first. All it would take after that is a couple of matches and a lighter.”

A lighter. Riza thinks of Havoc, and the desire to cry returns. She looks at her Colonel. From the expression on his face, he seems to have had the same thought.

“Fire kills them,” Riza explains, as quietly as she can. “You remember what you did at the Third Laboratory. But my guns are useless against them. I’m useless against them.” You wouldn’t be, a voice inside her says, one that sounds like her father, if you’d only been able to learn alchemy from me; if only you weren’t such a hopeless pupil-- and Riza nearly sobs.

She can’t remember the last time she had seen her Colonel look so concerned. Maybe it was on the day that they had all received their transfer paperwork. He moves as if he would touch her shoulder, and then stops short. “Elizabeth--”

“I can’t accept it.” Riza buries her face in her hands. “I can’t get my head around it.”

“What? What is it?”

“All of it, Roy.” She hasn’t called him by his first name in ten years, but it just slips out, and she can’t put it back. “The fact that he is - what he is. Ishval. For all the years since then, I thought he was a person, a person who gave that order, a misguided person, a person who made a terrible, cruel decision, but a person. To learn that everything in Ishval happened not just because a human made a terrible decision - as all humans are capable of, as even you and I would be capable of - but because it was calculated is just…” Riza chokes. “He used us to murder the Ishvalans, not out of his own human cruelty and frailty - but as a deliberate sacrifice to get what he wanted.”

“I know.” Roy’s hands tighten into fists. “I know.”

“I can’t stand it.” It’s taking everything in her not to cry. “I hate it. It makes me want to kill. And all of the senior leadership who know the truth of what he is, who accept having him as the leader of our country, using the people of Amestris as pawns in his game…” Riza’s stomach heaves, and she bites the inside of her cheek to suppress the wave of nausea that washes over her. “Every day, I have to sit in on his meetings with them and take notes, and there’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than to take out my gun and put a bullet in each of their brains. It scares me, how much I want it. I’ve never… Killing is something I do, it’s something I’ve done for years, but I’ve never wanted to do it so badly before. Does that make sense?”

There’s such compassion and empathy in Roy’s gaze. “It does.”

“I don’t just want to put a bullet between his eyes. Even if that would do anything.” Riza rakes her fingernails through her hair, against her scalp. It doesn’t burn in quite the same way the moonshine does, but it’s an acceptable substitute. “I want him to burn, and to suffer. Like Lust did.”

“I know,” Roy repeats. “But you have to let this go.”

The words, the sentiment, is so unexpected from him that Riza stares, taken aback. “What?”

“Anger isn’t your vice. It’s not your burden to carry. It’s mine, and it always has been. It’s not…” Roy hesitates. “It’s not what’s best for you. I know it’s difficult, but you have to put this aside and focus on surviving. It’s going to be a long winter, as it is. It’s going to be a hundred times longer and harder if you’re dealing with all these thoughts every day.”

A number of retorts rise to her lips, and Riza swallows them down. “You think that you can bear this burden better than I can?”

“I always have.” Roy rests his hand on the table, a hair’s breadth from hers. “With you to keep me in check. With you to pull me back whenever I’m close to doing something dangerous or impulsive. It’s not an option for both of us to be so compromised.”

Riza exhales slowly. She thinks back to the past five years, since Ishval, to all the times she’s warned her Colonel against being too rash, too impatient, too bold, too borderline insubordinate to senior staff. To all the times she had chided him for drinking too much. “I’m sorry. I should have been more understanding of you, in the past.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Roy says, at once. His tone brooks no argument. “And you can let go of the idea that you’re useless, as well. There’s nothing further from the truth. You should know how valuable you are to me.”

“I--” Riza looks at him, and then looks away. I miss you, she’d almost said. Because she does. That’s the steady undercurrent that runs through every single one of her days, now. Like the background music on a radio drama or a television program. She goes about her work, taking notes at the Fuhrer’s meetings, creating his schedule for the days, making him tea, helping him prepare for his upcoming meetings, filing his paperwork, and she misses Roy Mustang, every single day. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything else on your mind?” Roy presses. “While we’re here, and able to speak a little more openly then we can, closer to home?”

He knows her so well, and Riza can’t help but smile, for the first time in what feels like months. “I miss the unit.” That’s an acceptable thing to say, and it is true. She stares at her moonshine, wishing she could finish the last sip, even though it’s really hitting her, now, and she doesn’t need any more of it. “And Rebecca. And Edward and Alphonse.” Even though she’s surrounded by the Fuhrer’s associates and the Fuhrer himself all day, and she has Hayate for company at night, she feels alone. Alone with her thoughts, her feelings, her anger, her fear.

“They miss you too. I’m sure of it.” Riza glances at him, and Roy smiles, and this time, it does reach his eyes. “You’re not alone, I promise.”

Underneath the intelligence, the sharp wit, the strength of his convictions, the confidence, the charm, this is what had made her fall for Roy in the first place, more years ago than she cares to remember. His quiet, subtle kindness. It’s been so long since her world has had any kindness, any tenderness, any soft moments at all, and Riza looks away from him abruptly. Her breath actually catches in her throat, embarrassingly, and she hopes he hadn’t noticed it.

Roy reaches out without another word and rests a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles against it, and Riza goes still, because this isn’t something they do. They never touch, unless it’s necessary. But it feels so comforting, so soothing, and all the breath leaves her body in a shuddering exhale. She lets Roy draw her close against him, holding her like a man would hold his girlfriend, like he’s sheltering her, like he would protect her. Riza presses her cheek against the wool of his coat and breathes him in. He’s still rubbing her back, and she can feel the weight and warmth of his hand through her coat and her sweater, and she’s had sex less intimate than this feels.

Riza rests her aching head against his shoulder. “You know,” she murmurs, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Maybe there’s one small silver lining to all this.”

“Hmm?” Roy smooths her hair out of the way, moving his hand further up her back, and Riza closes her eyes, savoring the sensation.

“We’re not in the same direct chain of command anymore,” she says, as quietly as she can. “You’re not my commanding officer. Not for the rest of this winter. Not until spring.”

Roy’s hand stills for a moment, and then he resumes. “That’s a good point.” His voice wavers slightly.

She pulls back, just enough to look him in the eye. They’re close enough to kiss. Under normal circumstances, she would never be so bold, but there’s a great deal of white moonshine in her system and all of the want, the need, the craving for destruction and violence that had dominated her earlier, pressing into her ribs with every breath she took, is taking a different direction.

“Take me home, Roy,” Riza says softly. That’s the second time she’s called him by name in a decade, now. She has to be careful. She loves the way it feels in her mouth, on her lips. It’s strangely addictive.

Roy closes his eyes briefly, as if to shield himself against whatever he sees in hers. “You’re drunk, Elizabeth.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

Roy opens his eyes, and she can see his frustration, his indecision, as plainly as if it had been written all over his face. His hand is still on her back, thumb caressing down her shoulder blade. “It does.” He takes a deep breath, and she can see it on him, that he’s come to a decision. “We’ll meet at Madame Christmas’s bar tomorrow at nine. For now, though, let me take you back to your place so that you can rest.”

It’s what she’s wanted - what both of them have wanted - for so long. It’s a win, after a devastating streak of losses. A silver lining amidst the gathering storm. Riza nods. Roy stands, and offers her his hand. The world spins alarmingly when she rises to her feet. She takes his hand, grateful for the support, and they walk out together, into the cold night.

and I, well, I want what's best for me / and I, I think I know just what that means / just what that means

The title of this fic on ao3 and the lyrics at the end are taken from “Little Pistol,” by Mother Mother. It’s a fabulous song and I highly recommend giving it a listen!

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfic

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hvntedmoons · 4 years

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✹☾✮ ( kaylee bryant. female. she/her ) It seems that KELSEY CALDWELL has been drawn to Beacon Hills. That’s probably because they are a 20/20 year old WEREWOLF. When they arrived here a year ago, they were very DRIVEN + OUTGOING, but since then, they’ve been known to be more CAUTIOUS + WORN DOWN. They kinda remind me of strawberry chapstick on bitten lips, climbing trees to gaze at the moon, fleetwood mac playing to an empty bedroom.

So this is Kelsey!! I did a little bit of a combo of Teen Wolf and TVD lore for some spice, and i’m excited to bring her in!

Basics

Full Name - Kelsey Emmaline Caldwell Nickname(s) - Kels, KC, Age - 20 Species - Werewolf Orientation - bisexual Occupation - unemployed

Physical Appearance

Height - 5ft 5in Eye Color - brown Hair Color - brown Tattoos - four. (ribcage, ankle, shoulder, behind right ear Piercings - earlobes 2x each Distinguishing Characteristic(s) - a tiny dagger tattooed behind her right ear, a scar tracing down her left shoulder.

The Person

Positive Traits - outgoing, witty, intelligent, protective Negative Traits - skittish, sarcastic, impulsive, Goal in Life - to be safe, to find her real father’s history, to have a home again. Fears - dying, spiders, loss Hobbies - running (when its not for her life?) drawing, languages Habits - twirling her chapstick, biting her lip, pulling at her fingers Languages: fluent in french + japanese, okay in spanish.

the history:

Kelsey is the youngest child of one of the more major hunter families, based out of upstate New York and its surrounding areas. She has two older brothers, one who’s 21 and the other who’s 26. She’s always been closest to the middle son, the two so close in age they felt like twins half the time. He was her best friend, her person.

She and her siblings were raised to be hunters, trained in fighting and weaponry and various athletic groups from the moment she could walk. She loved most of it, the adrenaline of training, the thrill she got when she won a meet for her track training. What she couldn’t always stomach was the actual hunting, the tracking down and putting down of those who in her eyes, were no different than herself. The girl had no idea just how right she was.

(tw death, killing) When Kelsey was sixteen she joined her oldest brother on a hunt, it was supposed to be surveillance for her dad to see if the wolf in question really was breaking the code. It was a borderline feral omega, and the two got too close and it attacked. Her brother shot it, and went to call their dad in a panic as the wolf slowly bled out. Kelsey couldn’t take the look in it’s eyes, the pain and sorrow she could see and so she brushed her hand over it’s head over and over, soothing the wolf as it allowed her touch for a reason she couldn’t understand. And once it had calmed, she snapped it’s neck. A flash, and it’s suffering was gone. She cried for two days.

It wasn’t until her next full moon that Kelsey’s world delved into chaos. She felt anxious for days, a buzzing under her skin she couldn’t place, lashing out at those closest to her. And then the moon rose, and she transformed for the first time. It was painful, excruciatingly so. But the rush she felt as a wolf that night, the way it felt to run through the trees was something she could never feel ashamed of. But her family would try.

When she woke up the next morning, naked and alone, there was no denying what she was. The truth was soon revealed. Her parents weren’t her birth parents at all. Her mother had agreed to take Kelsey in from a fellow hunter with who they now discovered had found her alone, abandoned. Kelsey was the daughter of at least one werewolf, and had triggered her curse the night she put that wolf out of his misery

(tw death) Her family were furious, their only daughter now the enemy. They locked her up in the celled basement, gave her the only choice the code allowed. Kill herself or she would be put down. By them. She panicked, neither ready to die or willing to believe her parents would ever stoop so low. But the code was always followed, no matter the circumstance. So she prepared to do what she had to. But the night before she could, her middle brother broke her from her cell, had two backpacks prepared and they ran for it.

The next three years of her life were spent on the run with her brother. Never staying in any city for too long, never allowing themselves to. He took care of them, making sure they had enough money to survive, had the supplies ready for each full moon where they had no choice but to lock her away, to protect her and everyone around her. They talked of going to Europe, of finding a place to settle where they’d never be found.

But their father tracked them down in Georgia, and she and her brother only just escaped his hold. There was something so different to him now, the man terrified her, the lengths he was willing to go to to ensure she was dead. She and her brother were separated in the escape, Kelsey hiding out for two weeks before she ran into Chris.

Chris Argent, the man of a former hunter dynasty not dissimilar to her own family. But the years had changed him, and he could see she needed help. He told her about Beacon Hills, about a pack who did it’s best to help out others in need. She could hide there for a while, she might even be safe there. And with no other choice, with being so alone, she went. And now, she’s trapped.

She’s been in town for a few months, and is still pretty cautious about introducing herself to many. Knowing who and who not to trust wears her down, so she tends to stick it out to herself, knowing she can trust in herself, in her abilities. She is a wolf who was raised a hunter, she knows how to survive. Being trapped isn’t ideal but it gives her time to regroup, plan what comes next in her life if she intends to outlive her family. And she’s still in search of her brother, hoping somehow someway he finds out she’s here, comes to find her.

She’s currently on the hunt for a job, knowing her money can and will run out soon if she isn’t careful, and is contemplating staying in the woods to avoid any further magnolia inn charges. Hard to hide on a full moon in a inn room, iykwim

she needs any and all plots and connections, so lets do some things !!

#trapped.intro

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gigsoupmusic · 4 years

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INTERVIEW - MICKO WESTMORELAND ON 'VELVET GOLDMINE' AND LIFE WITH THE MELLOTRONICS

Micko Westmoreland first came to the public's attention as the enigmatic Jack Fairey in the star-studded glam rock fake biopic 'Velvet Goldmine', and since then has done everything from making electronica as The Bowling Green to the sharp edged new wave of his current project Micko & The Mellotronics. With that band on the verge of releasing their second single, a double A-side with the timely 'Noisy Neighbours 'and 'You Killed My Father' (featuring the late Neil Innes), he spoke to Gigsoup to tell all... Starting at the beginning, you got your first break appearing in the film ‘Velvet Goldmine’… Quite a baptism of fire! Yep, I was fresh out of film school with little acting experience. So I did a ton of research, suspended all activities other than glam rock ones; late mornings, blurry eyeliner, became a kind of ‘Our Lady of the Flowers’, to quote Jean Genet. I did appear on set however with well prepared sleeve notes. Ziggy/Hunky and early Roxy had been teenage territory. Toni Colette really helped me during filming, showing me where and how to move and stand in frame etc. which I really wasn’t aware of and she was such a wonderful person to hang out with. Ewan McGregor was enormous in the 90s but treated you like a complete equal. I’ve acted the fiction of being a sensational rock star, my embalmed alter ego is now moth balled and hermetically sealed for posterity. What do you make of the film’s recent re-appraisal – it was panned at the time but now it’s considered a cult classic A lot of the film heavyweights liked it at the time and have consistently sung its praises over the last 20 years, which has contributed to its legacy, plus Todd Haynes is now seen as a 24-carat auteur. 1998 wasn’t ready for a kaleidoscopic pansexual odyssey. Velvet Goldmine truly tapped into a teenage hormonal feeling, so the audience is responsible for its longevity I think, people have grown old with it and new fans have discovered it. You had quite a lot of success making electronic music as The Bowling Green but then switched tack to making more song-based stuff. What’s the story there? The music I was making was becoming increasingly filmic, so I moved into movie sound tracks for a while and did two film scores and a few documentaries with my brother; acclaimed director Wash Westmoreland (Still Alice, Colette). One of them, Echo Park L.A., won best drama at Sundance in 2006! I was becoming more attuned to a literary narrative and was listening to Dylan’s Time out of Mind and Beck’s Sea Change at the time – couple that with improvements in technology that weren’t so reliant on sampler and keyboard. I started playing much more guitar again, my first love and now my primary instrument for writing. You made a couple of albums under your own name but then formed Micko & The Mellotronics – your first ‘band’ project. What was the thinking behind that move? I was very much used to working on my own. I made a couple of solo albums, one which Terry Edwards (P.J. Harvey/Holy Holy) released on his Sartorial label called ‘Wax & Wayne’, and ‘Yours Etc Abc’, on my own Landline records imprint, which I believe was the main unconscious projection into putting a live act together. The person doing PR for it asked, ‘Who’s in the band?’ When I realized I didn’t have one, it made sense to look for folk to start pushing sounds around. How would you sum up the band to someone you hadn’t heard you before? Can you name us a few bands that have influenced its sound? We get compared to the Buzzcocks quite a lot, I’ll take that. I’ve loved Magazine since teenage, Television too. I also dig Serge Gainsbourg majorly and bands like The Silver Apples. I’m really into Iso Tomita, the 70’s electronic musician and of course Mr. Eno too. People have commented that the double A side, soon to be released, is like early Genesis but I think it’s much closer to The Rutles. Patrick from R.O.C. said there was violence to the sound. I do pride the writing on an intricacy and eccentricity but without getting prog about it. Talk us through the Mellotronics members and their individual flavours... Nick Mackay a friend referred me to. He was playing in a two-piece called ‘Barricades’, and was clearly a very good drummer, real flare as a player/performer and had the magic ingredient for any band – he was a thoroughly decent chap you could spend a ton of time with. Jon Klein is our very own rock star hiding in plain sight. He has a CV better than the rest of us put together: Banshees, Sinead O’Connor to name a few and of course his own band Specimen. I lent Jon my amp when we were on the same bill. I gave him a copy of my previous album and he contacted me the next day, which I considered a big thumbs up. He’s very quick, obscenely talented and has revolutionized day-to-day working practice. In short a turbo charged V12 engine has been carefully placed inside a Hillman imp, with fresh brake pads added. Vicky Carroll the bassist also came through personal referral, Haydn Hades who does stand up. At the time she was playing in a band the ‘Owls of Now’, a very bright lady indeed. She really got what the band was about and had great style. The dynamic of now the band get on and its chemistry is essential to longevity. Having a woman on board was important to us, so we really lucked out by finding such a smart cookie in Vicky. So far, you’ve shared ‘The Finger’, your first single, and now two new tracks, which will (eventually) be released as a 7” single. Talk us through ‘Noisy Neighbors’ and ’You Killed My Father’. Noisy Neighbours came about from my experience with dealing with serial complainers whilst living in a housing co-op. We shot the video with filmmaker Ashley Jones (www.thechaoesengineers.com) in the next door location the inhabitants of the song were occupying, so we had to be quiet. Of course some complaints are genuine but most were more telling of the complainant than complainee. There are control issues, which come about as a result of trying to micromanage your environment beyond your own four walls. I wanted to make a witty statement about that without being over critical or condemning. Raising a single eyebrow over that type of behavior. ‘You Killed My Father’, the double A side was inspired by Neil Innes R.I.P. (Monty Python, Bonzo Dog, The Rutles). So of course I was thrilled when he agreed to play on it. I was introduced to him through an artist friend Harry Pye. We inadvertly created a supergroup together called the Spammed and meet up once a year to record for the Teenage Cancer Trust. Last session Tony Visconti produced a cover of Bolan’s ‘Get it on’, for us. It comprises, Rat Scabies (The Damned), Horace Panter (The Specials), Neil when he was with us and actor/comedian Kevin Eldon on vocs, I play guitar. The song relates to my childhood, growing up in Leeds and has a Shakespearean quality. I checked the prose with an expert to make sure I hadn’t over egged the pudding. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5iswf8GG6o You seem to be able to attract some interesting names to collaborate with - Horace Panter of The Specials and the late Neil Innes recently, but also members of The Blockheads, Madness, Stranglers and Goldfrapp in the past. Who would be top of your collaborative wish list? I’d love to do something with Eno again. We became friendly during the mid nineties. I was tutored by him, whilst working on an art show called ‘Self Storage’ with Laurie Anderson but never made it into the studio. A wild card like Wendy Carlos, famed for the soundtrack of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ would be great too. Likewise, your videos have featured some interesting names from British comedy… What do they bring to the party? Anyone else you’d like to get on board if you had free reign? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDr7nkOQN9Q All the comedy connections came from Kevin Eldon initially, a super bright and truly wonderful guy. He introduced me to Paul Putner at a Specials gig. Paul’s a brilliant bloke and really likes the band. He found the remarkable Suzy Kane for us. All three have taken excellent roles. Suzy had a lot of input in Noisy Neighbours, suggesting wardrobe and even shots to Ashley as we were making it; we really have had tremendous fun with our contributors. Obviously, Chris Morris would be fantastic but I’m a little afraid to knock. We hear the debut M&TM album is close to completion – what have you got in store for us? A psychedelic mish mash of fable, sound collage and idea. With the new single, 3 of the songs are now out there. On a musical front Horace Panter out of The Specials has guested on a couple of tracks for us and of course we have one of Neil Innes’ last performances too. I’ve written a song about Imelda Marcos, she seemed like a person who was way ahead of her time, a modern template for a highly manipulative battle-axe. I have an author friend in his 60s who’s an eminent psychologist, (Georg Eifert - Anxiety Happens) so I wrote a song called ‘The Fear’, with a lot of his theories in mind. There’s also one too called ‘Sick and Tired’, it’s not about what I’m eed up about, but like Noisy Neighbours it’s a comment about complaint. When writing I try to look at what gets talked about by everyday people and base some of the songs around those themes. Earwig on phone conversations on buses, pick up discarded bits of paper, when you get into the habit you’ll be amazed what you find. So I get on the 38 and set my brain to record. There’s also a fair amount about growing up on the record too, which I hope all can relate to. I think you have to start with a good idea, that’s on any level otherwise you’re unlikely to get far. From my art college days I got into the habit of noting things down, if you don’t it often escapes you. It’s difficult to marry a multitude of ingredients and let’s face it the world is full of plenty, pair it down and make it resonate. Anyone who tells you otherwise is telling porkies. To make something that stands the test of time is more difficult still. But I’m not afraid of the work and I enjoy ‘the doing’, for me that’s what it’s all about. I believe that as individuals we have a natural tendency to evolve, if we choose to see it that way and trust, it’ll ‘self fulfill’. If you’ll allow yourself to tap into that expansion creatively, you’ll always find inspiration. Micko & The Mellotronics release 'Noisy Neighbours / You Killed My Father' on Landline Records on April 17 with the 7" single schedule to hit the shops on June 27. Read the full article

#MELLOTRONICS

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xspideyimaginesx · 5 years

Text

Shoot to Thrill, Kiss to Kill | ONE

Summary: Beware of those with soft lips and guns at their hips.

Pairing: 1920sMafia!Sebastian Stan x Reader, 1920sMafia!Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: cussing, violence, mentions of smut

A/N: If you have any requests, my ask is always open! Thank you for reading!

“There's no surrender And there's no escape Are we the hunters? Or are we the prey?”

“Hey darling,” You murmur as you enter Sebastian’s office, adding a little extra sway to your hips. His mouthed turned up in a smirk, nearly hidden behind his steepled hands that were resting against his lips. His eyes tracked your movement before angling his chair towards his desk.

You learned forward, wrapping your arms around him from behind. One hand slid just beneath the opening of his buttoned shirt. You could hear Sebastian hold his breath as your lips found his neck. Your lips were light, almost teasing as you left each kiss.

“And what do I owe this pleasure?” He rasped out before quickly clearing his voice.

“Chris came by and told me you needed to see me.” You mentioned as you moved around to lean against Sebastian’s chair.

He hesitated.

He never hesitated. He always went into everything with his whole heart or nothing at all.

Sebastian’s throat bobbed as he turned his chair to face his desk, causing you to have to stand up to avoid falling over. His fingers scrambled for the brass box that sat in the left corner of his desk. “Seb…” You tried to catch his attention, but he was set on grabbing one of the neatly placed cigarettes from the box. He shut the box with a loud clang, echoing in the silent room.

He yanked the lighter out from his suit jacket pocket that was draped on the back of his chair. He stumbled to get the lighter to ignite. Flick. Flick. Fli-the flame finally decided to stand tall enough for Sebastian to light his cigarette.

“What aren’t you telling me, Seb?” You muttered, suddenly thankful that you were able to have control over your voice, because inside your body was bracing for impact.

He didn’t have a chance to answer and you didn’t know if he took that as a blessing or a curse as the door swung open, slamming against the back wall. Chris filled the doorway, not paying much heed to our privacy as he lumbered in. Sebastian would never take crap like this from anyone except for Chris and possibly you. He had a standard to uphold around here, but Chris never cared for logistics.

“Someone a tad bit stressed?” Chris chuckled to himself as he sauntered straight to Sebastian’s desk and took one of the infamous cigarettes from the brass box. He knew Sebastian’s notorious habit of smoking when stressed.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore his second in command. “Don’t mind if I do…” Chris mumbled with the cigarette dangling from his lips as he bent over the desk to retrieve Sebastian’s lighter.

Flick. It lit in one try.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Chris asked after a stream of smoke left his lips. He sat himself on the arm of the armchair that stood to the left side of the desk, which was part of Sebastian’s ensemble of a large office. He had a sitting area to the left of his desk with two armchairs and a lamp. Bookcases lined the far walls making the room feel more like a library or study. You would never guess what kind of business Sebastian was in by looking at his office.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what he was referring to.

“Chr-“ Sebastian started, but was cut off.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Chris asked in an accusatory tone. He pushed himself off of the armchair, proceeding to pace in front of the sitting area. Back and forth…back and forth…

“It’s not just something I can jump into-“

“The plan was supposed to be implemented this weekend.” Chris shot back.

“I know, but-“

“Do you even care about the business? We are sinking deeper and deeper each day, but you want to take your sweet ass time-“ Chris rambled on stridently with his hands poised on his hips.

Sebastian cut him off, standing quickly, causing his chair to roll back, finally ceasing as it hit the wall. He slammed his hands on the desk, surprising all of us. “Do you dare to question my commitment? Do you honestly think for a second that I wouldn’t lay down my life for what we’ve built here?” His words came out quickly, like throwing knives with each of his words hitting some part of Chris that made him halt his tirade. “I am taking my time because I am not going to rush into this. I am trying to come to peace with what I am going to ask Y/N to do, but it makes me sick.”

Chris stood there almost helpless as he didn’t have some snarky comeback. He let out a slow, lingering breath of smoke.

“Get out and leave me to handle this.” Sebastian ordered, and without a word, Chris followed his orders, not hesitating to shut the door with a bang.

The room was silent. No moving. No fumbling of papers. No teasing. No releases of smoke from smooth lips.

His whispers resounded like screams in my ears as they broke the silence, “It’s all gone.”

“What?” Your voice cracked as you finally found your will to speak.

“All our money is gone.” He muttered bitterly before taking a drag from the cigarette that had almost reached its end. “We’re broke.”

“How did this happen?” Your tremulous voice echoed in the room, as you broke the pattern of whispers.

“Holland,” He replied in a disheartening, taut tone. “He infiltrated the biggest deal that I’ve had in years and now holds power over our suppliers. They won’t deal to me and I don’t have any leverage over them any more. He paid them off and is providing protection for them in case I retaliate. I spent thousands of dollars trying to make sure this deal went through and he took advantage of that.”

He took your hesitation to respond as a cue to continue, “He’s smart…more than I anticipated. I underestimated him and now it’s come back to get me. It’s humiliating. He got the best of me when he’s barely in his twenties.”

“Why don’t you do what you usually do? Get a man on the inside, and destroy from within.” You muttered, trying to not let your fear seep into your tone.

“Got the news last week.” Sebastian talked under his breath as he slid a file across the desk to where you could see. You forgot how to breathe as you saw the pictures clipped to the file. You couldn’t see the faces, but the ferocity of the pictures made your stomach queasy. Two men were pictured face down in various angles showing multiple gun shot wounds and non-self inflicted injuries. “He knew we had people on the inside.”

You wanted to reach out to him. You wanted to tell him that you both will get through this, but you knew Sebastian wasn’t one for wasted pleasantries. He didn’t care for you to tell him, ‘everything is going to be alright.’ He wanted to hear the truth no matter what cost.

“So where does that leave me?” You exhaled, struggling to keep your breathing even as your anxiety started to mount.

Sebastian wouldn’t meet your eyes. Fuck.

“Sebastian.” You tried to get his attention away from the butt of his cigarette that he was fumbling with. “What was Chris talking about?”

His face paled the moment you said Chris’ name.

“A plan was drawn up, but I wasn’t the one to come with it. I tried to shut it down every time it was brought up, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I just-“ He cut himself off as he struggled to find the words that could match the war that was occurring in his head.

You finally found the will to move to him. You carefully moved to kneel in front of Sebastian, being mindful of your dress as you lowered yourself to the ground.He turned his chair to face you, not quite sure what to do. You grabbed his right hand, wrapping both of your hands around it. You hesitated before looking him in the eyes because it killed you how much the man before you was unraveling because of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of losing the kingdom he had built. Fear of losing you.

“Sebastian, what do you need me to do?” You asked softly, looking into the storm swirling in his eyes. You wanted this to end. You wanted to take away this torture that he was going through.

“We need you to be my eyes on the inside.” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, like he had to rip every word from every part of him that was telling him not to go through with this.

“What?” His words reverberated in your mind, not quite sinking in. This seemed like suicide. You weren’t even sure you were capable of doing such a thing. You were Sebastian’s girlfriend, not one of his trained men.

“We need you to get intel for us. Straight from his lips. He won’t be expecting it.” Sebastian still hadn’t dared to look you in the eyes.

“Expecting it from a woman?” You asked cursedly.

Sebastian paused before answering, knowing he should choose his words carefully, “We hear that he only sees women as being useful for…certain purposes.”

“And how am I supposed to do this?” You wondered aloud.

“Gain his trust. Do what you need to do.” Every word falling from his lips were clipped. Short. Not wanting to take the time to say more as this was taxing him more than he would ever wish.

You knew from the look on his face that if you said no, that’d be it. You wouldn’t have to do it, but what other option did you two have? Sebastian made sacrifices constantly to look after you and his men. He did everything to give you a life that you had always dreamed of. You had a home. He gave you access to an education. You had a purpose. Sebastian gave you opportunities during a time that wanted to keep women in the shadows. It was your turn to make a sacrifice for him.

“What about my gin?” You asked softly.

“You’ll still have time to perfect it. We’ll figure it out.” He murmured, running a soft hand through your hair before cupping your cheek. His look was too tender that you did not want to look away in case you missed it.

Breathe.

You would still be able to have more times when Sebastian would find you in your workroom, taste testing your creations. He would try to distract you by wrapping his arms around your waist and leaving soft, teasing kisses along your neck, hoping that he could catch enough of your attention for a few stolen kisses.

For almost four months now you have been working on creating a cocktail that you hoped would be made and sold across New York once it is released. Maybe one day it would find its way across the country and over seas. Your main roadblock was that you didn’t quite have the equipment you needed. It was extremely hard to come by during the Prohibition and would be hard to keep a secret. You were limited to experimenting in the bathtub. Literally.

The bathtub was only supposed to be a temporary tool until Sebastian could get a large still brought in, but the chances of that were becoming slimmer. Bathtub gin was low quality and could never reasonably be sold on the market so you were blindly experimenting when you added the juniper berries and other botanicals. You weren’t able to tell how it would taste with better quality tools so you were almost at a standstill.

Sebastian loved watching you work. He loved seeing you so passionate about having ownership over it. He couldn’t wait for the finished product so he could have all of New York raving over it, raving over the empire that you both had anticipated creating. Sending you away was merely a…pause in these plans. Sebastian clenched his hands into fists as he questioned what the hell he was doing and what he was asking you to do. Is he seriously losing his mind?

You separated the torturous waves of thoughts that were crashing through Sebastian’s mind as you broke the silence, “I’ll do it.” Your voice was so timid, you weren’t sure if the words had even left your lips.

Sebastian’s expression wasn’t readable, but you knew that he had heard you. His eyes were still darting every which way, not quite settling on anything. “Angel…are you sure?” His eyes softened as he called you his favorite pet name.He had called you Angel the night that you two had met.

“You must be an angel, I reckon.” He had murmured as he moved a piece of hair out of your eyes.

“Oh, you do?” You had slightly slurred, having enough alcohol in your system to hold your bearings, but enough to have the nerve to be running your fingers lightly over the back of his hand as it rested on the bar.

“Yes, but I am still trying to figure out if you’ve been sent down to save my soul or entice me to sin. With legs like yours, I’ve come to think it may be the latter. What do you reckon? Are you my guardian angel?” He pursed his lips, seeming happy with his response.

“Why? Does someone need to be saved?” You asked, before taking a sip of your glass of wine.

“You could say that, Angel.” He matched your move as he brought his glass of gin to his lips.

You met Sebastian’s eyes, “Yes.”

His lips trembled ever so slightly as he brought your hand to his lips, sealing the deal.

#sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #tom holland imagine #tom holland #mafia!au #mafia!sebastian #mafia!tom #gangster #gangster!au #gangster!tom #mobster #mobster!au

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christophermphillips · 5 years

Text

Blatant Electronic Harassment of a gay person by IBM and Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield of Denver

I Christopher Michael Phillips was an employee of IBM and Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield of Denver from 09/19/17 until the end of May 2018. During that time, I was being constantly harassed. I a 47-year-old gay male. During this time, I was also being harassed by the apartment above me. I called different law agencies and they would not help me. I resigned from my job end of May 2018 due to the harassment. I witnessed employees doing unscrupulous things with patients because that was the way they were trained by Anthem. After I resigned, I reported them to the EEOC, and strange things started to happen to me after that. Started to think I was going crazy until I talked to a doctor in Sweden. She told me to by a RF detector and where to look for something called a V2K chip. The detector goes off with full red bars and full loud signal on my left rear shoulder area. At least now I know I am not crazy. Every time I try to report this something happens, unable to make calls, lyft rides being blocked, credit cards being blocked. The also told me to go kill myself, tells me I need to break I went to the State Bureau of Investigations in NC on 10/25/19. They suggested I call the Police or try the FBI. They keep saying I need to break. The same day I tried to go to the FBI office, and they prevented me from doing that. They also prevented me from buying food from Walmart its almost like a false imprisonment situation. Computer programs opening and closing by themselves, pass code changed on iPhone so I could not access it. iPhone applications opening and closing by themselves. Worked in Information Technology the last 10 years and I know these thing are not normal. My father broke down in tears because he is tired of the stress this is putting on our family especially with the credit card being constantly declined even after the bank said its not them declining the charge. The chip also communicates to me to do pervert things. I have attached a list of the harassment I went through at IBM and Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield. Also have an MRI picture I had done after the harassment started. I had a injuring on my neck after the harassment started and I went through the images after the RF detector detected where that shows where the chip on 10/23/19. No human being should be treated like this it is pure torture. If anyone can remove this technology from me you can keep it as long as I get a photo of it. When I try to report this and send emails the chip wakes me up and won’t let me sleep. Its like sleep deprivation.

I Christopher Michael Phillips was an employee of IBM starting 09/19/17 and worked at Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield of Denver. Anthem contracted IBM for their end user support / field support and server tape backup within the Anthem building at 700 Broadway Denver. The following statements below involved IBM employees and some Anthem employees. I will indicate IBM or Anthem on each statement or action made by either company employees.

IBM-- Greg Newton--- Made statement I should never play the victim then went to the back of the support room near the kitchen with 2 other guys and they kind had a huddle and stared at me and has his arms folded. How would Greg Newton know about inappropriate things that happened to me when I was kid?

IBM—Scott walked passed me and said PFILE be nuts.

IBM—Patrick Beacom – Made comment about my masturbation habit how you he know that I do not know him on a personal level how would he know that?

IBM—Patrick Beacom—Called me when I left my apartment one evening when I called in sick to work wanting to know where I was going? It was from an untraceable VOIP line. This seemed a little strange and too coincidental.

IBM / Anthem—when I called in sick the password on my phone was being changed and locked out. The phone had to be erased and restored so I could access it. This happened on 3 or more occasions. This was my personal phone not company issued iphone.

IBM / Anthem—Was continually asking me to verify my passed employment. I asked other IBM employee was this happening to them and they said no.

Anthem – Michelle Moriarty—Told me she “LIKES A BIG ONE” in the monitor stock room. This is not the appropriate way a Manager should talk to an employee. I could care less about what big ones she likes.

Anthem—AL— Teasing Chris and Shaun are here.

IBM—Patrick Beacom—Trying to get me to remember my past.

IBM—Greg Newton / Anthem a guy named Kyle or Michael not sure of his name but I set up his iphone in the 3rd floor Field Support office and he seems gay to me. I was on the 4th floor setting up a pc and Greg Newton walked away from his desk. After the Anthem employee walked passed me then I head to the elevator to go back down to the 3rd floor field support office. Then this Anthem employee walked to the men’s room which was right beside the elevator and held his butt in the door on purpose.

IBM—My new laptop was always slow after being reimaged several times. I asked other IBM employees were they having this issue and they said no.

IBM—A group of newly hired women came in the same day I resigned to get their laptops set up and one toe tapped me when I went to the imaging table to check a pc I was working on. This also seems strange that there were no men in the group, do they only hire women for this position? Seems like sex discrimination.

IBM—Constructive discharge—They took work away from me when I would call in sick. The harassment they inflicted on me was causing me anxiety and depression.

HACKING OF LAPTOP, PHONE AND LYFT ACCOUNT EVENTS

2017-2018 Personal phone locked and password changed after calling into work sick. This happened about 4 times even after switching from Pixel 2 to a iPhone. Many events similar to ones below happened when I tried to email for help or make reports to the FBI.

10/17 10:00 am Calls being declined when trying to call Lambda Legal after going to Equality North Carolina to report prior employers IBM and Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield for harassment.

10/24 10:00am Laptop applications opening by them selves.

10/25 12:30 pm Went to SBI in Raleigh NC to report harassment and hacking of devices. When I came home to take care of an errand put FBI address into Lyft so I could make a report to them and accounts were all declined and credit card was declined even after bank and Lyft was called and they did not decline the charges. Father in tears after IBM and Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield put our family through so much stress with cards being constantly declined and having to get new cards on several occasions. Card declined all weekend and could not buy food or go anywhere. You can say that is a form of falls imprisonment.

10/26 02:51 pm PHONE Adam for Adam application closed by itself and then Walmart app opened by itself

10/27 02:56 am Woke up buy loud squealing in ear.

10/27 03:39 am laptop Gmail would not open

10/27 04:18 am Laptop Music stopping itself

10/27 06:39 am Laptop Email failing and being sent back after trying to email people that can help.

11/09 05:35 pm Changed Spectrum password and still could not login. Roku not letting me watch cable

11/11 08:08 pm Laptop When writing to Lambda Legal computer closes notes and opens other applications. Constantly changing zoom when trying to type new harassment notes on Laptop. After disabling network connections, it stops. I have pictures and documents. Please visit my blog for more information.

12/26 12:45 pm Google and YouTube accounts suspended after making post to defend myself against the perpetrators that invaded my privacy, VIOLATED my Civil Rights, and Fraud.

!!!PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME!!!

Thank you for your time

Christopher Michael Phillips

Raleigh NC 27613

https://www.linkedin.com/in/christopher-m-phillips-b913b830/

https://christophermphillips.blogspot.com/?m=1

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baking-accident · 5 years

Text

ok it is time for my endgame opinions now

the good:

- tony being all traumatized and suicidal after returning to earth. bitterly ranting at steve and literally ripping the arc reactor out of his heart and handing it to him. jesus i could talk about that forever where are rdj’s awards

- “stuart little” and “build a bear”. one place the mcu has never let me down is funny nicknames

- rhodey, in general. confirmed bill and ted fan and would strangle baby thanos. and his exchange with nebula about their disabilities and working with what they’ve got

- scott, in general. wanting a selfie with the kids and being disappointed when they don’t know who he is. getting startled by rhodey landing next to him. looking for cassy’s name on the memorial thing in panic. his continuing fanboy crush on steve. being the catalyst for the idea of time travel. a ray of light

- seeing spider-man swinging through a portal! we all knew he was going to come back but especially after seeing spiderverse, the whole idea of spider-man is Powerful and Good and i’m happy to have him back

- carol said pixie cut rights! i love her general vibe of showing up like a shiny angel to help people out, and her genuinely very valid excuse that she can’t always be around bc she’s busy saving the rest of the galaxy. i also really liked the “furface” exchange with rocket, it feels so joyously “fun sci-fi where the characters hang out with all kinds of weird creachers constantly and aren’t really surprised by anything anymore”

- steve talking about the whales and saying that his optimism is a “force of habit” was very sweet

the bad:

- so, no gamora? *smashes phone* i’ve made my peace with tony and nat’s deaths, but gamora died alone, terrified, without dignity, and for a dumb reason and apparently can’t come back when almost everybody else can???? there’s 2014 gamora i suppose but i really miss post-character development soft team mom gamora

- i definitely kept losing track of all the timeline stuff and future and past characters, especially the two nebulas

- bojack norseman thor being played as such a joke!!!!! i get that everyone liked ragnarok and it was a fun movie and i’m glad taika and chris hemsworth are having a good time, but thor is one of the main franchise protagonists having his arc wrapped up!!!!! his friends love him!!!! they arrested his brother together once!!!! we could have had a slightly more serious depressed alcoholic thor, maybe a nice moment with tony sympathizing with him since he’s Been There, and instead we got fortnite and cartoon jiggling belly sound effects, and his friends staring at him awkwardly while he wears hangover sunglasses and rambles about jane

- not so much “bad” as “highlighted how much the mcu has changed since 2012″ but it was super weird and jarring to see tom hiddleston acting like funny, kinda pathetic taika loki in genocidal psycho whedon loki’s clothes

- and in general, hopping around the events of the past movies like they were just “how it should have ended” joaks with no stakes or emotional weight

- trying to figure out how the time travel stuff works is breaking my brain. if thanos only destroyed the infinity stones like 2 days ago why couldn’t they time travel back to 3 days ago and fight him for the gauntlet then? or go back to the planet where they almost got him in infinity war and hold quill back? both of those seem easier than messing with the timeline in countless places to track down all the infinity stones separately. and now that hank pym is presumably unsnapped and can make more time travel fuel, everything in the mcu becomes a question of “why didn’t they just use time travel to fix x?” my headcanon explanation is “the avengers are very stupid and didn’t think of it”

- i know it’s a comics thing but i ... really don’t want sam or bucky or anyone else to take over as captain america? (or any other heroes if that’s on the table.) it would be like a movie reboot, always compared to the original instead of being allowed to shine as its own thing. sam is already the falcon and he’s great!!!! there’s no reason he has to become a secondary replacement for an existing hero!!!! i personally don’t think torch-passing will work for the mcu tbh

- too many cooks in the final battle, although that’s pretty much unavoidable in a giant team-up movie. it was a 3 hour movie and still some characters didn’t even get lines

- neb 👏 should👏 have👏 killed👏 thanos!!!!! also personally i wish his final death scene was something more visceral and mortal like decapitation or impalement, getting dusted feels super reversible, especially since we just saw it get reversed for hundreds of people. book vs. movie voldemort situation

the ugly:

- uncanny valley professor hulk. why

#marvel #endgame spoilers

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sunnyupsidedown · 6 years

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barely breathing 3 / 4

[part1] [part2] [AO3]

A/N: Goodbye open ending, hello happy ending. Well, not yet.

Renee was humming softly under her breath as she hung up the last of her clothes when a knock came at their dorm door.

“I’ll get it,” Dan said from the living room. The old, beat up recliner creaked as Dan stood, her footsteps soft on the carpet.

“What are you doing here Andrew.”

Renee paused at Dan’s tone.

“Renee.” Andrew’s voice drifted into her room.

At the obvious summoning, Renee set her last shirt on the bed to put up later. Out by the door, Dan held the door open but blocked Andrew’s path in. Renee examined Andrew closer. She saw him at the court earlier but now was a little different. His expression was neutral, like the times before he stepped onto court for a game when he was off his medicine. But it was worse now. So much worse. Before, mania creeped into the edges of his expression, a ghostly imprint of the drugs still in his system. Now, it was like a blank slate, a face slack in sleep or in death but with the eyes still open to the world.

Their eyes met and it was like looking into a void. Andrew gave the barest of nods before leaving. Renee understood and went to change into some looser clothes.

They met up at the usual place in the Fox Tower’s basement. The air chilly compared to the higher floors. Andrew slid into a starting stance the moment Renee walked in and she followed suit.

They stared each other down, slowly circling around the room. Andrew moved first, a little unusual in their spars. Renee reacted quickly and Andrew was on the ground from an easily dodged maneuver.

“You’re distracted,” Renee said to Andrew’s supine form.

Andrew didn’t say anything and got up to start again. It was a repeat of the first time; Andrew was back on the ground.

Renee had enough. Andrew got into a starting position but Renee sat down cross legged and stared up at Andrew pressuring him to do the same. He submitted and sat.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrew was silent for a long time before he spoke. “I seem to have some gaps in my memory. Is he one of mine or one of yours?”

Renee’s eyes drew to his neck, to the bandages peeking out from the edges of his collar and suddenly she knew what had happened while Andrew was at Easthaven. And she knew who Andrew was referring to as well. Her own faded scars ached for a short second. It was harder to breath like her throat was clogged despite the emptiness she knew was there.

“What do you want to know?”

“Neil Josten.”

Kevin grabbed two shots from Neil’s tray and downed them in quick succession. His eyes were already glazed from the first round of drinks and the packet of dust he inhaled earlier, but Neil still played it safe and spoke German anyway. “Why does Roland think you’re tying me down?”

There it was again in Andrew’s eyes, a deep emptiness like part of his soul was missing. “He probably thinks you’re as bad at following directions as he is.” Neil frowned. That wasn’t quite what he was looking for. He tried again. “What’s outside of coach’s pay grade?”

“It’s irrelevant since I don’t exactly know who you are.” Andrew closed his mouth and Neil knew he would get no more answers out of him for the night.

Neil frowned while he turned Andrew’s words around in his mind. He was careful. Andrew couldn’t know everything about him except the things he’s told him and Kevin wouldn’t say anything.

And then it hit him and his stomach clenched like his drink was spiked again.

Neil was smart. He wouldn’t have survived as long as he did if he didn’t have some deductive reasoning skills. He ran through every interaction he’s had with Andrew since he came back from Easthaven. The clues were everywhere: the way he ignored Neil at first, the coldness that everyone said was normal when Neil knew Andrew was far from heartless, the bandages that were around his neck and the scars that lie under them. He didn’t know how he could be so blind especially since he suffered from the same disease. Neil was going to puke but this time not from the flowers.

And that’s when the second realization came.

Andrew was in love with him.

But not anymore.

The world tilted on its axis, nausea sat rooted in the pit of his stomach, and pain blossomed in his chest. He never expected anything to happen between him and Andrew, but the cold truth still stung. Neil planned on running at the end of the season, but there was no use to it now. If his father doesn’t get to him first, the flowers will take care of him. Either way, he was doomed to an early death.

The days passed slowly and Neil found himself seeking Andrew out. It would never be anything. Every moment spent with him, another spike of pain lodged itself in his chest, but being with Andrew, was like being on an exy court. With every meaningless conversation they had up on the rooftop and the secrets exchanged in their game of truths, Neil felt like himself. Not Chris or Alex or any of the personas he’s created while on the run. He felt alive. When he was gone and he was just a footnote in the Foxes’ yearbook, he knew that there at least one person who cared about him, that he left some type of mark on the world, that someone would remember the insignificant man named Neil Josten.

His birthday came and blood dripped from his locker, a number counted down on his cell phone. The game was a blur. He vaguely knew they won but it was like watching everything through binoculars from the top of the Fox Tower.

Everything snapped into focus the next day when Andrew gripped the sides of Neil’s face and leaned in. Their lips crashed together and Neil’s heart stuttered to a stop. It was brief, lasting seconds before Andrew backed away with a storm in his eyes.

“Andrew--” Neil began, desperately trying to catch up in their conversation. “No,” Andrew frowned. His eyebrows creased together. “This is nothing.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted nothing?”

Andrew’s gait faltered briefly before he kept walking.

Something warm stirred in Neil’s chest. Andrew was not someone who would do something he didn’t mean. Neil didn’t want to say it was hope, but even he was foolish sometimes. The warmth grew until it burned through Neil’s veins. He could feel it coming and whatever hope bloomed in his chest was choked by the poisonous vines growing, thriving, constricting his lungs. He leaned over the side of the roof. Wind pushed his hair out of his face. It was a long way down.

He puked.

He wiped his mouth, his throat raw, his hand stained red like the blood that poured from his locker.

It was nothing, like Andrew said.

He was fine.

“How are you today Andrew?” Betsy asked. Andrew’s face remained mostly blank, but his eyebrows scrunched together. A frown, Betsy has learned. The mug in front of him has long cooled off.

“It hurts Bee.”

“What does Andrew?” Betsy asked, straightening in her chair.

“It hurts Bee but there is no longer anything there.” Whether he knew it or not, Andrew’s hand moved to grip his shirt over his chest.

“Ah. I was afraid that was the case.” She tried to keep her voice neutral with the sudden anger rushing through her veins. Easthaven has some explaining to do and if it didn’t end in a malpractice lawsuit she would damn well make sure the doctors responsible were punished. “Since you came back, I noticed the injuries around your neck. I had a guess but I hoped it wasn’t true. I did some research anyway. Would you like to hear what I found?”

Andrew didn’t say anything. Betsy continued.

“Hanahaki disease is unique in how it’s a virus that attacks the emotions, specifically feelings of love. Left unchecked it will kill you. Most cases end that way, but since the discovery of the removal procedure, the fatality rate has dropped significantly.”

Betsy paused to checked Andrew’s reaction. He was still slumped on the couch but his eyes were alert with interest.

“When it’s removed, you have to remove all of it and what it feeds on. Any shred left will leave room for relapse. The surgery is sometimes lifesaving but it’s also a double edged sword due to the memory loss.

“Andrew. You’re a smart man. Just because the flowers are gone, it doesn’t mean you lose the ability to feel. There’s nothing holding you back from what you want. I want you to think about that for our next session.”

Neil Josten. Neil Abram Josten. The name tasted like dust on Andrew’s lips. The aching hole in his chest consumed him whole.

“Andrew.” Neil’s voice was soft. Andrew looked up at Neil leaning over his bus seat and he continued, “Let me ask you this. Do you believe in fate?”

The question sounded familiar and Andrew didn’t have to think about his answer. “If fate were tangible, I would destroy it.”

Neil smiled like he knew something Andrew didn’t. The sun streamed through the window, making Neil’s hair glow like fire and his eyes burn like dry ice. “Then, Andrew, you have to let me go.”

Andrew swallowed. He felt like he was backed into a corner with no way to escape except through the path Neil provided. He didn’t like it. It was unsettling how much he trusted Neil, how he was going to break his promise because it was Neil who asked. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but Andrew never really knew what sweet was supposed to taste like.

The little black ‘4’ was a blemish on Neil’s face. Death, in so many languages. Bad luck. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Okay.” Two sides of Andrew’s mind were at war and a bomb just went off. It was a punch to the gut that felt worse than waking up in Easthaven with a spotty recollection of the fall semester. In the settling dust, only one thing remained. “Okay,” he said again because he was getting into the habit of saying useless things.

“Thank you.” Neil smiled wider and the look burned itself into Andrew’s memory. A weight should have been lifted from a promise he no longer need to keep but it was like gravity tripled since the word ‘okay’ left his mouth.

Neil trailed behind and when Andrew stopped to look at him the words slipped from his throat. “Thank you.” For the keys, the promises, the flowers both gone and sprouting within his chest. For letting him go. In his life he never knew he would have the chance to feel like he does towards Andrew. He never knew someone would feel that way towards him. If their timelines lined up a little different, if Neil fell a little faster, if Andrew refused to go to Easthaven, Neil wondered what could have been. Could they have avoided the tragedy of missed opportunities? Could they have shared more than that one short kiss? The sobering zero and Romero and Jackson reminded him that whatever way it went it would end with him in a body bag so maybe it was best if the thing between them remained in the starting gates. Neil was a dead man walking and Andrew didn’t deserve a love built on a ticking time bomb. He deserved to have some sort of happiness in his life and he knew that he only brought misfortune. “You were amazing.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed in thought. He opened his mouth to say something but they were pulled outside and the final act of the tragedy of Nathaniel Abram Wesninski began.

[this is where part 4 goes when it’s done] [AO3]

#andreil #aftg fanfic #aftc #tfc #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil flower project #hanahaki #write junk #well time for bed #why do i do this to myself

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