#i started working on comms today and got super into it and now it's 6 hours later and I ahven't eaten

[silverveil-storybook]

Some more favourites from my shop :D

Dragons are: Oculaura (pheelthemoment), Salem (Humane), and Sylvan (Nocturnalmlm)

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part II

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part I

Summary: A new meta is in town, and you are starting to want your secret relationship not to be not-so secret anymore. But Wells doesn't have the same idea

Warnings: Smut if you squint very hard.

***

You never really were one to wake up early in the morning. You hated it, actually. You never liked seeing the sun rising up, you hated the way it made you feel; that heart sinking and hopeful feeling. It reminded you of when your mother died. You stayed all night with your brother in the precinct, after a few hours of sleep, you woke up when the sun was rising, and you wished really hard to go home and see your parents again. But you never did. Your Mom died, your Dad went to prison for your Mom's murder, you never came home, and the Detective from the case adopted you. Barry told you back then that the sun was also a star, unfortunately, it wasn't the star for wishing.

You hated mornings, but of course, you have to pay bills and have to get a certain someone from your bed.

Your limbs ache, as you stretch your arms over your head. You went rounds last night, which shows how much you missed each other and how much of an animal you both were.

Still completely groggy, you moved under the sheets, propped your elbows, laying on your stomach to stare at him. You couldn't help but smile upon the sight of him.

Always so stern, well-composed, mysterious, guarded, seems like the kind of guy who's least likely to do something that will get him in huge trouble— except for the Particle Accelerator explosion, that was a huge mess— Now, he's in your apartment, sprawled out on your bed, specifically, naked under the sheets of 24-year old girl's bed. So relaxed and comfortable. The careful and stoic demeanor he radiated temporary vanished.

You ran your fingers through his brown, unruly locks. You remember how hard you gripped on them last night.

God, memories like this are what enters your mind when you talk to Barry and Joe; it makes you flustered and all scared to face them. Eventually it got easier to deal with, but the guilt doesn't fade, or it hasn't yet.

Despite Barry's admiration for the man, he would question it. You're his baby sister, and there are so many issues he could point out. But you know him, he'll get over it quickly.

Joe, on the other hand, the silent treatment is what he's going to put on. He's a tough man to break. Besides, he has yet to deal with Iris and Eddie dating.

You didn't want them to feel as though you betrayed them or left them out on a part of your life, because they're part of it. You really wanted to tell them.

You don't want to be all sappy, you want to take in this nice morning and this man in front of you. He usually wakes up before you. Perhaps you really worn him out last night.

You ran your dainty finger across his cheek, he stirred in his sleep, grumpily. You stifled a giggle. Even in his sleep, he's guarded.

"Good morning," you mumbled, leaning to kiss his pink thin lips.

That woke him up. Gradually gaining his consciousness, his lips moved against yours, passionate and sweet. He reeled you into him, his bare chest meets your naked ones. His hands roamed your body, up and down your sides. He then planted a hand on the small back softly, pressing you closer to him, while his other hand slowly moved dangerously low. He runs his hand on the skin of your thigh, up and down. At the same time, your hands gripped his biceps.

The kiss deepened, squeezed and nails dug on the skin of your thigh in the process. You tried to suppress a moan, but damn he was such a good kisser. You don't know how he managed to stay quiet during intimate times like this. The kiss was turning feverishly and intoxicating. You felt that warm feeling in your stomach, an ache between your legs, sending jolts of excitement through your veins.

Wells knew you better than yourself, and he knows how you get. So before things escalated further, it took him a decent amount of control to reluctantly pull away from your lips.

A beam already crossed his face, as he fluttering his eyes open, "A good morning, indeed,"

You gave him one more peck on the lips, before placing your head on his chest, and his arm around you. You snuggled further to his warm body. It's heavenly, because it's starting to get colder in Central City.

"Can't we just stay in bed today?" You looked up to him, pouting with puppy dog eyes. It has an effect on him, and you like to push your luck.

"We have to go to work. And Caitlin and Cisco will notice."

You sighed. "I know." Your fingers drew circles on his chest. "Don't you think it's time to tell them, Har? It's been 6 months."

"I just need things to wind down, then we'll tell them," he assured you, though it wasn't enough to convince you, because that was what he said the last time. You're young, not dumb.

"When will that be?" You tried not to sound as if you were forcing him, but sneaking around is becoming tiring.

Wells frowned, uncomfortable with the discussion. "I don't know. Let's not talk about this— come on, we need to get ready." He tried to sit up, but you pinned him down. Your legs over his and hugged him tightly.

"Y/N…" He warned. You didn't bugde, kept him pinned down on the bed.

"Let's just stay in for a little while. How about just one more round?" You suggested playfully, biting your lip.

He opened his mouth to object, but you didn't bother to let him start. You ghosted his neck, your lips trailing up, and planted a kiss behind his ear, his sweet spot. You sucked it to leave a mark. His chest heaved, licked his dry lips and hummed in satisfaction.

"Y/N, w-we need to go," he managed to stutter those words.

Ever so stubborn, you didn't listen. Instead, you hushed him, and started nibbling on his ear. You earned a growl from him.

"Just one. I promised," you whispered seductively.

Your fingertips brushed against the skin of his stomach, traveled lower and lower, down lower abdomen, painstakingly slow just to rile him up. His breathing was getting uneven. His face still maintained a leveled expression, but his blue eyes turned dark, boring into yours. You decided to go for it. You took his length, as he grunted. You slowly pumped the base, torturing him. He couldn't help but let out a guttural groan.

You don't wanna look back later today, and all you remember was you talking about going out in public again. So, make-up sex, even though you didn't really fight.

He gave in. One round turned into two, turned into three, until you both were very exhausted and fell asleep.

You didn't wake up until it was late. Harrison wasn't very pleased with this. You know he had every right to; this the third time he got late, because of you.

He scolded you for sidetracking him, hurrying out of your apartment, not before giving you peck on the lips.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You exhaled sharply, mentally cursing yourself for having no self control. You and Wells went at it like bunnies in heat.

You hissed, stepping outside. You were a little sensitive, so sore, limbs are like jello. Your legs wobbled as you walked in the hallway. You feel like each step you take, you're gonna collapse to the floor. It's gonna take you a few days to walk properly again. So much for being subtle and discreet. The team will definitely notice.

You entered the cortex. Caitlin and Cisco were present, of course. Cisco was chilling in his seat, feet up on the desk, while fiddling with a pen. As usual was babbling, about how excited he is to know what kind of meta you have to deal with today to Caitlin who was invested in whatever she was doing on the computer.

He paused, seeing you entered the room.

"I take that your date went well last night," he teased.

Caitlin spun her chair around to face you, cocked her head slightly and an intrigued look crossed her face.

You rolled your eyes. "I didn't have a date, Cisco," you insisted.

You know that, of course, they would wonder. Usually, you would come to the lab around Dr. Wells would arrive, just so you can sneak into his tight schedule.

"I just overslept," you lied, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Funny. Dr. Wells overslept, too," Caitlin commented with knitted eyebrows.

Your eyebrows lifted, surprised. Despite the fact that this happened before, it still surprises you how fast he can get here.

"He's here?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't he be?" Cisco scoffed jokingly.

Your face paled. Oh crap. You were not as good as him.

You opened your mouth, but luckily, Barry, Joe and Wells entered the cortex to save you. They got a case that needed some insights. Members of a crime family had been murdered. Poisoned by gas, specifically. And Joe thinks that it's a Meta.

Wells wheeled to the desk. "Fascinating. A meta-human that can manipulate poison gas," Wells commented.

"Is it just poisonous gas or he can control all aerated substances?" Cisco questioned, walking to the comms, and stood behind Dr. Wells.

Caitlin followed suit. "And how is he able to formulate the connection. Is it physiological or psychological?" She inquired, taking a seat on the chairs, immediately working on something on the computer.

"This individual can create a mental nexus using gaseous substances," Wells said.

"You mean connective gases on a molecular level?" You asked him, eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Yes,"

"That is ridiculously cool," Cisco stated.

"This is so exciting," you squealed, rocking your feet in excitement like a child at an amusement park.

Barry laughed at your reaction, Joe looked at you incredulously.

You changed your expression and mimicked a frown, "I mean, it's devastating. People died. Sad."

"They get really excited about this stuff," Barry said to Joe.

"The only thing I'm excited about is putting criminals behind bars, except Iron Heights isn't exactly equipped to handle meta-humans," Joe stated.

"I guess it's fortunate the ones you've encountered so far no longer with us,"

It really is.

"Well, unless we're planning on executing every super criminal we stop, you geniuses are going to have to come up with someplace else to hold them,"

Joe was right. The number of people affected by the Particle Accelerator was huge, it's hard to track them all down, and killing them all isn't exactly the best approach for this problem.

"A meta-human prison? Sweet," Cisco murmured.

"Until we figure a way to remove their powers,"

"There is one place here that might hold them," All of your heads turned to Cisco in curiosity.

"You can't be serious," Caitlin scoffed. "We haven't been down there since— it's cordoned off."

"Cisco's right," Wells agreed. "It could be modified to acts as a makeshift prison,"

Caitlin looked at them in disbelief. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused. You tried to read the room, though you didn't get what they were talking about that made Caitlin upset. She's always been uptight, sure, but this was different. As if she was hurt.

"What could?" Barry asked.

"The Particle Accelerator," he replied.

It all suddenly clicked. Caitlin's fiancé died because of the explosion. Cisco told you he died down there. The details were vague, the team wasn't very open to discuss whatever happened that night.

Silence hung around the cortex, as everyone shifted uncomfortably. It was a touchy subject. To you, to Barry, to Joe, especially to them; the ones who lose more than anyone in this room.

"Uhm, I guess we should go down," Cisco spoke.

You all agreed. Cisco scurried out of the room immediately. Wells was about to follow Cisco, but turned over his shoulder, asking Caitlin if she wants to come with you.

Caitlin didn't budge. She stared blankly at the distance, lost in her own world. The doctor called out to her again, only to be ignored.

"Caitlin," he called her. Caitlin whipped her head around, raising an eyebrow in question. "Did you hear me? Are you going down the accelerator with us?"

Barry cleared his throat. "Actually Dr. Wells used Caitlin's help identifying the poison gas." He turned to Caitlin. "If that's okay with you."

Caitlin smiled at your brother. "Let's go."

Taking a step forward, your body reminded you how sore you were. You limped as you tried to exit the cortex. You weren't exactly subtle. The team noticed you struggling with... walking.

"You okay, Y/N?" Joe was obviously concerned. "You're walking a little funny,"

Your eyes flickered to your boyfriend's blue ones. He was watching you carefully, just to see how you are going to dodge this. You wonder are you going to, as well.

If you had a dollar for every single person who corners you, you'll have— well, two dollars.

"Yeah," you chuckled nervously. "Just a little sore. Took some workout classes last night, and the trainer was very hard and intense on me." He coughed at your choices of words, blush creeping up on his cheek.

Your lips curved slightly, only for it to fade when Joe pointed at your neck. "Your trainer gave you some hickeys as well?" He questioned.

Your eyes went wide, cheeks turning

into a dark shade of red, hands quickly flew your neck to cover whichever part of your neck he left a mark on. He's not a damn good detective if it weren't for his observation skills.

"I think I heard Cisco calling us. Gotta go! Bye!" You sprinted-staggered out of the cortex.

Joe looked at Caitlin for answers. Caitlin shrugged and answered, "She had a date,"

You all approached the entrance of the accelerator. You've never been here before, it's not like you have any reason to down here, but the thought of wandering the what's underneath the floor you work for that blew a hole in the city did enter your mind countless of times. You didn't want to ask, though. It was a sensitive subject.

It's huge space, hollow, dim, despite the number of lights it has, and there's a lot of pipes. There's not much to say, really.

"The copper in the tube is arranged to form cavities," Wells pointed out, wheeling inside. "And we can use those cavities as containment, which we have to design to counteract meta-humans abilities, but..." He paused, processing a thought.

"This is perfect," Cisco said with a heave of chest. He seemed reluctant, but it was the best option you got.

All of you take a look around, check for somethings that could be faulty or ruptured by the explosion, so you could fix it, before building the makeshift prison. Cisco took the other side, and you followed Wells.

You pulled your cardigan across your chest, and crossed your arms. It felt strange and bone-chilling, almost. Lurking around the place that someone died in. Ronnie, Caitlin's fiancé could have been anywhere in here, before he died. It must be so hard for Caitlin. It must have hurt so bad. She had to go to work everyday to the place where the love of her life was killed. You always wondered what he was like, prior to the whole mess 10 months ago. No one talked about him, and asking seems to be so insensitive for people you just had met. But it's been months, and you're all way past being just colleagues. You're dating your boss.

"You never talked about him," you began.

His eyes wandered around, too busy inspecting to turn to you. "About who?"

You wondered if he was truly oblivious or he just wants to confirm if you were asking about him.

"Ronnie," You saw the way his posture stiffened when you mentioned his name, but he didn't stop or paused.

You felt bad for asking. He never really says anything. You know he feels bad, but he was never vulnerable with it. 6 months of dating, he just never talked about his pain, and during the times he was actually in the state of it, you weren't in his life.

"He was a structural engineer for the project; he was a good man, a smart man," he said.

"And he died down here?" You inquired.

He nodded. "Yes,"

"How?" He slowed down, before eventually stopping.

You were met with silence. You instantly felt bad. You knew that you crossed a line and let your curiosity get the best of you. The details may be too much for him to explain.

You shook your head in regret. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive," you apologized.

"No, it's fine." He waved his fingers dismissively. "He contained the blast; adjusted it to make sure that it would go upward, not outward. He wasn't able to go out, since a lockdown was initiated. He saved so many lives that night, including mine."

You know he felt bad. For Barry, for Ronnie, for everyone. You took a step forward to him, and hugged his shoulders from behind tightly. You gave him a peck on the cheeks, then rested your chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you lost him," you murmured to his ear.

He sighed, relaxing in your arms, as he put a hand on your arm and rubbed his thumb against the fabric of your cardigan, soothingly.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"How about dinner again tonight? Just to cheer you up," you suggested.

"I thought we're gonna take a break from your cooking,"

You rolled your eyes, but you were the one who suggested it. You need practice, not spontaneous dinner with lack of experiences with cooking meals.

"I know—"

He straightened. "But…?" He already knew that there is an underlying agenda.

You were hesitant to even say it now, but it doesn't hurt to try. Again.

"There's this amazing restaurant that opened last month. They're not that pricey, but they serve a pretty decent steak. So I was wondering if he could go there too, you know, go on an actual date," you whispered the last part with a wince on your face.

You dreaded his reaction, because deep inside, you know what he's going to say. But you kept your hopes up that he might change his mind on the whole thing.

"Y/N…" He exhaled. "You already know what that means. "We talked about this, right? I don't think it's the best time for us to go public with our relationship."

You sighed, exasperated. You unwrap your arms around him. You heard those excuses enough today. "I know, babe. But why do these people matter? We don't need the public's seal of approval for being in a relationship." You argued.

He turned around to face you. You watched him, as he took your hands and kissed your knuckles sweetly. "We don't," he told you sincerely.

"Then why?"

"It's not the best time. Your brother just woke up and he has a new power to deal with. As long everything worked out, we'll talk about it, okay?" His eyes searching into yours for yes, so you look down at your feet.

You knew, of course. He told you that earlier, still you pushed. You always attempt to do this, using every reason and excuse, but it always leads to you being disappointed. You wonder why it still feels the same despite getting this reaction so many times.

This anger bubbled in your chest. "Yeah, I know. It's what you always say," you murmured through your gritted teeth, sarcasm dripping off of it.

He opened his mouth to reply, but you didn't give him a chance to do so, you walked ahead, past him. Wells, who was very aware of your frustration, followed you. He decided not to react or add fuel to fire. It was not the time nor the place.

While inspecting, walking quickly, so you stay a couple of meters ahead of him, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You fished it out. A notification popped out of the screen. It was a text from Iris.

"Hey. Are you busy tonight?”

***

Yikes. What do you think will happen?

Anyway, I'd really appreciate if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part III

[supermanshield]

Finding this is hard

~~~

Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

Bruce has accepted that Clark will never be interested in him. Until finally, Clark takes a chance.

~~~ 

Words: 5,242

A/N: This only started because I was thinking about the layout of Wayne Manor, and for some reason considered Tim’s room next to Bruce’s. It grew into something much bigger from there, became much too serious and I completely lost track of the humorous angle I wanted to go for at first. Yay angst.

Also, another one in Bruce’s POV, which I always considered harder than Clark’s POV, but I am also working on two+ things with POV Clark.

Read on AO3

 ______________________________________________

“Quiet night?” Soft thud of Clark’s boots on the rooftop behind him and footsteps walking over to where Bruce sits crouched at the edge. An affirmative grunt is all he gives Clark in return, eyes trained on the building across the street and listening to shards of conversation being fed to him by the cowl from the bugs he has planted earlier.

“Stakeout.”  

Minute flicker, Clark shifting in and out of focus, and he sits down next to Batman. “Turned the security camera on the corner over to the building with your guys in it.”

“Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t use your superspeed though. Don’t need suspects scrambling because they see red and blue.”

He chances a look over at Clark. Squatting down on a grimy rooftop in Gotham, back against the half wall running around the perimeter – good, anyone on the street can only maybe see his black hair and Batman’s cowl blends into the dark of the night anyway –, and hair and cape wet from the rain is not a good look on Superman. He stands out like a sore thumb next to Batman, doesn’t belong here. Yet, it has been a long time since Bruce has sent him out of his city because of all that, his presence now a comfort that has crept up on Bruce. And Clark has learnt, too. Hiding in the shadows just like him and helpful to a level that used to be annoying. It’s not that Bruce is dependent on him for this kind of stuff, he really isn’t. He can just… welcome the company sometime. That’s okay.

“Did you have something to discuss?”

Clark shrugs, one corner of his mouth goes up. “Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“You can use the communicator for that.”

“Right.”

After a while of sitting like this, Clark’s hearing clearly focused on the same conversation as Bruce, they both perk up at the same time. Silently following the suspects is a job for Batman. He sends Superman away, tells him through his comm to go back to Metropolis and silently thanks him for the company.

Much later, after a meet-up with Robin at the docks and on their drive to the Cave, Red Robin behind them on his bike, Bruce considers his relationship with Clark. Damian stays silent in the seat beside him – lets him brood - , and when they get back to the cave, he and Tim (even Tim), both tired, disappear up to the house for a snack and sleep.

Maybe he has let Clark get too close. Got too comfortable around him and let down those meticulously crafted walls. Yet being around Clark isn’t painful anymore, feelings born out of curiosity evaporated a long time ago. A mere physical attraction shoved into the depths of his being when reciprocation turned out impossible. He’s accepted that, Clark is a friend, and Bruce is content with his family, as far as that is possible with two teenagers and an aggressive prepubescent son in the house, and more scattered across the city and the east-coast (he is). It was a necessity to keep Clark at arm’s length, before. Protect them, put yourself last, don’t be selfish, don’t let yourself fall (don’t pull Clark down).

He has even chased Selina for a bit in an attempt to settle down as expected of a man his age and his status, his name, but it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Selina obviously not the right person for settling down and his interest faked, a game of cat and mouse (bat).

So yes, he can be close to Clark. They are friends, after all.

----------

Clark’s brain is a super-computer and more human than Bruce’s at that. It comes in handy when filtering through recordings or data and Bruce can’t think of a better reason to invite him over for dinner and a joint case-study in the cave.

He doesn’t remember the last time Clark has been up in the house and not just in the cave. It’s ridiculous really, they’ve been friends for years, only Bruce hasn’t been acting like one while Clark has put in 100% effort (and only sporadically to the point of annoyance).

Friendship leads to bad things and more, like with Harvey. But Clark is not Harvey.

“Thanks for inviting me for dinner,” Clark says when they walk back down into the cave. “You didn’t have to, I mean. But it’s nice to talk about non-cape stuff for once and see you interact with your kids.”

“I didn’t invite you because I had to, Clark. We’re friends.” Fact, not question and (obviously) obvious to Clark.

“Of course.” But a dazzling smile in his direction (he finds he wants that, more, and that’s exactly why he can’t) and Bruce decides that now is as good a time as any to go on patrol and leave Clark with the brunt of the work that they started on earlier. A few quick commands and suits up, utility-belts packed, and Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, and Batman speed out of the cave to go on patrol.

----------

A steaming cup of coffee appears on the desk in front of him and Clark sits down in the other chair and swivels towards him. It always goes like this; Bruce will come up early, ready for monitor duty whatever time of the day it is. Clark walks in almost a clockwork five minutes later, coffee or tea in both hands, a quick silent rush of his cape and he reappears with snacks, sometimes dinner (leftovers from Martha’s cooking, and Bruce hears his stomach growl in betrayal at the first waft of chicken, cooked vegetables, goulash). They often get paired up, being in the same time-zone and no one else wants to spend time with Batman much. Except maybe Diana, or J’onn. (But Diana pries too much, seeking out the truth. J’onn doesn’t pry at all, even though he could. With him it is hyper-focus and silence for most of 6 hours.)  

So, it’s fine with Clark, nothing’s expected and there is familiarity in their conversation. The time passes faster and he gladly chooses this over any board meeting where nothing ever gets done anyway. But today monitor duty is during his patrol, and Tim and Damian are out on their own. Together. Dick in Blüdhaven and Cassandra out of commission in bed. One of Bruce’s screens is continuously focused on Gotham, two small figures in capes and chasing bad guys and each other. They do their job and Bruce watches his other screens, listens to Clark and nods appropriately, goes over some new schematics for a suit improvement.

Corner of his eye, peripheral vision is dedicated to the two small figures in Gotham. The screen shows the top of Wayne Tower and Red Robin pacing up and down, clearly talking, unhappy, Robin has crossed his arms. Bruce can interrupt them over the comms, give them a good scare, but they’d never learn. The need for them to work together more poignant as Bruce becomes older and Damian almost ready to join the Teen Titans if it wasn’t for Tim. His heart skips a beat when Damian’s hand goes for his katana, but Tim holds up his in surrender, holding him off and it is fine, they’re okay.

Bruce turns back to his other screens only to find Clark looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Clark takes another bite of his Mars bar, feigning oblivion.

“Listen.”

“It’s my hearing, B. I can’t just turn it off.”

“Then focus on something else.” Clark turns back to his side of the monitor bank and Bruce goes back to his work, but he’s lost his focus. Gotham not just in his peripheral vision anymore and of course, Clark notices.

“Want me to go down there? I’ll keep an eye on them. Or you go and I’ll stay here.”

“No, we have a job to do. So do they.”

Clark doesn’t look convinced and something in the back of Bruce’s mind screams of Superman’s disapproving scowl at a brightly coloured child next to Batman’s black cape. But that is a long time ago and Clark looks at him now with a crease between his raised eyebrows and a hand on his shoulder. Worry, a question.

“No,” he says again. “They need to do this together. I trained them. I trust them.”

That hand lingers on his shoulder a moment longer, and Bruce doesn’t shake it off, doesn’t want to. The weight behind Clark’s touch and his gaze ground him, get him out of his thoughts and back to focus on work.

----------

It’s a couple weeks later and they’re all in the cave, Tim and Cass on the matts, sparring, Damian off by the workbench quietly cleaning his gear. Bruce has a video feed open to the Fortress of Solitude, where Superman and Supergirl are looking into the Kryptonian database for the origins of an abandoned alien ship found on Mars. Or at least, Superman is. Kara is playing with newly acquired Krypto, two streaks of red and a blur in the background from time to time. Clark’s family is expanding, too.

Their conversation is all business, small talk quickly waved off by Bruce and he keeps them on track. He has other stuff to do and if Clark can’t find anything about the ship in the Kryptonian data, he’ll contact Oa and let the Lanterns handle it. Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

“I could uhh… come over?” The uncertainty in Clark’s voice surprises Bruce, but Clark quickly picks up again. “Got everything we need here. I’ll send it to you and we can come up with a plan.”

“The Lanterns can handle it from here,” Bruce says resolutely, pauses. “OK, come over. Bring Kara. I want to have Tim teach her some things about tracking and deduction.” At the mention of her name, Kara appears, now fully visible and Krypto at her side, looking up expectantly at the ball in her hand.

“Hi, guys,” she waves, and Bruce finds Tim and Cass behind him, and even Damian has come much closer. She pretends to hold a magnifier in front of her face. “Detective Kara on the case.” Cass smiles and waves. Tim greets back and says something about listening to detective Tim, smug voice and all smiles. Bruce looks back at Clark to find him still staring at him, holds onto that and Clark’s blue eyes, until Kara speaks again. “Sooo, sleepover at the manor tonight? It’s getting a little boring up here. No offence, Kal.”

Clark holds up his hands. “None taken.”

Bruce cuts in quickly. “No. Tonight’s training and then back home. Damian and I will go on patrol. Clark can stay here with you guys.”

Clark chuckles. “Bruce, it’s fine. You’ve got room enough and I’ll just go back to Metropolis tonight.”

Bruce’s stare turns into a scowl, and Clark folds his arms. Tim lets out an uncharacteristic groan, Cass rolls her eyes. Clark breaks first, unfolds his arms but it’s not without a smug smile when he says, “We’ll be right there.”

 -

They all have supper together, it’s an odd sight at the table with Clark and Kara in their super suits, capes left folded on one of the benches in the cave. Damian is already in the under-suit of his Robin costume, the rest of them still in training sweats, but Alfred only scoffs mildly as he joins them at the table, impeccable as ever. Bruce gets lost in conversation with Clark while the children have their own thing going on. So lost, in fact, that he forgets about patrol time until Damian gives an incessant tug on his sleeve and tells him to ‘get ready, father. I cannot believe you let the alien distract you like that.’

On top of that, in the cave Clark somehow convinces him to let Cass, Tim, and Kara have their sleepover. It’s good for Kara, he says, she needs to spend more time with people her age. Of course Tim then asks if Kon can come too, and Clark happily says yes, at which point Bruce has to remind him that it’s his home, his room is right next to Tim’s and everyone needs their sleep, and thinks it’s a good thing they’re not raising these kids together. They’re opposites, he would be the strict parent, and everyone would go to Clark to ask things (evidently, they already do, or at least Tim does, and Bruce wonders again if he’s let Clark let too close).

That night on patrol though, he can’t shake the feeling that something about tonight felt absolutely right. He chalks it up to the manor, it’s large, it’s supposed to be that full, and his age. He’s not weak, he’s just becoming a sentimental old sap.

----------

On Tuesday afternoon he runs into Tim in the hallway adjoining both their bedrooms where Tim tells him about a recent board meeting at WE, some adjustments he wants to make to their financing plans, coffee cup in hand and stack of papers in the other. Mature, he looks mature.

“How old are you again?” He asks after Tim finishes talking.

Exasperated sigh and waving the stack of papers. “Did you even hear anything I said?”

Bruce just glares at him in answer, raises an eyebrow.

“Right,” Tim says. He hums. Tim is going to fly out soon and Bruce is not quite ready to acknowledge how that makes him feel, but he’ll do his damn best to make sure it’s a good experience for him. To not push him away. To not lose him. “You know I’ll be out of here as soon as soon as I’m eighteen.”

“And finish school.”

“Fine, and finish school. Then I’ll get my own apartment. Might get quiet here.”

Bruce shrugs. “It won’t be quiet with Damian around. I could always call Clark to come over if it gets boring.”

“Clark?”

“Or-”

“No, no, invite Clark. Good for you.” He elbows Bruce and steps into his room. Tim’s grin is just a little unsettling, worth a second thought, but the only possible answer is simple enough. Clark slips into his conversations and his thoughts like he’s supposed to be there (he is). Being around him is more than comfortable, it’s normal. Much better than back in the day when he was always with Lois and Bruce is completely over his feelings.

---------

A mild injury (twisted ankle, he landed wrong and feels it up in his knee), and Clark insists on going back to the cave with Bruce after patrol. He sends Damian to the showers and to bed, slides into the chair in front of the computer and takes off his cowl. Clark hovers around, it’s annoying, he offers to get an ice pack, but that’s Alfred’s job and he’s there as soon as Bruce sinks down. Tim’s at the other end of the large bank of monitors, tracking shipments of something. Bruce should really be more interested and know what Tim is up to, but he’s tired, sore all over, just wants a nice warm shower and sleep. Work first.

Maybe it’ll go faster with Clark around. At least, if he would just stop worrying about Bruce and actually help him. They’re looking into some recovered DNA when Bruce reaches up, rubs at his neck subconsciously.

“You okay?” Clark’s question startles him, both their eyes still trained on the screen. Listening again.

“I’m fine, just sore.”

“Go to bed. I’ll do this.”

“No, I still need to write tonight’s report.” Rubs at his shoulder and rolls.

“Ok. Then here, let me.” Clark walks closer to him, behind the chair, makes a motion with his hands. It takes just a bit too long for Bruce to catch on, but he leans forward slightly. Clark deftly removes the cape and cowl - and it should really worry Bruce that he knows how to, but he forgoes an angry comment as soon as Clark’s hands touch his shoulder. They’re warm along his shoulders and neck, large, gentle despite their incredible strength. Of course, Clark easily finds all the knots and twists and kneads in just the right places. Bruce tries to refocus on his work, tries to be annoyed with Clark for knowing exactly what to do, but the smooth slide of Clark’s thumbs on his trapezius muscles makes it hard. Friends can do this.

It’s somehow much too soon when all the tension is gone and Clark pulls back his hands, but he pushes the thought away. Clears his throat. “Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hasn’t noticed Tim leave, but his spot is empty now, hears him rumbling around in a different part of the cave and the rest of their work gets done quickly in silence.

“I think we should wrap things up here,” Bruce says after finishing his report. He pushes himself up out of the chair, has to hold onto the backrest for support. Clark, automatically, reaches out to him to help.

“Report all done?”

Bruce nods.

“Ok, then. Need any help getting upstairs?”

“No.”

Clark hasn’t let go. In fact, he’s come closer, every colour blue visible in his eyes and his breath ghosting over Bruce’s face.

“Bruce, I-“

“Yes.” The grip on his arm becomes tighter, slow tug. Lips on his, impossibly soft and a hand gently supporting his back. But his own hand stings and the next second Clark stands in front of him, shocked and appropriate distance between them again. Bruce swears in pain. His hand throbs.

“What the fuck, Clark.”

“Crap! Sorry, Bruce, I…” Bruce clenches his jaw, there’s a sigh, then only a gust of wind, Clark’s speed too high for Bruce to even see the streak of red flying out of the cave.

“Bruce.” He whirls around at the sound of his name, heart racing. Tim’s stopped on his way to the stairs, towel around his neck and Bruce ignores the pain in his ankle as he makes his way over. “Fuck, why did you try to hit him?”

“Bed, now.”

Tim groans overdramatically and walks past him into the house. Slowly, Bruce makes it up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he collapses into bed and a restless sleep.

---------

The next day it’s glowers from Tim, no hugs or any words from Cass, and Damian isn’t much better off. Alfred gives him more than a few pointed looks, no sassy raised eyebrow and all scowls. Bruce ignores them as much as they ignore him and the house is quieter than it’s been in a long time. He needs to deal with this himself, he just doesn’t know how to yet. It all lasts until evening, when everyone is in the cave quietly getting ready, where Tim finally speaks to him.

“You lead him on.”

“What?”

“Clark. You lead him on.”

“I heard you, Tim. I did not.”

“You get too close to the alien, father.”

“Clark is a friend. I am close to him.”

“No, you let him get close. You lower your defences, and your body language is all… open.” The last word sounds like a reach within Damian’s vocabulary, chosen carefully.

“Exactly,” Tim joins in. “You lean into him; he moves towards you. You make googly eyes at him; he makes googly eyes at you. When you’re not looking of course.”

“I don’t make googly eyes.”

Tim sighs. “You get the point. Hell, I’ve seen you having coffee with him in the kitchen after patrol more than a few times. I thought that-”

“Tim.”

One of his trademark teenage sighs again, all frustration and no patience. “For a so-called billionaire playboy, you’re really bad at telling when someone is actually interested in you.”

“I’m done talking about this. Suit up. All of you.”

“Had me believe you were in love with him…” A mumble and it dies down as Tim puts on his helmet. The roar of his bike engine drowns out Bruce’s words. “Clark isn’t… that’s just me.”

By the time the cave is quiet again, Damian is waiting for him in the batmobile, arms crossed over his fastened seatbelt. Bruce pulls the cowl over his head and doesn’t notice Cass behind him until she tugs on his cape, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You… love.” She touches his chest. “Clark. Loves you… too.”

 -

On patrol that night, Bruce’s mind wanders. If Damian notices he doesn’t comment on it. They intercept a weapons shipment by the docks, take down the thugs. Standard night in Gotham.

Clark isn’t gay. Straight? Bruce has never outright asked him, always assumed. Lana and Lois all he has to go on and he simply came to a logical conclusion. Though it’s a flawed one, and contradicted by himself on top of that. CEO of a billion-dollar company and he has women hanging of his arms at every society event he goes to because it’s expected. To be straight. He can’t imagine Clark having to do that – maybe it was his rural upbringing, though the Kents are not like that.

And of course, Clark brings Bruce’s whole world, the lies he tells himself, down with one simple kiss. After eleven goddamn years, and all he can feel is loss, lost time, frustration and anger as his fists connect with ribs, jaws, elbows on the street. He needs Clark to explain. He needs himself to understand.

---------

“Bruce.” Clark opens the door, still dressed in a blue button-up and off-the-rack slacks. It’s clear he hasn’t been expecting him; a single plate with a half-finished dinner sits on the table, next to a laptop.

“Why now.”

“What?” Clark clears his throat, swallows a remnant of his dinner. “I’m sorry for what happened.” He steps aside to let Bruce into the apartment, follows him towards the small living room. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought- “

“That’s just it. You didn’t think, you just-” Bruce stops himself, groans. He isn’t here to fight with Clark, but it is just so goddamn easy. Toe to toe and head to head despite half the room separating them. Clark’s jaw sets in that all too familiar way and his expression drops from astonishment and curiosity to calm and collected.

“Are you just here to yell at me? Because I’m really not in the mood. I’m sorry. I thought you were interested in… that. Clearly, I misread the signs, so it won’t happen again. Can we just forget about this whole thing… and move on or something?”

“No.” To Bruce, moving on is impossible.

“Right. Why are you even mad at me? If anything, I should be the one being angry with you. And it doesn’t sound like you came here to apologize for hitting me.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m here so you can explain one thing to me, Clark. Why did you kiss me?”

An eternity packed into the second it took Clark to find his reply, and his answer anything but satisfying. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together.”

“We’re friends. Friends spend time together.”

“Yes. Ok,” Clark sighs, averts his eyes. “I’m attracted to you… and I thought it was mutual. I mean, you let me give you a massage. You’ve never let me done that! So really, I’m sorry if I misread the situation.” Clark holds up his hands, palms up in explanation, excuse. All of it seems much too easy for him, something to brush off.  

“I didn’t think my behaviour would cause such a complication.”

“A complication.”

“I didn’t know, or I would have done things differently. Ergo, a complication.”

Clark breaths in and out, pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Ok, do you have a problem with me being the way I am? Because that’s what it sounds like. It was just a kiss. Get over it.”

“You jump to conclusions, Clark. As always.”

“Cryptic and you leave me two steps behind, Bruce. As always.”

He looks around Clark’s apartment. The couch is small, but he sits down anyway, motions for Clark to sit on the armchair. Ikea. It puts him across from Bruce and level. “I didn’t know you were…” he has to strain for the right word. “Not straight. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Clark runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes and takes of his glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people. I thought you knew.”

“All evidence pointed to the contrary.”

“Bisexuality is a thing you know. And I don’t have to tell you everything about my love interests.”

“Right. Feels like you do, though.”

“So then,” Clark tries. “You’re just here to confirm my sexuality.”

“Not just that.”

“Oh. So, you are… You’re not out, are you?”

“Neither are you, apparently.”

“It’s complicated. And it’s not like I actively hide it,” he says accusingly. Evidently, conditioned bias can really be a bitch sometimes. There’s a whole other conversation to be uncovered behind Clark’s complicated. One they should have. Maybe later. Bruce swallows.

“Why I hit you. I overreacted. I taught myself to… not want that, and-”

“Rao, Bruce, stop. You don’t have to deny who you are. Not around me.” There’s that comforting hand on his again. So much of Clark's communication is rooted in touch. He's held back, Bruce realises now, and finds he desperately wants a lot more of it. Hand on the armrest of the couch, he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you let me apologise. I didn’t mean to hit you and I’m sorry. You know I would never, and it’s stupid.” He looks at where Clark’s thumb touches his bruised knuckles. “Clearly,” Clark agrees.

“The thing is. I was finally content. Happy with what I could have. My family. You as a friend. And then you go and ruin it all with a stupid little kiss.” He has to avert his eyes, look up at the ceiling to consider the absurdity of it all. Biggest miscalculation of his life. The feeling of loss washes over him again like a tidal wave of his own making, and he can’t help but wonder if it feels the same for Clark. “Eleven goddamn years, Clark. Took you long enough.”

Clark’s chuckle does things to his stomach that he hasn’t allowed himself to experience in a long time. He joins Bruce on the couch. “Hey. At least I had the courage to do something.”

“Okay. So you suck a little bit less at this than me.”  Some of the tension finally leaves his body, and Clark visibly relaxes next to him. He turns towards Bruce, like on the watchtower, like at dinner. Bruce thinks of what Tim had said, how they lean towards each other, always, and it feels right, fits. Opposites attract, or something.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Didn’t really get the full experience last time.”

“Wonder whose fault that was.” Clark’s face has come much too close for Bruce to see his smile, but he can hear it, feel it in the way there is just a little bit of teeth when their lips meet. This time, the kiss is much better. The feel of Clark’s lips under his own, his hands on Bruce’s thigh, his chest, so warm. Clark’s curls and incredibly strong pulse. He commits it all to memory. Just in case.

“And he says I jump to conclusions,” Clark states to the room, and Bruce has to close his eyes to keep from laughing.

------------

Epilogue

------------

It’s been over a month since the incident with Bruce and Clark in the cave, and honestly, Tim thinks he would be seeing more of Clark. He felt a little disappointed at first, didn’t talk much to Bruce. Because of course, leave it to him to just shut everyone out again and pretend nothing had happened. Damian – annoyingly so – takes after his dad, works hard and just a tad too victorious.

Tim considers himself a pretty good detective.

However. It takes him a couple days to notice, too long, Bruce would say, that Bruce is calm. More relaxed. If that’s even possible for Batman. Well, not out on patrol of course, but at home. Tim’s doing homework in the ground floor study one day when Bruce walks in, looking at his phone. Smiling. Distracted and he hasn’t noticed Tim on time, clearly, when he quickly pockets his phone and asks Tim what he’s working on. The smile lingers.

There’s a league meeting but when batman returns to the zeta platform in the cave, the usually present proverbial protruding vein is not there, and Bruce doesn’t stomp to his computer right away. Instead, he takes a whole five minutes to remove the constricting parts of his uniform, eat one of Alfred’s sandwiches, and comfortably installs himself in front of the large monitor. It’s as un-Bruce and healthy as Batman can get and it doesn’t go unnoticed. No one comments.

And then. Bruce comes home late one night – on time for patrol – from the office. Or so he claims. But his tie is loosened, shirt not perfectly pressed anymore, and he smells like Pakistani curry. He could have got the food delivered of course, but it’s the windswept hair that betrays exactly who brought him back to Gotham after a dinner in Metropolis.

All of it culminates, there’s more little things and it’s the kind of behaviour that stands out when you spend a lifetime practicing every possible degree of a scowl and a faked interest in small-time fun.

Tim’s suspicions are finally confirmed in a much too unsubtle way when he’s in his room late one night – or maybe early morning –, under the covers and ready to go to sleep. There’s stumbling, bumping into the wall outside his room. His first thought is a threat, but then he hears Bruce’s voice. And another. Creak of the master bedroom door and footsteps shuffling on carpet.

“Take that off.” Straightforward as ever, Bruce.

“This too?” And yep, that’s Clark. Where are his noise cancelling headphones?

Constrained. “Yes.”

Tim clicks on his bedside light, stumbles around his room extra loud, hoping Clark will hear him. Notice he’s awake. At the very least, Superman should be considerate.

“I thought you had superspeed.”

“Patience, B.”

“Waited for you all week.” The rest was muffled, a creaking sound.

Under the safety of his covers and the protection of his headphones, Tim thinks about texting Stephanie. Or Kon. Or Dick. He groans and decides to put on some music instead. Why couldn’t Bruce just come out to them like a normal person? Why didn’t he spend an all-nighter in the cave tonight? Why did he ever choose the bedroom next to Bruce? At least Damian won’t be able to hear them. Right? He makes the mistake of lifting up one side of his headphones to check, only to hear a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and drops it right back down. Okay. He can probably do some more work on the Two-face case down in the cave. It’s not like he needs sleep, anyway.

He just needs to have a very stern talk with Batman and Superman come morning. And move to a different bedroom.

[stone-man-warrior]

December 4, 2020: 4:36 pm:

https://twitter.com/ABC/status/1334908215751024642

A wide array of demolition experts were required, engineers were varied, and many.

"Fire in the hole!" was shouted by one crew.

"Timber!" exclaimed another.

"Head-ache!" was heard throughout the area.

and...

"Fore!" was the last thing that was said at the event. Later, at the wake, Saint Barbara was seen hoisted from a passing helicopter, clutching a staff.

https://twitter.com/CatholicSat/status/1334878612466569216

==========================

In other news:

Kenny Wayne Sheppard was featured again in an encore performance interview discussion about a Jimmy Hendrix guitar riff, was first presented by Premier Guitar (PG) during the same time that Twitter was still a Beta Twitter, in around 2008 or so. The interview is presented as new, fresh, while in reality, it’s old, stale.

https://www.premierguitar.com/articles/31101-hooked-kenny-wayne-shepherd-on-jimi-hendrixs-voodoo-child-slight-return?goal=0_93db14e670-5fc2cb0a63-65512397&mc_cid=5fc2cb0a63&mc_eid=941be062ce

Shepherd: He has a Hellcat. a Virgin White Hellcat. A car that can do wheelies by factory design and intent, comes with a Pit-Crew Tool Box filled with tools and spare suspension & steering parts, and, some additional Pizza Cutter front racing wheels for the track, all for just a little more than 100K. Remote ignition, standard.

Those chairs there: Play the turn around Kenny talks about. He is talking about how a guitar riff talks. A talking guitar riff is noted by Kenny, literally, and figuratively noted. The talking guitar riff is one that was made famous by a black man, who played a right handed guitar, upside down, and backwards, left handed, with strings reversed. I am feeling that Kenny wants to play the turnaround on the Twelve Barr Blues.

Very subtle message there from Kenny Wayne Shepherd.

Those two guilded chairs, in the garage, where the White Virgi Hellcat is at, are what you need to turn around. Just one of them. Arrange the two chairs such that the Arm Rests are touching, a Arrrrmmm rest handshake there. From above, Bird's Eyes Maple view, the two chairs form a letter S when arranged correctly.

(Saturn & Jupiter will be one degree apart in the knight sky.)

The S is a Grommet female terror soldier. She has a gauge piercing between her vaginal and anal cavity. (garage ideas here) The pierced gauge is usually plugged with a inserted grommet, for feminine highgene, while it is removed, or, a specially customized Grommet is inserted there depending on the kind of attack plan the Grommet terror soldier is to carry out.

Kenny says: "Turn the Grommets around", or, “Make Grommets”, or some other message about Grommet Soldiers, and PG drives the message. See John Bohlinger.

What does it mean?

Idunno.

I do know that the news about Saturn & Jupiter appearance in the knight sky with just one degree of space between is the "taint" in the sky.

737 MAX Airplane Grommets all over the place, thousands of them, releasing gas. That is what the Grommet is for. The inserted Grommet that also has a donut hole within, serves as a place where the nitrous gas release tube of the rectally holstered nitrous tank, "crosses" over from one cavity to the other. The human female Grommet soldier sounds like a frog when the apparatus is used outdoors. Many Grommets hiding in a wooded area, sound like many frogs. In a city environment, many Grommet soldiers all in a line at an event near a flood drain in a curb, also sound like many frogs. The frog sounds that are produced. are searched for by people who are nearby, they hear the frogs, and want to see the frogs. There are no frogs though, there are Grommet terror soldiers. There are swordsmen hiding in the darkness where the Frog Grommets are playing their tune.

The story about the two planets is a way to say to "heat the frying pan by one degree". Frog in a Frying Pan terror attack is done, Kenny called it, news media made it happen.

It could be a much bigger event than a Grommet in the woods making frog sounds while releasing gas to lure  victims into a creek area in the night to search for frogs. It could be a Boeing Bouncing Bullfrog of 737 MAX overhead attack to assist many ground soldier swordsmen. Bouncers at The Club while Rikky Riccardo is playing Babaloo. "Lucy... You got some Splainin' to do?" On Fri, Dec 4, 2020 at 2:15 PM Premier Guitar <pg@premierguitar.com> wrote:

<snip>

===================================================

Grommet Math, one more time:

The Grommet’s are sometimes called “YoSoY”, with that arrangement of capital Y, S and lower case o.

Yo = Frontwards; Forward

S = The Grommet itself, a plug installed in the Septum that exists between the vagina and anal cavity of the female, nitrous gas armed, Grommet terror soldier.

oY = Backwards, Yo.

The plug is removed sometimes, is modified to produce desired sound effects, and other effects that are beyond what I know, and is useful for releasing a very subliminal and primal odor, one that is not supposed to be there, but is there, when the Grommet attack happens. That right there causes a lot of problems for marked men at the attack area. The odor of the female is there, so is the nitrous gas, mixed with Medazolam.

Modern warfare is advanced with old proven means, with the addition of modern technology.

Not all of the Grommet soldiers are gauged that way by choice. Many are kidnapped US Citizen victims who’s parents were killed, then were trained as disposable terror soldier captive slaves. There are many kidnapped child terror soldiers taken from the schools. The schools taken over, serve as terror training centers. Children receive a specialized education at the schools, and the schools are protected by the terror army. They don’t look like terror training centers, they look like public schools, and are maintained the same as public schools have always been maintained, with some modifications that could be found if only there were some people willing to watch the baby.

YoSoY is the Grommet soldier in written form, or graphic form adaptations, such as the two guilded chairs in Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s Hellcat Virgin White Garage where those chairs make the S septum when the VooDoo Chile voice is spoken the way the Shepherd says to say it. “Slight Return“.

The video was presented originally more than ten years ago when Oregon was slaughtered, people all killed and replaced with Canadian terror army soldiers, thus, the Slight Return of the VooDoo Chile is important for repeat of the same attack that already worked successfully in Oregon, is commanded to commence again, to take over other regions.

Where? Everywhere, that’s where.

When? now and ongoing for fifty years, this is the final blow, the Boeing Bounce at the Club. French North American Republic Territory comes next, replaces the geographic region that is currently occupied by Canada, USA, and Mexico. A new nation. It’s a Communist Kingdom. Mitt Romney is scheduled as first King, Justin Trudeau as first Prime Minister. That leadership arrangement may have changed, maybe not.

The Romney/Trudeau arrangement is not difficult to see that Romney is to be presented as a Front Man for the show, a magician, has a lot of hokus pokus up his Mormon sleeve, and can summon a lot of “Dark Side” Mormons to do whatever needs doing in the “New Salem” FNART Capital, wherever it may be. While Trudeau is the Queen‘s Pet, the real power, has the teeth of HMS Trudeau behind him. The French part is a nod to Quebec.

===================================================

There is a lot to look at today on the Twitter news feed of terror commands. Do your own research to find connecting stories about overhead ideas. There, you may find clues that could be used to stop a massive attack with poison gasses delivered from the sky, sea, and ground. Gas that precedes and assists sword wielding terror army soldiers who are well equipped with tools and vehicles that are designed for road building, but are used as weapons, detour, delay and distraction, and housecleaning afterwords, associated with the aerial attack from above.

I just included a small glimpse of the terror comm, there is much to look at today, and a lot of that is distraction, cover and confusion service provided by newsmedia to slow efforts to stop the attack of Corona Virus/COVID.

===================================

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bohlinger_(musician)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Premier_Guitar

https://www.premierguitar.com/

Use a lighter, burn candles. The gas they bring is flammable. Light them up and watch as they burst into bits, and launch into orbit like a rocket.

End terror report: 5:19 pm.

============================================

Bonus (see additional comments below in the comments area) 6:58 pm:

Donald Trump and other Verified Accounts have been referring to “Tense” conditions about some different things presented on Twitter, this is only one clue about the Ford Bronco for 2021 of many that are available to find if you look for them. It’s a big deal. The Bronco serves many uses, but the most important one is that it’s a reincarnation of a Land Rover Range Rover w/three factory roofs in 1990 or so. See the Bronco as a Crowning Achievement for terror soldiers from Canada, lead by SAG and Britain. See it as the horse on which a Royal Canadian Mounted Police is perched, in command at US State Police Offices throughout USA. That will get you started.

https://www.ford.com/suvs/bronco-sport/?searchid=10524085194|108057202550||brcspr-ret-n-200714&ef_id=Cj0KCQiA2af-BRDzARIsAIVQUOfHBxJyrh6XJ2y2Vqt1njqxPHmbEC8nplF9A13CEDCOj9ud2hTFv5YaAjUYEALw_wcB:G:s&s_kwcid=AL!2519!3!447747038581!e!!

https://twitter.com/CNN/status/1282842515037716480

<snip>

Make Canadian and British Geldings. Start with the Pope, he has all the right tools for the job. Boris will show you the way, a guide.

=====================================

Additional 12-5-2020: 11:59 am:

These young people are super talented.

This tune was posted to YouTube on Thursday 12-3-2020. Close your eyes, and give a listen.

Music industry producers use these kinds of talented people to advance a message. They have no choices but to go with the flow.

Right now in 2020, we are, and have been experiencing a black hole where the good music used to be, these guys fill the void, the producers know it.

They have been inserted into the terror time-line. These guys are used as some kind of small place holder to say messages about the advance progression towards the aerial Boeing gas attack we are about to receive. They, along with the insertion of Greta Thunberg, are like the minute markers on a clock.

minutes.

Thunberg fits in with a pirate motif. She showed up in USA, by boat, unchecked, from Europe, at a time when Guatemala Caravan people were being tossed into captivity at containment centers, separated children from parents, families broken apart, help captive, while Greta Thunberg waltzed right in during the same set, at the same show, at the same concert, at the same venue... USA.

So, the bus came by sea. The victims were taken on land, far away from where the sea bus landed on shore.

Greta Van Fleet has been around a little longer than the Thunberg Sea Bus, as far as I can tell, but maybe not. I remember Greta Thunberg from the Beta Twitter in 2008, but I don’t recall knowing of this other Greta, Van Fleet, until around 2013 or so.

I am bringing this into this entry because of the timeline, and the Amazon Prime 100,000 Renault Delivery vans that are deployed now, doing nitrous gas refill work for mobile terror soldiers on attack on location, globally.

There is a Trinity Rule that I can see developing in the reveal, and that Grata Van Fleet tune has an eerie sort of Apocalypse now kind of Jim Morison sort of The Doors vibe happening in it... I can almost smell the napalm in the morning after hearing “The Age of Machine” today.

I like the song, the band members are talented, they are young, and are being used to send the message of the Producers.

The Trinity Rules I am seeing develop are in that there are two Greta’s, each one has it’s own thing going on that is of interest, there is another Greta out there somewhere that will show up to satisfy the Trinity terror rules. It will a Ghost Ship though. So, you take two Greta’s, one came by sea, one is on stage singing songs with interesting titles, there is a traffic song they do, and some others, interesting videography from Greta Van Fleet, and Greta Thunberg is also an interesting videography, is also “On Stage”, just a different stage, an abstract one.

The idea about the Fleet in the name, combined with that catamaran, and that the band plays a song called the Safari Song, and other small connecting dots, suggests that the connection to the Trinity for the Ghost Ship to come soon, is contained in a “Fleet”. A Fleet of Boeing Grounded 737 MAX. That is worthy of inclusion here with the Ford Bronco for 2021, in a round-a-bout, mysterious way.

I am still trying to reach US and Global security people with this part of the entry from yesterday. The timing I have in seeing what I saw to write about is matching the advance of the terror comm in explainable ways... I need help, I need more brain power to unravel all of the small parts of the terror puzzle that GCHQ built with help from SAG Writers Guild.

Please help.

I like this song too, I think that place in the video is called “Vasquez Rocks”, along the 15 Freeway between San Bernardine, and Victorville, where a very long train is almost always on the tracks on the opposite side of the 15 there.

When the Curtain Falls ~Greta Van Fleet

What kind of curtain do you suppose could happen?

“Cocktails... cocktails...”

[notimetoblog]

Panic

Summary: Two little texts send your heart into a frenzy, and when the super soldier responsible for them doesn't reply, you just hope he’s still alive for him to hear exactly what you think of him. 

A/N: Hi hi!!! here’s a one shot for you guys!! I haven't posted one of these in a while so I truly hope you enjoy it! when I saw the texts online I knew I just had to write a fic around them for our favorite brunette super soldier lol. Thanks so much for reading!!

Link are being rude so if you’d like to read more of my stories search “stories by notimetoblog”

You know panic. 

A failed parachute? You’ve experienced it and survived it. You thought that panic was enough to fill a lifetime. What could bring on more panic than freefalling from thousands of feet in the air with no means to break your fall? 

Surely nothing. 

Well, that’s what you had believed until you, again, lived and survived a mission gone wrong. Stupidly, you’d admit, you had turned off your comms to focus on the task at hand. Of course, this meant you missed all five of Steve’s attempts to warn you of previously unnoticed threats. To your defense, Steve really should do less talking over those things. Sure, he was lovely but having him in your ear for hours at a time was enough to drive anybody to the extreme.

The panic you experienced that time drew your blood cold. The unnoticed threats were pretty easily spotted when they were pointing guns at your face, each of the four men staring back at you more than ready to end you. Your instincts took over after that and the next thing you knew, you were being walked into the Quinjet a more than upset Steve again filling your ear with endless strings of words you just couldn’t and didn’t want to make out.

That panic you knew how to deal with. You knew once safe you could sit back, relax, and unwind.

But this current panic was beyond you.

You hold your phone in your cold hands, staring at the messages on the home screen.

Your ringer went off every night because if anybody enjoyed sleep, it was you. But that meant that you would wake up to voicemails, missed calls, and texts that were just waiting for you to get your day started. Nothing of importance was ever sent to your phone anyway. If there was an emergency, Steve had other ways to communicate them to you, and you knew he very much enjoyed getting to ring the alarms he had set up throughout your apartment. It was his form of payback for all the little things you did to him throughout the day.

This morning, though, you had not woken up to your usual texts, but to only two texts that were enough to make you want to scream.

Buck: I need advice (3:46 am)

Buck: never mind i already did the stupid thing (6:51 am)

For almost two hours Bucky had thought about doing something so incredibly stupid even he felt the need to call it that.

He often prided himself in his genius ideas, and sure, at times they had gotten you out of trouble. More often than not, though, those ideas resorted to more unorthodox methods than your basic training had provided you with. Still, no matter how stupid those ideas were, he always called them his ‘genius hacks.’

That time he had literally shot himself in the foot to create a distraction? Genius hack!

The time he threw Sam out of a window to get his wings working again? Genius hack!

So, Bucky accepting his idea was stupid meant this was bad.

This was so bad.

Your fingers press his name on your phone; normally you would chuckle at the picture of Bucky attached to his info, but not today.

It was past 8 am, by this time he could be on his way to another country. He could be hurt. He could be dead.

A ring, and then five more, and no response.

“My god,” you say, jumping out of your bed throwing on whatever clothes you find laying around.

You’re a mess, a complete and total mess, and it only gets worse after every time Bucky doesn’t answer your call.

You: Bucky I swear if you’re dead ill find some way to kill you again! And if you’re not… pick up THE PHONE!!!!!

You had a soft spot for him; everyone was aware. Something in you both just seemed to click, but that did not mean you wouldn’t let him have it when he did something reckless.

He would simply lay on the charm in response, using those stupid big blue eyes of his to melt away your frustration.

“You’re cute when you get all worked up,” he’d say, a smile on his lips that made your heart beat just a little bit faster. The jerk knew very well how to get his way.

He was an idiot, but one that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not right now. Oh no. Right now, he was just the biggest idiot on the planet for disappearing like this.

You call again, crossing your fingers he would pick up, but no luck.

“He better be dead,” you find yourself saying while you rummage through the bag you had thrown on your couch after getting home late last night to find your house keys.

“I don’t think you mean that,” a very much alive Bucky says as you open the door to your apartment.

“You think this is funny?” you ask, letting him hear every bit of the worry that was consuming you only seconds ago.

“Just a little,” he replies, scrunching his nose, something you’d typically find adorable. But not today. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” he amends, feeling your door closing right in front of his face, choosing to stuff his left arm to stop you from closing it all the way.  “I should’ve answered your calls, but in my defense, I was a little busy doing something else.”

“What? The stupid thing you needed advice on. You’re on your own if you did something to Sam’s wings.”

“I could tell you a bit more about what I did, darling, if you’d let me in.”

“Don’t even try the whole ‘darling’ thing right now Barnes,” you scold him, “because it won’t work. You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I know,” his voice is soft, and you hate him for it. “But I can explain everything I promise. And I was only ‘missing’ for like 4 hours, most of which you were asleep for, so come on, sweetheart, let me in.”

You pierce your eyes at the pet name, making him chuckle.

“I said sweetheart, not darling,” he winks.

“It better be good, Barnes,” you reply with a groan, opening the door up for him all the way.

With a smile, he walks into your apartment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t take him walking past you as an opportunity to scan him for injuries.

Your eyes rake past his back, down to his legs, looking for any sign of pain. Just looking out for anything you might need to patch up or any limping, of course, nothing more. But its harder to tell if he’s got any blood on him or anything else you should worry about.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt, dark jacket, and black denim jeans. If there’s anything on them, you can’t tell in his all-black outfit.  

“I shouldn’t have called what I was thinking about stupid, really,” he began, causing your gaze to come back up to his face as he turns to look at you. “Because it’s not.”

“Another one of your genius hacks, huh,” you cross your arms wondering why you had even let yourself get so worked up from two little texts.

The answer was rather obvious, but still, it was better not to address it at the moment. It was better not to mess with a friendship that somehow managed to work despite both of your reckless attitudes.

“Not really,” he says, sitting down on the couch, hugging one of your throw pillows, a big fluffy white one. He would regret that later when he discovered how much it shed onto his dark jacket. But you’d take that as a tiny victory over him after the scare he gave you. “Had nothing to do with the job at all.”

“Then do enlighten me, Barnes,” you give him an eye roll, not ready to hear about whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

“Just call me Bucky, doll,” he says with a tiny pout, his eyes going wide- those stupid big blue eyes. “It means your mad at me when you call me Barnes, and if I’m honest, I don’t like the feeling.”

“I kinda am.”

“More relieved than mad, though, right? Cause I’m still alive.”

“Won’t be alive for much longer if you don’t talk.”

“Fine,” he laughs, and you curse yourself for finding it endearing, but it’s always lovely to hear him laugh. “It’s not something stupid, might be the smartest decision I’ve made in my life.”

“Oh my god,” you say in disbelief throwing another one of your pillows at him. “You jerk! What did you do to Sam?!”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” he says in between more laughs as he dodges everything you throw his way. “You need to stop that.”

In an instant, he’s up and has you backed up onto the door, hands pressed against your side.

“Sam is fine,” he says softly, now that he’s so close to you. “Probably still drooling.”

“Then what’d you do?”

“Well, I haven’t done it yet. That’s why I came here for.”

There was something new in his eyes. It was as if a new shade of blue swam in them, a shade that had never been seen before.

What on earth was he doing?

“You can let go of my hands now, Buck,” you say, trying your best to distract yourself from how close he was.

“Won't throw more pillows at me?”

“I ran out.”

“Breaks my heart that’s the only reason you won't throw them at me,” he chuckles, releasing his hold on your hands, partially, because for some reason he chooses to lace his fingers with yours.

And something in you screams because this may or may not be a dream you had a few nights ago- a dream you had pushed deep down, hoping it would never come back up again. And yet here it was.

“What’d you do?” you ask him again, hoping speaking through what you were feeling would be better than being drowned by it.

“I bought something,” he replies, his signature boyish grin on his lips but this time there’s something new; a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “For you.”

“Really?” you pretend that those words did not just travel to your core and erupted into thousands of butterflies.

“See, it wasn’t stupid, really. It was a mistake to call it that, but I did need some advice because I’m not the best at this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you question, not missing how comfortable his hands feel around yours; how meant to be.

“Us.”

And there it was, the moment that had only been real in daydreams, the moment you absolutely knew would melt your heart.

“I bought you flowers,” he continues, letting his thumb drag slowly across the back of your hand. “They’re outside. I kinda panicked when you opened the door.”

“Flowers,” you hear yourself say, disbelief clear.

“I ran across the entire city, finding a place that opened early enough for me to get them as soon as possible. I ran into a shop owner around 6:30, she was only there that early to drop a few things, but I begged her to let me get something, anything. She must’ve felt bad because she let me inside.”

“You’ve been looking for flowers since 4 am?”

“I guess that part was stupid,” he laughs. “But I couldn’t wait! And I really started looking for places at 5.” There’s a tiny pause, and his face goes completely blank. “You like flowers, right?”

It’s really hard not to reach out and bring him closer when he’s looking like a lost little puppy, but you hold yourself back, enjoying the way his eyes have gone soft.

“I do,” you confirm, melting at the way his smile shines like a million stars.

Goodness, he was cute.

“And me? Do you like me?”

“Sometimes,” you fib, giggling when he pouts.

“Cause I like you a lot.”

Were you ever really mad at him, you wonder, because who on earth could ever be mad at the man in front of you? With those big blue beautiful eyes, that charming smile, and that soft touch.

“You do?” you tease, voice low and silky as you feel him getting closer and closer to you.

“So much, darling. There isn't anyone else who I like as much as you, to be honest. You’re the only one that makes me want to buy flowers at 5 am,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nobody else I’d rather hold hands with,” a kiss to your cheek. “Nobody else I’d rather spend time with. I’m entirely yours, what can I say?”

And then it happens, his soft lips finally press onto yours, slowly parting them to deepen the kiss. His hands leave yours only to wrap his arms around your waist, and it’s as if you’ve done this before. Your hands find themselves running up along his arms to his shoulders, finally getting lost in his hair, following a trail that you somehow already know.

“Be my best girl?” he asks in a husky voice, eyes opening slowly, and your lips long to be on his again.

“Yes,” you say in a hushed tone, just for him.

He loosens his hold on you, and the look on his face is any indicator it pains him just as much as it hurts you.

“I should get your flowers,” he says, timidly looking behind you at the door. “I think I chose well.”

He steps outside only to come back a few seconds, no longer as proud of his choice as he had been.

The roses in his hands are barely holding it together, with only a few of the stems still holding up flowers. Those that still remain are all missing most of their petals.  

“I thought they looked better,” he confesses, frowning when he looks at the bouquet again. “Guess they took a little beating while I worked up the courage to come here.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, taking them from his hands and bringing them close to your chest.

And they were. They were from him, from the man who had just confessed his feelings for you. The man that drove you equally crazy with worry and with love.

He was yours, and you were his.

That’s all that mattered.

The stupid things you both got yourself into were more fun together anyway.

“I love them,” you laugh. “They’re perfect.”

The morning had started with panic, but this right here, that peace you felt when he held you close, that was worth it all.

----

Bucky Tags :D (you guys are awesome!!)

@camillechan @just-add-butter @buckyisthepuresthuman @carry-on-my-fandom @creideamhgradochas @sixweekcure4dreams @verycoolveryunique @dugan365 @jitterbuck @buckysmusculararm @headinthe-fridge @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @hedwigthelegend @sappybarnes @coal000 @the-whitewolfie @natcad @winters-beauty @dixonsbugaboo @sawdustandsugar @silverbvcky @killjoynotes @agentpegcxrter @demonspawn2468 @buckysbeech @thefridgeismybestie @pinkfairyfluff @imaginecrushes @cauraphernelia @angieptt @fridolf-arach @nerdgirljen @bucky-is-a-hero-fightme @consttantina @titty-teetee @bfuckjames @crowleysqueenofhell @sebtrashcan-stan @jaamesbbarnes @heartssick @losemymemory @redstarstan @dracris33 @fuckthatfeeling @tamed-chaos @bringmetowonderland @mlehbleh @mawimey @delicatelyherdreams @buckyswinterchildren @jaysaku @stanclub @your-pixels-are-showing @thisismysecrethappyplace @who-the-heck-knows @polaroid-idiocity @plumsforbuckxx  @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @bambamwolf87 @ohhhotstan @ohhhotstan @whileinparis @sebbysstangirl @trashpanda-barnes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lokilvrr @freyjawalker @sebbybarrnes @palaiasaurus64 @piensa-bonito @until-theend-oftheline @awkwardfangirl2014 @mywinterwolf @all1e23 @teamcap4bucky @wintersxsoul @prettyyoungtragedy @suz-123 @buckyofthemyscira @kentuckybarnes @tropicalcap @moonbeambucky @gamorazenn @sgtjbuccky @darlingholland @desibarnes @aryastarss @driftingtonystark @everythingbooknerd @unlikelygalaxygiver @nec-me-ire @hello-lucifer-here @sold-my-soul-in-2016 @whyugottabesorude @theoutlinez @books-movies-eternal @lionheo04 

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: Promise me you won’t overreact...

Alright here’s a oneshot like thing I created a while ago. I think I posted it on my AO3 account (under a different pseud...)

Word count: 6 180

“Promise me you won’t overreact…” Luca fought not to grimace.

Street looked his friend up and down, “Are you alright?”

Luca nodded slightly, still trying to hide the same grimace, his left arm hanging limply by his side.

“Luca, are you alright?” Street stepped closer, forcing eye contact with Luca. He noticed the limp arm, noticed a sticky droplet hanging from one of Luca’s gloved fingers.

Luca nodded again.

Street KNEW Luca wasn’t telling the truth, so he reached a hand out to touch Luca’s left arm.

“DON’T!” Luca almost barked as he flinched away long before Street even came close, then he hit his knees when the agony quadrupled from the sudden movement.

“SHIT, you’re not alright.” Street frowned and dropped to one knee beside Luca, “What happened?”

Luca couldn’t answer.

“Luca…” Street gently grabbed on to Luca’s forearm, causing the older man to cringe. “Where’s the blood from?”

“Upper. Arm.?” The shrug he couldn’t act out was present in his voice, “OrAboveMyWrist?”

“Did you get shot? I didn’t hear a gun…” Street frowned, knowing he would have heard even a silenced shot. Then he looked up, scanning above them, “Did you fall or something?”

Luca nodded.

“One of the damn suspects…” Luca paused to let out a slow growl, “-Tossed me out of an open window. Hondo’s still up there.”

“You landed on your arm?”

Luca nodded a little, “Think I broke it.”

“Let’s get you out in the streetlights so we can take a look at this.” Street nodded towards Luca’s arm, “Want me to try to keep on holding it as we walk?”

“It’s gonna hurt like hell if you let go…” Luca gritted his teeth.

“How’s your shoulder? Is it possible for me to help you up if I hook my elbow under your armpit?”

Luca shook his head.

“Okay, belt it is then…” Street figured and scooted around to get a decent hold of Luca’s belt.

Luca nodded.

“On three.”

Luca nodded.

“One. Two. Three!”

Luca found his footing with a guttural growl.

“How are you feeling?”

“Forget it.” Luca frowned.

“Are you ready to walk?”

Luca nodded hesitantly.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Once they reached the street itself, Street helped Luca sit down on the stairs up to one of the buildings.

“How bad is it?”

“Think I broke it…”

“Well, duh…” Street rolled his eyes, “I meant, where? Just above the wrist and your upper arm? Or are there more to worry about?”

“Dunno…” Luca inhaled sharply, “Wrist feels odd. Might’ve torn something in my elbow? Shoulder feels like it’s been out, but I think it slipped back in…”

“So it is to be considered FUBAR?”

Luca nodded, “Effed up beyond all recognition.”

“We should take a good look at it. You okay if I slice up the sleeve.”

“As long as I can move it as little as possible.”

Street nodded as he took his knife from the holster. “How’s the rest of you feeling? How’s your head? Neck?”

“My arm broke most of the fall.” Luca closed his eyes hard, “Only other part I can tell hurts right now is my left knee. The suspect kicked me in it before I went out the window. Hondo might need help up there.”

A triple set of double taps pierced the semi-silence.

Luca’s eyes shot open.

“Hondo!” Luca instinctively attempted to lift his hand to activate his microphone, but ended up curling into a growling ball.

Street nodded and five seconds later he smiled, “Hondo’s all good, Luca…”

“Good.” Luca said between gasps, slowly uncurling until he laid on his good side. “Why didn’t I hear him?”

“I think your earpiece’s out…” Street smirked and lifted the earpiece into Luca’s field of view, “Now, back to your arm.”

Luca nodded.

“Are you okay with laying in that position?”

Luca nodded, “It’s not the worst.”

“Do you want to sit back up?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Street nodded and started unbuttoning the cuff, before he carefully started slicing up the sleeve. Then stopping right before he reached the elbow. He had exposed the first obvious break, the ulna or the radius piercing through the skin. “I’m going to cover that one up, okay?”

“How bad is it?” Luca had chosen to cover his eyes with his opposite forearm.

“Open fracture above your wrist. Not sure which bone it is. Looks a bit like it could be both bones.”

“Is it crooked?”

“Yeah.”

“Felt like it was.” Luca sighed. “Does it bleed a lot?”

“No.” Street shook his head as he ripped open a package of non-stick sterile compresses, and an elastic gauze. Then he put on some clean plastic gloves. “I think it’s your upper arm that’s bleeding.”

Luca nodded slightly.

Street placed one of the compresses over the wound itself, then he started wrapping it up with the elastic. “This dressing isn’t pretty, but it’ll be a clean layer against the wound.”

Luca nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

“Can you feel your hand? Your fingers?”

“I think so…”

Street let the back of his index run against Luca’s fingers, starting with the thumb “Feel that?”

“Yeah.” Luca nodded, “Sorta painful.”

Street moved on to the next finger, “And that?”

“Still feel it, but nowhere as painful.”

Street nodded and continued, the next couple of fingers had feeling, but weren’t too painful.

The pinky finger was.

“F*** that felt like touching an electric fence! At the bear pen, at the zoo!” Luca cried out once he regained the ability to speak coherently again.

“Okay…” Street nodded, “I’m going to slice up the rest of your sleeve now.”

Luca nodded.

Street started cutting the fabric, and didn’t stop before he had uncovered Luca’s entire shoulder.  “Did they have knives?”

“What?”

“Knives? Did the suspect use a knife?”

Luca closed his eyes as he thought back.

“Or anything else sharp…” Street added as he placed another compress on a wound. “Your upper arm is obviously broken, but I don’t think it was an open fracture…”

“Obviously broken?”

“It’s shorter, and a little angled.”

“Okay.”

“Wound looks more like it was from a knife or something slicing across.”

“I think I had a close encounter with a vase…”

“Glass vase?”

“Yeah.”

“Broken?”

“Definitely was afterwards…”

“Okay. -I need to be able to wrap some gauze around your arm, think you could move it a bit out from your body?”

Luca pressed air past his lips, then he met Street’s eyes, “You’re going to have to help me back to a sitting position.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Then he paused again, obviously listening to the comms, “They’re all done up there.”

“Good.”

Then he activated his mic, “Good job, Luca’s down here. Messed up his arm pretty good in the fall.”

Street listened to the reply for ten seconds or so.”

“Broken in at least two places. Some bleeding. Moderate or severe pain, by the looks of him.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Luca, you told me not to overreact, but there’s a lot of space between overreacting and not reacting at all.” Street narrowed his eyes on his older buddy, “Your arm looks pretty bad, and you are in pain.”

Then Street spoke into the mic again, “Could be nice to have one of you down here to help me.”

Then a few seconds passed as someone answered again.

“Super, see you in a bit.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Hondo.” Street smiled, “Deacon’s keeping an eye on the suspects.”

Then someone came around the corner, “Heard you ran into some trouble…”

Luca glanced over, “Chris!”

“How are you doing Luca?”

“Hurts like hell…”

“Think you can help me support his arm once he’s seated?”

Chris nodded, and hunched down in front of Luca, “You want some help sitting up, tough guy?”

“Yeah.”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “There, all patched up.” Street winked, “Think we’ll be able to move your elbow so that we can put you in a sling?”

Luca glanced down.

“What do you think?” Chris asked behind him, rubbing a hand against his good shoulder.

“-We could try…” Luca sighed, “But I’m not sure it’ll work.”

Street nodded, and cradled Luca’s forearm. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be…”

Street hadn’t moved Luca’s arm an inch before he started ‘tapping out’ with his good hand.

“Stop?”

Luca nodded, and Street placed his arm where it had been rested earlier.

“You want us to call for an ambulance?”

“No, I’ll just ride to the hospital with you guys.” Luca glanced down at his arm, “I’m not unable to move, I’m not actively bleeding out or dying… I don’t need an ambulance.”

Street nodded.

“We should probably call ahead to the hospital and let them know you’re coming.”

Luca nodded slightly.

“Do you want to sit up front, or in the back?” Street asked as he nodded towards Black Betty.

“Front.” Luca answered quietly, “But you’re going to have to clip me in.”

Street nodded, “Sure thing.”

“And whoever’s driving her will have to drive SMOOTH!”

“Sure!” Chris nodded, “If I drive I’ll drive as smooth as I’ve ever done. If anybody else drives, I’ll threaten them to drive smoothly.”

Luca smirked.

  SWATSWATSWAT- SWATSWATSWAT

 “So, how was nightshift?” Cassie asked Andrea as she sat down to get report.

“Pretty quiet. But we got in one of LA’s finest.”

“Oh?” Cassie looked up, “An officer?”

“LAPD S.W.A.T.” Andrea nodded. “Room 24.”

“What’s his status?”

“Alert and oriented. Busted up arm, smaller injury to one of his knees.”

“GSW or…?”

“Fall from the second or third floor, I don’t remember…” Andrea admitted as her eyebrows crept close together, “Landed full weight on his left arm. Multiple fractures in his arm, ligament and other soft-tissue damage.”

“And his knee?”

“Possible patella fracture.” Andrea shrugged.

“Possible?”

“He’s scheduled for more imaging later today.” Andrea explained, “He was in a lot of pain, and the tech didn’t wan’t to push him more than necessary.”

Cassie nodded, “Is his pain handled well?”

“He got OxyCotin depot, 10 mg, two hours ago. He hasn’t slept much, but the two last times I checked in on him, he told me he felt alright.”

“So, is he one of the patients we should be a bit up front with? Offer up PRNs?”

“I think he qualifies as the ‘tough man, no-feel pain’ type, yeah…” Andrea answered, making her voice deep to imitate the stereotype.

“Got to love macho men…” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Is he NPO?”

“He’s not restricted of clear liquids yet. And the doctor said he could take pills per os until 11 a.m.” Andrea, “-If he gets surgery today, it won’t be before in the afternoon.”

“Okay. Is he set up for any fluids or anything?”

Andrea shook her head, “Just pain management right now.”

Cassie nodded, “And our other patients?”

“21-2 has been up most of the night, delirious. Jen has been in there as one-on-one this shift, I think they managed to get John in for the dayshift.” Andrea looked down at her list, “23-1 requested extra pain meds at 02 and 06… Antibiotics is hanging in 25. 27-2 FINALLY had a bowel movement. The rest has been sleeping tight the entire night.”

“Oh, who would’ve thought one would be so damn happy for someone else taking a crap back in nursing school.”

“Amen to that…” Andrea nodded.

“Alright, if there’s nothing else… Then you should get home and sleep, you’re on 2 out of 3 right?”

Andrea nodded.

“See you tomorrow morning, sleep well!”

“Have a nice shift!”

“Thanks!”

Then Cassie turned to the computer to read through the nursing notes since her last shift.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 She knocked lightly at the door before she opened it.

“Hey!” the man inside answered her.

“Hello. I’m Cassie.”

“I’m Luca,” the man grinned, “You’re the dayshift nurse?”

“Yeah.” she nodded, “How are you feeling?”

“Pain is alright, but I’m going a bit stir-crazy from laying around here.”

“I heard you were part of S.W.A.T., I guess you’re more accustomed to running around and being high on adrenaline…”

The guy chuckled a bit, “Yeah, well… Sitting still and doing nothing has never really been my strength. Right now I don’t really have a choice though.”

Cassie nodded, “Is your arm in a good position?”

Luca shrugged his good shoulder, “Can’t complain.”

“And your leg?”

“Can’t complain.” Luca repeated, “I was going for more pictures later, right?”

Cassie nodded, “That seems to be the plan. -The report said you had fallen out a window.”

“Yeah, tossed out of one…” Luca nodded, “Third floor.”

“You look like a capable guy, I’d hate to see the person who ‘tossed’ you out a window…”

Luca smirked, “Well, he did kick my knee first, I was a little preoccupied trying to figure out if I could put my weight on it or not…”

“What answer did you come up with?”

“Well, I limped along on it a bit afterwards.” Luca scrounged up his nose, “Putting weight on it wasn’t all bad, but straightening and bending it was not cool. The doctor suspected I might’ve broken my kneecap…?”

“Yeah, that’s part of the extra pictures we wanted to take.” Cassie nodded, “The x-rays suggested there might be a fracture there, but the image wasn’t good enough to be sure.”

Luca nodded.

“And they also wanted more detailed pictures of your arm and shoulder.”

“CAT-scan or MRI?”

“Both.” Cassie answered, “CT to get a detailed view of your fractures, to prepare the surgeons better. And an MRI so they can check for ligament and other soft tissue damage.”

“Cool.” Luca nodded, “Look, I’ve got a plate and eight screws in my right tibia… Will that be okay with the MRI?”

“Yeah, as long as you had the surgery in a US hospital in the last 40 or so years…” Cassie nodded, “Surgical titanium won’t cause you problems during the scan, but it might cause some local disturbance in the scan.”

“Six years ago, this very hospital.” Luca smirked.

“Do you have any other metal in your body?”

“No.”

“Ever been shot?”

“A couple of times, but that’s either been through and through, or just graze wounds.”

“Have you had x-rays to confirm that you don’t have any metal left in your body from those bullets?”

Luca nodded, “Yeah, no trace.”

“That’s good.” Cassie smiled as she looked over the room, “Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

Luca blushed slightly, “Actually… Uhmm… Could you get me a urine bottle, or a catheter… Preferably a bottle.”

Cassie nodded, “Sure thing. I’ll find a urinal bottle.”

“Thanks. My ears are pretty much bubbling.”

“Okay, I’ll go find it straight away.”

“Thanks.”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Luca managed to dose off every now and then, and soon enough it was 2p.m.

The extra set of pictures had been taken, some doctor had been in and explained their findings.

Cassie the nurse had been in and out a few times, twice giving him pills, once giving him some injection to deal with the pain. And a few more times just to make sure he was doing okay.

Right before 2:15 she came back again.

“Hey.” Luca smiled.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Luca shrugged, “Not too shabby, whatever you injected me with earlier kicked in quickly. -And it works wonderfully.”

Cassie nodded, “I had a chat with the doctor, figured you could use something a pinch stronger.”

Luca smiled, “Thanks.”

“So, the doctor sent his evaluation earlier. Looks like you’re not going in for surgery today.”

“Oh…”

“So, you’re no longer fasting.”

“Right.” Luca nodded as he absorbed the news.

“Bottom line, dinner is just around the corner, and I wondered if you’d like salmon or chicken.”

Luca nodded, “with potatoes or something else?”

“Pasta or potatoes.”

“Could I get salmon with pasta?”

“Sure…” Cassie nodded, “And what would you like to drink? Water, milk, juice, coffee, tea?”

“Water and coffee, if that’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Milk or sugar in that coffee?”

“Nah… Just black.”

Cassie nodded, “Alright, I’ll be back soon.”

Luca nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT-SWATSWATSWAT

 There was a knock at the door, and five people pretty much stumbled into the room.

Luca couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey bud…” Chris grinned, “How are you holding up?”

“Ah, you know…” Luca offered up what he hoped was a confident smirk, “Bored.”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t be up for any videogames, so I didn’t bring your PSP…” Street shrugged, “But I brought my iPad so that you can watch Netflix and YouTube…”

“Thanks!”

“How does it feel?” Deacon asked as he nodded to the massive cast and bandage wrap covering most of Luca’s left arm.

Luca clicked his tongue, “I feel like the look of it speaks for itself.”

“Yeah.” Tan tilted his head as he studied the parts of Luca’s arm which wasn’t covered up, “Your fingers are pretty swollen, and bruised…”

Luca nodded a little, and glanced down at his bare shoulder, “-And my shoulder is pretty much black.”

Hondo nodded, “Does it help having it up on those pillows?”

Luca made a noise to let Hondo know he was uncertain, “I think it throbs a bit less.”

Hondo nodded, “So, are you getting surgery?”

Luca nodded a bit, “Yeah, but not today. Could be tomorrow, or later…”

“So, you’re bedbound in the meanwhile?” Street asked.

Luca nodded, “Pretty much, apparently broke my kneecap as well. But the doctor figured I’d be able to walk around with a brace or a cylinder cast on it. -But he wanted the swelling to go down a bit first.”

“How is it now?”

“Swollen and locked straight by a short brace.” Luca sighed, “Doesn’t hurt too bad, though.”

“That’s good.” Deacon nodded.  

Chris looked over at Street, then Tan, “Hey guys… What if we go grab some extra chairs…”

“Good idea…” Street nodded, and the three youngest left the room.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Now…” Hondo started as he sat down in one of the chairs, “How are you really feeling?”

Luca’s face dropped. “Honestly?”

Deacon nodded.

“I’m scared.”

Hondo nodded as well.

“Right now it feels like it’ll never be alright…” he admitted, wiping at his eyes with his right hand, hating the fact that his eyes were watering, “Like, there’s no one that wants to guarantee me it’s going to be just like it was, or even remotely close.”

“It’ll be one heck of a recovery…” Deacon shrugged, “But you’re tough enough, and certainly hard-headed enough to make it.”

“He’s right man…” Hondo winked, “You’re one of the most stubborn guys I know.”

“I don’t know…” Luca nibbled on his lower lip a bit, “Maybe I’m getting too old for this…”

“If you are, what am I…” Deacon chuckled.

“You’re younger than me…”

Hondo chuckled, “Well, at least it doesn’t seem like that, most of the time.”

Luca let out a sound which could sound like a laugh in some way, “Thanks.”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “How do you think he’s doing?” Street asked Chris as they rested in some chairs they had gotten permission to bring into Luca’s room later. They figured they’d give the old guys some time alone.

“Luca’s tough…” Tan commented.

“Yeah, but it was a bad break.” Chris sighed.

“Two bad breaks, that we’re sure of…” Street tapped his fingers against his thigh, “Possibly more. And then there’s all the other damage there might be.”

“Somewhere between 180 and 200 lbs landing directly on one arm from the third floor window…” Chris shook her head, “That’s a lot of force…”

“He probably weighed somewhere over 1000 lbs effectively at the impact.” Tan mused, then fished his phone out of the pocket, “190 lbs, 85 kg… 23 ft drop, approximately 7 meters. That means… His velocity at the impact was 11,7 m/s… That equals an energy of about 5800 joules, which is very close to 600 kg, which again is about 1300 lbs.”

“One moment I didn’t see the phone in your hand, and it scared me a little…” Street admitted.

“It’s scary enough with the phone…” Chris chuckled, “Poor Luca, he really must be in some serious pain.”

“That’s for sure.” Tan nodded, “Good thing he didn’t land on his head, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have been at a hospital then…”

Street’s face paled.

“Well, he didn’t, so let’s not think about that.” Chris said, looking between the boys.

“House felt weird without him tonight.” Street shook his head.

“You didn’t stay with Molly tonight?”

“No,” Street shook his head, “It was late, and I had already agreed with her that I’d crash with Luca if we didn’t get done before midnight.”

Chris nodded.

“Regretted about an hour after I went to bed.”

Tan nodded as well, “Yesterday was a tough one…”

Chris looked towards the door to Luca’s room. “This ain’t right…”

Tan looked up with a questioned hum.

“Luca, being this injured,” she shook her head, “It’s not right. He’s like the cool uncle when you were growing up, who shifted into one of your best friends when you ended up being an adult. He’s the guy who’s supposed to be unbreakable… Seeing him like this doesn’t feel right.”

Street nodded slightly, “Yeah, you’ve got a point.”

Tan also had to agree.

“One thing’s for sure, he’s going to be on light duty for a good while.” Street said, as he rested his right ankle on his left knee and crossed his arms.

“That’s going to suck for him…” Chis sighed.

“Yeah, just think of how much it sucks for us when we’re forced to go light duty due to an injury.” Tan scowled down at his own boots, “As far as I know, the three of us don’t suffer from dyslexia. I honestly believe my greatest fear would have been light duty if I had dyslexia…”

“-Well, it’s not like he can’t read…” Street shrugged, “But of course, it sucks…”

“It’s not that he can’t read…” Chris shook her head, “But he uses much more energy on that than what the rest of us do, Street.”

“Yeah, well… Guess you’ve got a point.” Street nodded.

Chris nodded, mostly to herself.

“How much longer do you think we should stay out here?” Tan asked looking towards the door.

Chris checked her watch, “Another minute and we should be in the clear.”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Man, I can’t wait to get better…” Luca blew out a breath, “Or, at least I can’t wait to have the surgery and be allowed to start moving around again…”

The two other men nodded understandingly.

“-And I can’t wait for this to stop hurting so immensely.” Luca added, “At least it’s not the worst pain I’ve been in. That being said, it’s enough to really drive me nuts.”

“I really wish there was something I could say to help, but I know words won’t help with the pain.” Deacon sighed.

Luca nodded, “I know one thing that would help…”

“Yeah?” Hondo looked up.

“Some nurse will come by with more pain meds in like thirty minutes…” Luca said, looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Do you want us to go ask if you could get your meds early?” Deacon asked.

Luca let his head loll side to side on his pillow, before he picked his answer and nodded at Deacon, “Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Alright, I’ll be straight back.” Deacon nodded and left the room.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “There, that’s our clue…” Chris nodded towards the door as it closed again, and Deacon headed towards the nurses station.

 NEW CHAPTER

 It was a few days since her last shift, so she was excited to see how many of the patients she recognized. If she was lucky there would be some of the same faces there today as last time, and if she was out of luck the whole ward could have been changed out.

She was already at her regular fast pace as soon as she stepped into the hospital. She took the shortcut down to where they picked up their scrubs, then she walked double-pace to the locker room. She stripped down and hung her clothes in her locker, then she hopped into her white uniform.

She stepped into her colorful joggers, and shoved her pocket protector-nametag combo into her chest pocket. Then she shouldered her backpack and marched towards the stairs.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 She walked into the ward as she secured her nurse watch to her shirt. Then she walked to the board which told her which group she would be on that day, which turned out to be her regular one. Straight up orthopedic.

Then she walked to the right charge room to have a quiet cup of coffee before her shift started.

“Mornin’ Cassie!” Derek grinned.

“Morning!” Cassie smiled back, “How was the night?”

“22-3 and 30 has both had a bad night.”

“Pain?”

Derek shrugged, “30 is definitely pain. 22-3, I’m not as sure. Could be attention- or drug seeking…”

“Okay.”

“So I feel like I’ve been running a marathon between those two rooms.” Derek yawned, “24 has called a few times, also pain related… Which is very understandable…”

Cassie looked down at her sheet of paper, “Still the Luca guy?”

“Yeah.”

“It says he’s NPO…”

Derek nodded, “Yeah. Poor guy still haven’t had his arm fixed…”

“No…”

“Yeah…” Derek sighed, “His humerus displaced yesterday, which caused additional bleeding.”

“Bleeding?”

“Yeah, poked through the skin.”

“So he now has two compound fractures?”

Derek nodded, “They reduced the fracture, debrided and irrigated it. Then they placed him in a cast splint which covered a lot more.”

“How many times has he called tonight?”

“Just four times.” Derek nodded to himself, “22-3 and 30 has called like 50 times.”

“Well, guess they make SWAT guys tough.”

“Or maybe they just use tough guys for SWAT…” Derek shrugged, “They certainly make the SWAT girls HOT…”

“His teammates stopped by again?”

Derek nodded, “Anyway, he’s still on  I.V. antibiotics”

Cassie nodded, “Has his I.V. been changed recently?”

Derek checked the computer, “No, it’s three days old.”

“So, check it and maybe put in a new one…”

“Correct.”

“And he’s scheduled for I.V. antibiotics at 8?”

Derek nodded.

“How long is it since he got painkillers?”

“About an hour and thirty minutes…”

“Anything on any of the others?”

“Nothing you can’t easily read in the notes.”

Cassie nodded.

Then they sat there for half a minute in silence.

“So, are you done now?” Cassie asked.

“Crap, NO!” Derek got up in a hurry, “I’m supposed to give report on group 4 as well!”

Cassie chuckled.  

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Luca woke up as the nurse knocked at the door. He was still a bit groggy as she opened the door and walked in with a blood pressure machine in tow.

“Good morning.”

“Mornin…” Luca blinked hard as he tried to clear up the room around him.

“How has the night been?”

“Had to give in and ask for something extra to manage the pain a few times. Otherwise good.”

“And how is the pain now?”

“Laying completely still? On a scale from 1 to 10?”

Cassie nodded.

“3 I guess.” Luca tapped the fingers of his good hand against his knee which he had rested against the railing.

“And the peaks?”

“Before I got the last dose of painkiller, or after?”

“After.”

“6, maybe 6.5.” Luca yawned.

“And before?”

“Think I hit an 8.5 earlier… And just laying here was a solid 5.”

Cassie nodded, “Are you ready for some measurements?”

Luca nodded and held his right arm a bit up from the mattress.

“Wanna bet on your blood pressure today?”

Luca smirked, “Low-ish, bled a bit yesterday.”

Cassie nodded, “So I heard… What happened?”

“I’ve been having these muscle spasms…” Luca swallowed thickly, “Unfortunately my muscles were a bit stronger than the cast. Tore my shoulder out again, and my upper arm collapsed.”

“That must’ve been painful.”

Luca nodded as Cassie placed the BP cuff on his right upper arm. “The new cast splint seems more heavy duty…”

Cassie nodded, “Well, I’m turning on the machine now, so you’re going to feel some pressure around your arm.”

Luca nodded.

The machine whirred a bit as it filled the cuff with air then let it slowly out again, before it repeated the cycle twice. Then with a little triumphant ring the machine showed the pressure.

“What was it?”

“103 over 59…” Cassie answered and marked it down on her paper.

“Fits with the bleeding yesterday…”

Cassie nodded a little, “Yeah, but I’d like to get that a bit up before the end of my shift…”

Luca nodded, “Yeah, bet I would feel a bit better in general if we managed that.”

Cassie removed the cuff from Luca’s upper arm, she coiled the cord neatly and placed it back on the trolley. Then she picked up the thermometer, “Just going to swipe this across your forehead…”

Luca nodded, “I bet 99 flat.”

She looked at the little screen after she was done, “Nope, 99,5.”

“It’s still good though?”

“Yeah, still within the norm.” Cassie nodded and placed the tool back on the trolley. Then she grabbed the pulse oximeter.

Luca held his fingers up for easy access, “97”

Cassie smirked, “As pulse or saturation?”

Luca thought a bit, “Saturation.  Pulse, 74.”

“Saturation, 98. And the machine says your pulse is 86.” She replied and jotted it down.

Luca nodded and turned his wrist out so Cassie easily could palpate his pulse.

Cassie’s fingers found the pulse after she discarded the oximeter.

Luca laid in silence as she counted, only moving his right foot rhythmically.

“And I agree with the machine, mostly…”

“Just mostly?”

“I’d say 90, but that’s close.” Cassie smiled and wrote that down, as well as 16 respirations per minute.

“You have good warm hands.” Luca said as he looked up at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Luca smiled, “You have the best hands here.”

“Bet you say that to all the nurses.”

Luca shook his head slightly, “Nah, you’ve got first place, and that murse with glasses and a mustache is on second place.”

Cassie grinned, “Yeah, Josh is great.”

Luca nodded, “So, I’m not getting anything to eat today either?”

“No, sorry.”

Luca nodded, “Well, do I at least get some fluids?”

“Yeah, Plasma-Lyte, and I.V. antibiotics.” Cassie nodded, “And maybe a transfusion, depending on your bloodwork.”

Luca nodded, “Alright, cool!”

Cassie wrote down the time as well, before she pushed the blood pressure cart out in the corridor again. Then she walked over to the window and picked up the wash-bowl. “How do you feel about freshening up a little? And get a new gown…”

“Sounds great.” Luca nodded, “Honestly I feel like I ought to take a proper shower, but with this arm, that’s not happening. My hair feels sticky as all h*ll.”

Cassie chuckled a little, “Well, I don’t think I have time to help you with that straight away, but maybe afterwards if I manage to get ahead of my schedule… Then maybe I could help you do something about that situation.”

Luca smiled, “Thanks.”

“No promises though.”

“No, I know.” Luca nodded, “You guys are awfully busy.”

Cassie offered up an apologetic smile as she filled up the bowl with water. Donned a pair of gloves and wrung up the cloth.

“So, do you feel up for doing as much as possible on your own today? Or?”

“Oh, I can’t admit to being in a weakened state…” Luca grinned and reached out to get the cloth, “Hand that over to me…”

Cassie handed it over and Luca washed his face and neck.

“Do you want the towel to dry your face as well?”

Luca carefully shrugged his right shoulder, “Sure. Could you wring this up for me again?”

“Sure thing.” Cassie nodded and exchanged the cloth for the towel.

After patting down his face and neck, Luca placed the towel beside his hip, then he attempted getting the hospital gown off of him. His project was not successful.

“Want some help?”

Luca looked up, offering up a lopsided smile. “Looks like imma need it.”

Cassie nodded, and gently tugged it away from where it was tucked under Luca’s left side, before she tugged it away from under his right side and slid it off his right arm.

“I’ve never been more happy with the weird design on these gowns.” Luca joked.

“It’s pretty handy when you’re not completely mobile.” Cassie nodded, “And the fact that you can just tug it under your side without threading your arm through a sleeve if you’re not up for it, is also a very neat trick.”

Luca nodded.

Cassie rolled the old gown and tossed it in the sink. Then she wrung up the cloth and handed it to Luca again, who washed most of his chest and waist, and carefully under his left arm, before he attempted to wash under his right arm with his right arm.

A few seconds later he gave that up, and looked over at Cassie, “Could you help me a bit?”

Cassie nodded, took the cloth and wrung it up before she helped him with the part he couldn’t reach on his own. Then she helped him dry off. “Want me to wash your back?”

“Could you?”

“Are you able to sit straight up?”

“Yeah…” Luca nodded and reached for the bed control and started to raise his back to a point where it wouldn’t take much energy for him to sit all the way up. He didn’t get all the way up there before he had to call it quits. “Cassie, could you… Could you move my arm a little?”

She nodded and walked around the bed to the correct side, “Tell me how to help you…”

“I don’t know…” Luca sighed, “Can you try to ease it forward at the same pace as the bed?”

Cassie nodded, “Just let me know if I’m doing it wrong.”

“-Oh, you’ll hear me…”

Cassie nodded and gently cupped two hands under Luca’s injured arm. Then he pressed down on the button until he was almost upright.

“Thanks.”

Cassie nodded and released the arm with one of her hands to fluff the pillow it would rest on. “Then slowly down?”

Luca nodded.

They managed to place his arm on the pillows without any mishaps. Then Luca sat up the few remaining inches.

“Ready?” Cassie asked as she wrung up the cloth once again.

Luca nodded, and Cassie went to work. She made sure to be gentle near his left shoulder, but allowed herself to have a bit harder hand when she washed the remainder of his back. Pulling a content hum from Luca as she did.

“How’s that?”

“Awesome.”

“Good…” Cassie smirked, and reached for the dry towel. “Now, do you want to sit up for a bit, or do you want to lay back down?”

“Nah, I can sit up for a bit.” Luca decided as he leaned back against the elevated back of the bed.

Cassie nodded and placed the cloth in the water-bowl before she reached out for the clean gown. Then she helped Luca get the gown around his right arm and tucked behind his sides.

Then she wrung up the cloth once again, “Would you like to use this on your privates?”

Luca nodded and reached out for the cloth, then he stopped short. “Actually, I might need some help getting this mesh-boxer thing off first…”

Cassie nodded and placed the cloth back in the water, before helping Luca.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Thanks…” Luca smiled as he finally rested comfortable in fresh clothes, “That actually made me feel a bit better. -A bit more tired, but also a bit better.”

Cassie nodded, “I’ll be by with some meds and fluids soon, and later we’ll see if I can do something about that hair of yours as well.”

Luca nodded, “It’s seriously turning into a nest…”

Cassie smiled, “Try to get some rest in the meanwhile.”

“Yes ma’am!”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 For once he didn’t end up waiting all day, only to learn that the surgery was postponed once more.

Instead he was wheeled into surgery a quarter past nine.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Cassie knocked on the door and walked in a little while after Luca had returned from surgery.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like my head is still swimming…” Luca yawned, “How did the surgery go?”

“You know what, I haven’t had time to read the review of the surgery. I’m not sure if the surgeon has finished writing it either.” Cassie admitted.

Luca nodded, “I think someone tried to tell me how it went earlier. I didn’t really catch it.”

Cassie chuckled, “Yeah, that propofol and fentanyl combo will do that to you…”

Luca nodded lazily.

“How’s your pain level?”

Luca shrugged his good shoulder a bit, “One… Barely…”

Cassie smirked a bit to herself, mentally repeating ‘that propofol and fentanyl combo will do that to you’.

“That’s good.” She smiled, “Are you hungry, or do you want to wait a bit before eating?”

“Nah, not hungry. Just tired.”

“Okay, I’ll let you sleep the remainder of the anesthetic off. You know how to use the call button if you need anything.”

Luca nodded a bit, then yawned again.

[rainandhotchocolate]

About Last Night - P2

A/N So i know I have a million other requests but I’m a sucker for this story sooooo here’s part 2222 lel enjoy!!

Mon 12:00pm

Sirius ~ So before I read the weekend news, should I be worried about seeing any murders I was supposed to be involved in? ~

Y/N ~ Don’t worry I planted your fingertips everywhere so they’ll know you were involved as well ~

Sirius ~ Oh thank god, I needed something to destroy my reputation ~

Y/N ~ And what reputation is that? ~

Sirius ~ Oh you know, cool edgy creative writing major with a soft side ™ ~

Y/N ~ Dear god you’re one of them :O ~

Sirius ~ Ur DiffEReNT thAN OthER giRlS ~

Y/N ~ **Blocked**

Sirius ~ I sincerely hope you know I was joking ~

Y/N ~ I guess I’ll have to find out :P What are you up to today? ~

Sirius ~ Well apart from giving my alibi to police, I have about 3 hours of classes today and an essay due ~

Y/N ~ Wow, that sounds like a super fun day – any good classes? ~

Sirius ~ Yeah I’m enjoying my lit class at the moment, we are doing genre fiction at the moment so looking into how writers create worlds, even within our own world, and why genre fiction is so looked down upon in literature society ~

~ and now that I’ve typed that out I am realising that it probably doesn’t sound wildly interesting ~

Y/N ~ Hahaha nah it does! That would be cool to learn about, I’m a sucker for genre fiction tbh, could never read the classics ~

Sirius ~ That just means you never found a good classic 😉 – What kinda stuff do you read? ~

Y/N ~ look I want no judgement here… I honestly mostly read fantasy/ sci-fi ~

Sirius ~ Have you read Dune?? ~

Y/N ~ Yes !!! Holy shit such a good series !! ~

Sirius ~ I’ve been trying to get my mates to read it for a LIFETIME its so good ~

Y/N ~ I would have thought Remus would have read them? He’s always got a new book with him ~

Sirius ~ I didn’t know you knew Remus as well? But yeah, he in theory would but he also has a long list of to reads and wants to go through them one after another ~

Y/N ~ Yeah, he studies with Lily a lot and I sometimes join them 😊. Also jesus that’s commitment, I’m usually picking up another book whilst I’m halfway through another ~

Sirius ~ I have no idea how he does it, if I’m being honest, if I hate a book I just don’t finish it (please don’t tell my literary friends I told you that, I would be killed in my sleep) ~

Y/N ~ Haha your secret is safe with me – imo I reckon that’s the best way to read, like why force yourself through something just because it’s a classic or whatever, I feel like that’s why so many people don’t read a lot you know? ~

Sirius ~ Completely! I actually just realised I have no idea what you study? ~

Y/N ~ Ahh that’s because I’ve been avoiding the question ~

Sirius ~ It can’t be worse than creative writing – I won’t even get a job after uni ~

Y/N ~ Oh believe me, it is. I study communications ~

Sirius ~ Oh dear lord you are every white girl who ever existed ~

Y/N ~ I know, I’m perpetuating the stereotype its very disappointing tbh ~

Sirius ~ So is that where you work then? ~

Y/N ~ Wow you remember a lot haha yeah, I’m doing an internship in social media management, it’s surprisingly soul-sucking ~

Sirius ~ Is that surprising… 😉 ~

Y/N ~ I mean, that was thinly veiled sarcasm haha but it’s actually not all bad, the strategy behind content etc is actually pretty interesting, and I’m working for an eco-friendly company so at least I get to come up with cool environmental memes ~

Sirius ~ Ahh yes, hit the youth with the memes ~

Y/N ~ See, you’re learning the comms ways already ~

 Thurs 11:28pm

Y/N ~ Whats ya facebook? ~

Sirius ~ Uhhh… Sirius Black? It’s not wildly hard to find, why? ~

Y/N ~ I’m gonna be real, I would like to stalk you ~

Sirius ~ Is this Y/N? ~

Y/N ~ :O ok you’ve known Y/N like 2 days how did you guess that ~

Sirius ~ Cause this message felt like one of those old school msn ‘my friend hacked me !!!’ ~

Y/N ~ You’re a smart boi, Black ~

Sirius ~ thank you kindly stranger ~

 Fri 6:45 am

Y/N ~ I AM SO SORRY ~

~ MARLENE STOLE MY PHONE ~

~ I PROMISE I’M NOT A STALKER ~

Sirius ~ Why on earth are you awake right now ~

Y/N ~ Because my body never allows me to sleep in ~

Sirius ~ how rude, also don’t worry I accepted your Facebook request so you can stalk all you want 😉 ~

Y/N ~ Literally am going to stab Marlene ~

Sirius ~ At least she’s up front ~

Y/N ~ Wait why are you awake rn? ~

Sirius ~ James wants to make the firsts soccer team at uni and has decided I must train with him ~

Y/N ~ Well that’s gross ~

Sirius ~ Couldn’t have said that better myself ~

Y/N ~ so what does this training consist of ~

Sirius ~ Mainly James trying to shoot balls at my head as I attempt to goal keep ~

Y/N ~ Can’t see that ending well ~

Sirius ~ Excuse you, I happen to be VERY athletic. I am a multisided human being thanks ~

Y/N ~ I am so sorry to have placed my predisposed ideas on you ☹ pls forgive ~

Sirius ~ I will have to think about it – right now James wanted me to do suicides and I must go into hiding ~

Y/N ~ Godspeed ~

Sun 2:58pm

Y/N ~ Ok I know I promised not to stalk, but what the fuck is going on in this picture ~

~ file ~

Sirius ~ oh no no no no no no no no ~

Y/N ~ ehheheheheheheheh ~

Sirius ~ I really thought my privacy settings were better than this ~

Y/N ~ Yeah this was very easy to find ~

Sirius ~ I’m going to kill James ~

Y/N ~ You can’t blame james for this beauty ~

Sirius ~ Oh I really can, he decided it would be hilarious for us to have a photoshoot when I was completely trashed one night. And then proceeded to post everything and tag me ~

Y/N ~ James sounds like a fun night out ~

Sirius ~ I wouldn’t say that to lily ~

Y/N ~ What she doesn’t know won’t kill her 😉 ~

Sirius ~ You are slyer than I thought ~

Y/N ~ I think I’m going to frame this photo and place it all over your uni ~

Sirius ~ You wouldn’t ~

Y/N ~ You may need to convince me otherwise ~

Sirius ~ Anything to avoid that embarrassment in my life ~

Y/N ~ Perhaps you’ll just have to owe me for sparing you ~

Sirius ~ I think that’s a fair deal – what about a coffee? ~

Y/N ~ I think a coffee or two would be a fair trade off :P ~

Sirius ~ Well I have the most disgusting week of midterms but perhaps on the weekend? ~

Y/N ~ Sounds LIT ~

Sirius ~ You’ve just made me regret inviting you anywhere ~

Y/N ~ That’s what I’m here for 😉 ~

 Wed 3:07pm

Sirius ~ Bit of a creepy question, but did I see you at uni today? Navy Skirt, Black Jumper, & tights?

Y/N ~ Wow you really observe an outfit don’t you ~

Sirius ~ I mean I noticed the outfit cause I thought it looked good and then I realised it was you and so it stuck in my head ~

~ in a less creepy way ~

~ in fact let me just completely start over – were you at uni today? I think I saw you! ~

Y/N ~ Maybe, what was I wearing? ~

Sirius ~ I hate you ~

Y/N ~ 😉 Well to answer your question, yes I was at uni – it was Lily and I’s weekly cheap lunch date ~

Sirius ~ Classy ladies you two are ~

Y/N ~ Couldn’t describe us better myself ~

Sirius ~ Oh by the way, are you going to Remus’ party this Friday? ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm I was thinking about it, why? ~

Sirius ~ No reason, I just knew Lily was invited and he mentioned inviting some of her friends ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm, yeah he told Lily to bring Marlene and me along, unsure though as Lily is particularly annoyed at James this week and he will of course be there and be annoying ~

Sirius ~ What if I can promise he won’t annoy her? ~

Y/N ~ I really don’t think you should make a promise you can’t keep :P ~

Sirius ~ Ah, you underestimate me! James has to go home this weekend to see his parents so he won’t actually be there ~

Y/N ~ This is a very interesting development – we may reconsider ~

Sirius ~ Well Remus does throw a great party ~

Y/N ~ DO you actually know what James did anyway? She usually likes to rant about it but she’s been shut in her room the past 2 days ~

Sirius ~ Honestly I’m not sure, James has been unprecedently quiet as well ~

Y/N ~ Hmmm how odd ~

Sirius ~ Indeed it is ~

 Friday 4:42pm

Y/N ~ What are you guys wearing tonight? ~

Marlene ~ Not sure, I’m torn between a velour tracksuit or the classic Canadian tuxedo ~

Lily ~ Both very classy options ~

Marlene ~ You know me, go hard or go hard ~

Y/N ~ You’re both incredibly unhelpful ~

Marlene ~ Worried about meeting a certain dark haired texter? ~

Y/N ~ Am I not allowed to want my best friends’ help on my outfits?? ~

Marlene ~ I mean I can’t help you look hot if I don’t know who its for 😉 ~

Lily ~ God forbid she looks hot for herself ~

Marlene ~ Hey, you’ve gotta play to your audience ~

Y/N ~ How would you even know what he likes ~

Lily ~ She stalked him around campus yesterday ~

Y/N ~ um MARLENE ~

Marlene ~ I just wanted to know his style, habits, if he was a psycho killer ~

Lily ~ She has a point, if he’s as annoying as James we have to protect you at all costs ~

Marlene ~ We need to make sure she isn’t sucked in by his serial killer prowess ~

Y/N ~ You’re making me sound like prey ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Y/N ~ How did you even stalk him, Lily has no classes with him ~

Marlene ~ I have my ways ~

Lily ~ She flirted with the office assistant until she gave her Sirius’ schedule ~

Y/N ~ You minx ~

Marlene ~ No one can resist my charms ~

Lily ~ That is yet to be determined actually ~

Y/N ~ very true Lils, we’ve never met anyone you’ve dated yet ~

Marlene ~ Sooooo not the point, and we’ve gone off topic! How are you going to wow Mr Black ~

Y/N ~ That is 100% not what I asked ~

Lily ~ you may as well have ~

Y/N ~ You both suck ~

Lily ~ Wear that flowy black dress you refuse to ever wear!! ~

Marlene ~ YES YOU LOOK BANGING IN THAT ~

Y/N ~ ugh but it’s a casual party ~

Marlene ~ Who gives a shit, stand out ~

Lily ~ He’ll be drooling ~

Y/N ~ I don’t need him to drool I just want to make a good first impression ~

Marlene ~ Aha the truth finally comes out ~

Y/N ~ if you were actually in your dorm I’d be hitting the roof with a broomstick rn ~

Lily ~ Where are you?? ~

Marlene ~ Where do you think 😉 ~

Lily ~ Not the office assistant ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Lily ~ How!? I was with you the whole time, you never exchanged numbers ~

Marlene ~ Exchanging numbers doesn’t have to be an oral task… unlike other things 😉 ~

Y/N ~ We get it, your sexual prowess is above all of us ~

Lily ~ I’m honestly impressed, she was cute ~

Marlene ~ I’m offended you’d be impressed tbh ~

Y/N ~ Ok so you are both coming over to my house in an hour to dress and intoxicate me ~

Lily ~ Deal ~

Marlene ~ Maybe give me an extra 30 mins 😊 ~

Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze  @songforhema  @your-typical-giggle

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2015

This is the last list that was kind of difficult to do and where some cuts had to be made. The next four ones weren’t very good years music-wise and generally speaking.

Also there’s something that embarrasses me even more than Blue (Eiffel 65) somewhere on this top ten. Oops.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

2015 was a bit calmer, apart from the fact I moved out of the appartment and bought one instead of renting one. This is still where I’m living nowadays, it’s not big but having no landlord is a LOT less stressful even if it will take a long time to pay the loan (one time the lock broke and I couldn’t get out and the landlord refused to fix it OR pay for a new lock if I decided to call someone to fix it ; another time someone who had a spare key opened the door while I was wearing a bathrobe and was like “oh. You’re here” and I was like “...I mean..... yeah.... 'cause I live here”). I also made new friends online that year and felt less isolated.

Sidenote, my first “flat” mp3 player’s battery died today but after a quick emergency operation I was able to save the data on it. I used that mp3 player from roughly 2008 to 2013 so that’s a relief, it kinda has sentimental value and I was still using it to listen to DW audios nowadays from time to time.

As you can see in the first picture, my super old portable cd player, which still works fine, by the way, is judging this little amateur so hard right now.

So! This is the year Faithless dropped Faithless 2.0, 21 Pilots dropped Blurryface, Mylène Farmer dropped the surprisingly quite good (for this point in her career) Interstellaires, and Carly Rae Jepsen dropped E MO TION, which would have been my favorite album of the year... if Nightwish hadn’t made the absolutely jawdropping Endless Forms Most Beautiful. A symphonic metal concept album about Earth and evolution and the place of humanity in the universe?? Excuse me? Who’s read my christmas list? My favorite songs on it are Alpenglow, Shudder Before The Beautiful, the title track, Edema Ruh which has the best intro, and of course The Greatest Show On Earth, which is an incredibly ambitious, kinda bloated and quite pretentious (in a good way) song about the history of Earth, looking back from a future where mankind is extinct and concluding “we were here”, and holy shit I get emotional every time, and it’s 24 minutes long, and I still never get bored when I relisten to it. Just amazing.

As far as unelligible songs that piss me off go, it’s all Carly Rae Jepsen: I Really Like You, and especially Run Away With Me. If they had been elligible, that last one would be my #1, definitely.

Here’s some... uh, a lot of honorable mentions, actually.

Budapest (George Ezra) and Chandelier (Sia) - Still elligible, still not on the list.

Cheerleader (OMI) - I have no idea why people dislike this song.

Ex’s and Oh’s (Elle King) - This is one of these songs that would be higher on the list if I had better taste. I still like it a lot though.

FourFiveSeconds (Rihanna, Kanye West, Paul McCartney) - Ditto.

You Know You Like It (DJ Snake) - Great drop. The rest is meh.

Miracle (Julian Perretta) - The opposite of the previous one ; a fantastic song let down by its drop.

Uma Thurman (Fall Out Boy) - This song makes absolutely no sense but it’s a lot of fun nonetheless.

Lean On (Major Lazer) - Super overplayed but holy shit this is incredibly catchy. The bridge is especially great.

Want to want me (Jason Derulo) - If this guy had that kind of song in him why does he suck most of the time. What happened.

Hundred Miles (Yazz) - Nice earworm that never got annoying.

Are you with me (Lost frequencies) - Basically a less good version of Waves from the previous year. This is a compliment.

Ain’t Nobody (Felix Jaehn) - And this is the less good version of Rather Be from the previous year. This is also a compliment.

Laissez Passer (Maître Gims) - When I started to check French hit songs from years where I basically wasn’t listening to the general local radio anymore, some friends told me they were grabbing popcorn and waiting for me to start hating some specific acts. Maître Gims was one of them. To their disappointment, I love just about every non-love, non-breakup hit song he’s ever made. Oops.

Love Me Harder (Ariana Grande & The Weeknd) - It took me ages to like The Weeknd but this song helped a lot. This just sounds fantastic regardless of the content (just saying this because I have a tendency to dislike stuff like that). He isn’t even the best singer of the two on this track, wow.

Millionnaire (Soprano) - In a worse year, this would make the list without question. The lyrics aren’t that original but still very good (love the line “remplis-moi les poches d’espoir” (fill my pockets with hope)) and the melody is just beautiful.

On écrit sur les murs (Kids United) - If you recall I put the original version of this on my 1990 list because I liked the Kids United version a lot and also had nothing else to put at the 10th spot on the 1990 list. The fact that I don’t even have enough space for the better version on this list says a lot about how abysmal 1990 was, music-wise.

And now, the actual list!

10 - Centuries (Fall Out Boy)

US: #43 / FR: Not on the list

Why are these guys still on my lists.

No, seriously. Why. This is yet another song that would be better if it was faster. And the sample is badly used. So I have no idea why it works. One of these days I’ll have to reevaluate Fall Out Boy’s entire discography, take a good look at myself, and admit I possibly like this band and that I’ve been lying to myself for like 15 years... but today is not that day.

9 - Sapés Comme Jamais (Maître Gims)

US: Not on the list / FR: #10

Told you I liked Maître Gims!

Listen. It’s not my place to comment on the ethics of the whole La Sape movement (which can be summarised as “modern black dandies trying to get the most expensive & beautiful clothes possible”) but you have to admit it’s super cool to have a more energetic and fun version of Suit And Tie. God, that beat. And it’s a ton of fun to sing along with the chorus! And it’s such a convincing song when it’s combined with the music video, you kinda want to look as cool and confident as these guys.

Also quick shoutout to the Sapeuses. Absolute legends & queens, every last one of them.

8 - Style (Taylor Swift)

US: #29 / FR: Not on the list

That year my s.o went to a party I didn’t want to go to and came back home completely drunk & way too late, crashed on the couch and started to ramble about how “Style” by Taylor Swift had a better sound mixing than the entirety of Epica’s latest album at the time and how amazing it was. For like half an hour.

I completely agree, just to clarify.

7 - Cool For The Summer (Demi Lovato)

US: #53 / FR: Not on the list

In what is possibly the least controversial opinion on this entire list: I love Cool For The Summer, the melody is great, the lyrics are good, the singing is the best, and you all know that and you all love this song, so yeah. Moving on to-

Oh god here comes #6. Oh shit. Oh no.

Can’t we just skip it and pretend-

6 - Animals (Maroon 5)

US: #46 / FR: Not on the list

So. I.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh.

How can I justify this bullshit.

The truth is: I can’t. Not really. I’m not even entirely sure what happened here. I hate this band and have always hated them, from the start. The lyrics are painfully stupid. The singing is as atrocious as ever. The “AWOOOOO” bit on the bridge is absolutely ridiculous. None of Levine’s “oh look at me I’m so dangerous” act remotely works. There isn’t a single thing I find competent here apart from the melody. I mean it. I’m not saying any of this to look cool. If I wanted to look cool, this certainly wouldn’t be on the list.

But you know what, the sheer incompetence on display here may be exactly why I like it. If it was a credible serial killer song written like an upbeat pop song, it would be disturbing and unlistenable. But the way it’s made, it simply sounds stupid, so you keep imagining some sort of inoffensive nerd pretending he’s a horrible monster (and failing) whenever you hear it. And that, I think, is what pushes it squarely into the “so bad it’s f█cking fantastic” territory, where it joins Butterfly from my 2001 list.

That sounds about right.

5 - Adventure of a Lifetime (Coldplay)

US: Not on the list / FR: #29

I haven’t mentioned A Head Full of Dreams in that year’s albums, because it came out at the very end of 2015 so I mostly consider it to be a 2016 album. It’s not as good as Mylo Xyloto, and not as consistant as Ghost Stories, but it contains some real gems. Adventure of a Lifetime isn’t nearly my favorite song on it, and I still put it super high here. I love the lyrics in particular (”under this pressure, under this weight, we are diamonds taking shape” oh damn) but the song itself just makes you want to move. I literally can’t listen to it without at least moving my head in rhythm a little bit. It’s nearly as colorful as the album cover. And it’s a joy to sing along the “woooohooooo”s!

4 - Stolen Car (Mylène Farmer & Sting)

US: Not on the list / FR: #61

This is Stolen Car (Take Me Dancing), from Sting (2004), rewritten as a half English half French duet where it’s unclear if the female singer is the imaginary lover or the car in the story. You might want to re-read that sentence.

What did I say on a previous list? Ah yes, “I see a duet between two singers I like and I die instantly”. This is also the last time Mylène Farmer is going to appear on one of my lists. I could say “self care”, but I genuinely don’t like any of her more recent hits, at all. Whatever. She’s been on these lists since the very first one (1988) anyway.

It’s been a wild ride, to say the least.

3 - Shut Up And Dance (Walk the Moon)

US: #6 / FR: Not on the list

And for the second least controversial opinion on this list: despite the massive overplay, I never EVER got tired of this, it’s colorful, energetic, super fun, and it’s still on my mp3 player to this day. Just a fantastic song. And a great band! I wish One Foot had been elligible for a future list, it’s super good. Aw.

2 - Ego (Willy Williams)

US: Not on the list / FR: #69

This is a song about a guy who imagines himself as this super cool elegant dude, but when he looks at himself in the mirror he hates everything he’s seeing.

I know this isn’t supposed to be a song about gender dysphoria but my god is this shit relatable.

To make things even better, it’s served by creepy music box sounds ala The Birthday Massacre and by an untouchable, strange beat. It’s a dark, weird song, but it’s all kinds of wonderful and catchy as hell, and apparently I’m not the only one to think that considering the mindboggling number of views on the youtube music video. Watch it if you haven’t seen it, it’s hypnotic and makes the song even better.

I only discovered this song last year but I’ve listened to it so much since then I really debated if this should be at the #1 spot. It’s just... so horribly relatable.

But you know what’s even more relatable?

Being broke and sad and still trying to have the time of your life.

1 - Downtown (Macklemore & Ryan Lewis)

US: #84 / FR: Not on the list

Some people call this Thriftshop 2.0 but I think it’s even better than Thriftshop, which was, if you recall one of my previous lists, already pretty damn good in my opinion.

As you probably already know, it’s a song about a guy buying a moped and bragging about him and his friends, and their mopeds, and how cool they look when they ride downtown on their mopeds. I never owned a moped in my life. But I have a super small & shitty car which I love very much and so it’s very relatable. Also I’ve never written the word ‘moped’ so often in a single paragraph before in my life.

I love every single person who sings on this track. I love the music video. I’ve been trying to match the flow of the second verse ever since it came out and I still can’t do it with my shitty accent. It’s full of weird and corny lines, but that’s also why I love it so much. The dialogue at the beginning! “Dope, my crew is ill, and all we need is two good wheels”! “Head into the dealership and drop a stack and cop a Kawasaki, I'm stunting on everybody, hella raw, pass the wasabi”! “My seat is leather, alright, I'm lying, it's pleather / But girl, we could still ride together / You don't need an Uber, you don't need a cab / F█ck a bus pass, you got a moped man”!! “Cut the bullshit / Get off my mullet / Stone washed, so raw / Moped like a bullet - NYAOOOOOO”!! “Running around the whole town / Neighbors yelling at me like, "You need to slow down." / Going thirty-eight, Dan, chill the f█ck out / Mow your damn lawn and sit the hell down”!!! Oh shit, I basically quoted one third of the song. I just. Ugh. I love it so much, okay?

Cringe culture is dead and we peed on its grave. We spend enough time in our lives feeling miserable. Like what you like. Even if it’s super ridiculous. No: especially if it’s super ridiculous. Live a little, damn it.

Next up: The Year Everything Went Wrong Except Pop Music

[leoswritingcorner]

lucky’s yj-verse debut. ft the dream team (brennan, kendra, garth) coming to her rescue. this got long but!!

October 29th, 2013 9:30 AM Location Unknown

“Good morning, Ms. Day.”

Lucky looks at the speaker. Someone different from yesterday. It had been a middle aged white man then. He had been very stern, and kept his questions clipped. Today, it’s a younger woman, again white, but much more pleasant. The room is the same; small, off white and empty save for a mirror, the table and two chairs. Lucky doesn’t answer her right away and turns her eyes to the voice recorder on the table. Her throat is dry as she answers, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper. “Good mornin’.”

The woman smiles. “How are you feeling today?”

“Tired.” Lucky responds, making a show of rubbing a hand over her face. She rests her elbow on the chair, and looks to the woman through her fingers. “I’d like to go home.”

“I’d imagine you do. Your family does miss you.” The woman says feelingly, as she begins to write on a notepad. There’s a sympathetic tone in her voice, but it does not reach her eyes. It makes Lucky want to shudder. Was she even telling the truth? Were any of these people being honest? 

The scratches of the pen against the paper begins to irritate Lucky. “Do they?” She asks, sitting up straight. 

“Do they what?” The woman asks back, not bothering to look up from her work. That made a flash of anger heat up Lucky’s skin. A soft jolt sparks between her knuckles as she clenches her fists.

“Ya just said that my family misses me.” Lucky responds exasperated. “Do...do they even know that I’m here?” She gives the woman a steady look. 

The woman gives Lucky a smile that again does not reach her eyes. “Ms. Day, I assure you that-”

“Don’t lie!” Lucky cuts off, there’s a surge of energy that flies through her veins, and it almost feels unworldly. She doesn’t notice the woman’s eyes widening, or glancing at the mirror “Don’t…” She trails off, sighing shakily. The surge is gone. Lucky’s body tilts forward as she rests her elbows on the table, her hands coming to cover her face. “Please, can I just go home already?” 

“I’m sorry. That is just not possible.” The woman shakes her head and watches Lucky closely. “You need to tell us-”

“What happened that night.” Lucky finishes. She wipes her eyes clean of the forming tears. “I’ve told the same thing to the others before ya and I tell ya as well...I don’t know.”

The woman’s smile falters. “Ms. Day.” She says, taking a breath. “We are here to help you. If you’d like to leave here, we need answers.” The pleasantness in her voice began to chip away.

A chill comes over the room. Lucky swallows and slowly clears her throat “I was stargazin’” She starts.

“Why?”

“Cause I like to and I wanna be an astronomer.” Lucky shakes her head with a shrug. It was the same old back and forth bit she went through ever since she got here. She remembers being wheeled out, still in a haze from the newest medicine the doctor had given her. When she woke up, here she was….wherever this place was, and whatever it was.

The people had been nice enough, helping her to get back on her feet steadily. Lucky was surprised to not have any left over scarring or open wounds. They never did answer her about that. But it was day in a day out of tests, questions, the same thing over and over.

“Then what happened?” The woman’s voice cuts in through her thoughts. 

Lucky sits back. “A meteor hit. About,” she sways her hand side to side in thought “100 feet away. I was runnin’, from it and then I wasn’t. That’s all I know. That’s all I remember.”

“Did you see how big it was. What color was it?” The woman begins to inquire more urgently.

“I was runnin’ for my life.” Lucky shrugs. “I didn’t get too good of a look.”

The woman scoffs, writing more forcibly. “I see you’re just here to waste my time.” She says in a curt tone. Gone was all the friendly features to her. She even began to look like a stone. Lucky breathes out stunned.

“Your time?” Lucky says quietly. “Wastin’ your time?!” She stands, the chair falling over. “You’re the ones who brought me here. Where the hell am I anyway, and who are all of you?!” She demands.

“Until you accept our help, we will not allow you any information. Your family better get used to missing you.” The woman says lowly. This time, her cold smile reached her eyes.

Something snaps and Lucky feels the surge come over her once more. It crackles through her veins and a force pulses through her body. In a blinding hot light there’s a hole in the wall. Not too far from the woman’s head. 

The woman shakes as she stands and frantically bangs at the door.

Lucky barely has time to react before a swarm of men come in and surround her. The surge pulses again as she screams. The men fly back from her from the burst of light, their bodies crash against the walls. She whips around and freezes at the sight of herself in the mirror.

Her body was covered in a mixing light of blue and silver. Her eyes completely glossed over, she swears she sees a whole galaxy within them. It was then that she noticed how her body floated over the floor. “What...what did y’all do to me?” She asks her voice hitching. She touches her hair where her brown curls were now atomic blue. “What did ya do?!” She yells, veering on the woman. The surge begins to crackle again and Lucky lifts her hand.

The woman screams. A stinging pain comes against Lucky’s neck, and everything goes black.

*

October 29th, 2013 5:00 PM Location: Mount Justice

Kendra flips through the file again and studies the picture of the young woman. Lucky Siddalee Day. Missing. Poor thing. Being kidnapped was never fun. Especially being kidnapped by some super secret, super evil government agency.

“Most likely obsolete and banned.” Brennan says out loud as if reading her thoughts. He points to a part in the copy of his file. “Started up again without real government consent or knowledge.”

Kendra nods. “Nightwing says we just need to go in, grab her, get out. Why do I have the feeling that’s easier said than done?”

Garth is the next to speak up. “When has any of these missions been easy?” He counters with a small smile. “Especially if Nightwing says so.”

“Let’s just get this done. We’ll plan our strategy on the way there.” Brennan mumbles, tossing the file down. He stands up and heads towards the hanger, not bothering to wait for his teammates. Kendra sighs, pulling her hair forward then pushing it back over her shoulder.

Garth rolls his eyes. “Guess he’s in charge.” He mumbles sardonically. Kendra watches Brennan’s back before following along with Garth.

*

October 30th, 2013 12:30 AM Location Unknown

“We can’t keep this up.” “She’s dangerous.” “If we are going to use her, she needs to be on our side. Completely.” “You know what needs to be done. Make her a soldier. One that obeys.” 

Lucky hisses in pain as she opens her eyes. There’s a dull pain in her head that seems to throb with every breath she took. It’s dark. How long has she been out? What did they do to her? A gasp leaves her when she finds her hands strapped tightly to the arms of a metal chair.

“No. No! Hey!” Lucky rasps out, wincing at her sore throat. “Let me go!” 

No one answers.

A shutter of film startles her. The light of a projector fills the room. Lucky tries to steady her breathing as she hears an eerie sound play. Echoes of strings being pulled begins to vibrate around the room and in her ears. Lucky whimpers before crying out in pain. Her arms shake as she tries in vain to lift her hands to block away the noise.

The noise grows louder till it sounds like shrill ringing. She can vaguely hear the counting of numbers through it all. 

 ‘3 1 5 4 5 6 5 3 5 9’

“Stop…” Lucky pleads, tears coming to her eyes. Her mind slowly begins to fade. “Why are ya doin’ this?”

A static voice over the speakers speaks back finally. “Are you going to be a good little soldier?” 

“Wh-what?” Lucky looks around. “I’m not a soldier. I never-” She cringes as the numbers being called grows louder. 

‘8, 1, 5, 4, 5, 6, 5, 9’

“Are you going to be a good little soldier?” The voice demands. Lucky trembles, breathing deeply. Again she feels her anger build into a wave, pulsing through her body. That familiar crackle of energy begins to charge...

A loud crash rocks the building. 

*

“Comet!” Kendra whispers frantically over the comm. “Dude, what the hell?!”

Brennan doesn’t answer her, but she can hear grunts and punches being thrown. There’s a gunshot or two. Garth’s voice comes up instead. “Do you think they noticed us?” He asks dryly.

Kendra puts her hands on her hips. From the shadows of the forest, she looks at the giant hole in the building that Brennan made. “Nah, not at all.” She replies just as sarcastically. She rubs her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Do you need me to come in?”

Inside, Garth dodges another punch swung at him and knocks the guard out. “Only if you don’t want to miss all the fun.” He replies. “We should be close to finding her.” He adds, looking around. Before he could speak again, a winded grunt leaves him as Brennan’s body collides against him. The two heroes topple over, and instantly, are surrounded.

The sounds of guns clicking fill their ears and Brennan narrows his eyes. Garth sees the spark of energy growing in his arm and hand. It’s one of the unlucky guards who stood by too closely who gets the worst of it. His body goes sailing through the air like a ragdoll, slamming into the others. Brennan is on his feet again, back into the fight with full force. Garth takes the chance to slip away and search through the rooms. 

Another blast shakes the building. Harder this time. Through the wreckage Garth sees a glare of light coming down the hall. “Silhouette, be ready. I think this place is about to come down.” He warns over the comm. His steps are quick but careful. Guards and various workers scramble by him to evacuate. Finally, he reaches the room and pauses.

Lucky faces him and the light coming from her vanishes as her body falls to the floor. Garth hisses a few swears in Atlantean as he rushes over. He’s careful to lift her in his arms. Lucky’s head rolls against his chest. “Comet!” He calls out. “I’ve got her, we need to get out!”

Brennan is there within seconds, he moves forward and raises his fist. Another charge of energy comes through his arm as he slams his fist against the wall. A clear opening opening breaks through. “Right through here.” Brennan nods his head towards the hole. Garth doesn’t bother to give him an exasperated look. Without another moment to waste, they run through.

Kendra meets them halfway as they run back for their transport. “Is that her?” She asks, glancing at Lucky in Garth’s arm. “Why do you think they took her?”

“Let’s not stick around to find out.” Garth says as they reach the transport. 

Lucky remains out cold. The light from her skin is gone, her hair normal once again. But a few zaps of light jumps between her fingers. All she sees in her unconsciousness is stars, and eyes purple like the twilight sky.

[wannawritefast]

Iron Maiden

A/N: Hey, guys! This fic is my submission for @bionic-buckyb ‘s Birthday angst-writing challenge. I had an awesome time writing this and I hope y’all enjoy it! And a big early HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, Kait! Xoxo, Echo.

Prompt: 37. “You need to stop yelling at inanimate objects.” “And you need to stop telling me how to live my life but things never go as we want.”

Pairing: Tony x Daughter!Reader, Steve x Reader (if you squint)

“Y/n, watch your 6.” Steve warned. You spun around swiftly and fired your blasters at the oncoming HYDRA guard behind you. The man was knocked down immediately, right before he could tackle you to the ground.

“Thanks, Spangles,” you breathed. He hated that nickname. You jumped right back into action. Slamming another guard into the ground you felt a bullet hit your suit at the base of your neck. Your suit, a replica of your dad’s but fitted for you, hummed lowly before whirring in a concerning manner. That didn’t sound good… not one bit.

“Uh… FRIDAY, talk to me. What happened?” You asked. Your limbs moved slowly, hiccuping as you tried to turn to fight another guard running at you.

“It seems as if the bullet hit your suit at just the right angle to mess up your limb calibration…” You could fix this… This was totally fixable. All you needed to do was turn on the back-up calibrator manually and-

“Everything ok, kiddo?” Your dad’s voice chimed in on the comm line.

“I’m uh- I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Thanks for-”

“Not you, Peter. But I’m glad you’re fine. Y/n? You alright?”

“Just having some technical difficulties!” You called as, this time, a HYDRA agent was able to successfully knock you to the floor. Your limbs still sputtered. The man began punching your mask and your display screen sparked.

“FRIDAY, what happened?”

“No! I have this-”

“Limb calibration: impaired and inoperational.”

“Dad, don’t you dare do what I think-!” You warned. All of a sudden, Steve’s shield knocked the agent off of you.

“She’s clear, Stark.” He informed your father of your status before pushing back through the line of HYDRA agents. Did he just help your dad?

“Hey! I-!”

“FRIDAY, activate ‘Pick Me Up. I’m Scared’ Protocol on Iron Maiden.”

“DAD!” You screeched. All of a sudden, your display went red and FRIDAY took over. Your arms shot to your sides, involuntarily, and locked in place. Any resistance was no use; the suit was in control now. Your launch jets turned on and your autopilot overrode your manual flying.

Within seconds you were programmed on a route to the Avengers compound in New York while the rest of the team finished the mission. You were going to have some words with your father and Steve when they got back.

You were angrily repairing your suit when the whir-stomp pattern of your dad’s suit and the collective footsteps of the team entering the compound’s armory and suit repair center interrupted your music blaring through the speakers. You stood from your stool and moved your goggles to the top of your head. Crossing your arms and popping out your hip, you watched your dad stop while the rest of the group, Steve included, moved to the armory.

You stuck your gloved hand out to ruffle Peter’s hair and you did your handshake with him, not breaking eye contact with your father. He opened his face panel first and then the rest of his suit before stepping out of it. Right as Steve thought he could avoid your anger by blending with the group you turned your head swiftly at the blue-suit clad super soldier.

“You’re not off the hook, Spangles,” you chided humorlessly. The man paused in the doorway and you swore you heard Clint snicker. “Get your ass over here.” Steve dragged his feet and walked to the middle ground between you and your father.

“The ‘Pick Me Up. I’m Scared’ Protocol? Are fucking kidding me?! Last mission, I had a millisecond delay in my left gauntlet. The mission before, one bolt out of the 50 in my helmet didn’t latch. Dad, you use it every GODDAMN time! I am a grown-ass adult.” You growled at your father. He only blinked at you calmly. “And you!” You directed your rage-filled gaze back at Steve. “I was handling everything just fine-”

“You were not,” Steve corrected you. “You were getting pummeled by a HYDRA agent. Your suit malfunctioning was doing more harm than good and you weren’t safe.”

Your jaw dropped and you blinked, flabbergasted by his words.

“I can’t believe we’re agreeing on something, Rogers,” your dad spoke up.

Steve rolled his eyes as he pulled his helmet off of his head. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair and let out an exhausted sigh. If you weren’t so pissed off, you would have been concerned.

“I don’t even know why I bother going on missions if you guys are going to just send me home before it ends.” You muttered as you went back to fixing your suit. You grabbed your blowtorch and pulled your goggles back on as you reset a panel along your suit’s rib armor, effectively and nonverbally dismissing them.

Steve and Tony each silently unwound from the mission, letting you work on your suit repairs in solitude. They knew better than to try to egg you on when you were this upset.

For the next few hours, you troubleshot everything. The blasters. The armor. The joint mobility. The display screens. The wiring. The rockets. The microphone. The AI pairing and connection. All to make sure that when you went on a mission next, your dad would have no excuse to take you out of the fight for stupid reasons.

You looked over at your dad’s empty and unrepaired suit. Grudgingly. It had bullet marks and chips in the armor where various weapons had clanged against it.

Every ounce of anger in your body told you to stay away from that suit and spite your dad by not fixing it… But as much as you were angry at your dad, you couldn’t put him at risk during the next mission.

So, grudgingly, you grabbed your tools and moved to where his suit was. He’d thank you later.

Thirty minutes of repairing your dad’s suit drove you to start talking to it. You weren’t crazy. You were just using an outlet.

“You are being too. Damn. Stubborn.” You snarled at a panel on the back of your dad’s suit. You had been trying to replace it for the past five minutes and you had reattached it 5 times. “If you’d be cooperative this would be way easier…”

You screwed it in again, gritting your teeth when you felt it tighten. If it didn’t stay this time you didn’t know what you were going to do.

You leaned back slightly with your palm cupped underneath the small piece in his armor, to catch it if it should fall. You waited for a few more seconds. With a satisfied smirk you pulled your hand away and moved onto the helmet of the suit.

Right as you set the helmet down on the table next to you, you heard a pop and the sound of a small piece of metal ringing against the floor. You turned around and beheld the sight of that goddamn panel on the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you asked aloud. “All I’m trying to do is fix you and you are refusing to let me help…” You jammed it back in place, not your finest workmanship but sometimes brute force worked the best.

It remained in its spot for about five seconds before falling off again and hitting the floor with a small clang.

“I’m honestly so done with you…” you trailed off. “I’ll deal with you later.”

You proceeded to focus your attention on your dad’s helmet. “You know. I don’t understand how you manage to get so dirty every single mission.” You applied soap to a rag and wiped down the external lenses. “It’s like you want me to clean you every day.”

You put on your dad’s helmet to check the inside display. It whirred to life as soon as it was on your head. “Hello, Y/n Stark,” FRIDAY greeted.

“Hey, FRIDAY. Just doing some system’s checks on my dad’s helmet.” You waved your hand in front of the screen to test the lag and everything moved just as it should. “Check life remaining on the bulbs.”

“Life remaining on display bulbs: 12%.”

“Jeez…” It was enough to get through another mission but just barely. Leave it to your dad to wait to the last minute. You pulled off the helmet and lifted the front panel away from the piece of metal. “FRIDAY, eject projector bulbs.”

With a click, a small carton of bulbs was pushed out of the bottom of the facial panel. You grabbed it and tossed it between your hands before throwing it into your ‘recycle’ pile. You pulled a drawer out and replaced the bulb carton in the helmet, like clockwork. You worked on the rest of the suit, purposefully and purposely saving that goddamn spine panel for last.

The time came for you to replace the panel on your dad’s suit. It usually wouldn’t have made you as angry as fast as it did but today was just not your day… especially with your dad pulling you out of your mission early again.

The first few times it popped defiantly out of place, you were able to control your temper. But after the 22nd time of it jumping away from its delegated spot… well…

“I HAVE TRIED EVERYTHING AND YOU WON’T LISTEN!” You screeched at the piece of metal that was no bigger than 3 inches long and 1 inch wide. “I’M ONLY TRYING TO HELP!” You chucked it at the floor with unbridled force. You thought you saw a chip in the concrete from your outburst.

It was only a piece of metal but you felt tears forming in your eyes nonetheless. “I only want to help,” you cried quietly. Your voice breaking filled the empty room pitifully. “And you won’t let me!”

“You need to stop yelling at inanimate objects.” Your dad was leaning in the glass door frame of the lab repair center. You didn’t know how much of that he had seen but you, honestly, didn’t care. It’s not like he gave a damn about anyone’s emotions besides his own.  

“And you need to stop telling me how to live my life,” you sniffled before quipping, “but things never go as we want.” You turned back to stare at the glaringly shiny and undamaged piece of metal on the floor.

Your dad sighed. Oh boy, your waterworks were flowing… This was going to be harder than he thought. “There’s no sulking in this compound. If you want to be angsty, you have to check in with Barnes first.” He took a few strides into the lab.

“You should check in with me before you just decide to pull me out of missions but I can see tunnel vision runs in the Stark family and skipped a generation,” you gestured to yourself theatrically. You picked up a wrench and twisted it in your hand therapeutically. “I don’t get it… I just want to help.”

You looked at your dad with a puffy nose, red eyes, and tear-soaked lashes. Tony felt the pang in his heart at how similar you looked to your toddler self when you had watched your mother walk out the front door and never come back. That screaming match in particular between your parents had left your toddler psyche pretty emotionally raw and your mother leaving was the icing on the cake.

Tony gulped. He didn’t know what to say. He certainly had a reason for acting the way he did but he had know idea how to explain it to you. Or how to justify you never completing a mission. Because any sign of danger towards you, to him, was another way for one of the most important people in his life to be taken away from him.

“Well?” you snapped. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

“I think I was well justified in taking you out of the mission if you couldn’t even stand up, Tin Man!”

“I have the manual limb recalibration installed in my suit for this very reason, Dad! If you had just let me-!”

“‘Let you’ what? Manually recalibrate?” Your dad scoffed incredulously. “That takes 5 minutes to do! Do you think those HYDRA agents are going to wait 5 minutes for your suit to start up again and then fight you? Do you think they have an ounce of mercy or kindness for anyone?! For their enemies?!”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t turn this on them! I could have stayed in the mission!”

“No, you couldn’t have!” Tony was about this close to ripping his hair out.

“Yes, I could-”

“Not without getting killed, you couldn’t have!” He yelled. Tony threw his arms out, he had nothing else to give you besides that.

That got you silent. There were very few times in any given Stark’s life that rendered one speechless. This was one of those times for you. So this was what it was about?

His eyes watered. Tony hated it when you had to see him like this. You didn’t need to see him at his weak points. He had to be strong for you, as both a father and mother.

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because the suit that I built for you failed you.”

“Dad…” your tone was no longer like a whip. “My suit is safe. You designed and built it. I only repair it after missions. This is your handiwork and yours alone.”

“You can’t put that much faith in me. I don’t even put that much faith in me.”

You shook your head at his stubbornness. “Well, maybe it’s time you did. Listen, machines will fail from time to time and-”

Your dad cut you off. “But that’s just it.” You pretended not to see his lip tremble a little bit. “Machines fail from time to time but the time that it does could mean the end for me… if you died.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you took a deep breath as you stood across from him. “Machines fail from time to time and it sucks. But machinery failing is something that happens to the average engineer. And you’ve worked these systems personally. If there’s anything I know about your machinery, it’s that your work is high above average.” You grabbed one of his hands. “If you can make trillions of dollars on your successful inventions, then I trust a suit from the same successful designer. Especially my dad.”

Your dad pulled you into a hug. “Oh, kid…” he breathed. “You’re worth way more than trillions of dollars.”

“Believe me… I’m well aware.” You looked up at him.

He let out a deep breath, the top of your head crooked underneath his chin. “When you’re smarter than me, it makes me look bad.”

“Well, thank God it’s only you, me and FRIDAY here. You know,” you shrugged, “for your ego’s sake.”

The piece of metal glinted at you from the floor, reminding you of what you’d been working on before you and your dad had your heart-to-heart.

“So…” you prompted. “You’ll ease up a little on the missions… right?”

Your dad let out a reluctant groan. “Only if you can promise that you’ll leave a mission when it is no longer safe nor helpful for you to be there.”

You let out a sound similar to your dad’s. “Define ‘safe.’”

Your dad leaned back and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” You put your hands up in surrender and stepped out of the hug to pick up the piece of armor off the floor.

With a few quick taps of your hammer the piece was secured. You even waited a few seconds and, much to your surprise, it held strong. And in place.

[characterxreader]

Bucharest Chapter XI

Summary: After a run-in with the Romanian Mafia, a stranger provides you with protection.

Pairing: BuckyxReader

Word Count: 1,876

Warnings: Mentions of the nightmares, a little but of troubled past

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6| Part 7| Part 8| Part 9| Part 10

 You and Bucky continued playing card games for hours. Throughout the set time Bucky delved into his history--what he could remember, that is. He talked to you about the journals he wrote in whenever he remembered something.

  “So, what kind of stuff do you remember?”

  “It’s coming back every now and again, but it mostly has to do with, uh...”   “Captain America?”

  “Steve? Yeah. I went to a museum a while back for some answers. Apparently, we were close to each other.”

  “Seems like. It’s that one that’s in New York, right?”   “Yeah.” Bucky shuffled the cards, which you taught him to do not long before that.

  You glanced out the window, and light started to appear. “Well, it’s the morning.”   He smiled, staring at you as you gazed out the window. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

  You hummed, turning your sights to the Winter Soldier. “So, when do we begin training?”

  “Don’t you want to sleep?” he suggested, a grin spreading across his lips. “You literally stayed up the entire night with me.”   “Nah, I’m good for now.” You stood up, pain shooting up your legs. It was only then you realized you had not used your legs in about eight hours. “You want some coffee? I’m gonna make some coffee.”

  “Sure. I’ll clean up all of this.”

  You waddled to the kitchen, lifting one leg at a time and shaking it violently. The tingling worsened. You pulled the coffee maker away from the wall, pouring in the proper amount of scoops and the right amount of water. Your fingers tapped against the counter, and you stared at the coffee maker as the black magic poured into the pot.

  The super soldier’s arms slipped around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, and you wondered if he could feel yours pounding against his back. “The coffee smells really good,” you told him.

  “Your hair smells good,” he murmured in return. Your breath was caught in the back of your throat, and you grinned. An immense pool of warmth filled your stomach as you poured the coffee into two cups. “I’ll take mine black, doll.”

  “If you say so.” You poured cream and sugar into your mug, stirring it up with a spoon. You grabbed his cup and turned around carefully so not to spill the coffee. “Here you go.”

  You found yourself wedged between Bucky and the counter, and you did not mind it one bit. He smiled genuinely, taking the coffee cup into both of his grasps. Both of his hands grazed your hand as you let go of the mug. “Thanks, doll.”   “Don’t mention it.” You smiled into your mug before taking a sip of your coffee. Bucky took a step back, setting his coffee on the counter. He leaned to the right, the side which the counter rounded and stretched to, as he kept his sights on you. “What’s on your mind, Buck?”   The corner of his lips turned upward at the nickname. “Just thinking about how today’s gonna go. We need to get you new clothes and I need to get mine washed, then we got the training and stuff, right?”   “Right,” you agreed. “How about we head out after breakfast? I’ll slip on what I had yesterday.”    “I’ll lend you a hoodie so you can blend in better.”

  You disagreed with his reason for lending you his hoodie but kept it to yourself. “That works for me. I will go ahead and get changed, then.”

  “I’ll make some breakfast real quick.” You sipped your coffee, heading toward your bag before Bucky stopped you. “Oh, yeah, and you can shower if you want. Forgot to mention that earlier.”

  You rolled your eyes, grinning as you grabbed your clothes and walked to the bathroom. It was not going to take you long to be ready for the day, so you decided on the shower.

  In the kitchen, Bucky prepared some of the fruit the two of you bought at the vendor yesterday. Additionally, he prepped eggs and bacon. He turned to the bathroom door, smiling shyly to himself, and then returned to flipping the eggs. He didn’t even know how you liked them, but his goal was to learn about more than the way you liked eggs for future reference.

  Future was a funny word for him. To describe your relationship. For the first time in what seemed to be forever, life had the stability he needed. You were the stability. When talking about the “Winter Soldier” you were unfazed. In fact, you wanted to stick by his side and fight his ghosts with him.

  If only he could remember what those ghosts were.

  Bucky heard the shower shut off as he slid the eggs and bacon onto two plates. The cut fruit splayed across a third plate.

  He felt sympathy for your situation. You were forced into a world full of hurt, pain, and destruction. Until all matters concerning this situation with the mafia were over, you wouldn’t be able to rest. Yes, your new abilities may have caused you excitement enough to keep you up at night, but Bucky knew that what he told you about HYDRA and the mafia was at least in the back of your mind. Until they were out of the picture, you would not rest.

  The soldier thought long and hard about this information until he fell asleep last night. He swore to himself not to tell you, but the dream. The Nightmare. It wasn’t about his experiences in HYDRA.

  It was about you. He closed his eyes, the pictures of you calling him for help whilst HYDRA guards held him back vivid in his mind. Bucky shivered. He knew it wasn’t real, but something about it made it seem like foretaste for the future. What if it came to a point where Bucky couldn’t protect you?

  He promised himself that wouldn’t happen.

  As you left the bathroom, the smells of the kitchen hit you. Heaven is real, you thought, staring at the food Bucky set up for the two of you. He turned to look at you, then gestured for you to come to the table. “It’s ready.”

  “Thank goodness.” You held your stomach to emphasize your hunger. Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting on the couch with his food. You grabbed your breakfast, snatching several pieces of fruit in the process.

  Outside, the music of the festival began playing. On the streets were dancers and musicians for entertainment. Jugglers, clowns, and magicians walked around with balloons and bowling pins and handkerchiefs. From the window, you heard people shouting and children laughing and squealing with joy.

  “You know, Bucky,” you said, setting down your empty plate beside you on the couch, “I don’t really miss normal life like a thought it would.”   Bucky took your plate, standing and briskly walking to the sink. “Doll, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Give it time, and soon enough you’ll be wanting to see your family again.”

  You pursed your lips, then shrugged. “Didn’t really have one to start off with.”   Bucky’s muscles tensed as he set the plate into the sink. You never really talked about your family. At least, not in the little bit of time he got to know you. Maybe he should leave it for now.

  Nah. “Really? I took you as a family kind of gal.”

  “To be honest, I wish I was.” A lazy smile crossed your lips as your legs crossed on the couch. You took over the seating before Bucky could come back. “Or at least I used to want it.”

  “So,” Bucky said, walking to the couch, “what about your parents?” He moved your legs so he could sit, your calves landing on his lap instead.

  A frown settled on your face. You seemed focused, and Bucky inspected your facial features. “I never got to meet them. Apparently, they died when I was younger. Instead, I was adopted, but I think the family wanted nothing to do with me. The parents only wanted an adopted kid because it made them look good.”

  Bucky squeezed your leg gently. “I’m sorry.”

  You shook your head, smiling the sadness away. “It’s okay. As soon as I graduated high school I became my own person with goals and aspirations. Never had to talk to those people again, so good riddance.”

  The both of you chuckle quietly to yourselves. Bucky’s metal hand remained on your leg, and you didn’t mind one bit. He bit his lip, staring at the floor before meeting your eyes. “Hey, we should probably go and run the errands. I would rather do it before it gets overly crowded with Dalca’s men.”   “Sounds good to me, Buck.”

New clothes in your bag, you walked alongside Bucky through the flood of people. As you continued to bump into strangers and the sort, you slipped your hand into Bucky’s left. The metal cooled your hand, and he squeezed gently. You licked your lips, searching through the crowd.

  Your hood fell off not long beforehand, but Bucky also provided you with a hat. Both of his clothing items smelled like him. You could not place the smell, but you knew it smelled good. Like him.

  Someone rammed into your side, mumbling a quick apology. You turned your head in reaction, catching eye contact with the tall, strong-looking man. Eyes widening, you looked back at Bucky, who kept his eyes forward.

  The bruises on the man’s face correlated with Bucky’s metal fist. It was difficult to forget one of Dalca’s bodyguard’s faces. But the important thing was: did he recognize you.

  “Bucky, that was...”

  “I know,” he whispered loud enough for only you to hear. It was not difficult, seeing as everyone was talking with another person anyway. “We gotta go.”   You slipped through the crowd, disappearing from Dalca’s man instantaneously. You breathed heavy, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You weren’t even sure if he saw your face.

  Unfortunately, Bucky insisted on acting like he did. And he was right to do so.

  Men in well-tailored suits swarmed the streets, their fingers pressed into the ears as they both. Comms. They knew you were out here.

  “C’mon, let’s go through here.”   You followed Bucky down an empty alley. At the end of it, Bucky opened a door, pushing you inside once he was men walking down into the alley. He jumped inside with you, shutting the door and waiting for the men.

  You leaned against the wall of the small closet. Looking around with light coming through the door cracks you noticed brooms and buckets. Not that it would do much for an outdoor alley.

  Bucky remained silent, his body pressed against the door. Centimeters between the two of you were all that was left in space. Whenever you shifted, your body grazed his.

  “I think we’re going to have to wait a little while. Two men are at the end of the street.”

  You groaned inwardly, your head resting against the wall of the closet-like room. Bucky looked down at you, frowning and shrugging in response.

  It was not what you had in mind as personal time with Bucky, but for the meantime, you supposed it would do.

Tags: @disneychic8

[thisisathingthatiamdoingwithsome]

For Today

COTD: Earlier in the round, people were going short, and now people are going long, in terms of write-up. I am a little jealous of those that went short, but I’ll go long, because I very much enjoyed the process of getting to my favorite, so might as well share some thoughts.

I mentioned the other day that I was narrowed to 6, but it was missing the Hives, so it was actually 7. I’ll start with some honorable mention that were lost in the cuts to get it to 7. 

LCD -- as laid out when I did a bit, there wasn’t one album that was exceptional.  God, the highlights though.  I don’t know how it would be possible that a band with only five albums could put together a “two-disc” best of compilation that would be in the running for mankind’s greatest accomplishment and for which i would be absolutely livid about some of the stuff that had to be left off.    

Kanye - My Dark Twisted Fantasy is so incredibly good.  

Funeral, Apologies to the Queen Mary, Turn on the Bright Lights, White Blood Cells -- what a time to be alive, both the era that these came out and now.  Think of the joy that these albums and some others by those artists have brought us collectively.  

Teens of Denial by Car Seat Headrest -- so great.  No practical way that an album I found in my 40s could or should be my favorite.  

U2 generally -- for this COTD, I have listened to most of Joshua Tree to Pop.  Great stuff.  God, we watched some of those concerts and the concert footage from Rattle and Hum so much in Comms.  I don’t know how anyone could stand to be around me.  My one favorite is Achtung Baby

Pearl Jam generally -- again listened to a lot recently. With U2, this band was the co-best band of my life, during what was probably the best time of my life (last couple years of college).  I  honestly intend to listen to their newest at some point.  My one favorite is Vitalogy, I am pretty sure.  

Dandys are obviously a great band with an unreal falling of a cliff.  God Bless Zia for being hot.  Urban Bohemia would have to be my favorite one of theirs.  

Throwing Copper by Live -- I never gave it serious thought for this, but senior year of high school, i very earnestly thought that I would never own a better album.  

Uptown Sinclair -- a local Cleveland band.  Saw them open for the Strokes.  Great pop punk.  Never hit it big and almost were never really even a band, but they had one album out, and it is on Spotify and I genuinely enjoyed listening to it recently and I do it once every couple of years.  I have continued to follow lead man, who recently is a comedian and was in a band that wrote the theme song for the John Oliver show.  

Okay, it appears I am ready for the final 7.  I am relatively certain this is in order, but Arcade Fire would be in here somewhere.  

Rings Around the World -- Super Furries are great.  So, so great.  This album is my favorite of theirs.  It is so weird, but the melodies are genius.  The opening 30 seconds of albums was important to me as I worked towards my answer.  I love this opening 30 seconds.  Title track is great, Sidewalk Serfer Girl, A touch sensitive, a lot of highlights.  If this was my album, I’d go with Run Christian, Run.  That song is so good for me. 

 Silent Alarm by Bloc Party -- One of my two favorite anti-Bush records.  I think about it a lot in the glaring absence of anti-Trump records.  A ton of highlights.  Another great opening 30 seconds.  Great urgency.  I love Pioneers on this album, and it would have been my pick had this been my album.  For the two days when we had negative oil or whatever that was, I wanted my COTD to be the Price of Gasoline, but when it came back around to me, too much time had passed. Separately here, I have often thought about how no album in the future of rock and roll will ever be released before I turn 25.  It just felt different before then, and other people had earlier or later ages, but this album came out after I turned 25 and I couldn’t make it my pick.  Even as one of the heaviest new music boosters on this list, I didn’t want an to break that rule.  

The Bends -- Ketts recently called it, the flow of this album is superb.  The best songs are superb.  The B-Sides are awesome and Ketts, I really miss the mix you put together called Bastard Headmaster.  I spent a day or two toying with the idea of picking this album but making my cut a b-side such as Killer Cars or Maquiladora. (I think I am right about when those songs came out, but obviously I would have vetted that).   I have not listened to it as much the last several years, and that allowed me to eliminate from my list while going from 7 to 1.  

Veni Vidi Vicious -- Of the ones that I am not picking, I think I most wanted this to be my pick.  I couldn’t quite do it, and I hope that these wonderful bastards can be pleased with a place on my top 5 list.  In terms of an opening 30 seconds, you can’t do much better than a declaration of nuclear war, both in song title and guitar tone.  This album is less than 28 minutes and God Bless them for it.  

OK Computer -- Based on Lifetime Cumulative stats, I am fairly certain this band has meant more to me than any other.  at some point, I’ll jump in on rating my Radiohead favorite album, but my top 2 are here with OK Computer beating out the Bends.  I don’t really feel like I have more to say about this album at the moment.  

Stone Roses Stone Roses -- When I did album openers, I stated that this very well might be my favorite and that was true, but after spending a lot of time on this over the last week or so, it isn’t quite my favorite album.  I can remember in 2002/2003 Q Magazine asked people to vote for albums for a best album of all-time list that they were putting together.  I can remember taking my list really seriously while unemployed at Avalon at Mission Bay and then submitting the list on John’s computer.  At the time, I put this at number one, and I remember making a comment about how of all the albums that I have ever loved, it is the only one that i never got sick of.  And I still haven’t gotten sick of it, though it has wondered away from my consciousness from time to time.  It is so great throughout, and ‘ol Chief Mitchel was the one who kindly brought it into my life.  There is a part of I am the Resurrection where there is a bit of a breakdown towards the end, God, it just kills me.  I would have to rate it as my favorite that many seconds of music anywhere. (6:30ish to 7:00ish, but the rest of that song and the whole song, obviously are real nice for me) The first time I heard the first ten seconds of Fool’s Gold, I was completely in on that song.  If this had been my album pick, I think my track would have been She Bangs the Drum.  “Have you seen her?  Have you heard? The way she plays there are no words, to describe the way I feel.” (I hope that song isn’t about heroin, but sometimes I think it is) Guys, I am really, really happy that I like music as much as I do and that I have had the chance to have a lot of great moments with you boys listening to it.  

But when I did the list for Q, some part of the reason that I chose it was a fear of a recency bias.  

Apogus aplenty for McX, but Is this It? is just my favorite album.  It just is.  I thought about several different approaches to picking something different and obviously I could have advocated strenuously for several others, but I sort of always circled back to this being my favorite of all time.  I never envisioned this theme as not allowing repeats of albums, so apogu to anyone that is offended, but McX and me are favorite album buddies (hey favorite album buddy, McX).  To be clear, I am talking about the original track list of 11 songs including new york city cops.  One of the first things I did when I got on spotify was make a playlist of the real track list and I would never dream of listening to a different version.  Talk about an opening 30 seconds?  Picking one cut is really challenging.  I am picking Take it Or Leave It.  It is almost certainly not a Top 5 on the album.  I took a stab at ordering the 11 songs on this album from best to worst and this song landed in the bottom half of my list, but as I swirled around and around making this pick of my one favorite album, i was listening to this song when I realized what I had to do.  If a song that great could be in probably the bottom 5 of songs on the album, there is no way that I could pick any other album. Without digging too much into setlists saved on the internet, my recollection is that most or all of those 2001/2002 shows ended with this song.  The last 30 or so seconds are glorious and then the concert ends (or the album too) and you have to go back to your life.  Studio version from the album should be added to any lists, but here is a Live from Letterman version to enjoy  https://youtu.be/L3ZMabdnEwc  

I wrote more than I planned to.  Sorry about that.  Kernal, you are next.  

[vraiesmeufs]

Nawel

Belleville, 18h.

Je retrouve Nawel dans ce quartier cosmopolite de Paris. On se pose dans un bar pour boire un café. “J’ai toujours habité à Paris, on est parisiennes de génération en génération dans la famille. Tout le monde dira la même chose en parlant de son quartier mais le mien c’est le meilleur ! Belleville c’est vraiment l’exemple du Paris black blanc beur. Malgré l’invasion des bobos blancs provinciaux qui s’installent sur le boulevard à coup de pinte à 8€, gilet de grand père et de « nouveaux concepts super sympas », la mixité qu’on y trouve rend ce quartier populaire très charmant. Tu peux manger ton phô chez le Viet, acheter un maïs chaud au foyer de la rue Bisson et pour le dessert des petits gâteaux orientaux à Couronnes, (si tu te demandes, oui la bouffe c’est une de mes passions). N’étant pas très sédentaire et attachée à un lieu précis, je pourrais vivre ailleurs mais il me faut un endroit qui ait un esprit similaire à celui de Paris. Donc pourquoi pas Londres ou Brooklyn.”

Après un bac L, Nawel est aujourd’hui en première année de langues étrangères appliquées anglais/espagnol. “Au départ, je voulais travailler dans la mode, car c’est un domaine qui m’intéressait beaucoup. Je tiens mon intérêt pour la mode de ma mère et ma grand-mère. Je me suis tournée vers l’option « mode » pour pouvoir jouer la Anna Wintour, malheureusement ce n��est pas si facile et je n’ai pas assez de talent (et d’argent) pour pouvoir atteindre ce niveau (rires). En ce qui concerne mon avenir, je suis assez dans le flou, tout ce que je veux c’est voyager peut importe le métier qui va avec.”

En effet, le voyage est une partie importante de sa vie. Lorsque j’ai remonté son Instagram, la première chose qui m’a marqué était les nombreuses photos et vidéos de voyages qu’elle postait. Loin des hôtels cinq étoiles et voyages tout confort, ce qu’elle préfère c’est les rencontres avec les locaux. Elle voyage sac à dos sur le dos et dort parfois chez l’habitant. “J’ai commencé à voyager quelques temps après ma naissance, en commençant par la visite de la famille au bled évidemment. Mon grand père travaillait en Côte d’Ivoire, j’ai donc vécu quelques mois là-bas étant bébé. Le voyage me permet de m’évader, de relativiser, de me dépayser, de découvrir des nouvelles cultures, de m’enrichir intellectuellement et apporter aux gens que je rencontre ce que j’ai à offrir. Pour certaines personnes, c’est différent mais pour moi le voyage c’est avant tout les rencontres et les échanges que tu peux avoir avec ces personnes, et non pas la destination. J’ai eu la chance de visiter 24 pays pour l’instant, je ne vais pas te les lister mais la plupart étaient en Asie, les asiatiques étant les gens les plus accueillants que je n’ai jamais rencontrés. Mes prochains voyages se porteront donc sur le reste des pays d’Asie que je n’ai pas encore visités. Un sac à dos, deux billets d’avion et je suis partie !”

Au fil de la discussion, elle m’explique qu’elle s’est récemment fait tatouer et me montre le tatouage en question : un dessin qui rappelle les anciens tatouages faciaux berbères. “Ce tatouage est un peu le seul lien que j’ai avec ma grand mère mis à part le fait que mon deuxième prénom soit le sien. Ma grand mère paternelle, que je n’ai pas connu malheureusement, était tatouée sur le front et sur les joues : à cette époque les femmes non tatouées étaient considérées comme des hommes. Un soir en zappant les chaînes avec mon père, on est tombés sur un reportage d’Arte, d’une jeune tatoueuse tunisienne qui avait décidé de parcourir la Tunisie pour répertorier le plus de tatouages berbères possible en sachant pertinemment que cette tradition avait cessée et que les dernières femmes tatouées allaient bientôt disparaître. En regardant ce reportage je suis tombée amoureuse de mon pays et j’ai trouvé les femmes magnifiques. J’ai donc entamé des recherches sur les tatouages tunisiens et j’ai décidé de me construire un tatouage en partant de celui de ma grand mère. Je dis construire parce que c’est comme une sorte de code, chaque motif a une signification : le premier est celui de ma grand mère, il représente la déesse mère, ce qui lui est très représentatif, mon père l’a toujours décrite comme un ange tombé du ciel, une femme remplie d’amour et qui malgré la pauvreté à laissé un souvenir magnifique à ces enfants. Le second est le symbole de la femme pour représenter le féminisme. Le troisième est la force, je ne pourrais pas te dire pourquoi mais j’avais besoin de ça pour me remonter le moral et passer à autre chose. Le quatrième est une figue de barbarie, le fruit préféré de mon père, celui de son enfance.”

“Avoir une double culture peut être enrichissant mais aussi compliqué. Je ne me sens ni entièrement liée à la France ni à la Tunisie. Ce mélange fait partie de mon identité et sans l’une de ces des deux cultures je ne serai pas celle que je suis aujourd’hui. Ayant habité à Paris, je ne me suis jamais reconnue dans la mentalité tunisienne du « tout se passe par derrière » cette façon de tout cacher pour bien paraître, à cause des traditions strictes. D’un autre côté, je ne me suis jamais reconnue dans la mentalité française du « chacun pour sa gueule » :  certains diront que j’ai le cul entre deux chaises mais je ne trouve pas que s’accrocher à un drapeau soit si important. On est tous citoyens du monde après tout.”

Enfin, quand je lui demande qui est une vraie meuf, elle me répond : “Pour moi la vraie meuf n’existe pas. Chacun devrait avoir sa version et être libre d’être la meuf qu’il veut être. La vraie meuf c’est pas celle avec les cheveux longs et soyeux, celle qui fait tout Paname avec ses talons aiguilles de 12cm, celle qui est toujours pomponnée et qui n’a jamais un cheveux qui dépasse. Tout le monde peut devenir une vraie meuf, à condition d’y croire.”

Instagram

ENGLISH VERSION (translated by Mathis)

Belleville, 6 pm.

I meet with Nawel in this Parisian cosmopolitan neighborhood. We sit down on a bar to drink a coffee. "I always lived in Paris, we're Parisians from generation to generation in our family. Everybody will say the same thing speaking about their neighborhood, but mine is the best! Belleville is truly the example of "black blanc beur". Despite the invasion of boho provincial people who install on the boulevard with an 8 euros pint, a grandfather cardigan and some "new super cool concepts", the diversity we can find makes this popular neighborhood very charming. You can eat your phô at the Vietnam restaurant, buy a hot corn at the household on the Bisson street, and for dessert you can get some oriental cakes at Couronnes (if you ask, yes, food is one of my passions). Not being that much settled, I could live somewhere else, but I need a place which has a similar spirit from the Paris' one. So why not London or Brooklyn."

After a baccalauréat L, Nawel is today doing her first year of applicable foreign languages in English and Spanish. "At first, I wanted to work in fashion as it is a field that interested me a lot. I got this interest for fashion thanks to my mom and my grandma. I chose the "fashion" option so I could be Anna Wintour, unfortunately this isn't as easy as that, and I don't have enough talent (and money) to reach that level (laughs). About my future, I am a bit confused, all I want is travel, no matter the job that gets along with it."

Indeed, traveling is an important part of her life. When I scrolled down her Instagram, first thing that marked me was all the pictures and videos of trips she posted. Far from the huge hotels and the high-quality journeys, what she prefers is to meet local people. She travels with a backpack and sometimes sleep at the inhabitant's house. "I started traveling some times after I was born, starting by visiting family in our village obviously. My grandfather worked in Côte d'Ivoire, I then lived there a few months while I was a baby. Traveling makes me escape, put things into perspective, break my habits, discover new cultures, broaden my knowledge and bring the people I meet what I have to offer. For some people, it's different but to me traveling is about meeting new people and sharing with them, and not about the destination. I was lucky to visit 24 countries as of now. I won't list them all to you, but most of them were in Asia, Asiatic people being the most welcoming people that I ever met. My next trips will be about the rest of the Asiatic countries that I didn't visit yet. A backpack, two plane tickets and I'm ready to leave!"

Over time we're talking, she explains to me that she recently got tattooed and shows it to me: a drawing that reminds old facial Berber tattoos. "This tattoo is kinda the only link I have with my grandmother, except the fact that my second name is her first name. My paternal grandmother, who I unfortunately didn't know, was tattooed on the forehead and cheeks : at this time, non-tattooed women were considered as men. One night, we were watching TV with my father and we found an Arte report of a young Tunisian tattooer who decided to go through Tunisia to list every Berber tattoos possible, pertinently knowing that this tradition wasn't one no more, and that the last tattooed women were about to disappear. While watching this report, I fell in love with my country and I found that women were beautiful. I then started researching about Tunisian tattoos and I decided to create a tattoo using my grandmother's one. I use the word "create" because it's like a code, each pattern has a signification : first one is my grandmother's one, it represents the goddess mother, which is very representative of my grandma, my father always described her as a heaven-sent angel, a woman full of love and who, despite poverty, left a wonderful souvenir to her children. The second one is the woman symbol to represent feminism. The third one is strength, I couldn't tell you why but I needed this to cheer myself up and move on to something else. The fourth one is a prickly pear, my father's favorite fruit, the one from his childhood."

"Having a double culture can be enriching but complicated as well. I do not feel entirely linked to France, neither to Tunisia. That mixing is part of my identity and without one of these both cultures, I wouldn't be who I am today. Living in Paris, I never recognized myself in the Tunisian mentality of "everything happens from behind", that way of hiding everything to appear good, because of strict traditions. On another side, I never recognized myself in the French mentality of "every man for himself": some will say that I fall between two stools but I don't think that clinging to a flag is that much important. We're all citizen of the world after all."

Finally, when I ask her who is a "vraie meuf" (Editor's note: a "true girl"), she replies: "to me the vraie meuf doesn't exist. Each one of us should have her version and be free to be the girl she wants to be. The vraie meuf isn't the one with long and silky hair, the one who go through Paris with her 12 centimeters spike heels, the one who is always dolled up with no hair that stick out. Everybody can become a vraie meuf, on condition of believing in it."

[5moremins]

Comms Course

Thu 2/6/2020 at 7:44pm... feeling still kinda sick, eyes closing on me. 

so i just took an $800 communication course on ‘how to communicate with slides’ by Own The Room led by instructor named Stewart (and oh many did he look like a Stewart!) ... yeah my job paid for it. 

in the beginning they asked me, why are you here? why do i want to improve my communication? is it really because you want to communicate better at your next presentation at work? what’s that why behind the why? i said something around not wanting to let my comm weakness come back to prime my own self-worth and capability, which it started doing, at work. (finding myself potentially getting myself in a rut) and wanted to be validated.. on my areas of both strengths and weaknesses. but maybe it’s more about me wanting to be taken more seriously (also a lot more to unpack there but lets not get there rn)...? but really simply bc i want to be more badass... and i know i can. (damn wouldnt it be cool if i had the eloquence and swagger of BO?) lol kinda funny bc back in 2011 at the bcg interview, they asked me what my strength was, i said ‘communication’ and ended up rambling away...

it was interesting. i’m glad i did it. it’s so hard to stop myself go into the defense mode of judging them (the class, the instructor) so that i can protect myself from their ‘judgment’ (in quotes because it’s not really the judgment that i think it is). i size them up and determine that i’m better than them so that i can tell myself later that what they are saying isn’t so material. WHAT KINDA COWARD AM I?!?! but it’s good, it’s good to recognize these instances (which have been happening alot). these are all the places i can grow more in. channel this negative energy into something positive... i.e. instead of spending energy on judging them, spend it on nurturing myself. self love. wowww i’m so... self-helping these days lol. u know what, it’s good for me.

another interesting thing was that i found myself comparing myself these other people and being relieved that these people are also human, some better and some worse than how i was.. realizing that these “other people” are just human, not so super-human and not so super-better than I ever will be... ok lets unpack this. this is stemming from the immigrant days of always feeling like i’m 2 steps behind, will always be, no matter how hard i try. looking at every average joe american kid as someone who’s just more gifted, better, than i am, because i had this “gap” of 10 years (# of years spent outside of US before coming here).. it’s true, in the beginning, when i first moved here, every kid in class seemed so much more capable than me because i couldn’t speak the language... but it’s been 20 years, and sure, i didn’t spend first 10 years of my life abroad, but that’s not a gap that sets me back... it was a privilege that i got to experience that not many could. that fact that i ramble isn’t really due to me being an immigrant, but prolly because that’s how i innately am inclined to be. c’mon! stop putting these other people on unjustifiably high pedestals. 

kinda related to another realization.. most of the lesson today was about being ‘different’, being ‘exceptional’. but this is so contrary to how i’ve grown up! in the last 20 years! because i thought all these american kids/people were so much better than me, they became the ‘goal’ ie the state that i’m striving to reach... so by definition, i’ve put in a lot of effort to fit in, to be in that box these americans drew for me. success also was defined by these people. yes, be excellent, but only in a way that’s been done before. being actually exceptional (i.e. be an exception to the usual) is not what i ever trained myself to be. so being told, hey, now you gotta be different, i kept on seeing myself ask ‘can i do this?’ ‘how much of my personality should/can i show?’ ‘what’s acceptable?’ ‘is this okay?’ because if you stay within the box, you don’t really have to ask these questions. but once i get out, there’s a whole lot more i’m unsure about. someone draw me a new box! 

but i don’t need a box. that box represents comfort and a weird mental limitation i’m only applying to myself. BE FREE. BE FREE AMY. be me. embrace what makes me, me. stop putting a box on myself when i want to actually be free. stop muting my authentic self to stay within the box. (...which i do do this alot at this job. feeling the need to be more corporate-y, mute my energy (it’s unprofessional!) and personality...) i don’t want to end up as a muted gray at the end of my life, when my core is a vibrant orange. (or green? yellow?)

u know what tho, i didn’t cringe as much watching myself in the video. progress in self love! good job. also i made a pitch of my empire (”AEMP”) and people liked the idea, asked me after if it’s an existing startup... so thats good i guess.

key takeaways from the session: 

strength: i’m magnetic. people like me. i engage people. i bring good energy that is contagious. charisma. good to confirm.

weakness: weak language (uh, uhms, you know, etc) reduces my executive presence... ‘aw amy is cute’, but that’s not where i want to be (or do i?)... also good to confirm. also, posture. also, stop bobbing my head so much.

tactical todos!:

drinking penalty starting tomorrow

“think, edit, speak” every time

pilates? for core and posture.

write out the narrative for every presentation (who what when/where why how)

“get over yourself”... presentation is about the audience, not me

after coming home i watched a lot of example videos of good orators.. obama, ronald reagan, margaret thatcher, MLK jr, JFK. also watched elon musk (lol if he can i can), steve jobs, bill gates, jeff bezos, indra nooyi, michelle obama, elizabeth holmes, jack ma, etc... none of these are perfect human beings or perfect communicators. i don’t really care to talk like a politician, but i do want to be able to influence and inspire with my words with my own personality. 

unfortunately people judge you based on your looks, but u can build your charisma: frame, substance, and delivery.

my unfounded confidence tells me that if any of these people can do it, i can. just gotta be humble enough to acknowledge that shit i should work on this and actually put in the effort.

starting with... drinking salt water(? or diluted coke?) every time i say uhs or uhms or youknows or let me start by sayings or any other filler words.

[meitanreax]

day 6

hey bebs!!! we’re almost at the halfway mark!!! we can do it!!!!! keep on going and stay strong!! thanks for calling me so much this afternoon/the previous night too!!! and our upcoming call in the morning too ^.^ OUR COMM IS STILL SO CUTE I CANT GET OVER IT!!!! im a big fan <3 it blew up on twitter too surprisingly, it has like 25 rt’s and like 200 likes LOL our comm is one of the artist’s more liked posts!!!

i really appreciate and love how well this is going!! we’ve grown a lot since the last time and we keep on growing everytime we’re apart!! im rlly glad!! we learn a lot from our mistakes & the past and im glad looking forward :D thanks for making this work baby!! i know 16-17 hours is tough but we’re literally almost at halfway point!!!!!!! we got this hehe i love and miss you so much! sorry i dont think ive been saying it that much or been making it super clear but i rlly do!!

hehe

today was a relatively chill day!! just woke up around 8 cuz of the KARAOKE THOTS...theyre literally still going rn and it’s 9 pm LFMLDKJFLDKJF please help me TT_TT

AND THEN i just stayed in bed til like 12 on my phone/laptop n shtuff! :3 i was only able to sleep for 5 hours cuz of the dumb karaoke stupid thots...sigh i am so LOL

but yeah!! i just chilled and then i ate breakfast/brunch downstairs and then napped for like 1.5 hours before i called u! o: 

i literally just was watching videos, catching up on subscriptions, playing mobile legends, etc!!! i just wanna have a day where i stay in and dont do anything fully LOL and i dont need to leave or dress up or anything!!! here are some photos from downstairs/the christmas tree!!

i called u O: and then afterwards when u left to sleep, my dad wanted to buy some halo-halo and ez had errands to run so we went to the mall..dude it was so CROWDED UGH LOL dummy!! i get so tired when i go out in public sometimes and i just want 2 sleep fml

at the mall, i got halo-halo!! and appetizers at this restaurant idk, i had eggrolls and these really good like fried clam scallops?? idk how to describe it but it was fucking GOOD im O_O but yah!! the halo-halo was ok LOL i thot there was too much ube ice cream but i liked the consistency of it cuz it was like bingsoo iced ube instead of just like........ice cream ice cream LOL

dude it was fucking FAT so i shared it with my cousin LOL

afterwards we walked around and went to a book store!!! cuz my cousin wanted to get acrylic paint stuff cuz her artist stuff LOL i was looking around and saw this book and i thot it was SOOO FUNNY LOL

imagine having a FLUFFY BOOK OMG the left one is cute, but the right one is lowkey scary ASKSDKFJSLDFKJ there was a gray version of it too!!!

we just walked around tbh and we got a screen protector for ez’s new phone and then we went to a store to get a shirt for some secret santa thing and dude like some random filipino girl started singing silent night fucking LOUD and i was liek wtf is going on LOL this botch is singing like throughout the entire store it was so loud i was legitimately like PLEASE. STOP LFSJLDFKJSLDFKJSLDKFJ it was soo try hard too cuz she was obviously trying to fake an american accent LMAO

T.T then my aunt picked us up from the mall and we went to the hospital to wait for her to drive us back home cuz she had another patient LOL 

the hospital was lowkey kinda rundown and jank and very like...yah obviously built a long time ago/had kinda bad resources but they extended it and she showed us to like the “off-limits, in construction” portion of the other hospital wing kinda like stranger things HAHAHA but it was completely different and modern!! it was lowkey scary tho like bRO LIKE THE LIGHTS WERE OFF AND THE HALLS WERE LONG AND EMPTY...BUT THE INFRASTRUCTURE WAS NICE

but yah that’s p much it!! i went home and ate dinner and now im chillen again :3 gonna shower soon, wait for ur call, and ktfo!! apparently we have a fuckin family reunion thing/party tomorrow e_e im not looking forward to it im so tired dude i do not like LOL i hate these family functions theres too much energy to talk to people and i hate dressing up for it. dude wearing makeup here is so annoying cuz u just feel disgusting at the end of the day by how humid it is LOL

but anyways!!!

here’s my response to ur challenge <3 

LOL i tried my best but they look more chibi if u make their eyes bigger :D

for your challenge for the next day:

make a photo collage of ur favorite moments of us together this year :3 like any photos, or any dumb selfies, screenshots etc!! like make it cute and stuff HAHA cuz i may want to or u may want to post it :3 just a cute recap hehe

thanks so much for everything bebz! have fun at the spa and let me know how it is ^__^ ill try to hold out a lil bit more for you LOOOL i literally just need to get through up to new years and i can fucking. live. and SEE YOU SOON HEHE

have a good rest of the day baby!! i love you so so so much, ill talk to you real soon! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, FOREVER, MORE THAN ANYTHING WITH ALL MY HEART :DDD

[jadorelesradis]

I’m bored

I figured I’d do the thing I’m best at, i.e. talking about ME. I found this tag on the lovely @captainclint‘s blog.

Your last 1. drink: drinking water right now 2. phone call: tried to call me dad this morning but he was asleep, but the last actual phone call was with my best friend, telling me she was coming over, but needed advice on how to get there. I love her and her non existent sense of direction so much. 3. text message: my best friend again, to complain about train times. 4. song you listened to: Restavec, by Milk Coffee and Sugar. Excellent French rappers, one of which is now a quite well known author, Gael Faye. I highly recommend. 5. time you cried: I’m not sure, there have been a few times in the last weeks, due to a former friend harassing me, which aggravated my ongoing existential crisis quite a bit. Such fun!

Have you ever 6. dated someone twice: my motto is: dating, not even once! 7. kissed someone and regretted it: nah, I don’t really care enough for regret to be an issue. 8. been cheated on: see point 6. 9. lost someone special: a few too many times, in more ways than one. That’s life, I suppose. 10. been depressed: I’m being depressed right now ahah 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: enough times that I’ve stopped drinking altogether.

3 favourite colours: purple, orange, red, yellow. In no particular order.

In the last year have you 15. made new friends: I guess so. 16. fallen out of love: love is not quite my thing. Romantically, at least. 17. laughed until you cried: yes, thank god for that. 18. found out someone was talking about you: big time. My colleagues are dicks, but now they like me, so I got over it. 19. met someone who changed you: not on a deep level, but I suppose the people around me do have some influence on me.  20. found out who your friends are: I’m learning that everyday. Thankfully, that list has been stable for a while now <3 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: No thanks. Unless we’re talking about la bise, in which case, many people on my facebook list!

General 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all of them, I run a tight ship. Although, some I haven’t seen in ages. 23. do you have any pets: a cat, but I moved out and had to leave him behind. Which is why I’m at my parents’ so much these days. 24. do you want to change your name: I’m thinking of dropping the E at the end of Morgane. I used to be very attached to it, but Morgan is gender neutral, so I’d like it better now. Plus, many people already spell it this way. I’ll probably do it when I move to Scotland. 25. what did you do for your last birthday: I was at work, but afterwards there was some Harry Potter themed event at WHSmith (there’s only one in Paris), so I went there with my best friends, lots of us were dressed up, it was great. Also, I went to England to visit my nephews right after, which was perfect. 26. what time did you wake up: a few times this morning, like every morning, but I actually got up at 8h45. And I was not even working today. 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping, as per usual. 28. name something you can’t wait for: my London trip in September. I’m seeing the Pink Floyd exhibit, visiting the Harry Potter studios, and going to see my nephews on the weekend. Basically, all of my favourite things. 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: Wednesday night. 31. what are you listening to right now: the sound of traffic in my street, which I’ve weirdly come to enjoy. 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yep. There used to be one in my class. Stoner Tom. Once he brought a kitten to school in the pocket of his jacket. I also know a few Thomases, if that counts. 33. something that is getting on your nerves: Seeing as I’m quite relaxed now, I’m not gonna look too deep for this one, so the wifi in my flat, when it stops working for no reason, several times a day. 34. most visited website: probably facebook. 35. hair colour: it depends who you ask these days, but I’d say auburn. 36. long or short hair: long, for now. I’m still thinking of cutting really really short, but first, I want it ridiculously long. When it comes to hairstyles, I have a thing for extremes. 37. do you have a crush on someone: I haven’t had one in over two years. But I still appreciate running into beautiful people. 38. what do you like about yourself: atm, my hair is being gorgeous. Also my boobs, cause it’s like those stress relief toys, except attached to me. 39. piercings: my ears are pierced, the left one twice. 40. blood type: A+ I think? I regularly ask my mum, and forget all the time. 41. nickname: none, if you wish to live. 42. relationship status: I’ll let you take a wild guess. Although I doubt anyone is reading this. 43. zodiac: aquarius. 44. pronouns: she/her to most people, they/them if I lived in an English-speaking country and had the strength to come out. 45. favourite tv show: atm, Brooklyn Nine Nine. Top of the Lake is another fave, but it’s hard to watch when not in a good place mentally. 47. right- or left-handed: right handed. 48. surgery: appendicitis, when I was 6. 49. sport: as little as possible. Comme dirait Gringe, ‘comment on utilise nos jambes, c’est une insulte à la paraplégie’. Awful but true. 50. vacation: I don’t get the question, where do I wanna go? Honestly, New Zealand, again and again.  51. pair of trainers: at least three that I wear regularly, but a buttload of converse trainers left at my parent’s.

More General 53. eating: again, what’s the question? What do I like to eat? Cheese. Damn good and stinky French cheese. Je vous conseille le brillat aux truffes, mon obsession de l’été. 54. drinking: water, these days, everything else disappoints. 55. i’m about to: go make myself some dinner! 56. waiting for: my bedtime. 57. want: to sleep. But I really need to eat first. 58. get married: in keeping with points 6 and 16, naaaah. 59. career: hopefully, I won’t stick with the company I’m with right now, but I’d still like to work in translation.

Which is Better 60. hugs or kisses: if we really have to, hugs. But how about, no touching at all? 61. lips or eyes: eyes. 62. shorter or taller: shorter, to finally assert my dominance over someone. 63. older or younger: older, cause young people are noisy. 64. nice arms or nice stomach: what kind of creature are we building here? Arms, I suppose. 65. hook up or relationship: Friendship. Ah! 66. troublemaker or hesitant: independent and confident. I really don’t get half of these tbh.

Have You Ever 67. kissed a stranger:  yes, see point 11. 68. drank hard liquor: yes, see point 11. 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: I lose my glasses a lot, but always find them after about five minutes of Velma-ing around the place. I did break my glasses a couple of times. 70. turned someone down: a few times, yes. 71. sex on the first date: still no dating for me. 72. broken someone’s heart: I hope not, but I can’t be sure. 73. had your heart broken: not in the way this question is asking about. 74. been arrested: not yet. 75. cried when someone died: yes. 76. fallen for a friend: nope. I would take the fall for a friend though.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 77. yourself: not most days. 78. miracles: I try not to. I fail a lot. 79. love at first sight: probably not. I can’t see a healthy relationship getting started on that basis alone. 80. santa claus: not anymore. 81. kiss on the first date: how is that a belief? Some people do it, some people don’t. I just don’t date overall. 82. angels: and demons, and heaven and hell? No. But there’s still a part of my brain that likes to say what if? I blame my Christian upbringing for that one, cause it’s fucking annoying.

OTHER: 83. current best friend’s name: Laura. It couldn’t be anyone else. But I guess they could change their name? 84. eye colour: blue with a tinge of yellow. 85. favourite movie: Control by Anton Corbijn and La Haine (Hate) by Matthieu Kassovitz. I can’t choose between them. Heads up, they are both super depressing and in black and white (even though they are recent movies).