#in plane civilization nobody jumps for the be-

[87dvhnk]

Look how this whore leaves out the worse accusation, jumping around like a child on a chalk outline of little squares!

"-google it.

I’ve made several posts about this as well. Literally made one yesterday about this week’s casualties."

"Oh, no, I've been found out!"

"- * I * didn’t kill anyone . I do not represent my government. I am a human being."

You, being a citizen of Israel and presumably an adult, are requisitely conscripted into the Israeli army. Israelis, more than Palestinians, can more rationally be claimed to be all combatants, considering their military training. You also support and vote for the parties in charge. You are, in fact, personally responsible.

"-Most of the Palestinian casualties are literal terrorists and their enablers/ close environment. Obviously I don’t support the death of civilians."

Pure psychosis. The overwhelming majority of casualties have been women and children. By "literal terrorists and their enablers/ close environment," you mean random men and their families as well as most of their apartment complex when they are targeted by your AI software which your army refers to as "Where's Daddy"? Or journalists exposing your genocide, whom you consciously target. Or doctors treating the children your soldiers consciously shoot in the head. Or medical teams on their way to save a little girl trapped in a car bombarded by an Israeli tank that has just murdered all her family and will murder her as well as all the medics? Or doctors who have just given birth who committed the sin of broadcasting your genocide on a popular Instagram.

"-besides the several precise attacks of terrorists’ facilities, deaths in Syria have nothing to with Israel . They have their own bloody civil war nobody cares about."

Then why can't you stay the fuck out of their country? Why do you send your planes over to slaughter Syrians, to attack the armies and slaughtering generals fighting AGAINST Islamic extremists? Seems like you do in fact care. For fucks sake, some of the only "Israelis citizens" killed by missiles were actually Syrian refugees in Israeli-captured territory aka Lebanon.

"Stop blaming Jews for everything happening in the Middle East."

Not everything, just an overwhelming majority of it. The rest would be the US, whose teet if you couldn't suck it you would have long since been destroyed by your neighbors had you even been able to set up (not likely), of course.

I don't think people realize the number of rockets that have been fired at Israeli civilians daily for the past year: over 23,000!

These rockets were fired from over 5 countries, sometimes simultaneously. Over 150 rockers were fired today alone, and it's only 3PM here. People die almost every day from these rockets, let alone the daily terror attacks. Western & Arabic media outlets simply don't cover most of this.

[themonkeycabal]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Episode 1 SPOILERS

If you need to blacklist, I will be tagging all things as #tfatws and/or #tfatws spoilers

My roommate keeps calling this The Falcon and the Snowman. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

I was going to watch at midnight and then fell asleep. Betrayal. I will not forgive this, brain.

Bucky Barnes character development. Sam Wilson character development. Six full episodes of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. When we watched Civil War, did we think we'd actually be lucky enough to get a buddy idiot cop movie? Let alone six hours of it? #blessed

What are we expecting here? I have no idea, honestly. I think all the clips we've been seeing are from the first couple episodes, so they've hidden any sort of plot from us. We know Baron Zemo's around with his stupid purple ski mask and burning hatred for superheroes and probably specifically for Bucky who he tried (and honestly kind of succeeded, before then ultimately failing dramatically) to set up. And Sharon Carter will turn up at some point. OMG guys, Sharon Carter character development!

I'm just here for the buddy bickering and badassery.

SPOILERS BELOW

New World Order: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes realize that their futures are anything but normal. *Realize*? lol

Also, it's tagged as "science fiction, action-adventure, buddy" Awww.

Aww, Sam looks sad as he gazes at The Shield.

"How's it feel?" "Like it's someone else's." "It isn't."

That's right, Sam! Listen to that voice. That's yours now, baby.

We're just going to roll right into a mission. Rescuing a Captain Vassant, whose plane fell out of contact shortly after take off, from the ridiculously named group LAF, somewhere over Tunisia. Sam's got to keep LAF from doing bad things and the US Military can't be seen doing anything blah blah blah, violation of treaties, yada yada. And Sam's all "blah blah got it". We're on the same page, Sam and me. Nobody wants to hear it, Briefing Exposition Guy.

We will have a Lt. Torres on the ground following along and offering helpful commentary as they go.

Sam is warned to be subtle as he falls backwards out of the cargo plane in very dramatic fashion and then swoops off on his brightly colored wings. lol

Sam gets to the captain's plane but the pilot is dead and a shady LAF guy is piloting. Oh no. Hey, it's Batroc. Last seen getting his ass kicked by Captain America in "CA: The Winter Soldier". He makes some jokes about their prisoner - presumably Captain Vassant. Awful cocky for a guy with a history of getting stomped on, you know.

Anyway, he's about to get his ass kicked by a Captain America again as Sam breaks into the plane. You might just be using wing shields now, Sam, but you're Captain America in my heart. Also, hey, dumb bad guys, don't open fire with an automatic weapon inside a plane or the ricochets might kill your pilot. And his body will slump forward and put the plane into a steep dive.

Batroc distracts Sam while the bad guys gather up Vassant and jump out of the plane with him. They have wingsuits, but Sam has, you know, wings. And like a jet pack. Don't hit the canyon walls, Sam!

Somehow the bad guys have waiting gunships. Did they expect to jump out of the plane over this canyon? I can only assume. Red Wing takes care of one of the helicopters. Man these guys are a pain in the ass. They wing suit into one of the many many helicopters that just happen to be right in the right spot. They're racing for the Libyan border. Then Sam shows up, they throw Vassant out the copter again — this guy is having the worst day — and glide into another chopper.

Man ANOTHER gunship? The hell? They're causing serious ecological damage to this canyon, what with all the zillionty missiles they're firing at Sam. How strapped is this thing?

LT Torres is trying to keep up, and you know, trying to get Sam to not fly into Libyan territory and cause an international incident or some such. Sam is struck by inspiration and not by a missile. But, the missiles are following Sam and Sam is following Batroc's chopper. Sam zooms through the open doors of the chopper, knocks poor Vassant out of the chopper AGAIN (but then catches him), and LAF blows up their own helicopter. Alas, Batroc escaped.

Sam saves the day and LT Torres is like super excited. Don't break your humvee, Torres.

Torres and Sam stop by a tea shop in Tunis, or somewhere. Sam's trying to fix his tech that got a little shot up and Torres buys the tea. A man comes up and thanks Sam for saving his wife. It's sweet. And then Torres gets up and wanders about a bit with his phone as he exposits about LAF. Is Torres about to become a pin cushion? Only instead of pins it'll be bullets? I'm not feeling good about his continued health. He's too cute and earnest.

Oh, he's looking for some sort of hidden, augmented reality tag on the walls. A red handprint, id'ing some group that calls themselves the Flag Smashers. Bad guys are really scraping the bottom of the evil name barrel. Anyway, they think the world was better during the blip. Nothing says better like mass failure of infrastructure and probably world wide famine. They want a unified world without borders. I have big doubts the world would be a borderless utopia during a blip-like event. Power vacuums invite trouble, seldom unity.

Anyhoo. Sam kind of agrees with me, "every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another".

Torres will track the 'online chatter'. But he's also heard some wacky things about Steve Rogers, conspiracy theory stuff, "they think that he's in a secret base on the moon, looking down over us". LOL. What? Is Steve a moon angel now? or Santa Claus? "You didn't like fly him to the moon?" Sam assures him that's all very much silly foolishness. Steve's in Boca working on his tan.

Sam's back in D.C. giving a talk about Steve at the Smithsonian's National Air & Space museum. "And he mastered posing stoically". Hey, I have that picture. Also, RHODEY! Hi Rhodey!

"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after 5 years away. Sending the world into turmoil." Again. I know this was meant to come out before WandaVision, but timeline-wise this works better.

"We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning." Sam holds up The Shield. "I don't know if there's been a greater symbol." Aww, he's retiring the shield. He hands it off to museum people and they put it in a display case. I think Rhodey has some thoughts about this. I suspect Rhodey maybe doesn't agree.

Sam and Rhodey wander through the Cap exhibit and Sam's talking about how when he left (or got snapped, it's not like you had a choice about that, Sam), his nephews were babies and now they're little men. Awww. Rhodey says Sam should bring them to D.C., he'll teach them how to fly, "the right way". lol.

Rhodey says it's crazy to think nobody will be carrying the shield. Sam points out they went 70 years without, so like …

Rhodey wants to know why Sam didn't take up the mantle. BTW, this is a cool exhibit, marvel peeps. Sam says it feels like it belongs to someone else … Steve. Rhodey says everything's broken. Allies are enemies, things are torn apart. People are looking for somebody to make it better. Having made his pitch, Rhodey leaves Sam to stare mournfully at the shield. I think you're afraid to pick up the shield, Sam. Afraid you won't measure up. But, you can do it. I have faith. Also, Steve was kind of a disaster in his own way. He wasn't perfect, which was the point of Steve as a hero. Pick up the shield, Sam.

A fancy hotel, chatting people in the lobby, up to a mezzanine, a group of very Russian oligarch looking dudes and their security. And lo! A metal arm punches through a wall and the Winter Soldier, looking very Winter Soldiery appears and stabs some dudes in the neck. This has a sepia, dream/nightmareness to it. Oh yeah, it's his old shiny silver arm. Totally a nightmare/very bad memory. "Hail Hydra" and he kills the head Russian guy. The poor dude who was just chatting in the lobby is caught trying to get into his door. He swears he didn't see anything, begs for his life and the Winter Soldier shoots him. Bucky wakes up, breathing heavily. Poor Bucky.

Glad he's in therapy. I'm sure goat herding in Wakanda was good and peaceful and all, but, goats will only get you so far. Also glad we've skipped the "wanted terrorist" part and gone on to traumatized hero.

I get the feeling he's not the best patient. He lies to his therapist straight off. Twice. lol. "You're a civilian now. With your history the government needs to know, you're not gonna … [therapist makes stabby motion]." lol (I love this actress by the way. She's been in everything for ages. She's great). "It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare." "I didn't have a nightmare." She starts writing, Bucky objects and tells her she's being passive-aggressive, but he gives in.  

He has a list of amends to make and three rules to follow. He crossed a name off. There's a Hydra pawn who's a senator, he helped her get into office. "After Hydra disbanded, she continued to use the power I gave her." Hmm. He tracks her car and listens in on her plotting to have a congressman killed.

* Rule number one: Can't do anything illegal.

He's hijacked the Senator's car and is remote controlling it, making it drive all out of control and freaking her out. He says he was collecting intel to give to an aide to convict her. Absolutely only did that. Not one illegal thing about that at all, no ma'am.

"Rule number two?" "Hmm. What was rule number two?" "Nobody gets hurt. It's a big one." "Then why isn't it rule number one?" Oh, Bucky, you're a jackass.

* Rule number two: Nobody gets hurt.

"I didn't hurt anybody. Promise." He totally broke a dude's hand and then punched him in the face, knocking him out. I mean, there's levels of 'hurt' I suppose.

"The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three." "Of course I completed rule number three."

* Rule number three: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes. And you're part of my efforts to make amends." He says to the corrupt senator he's just been terrifying. And then he walks away as a tac team pulls up. lol.

What I'm getting from this therapy session is that Bucky is a big fat fibber.

Also he's got a little black book full of names. Including, I see, H. Zemo. That's not going to go as smoothly as taking down a shady government fatcat, I think.

"So you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares?" "Well, like I said, I didn't have any." Fibber.

People wanna help you Bucky and you can trust them. "I trust people," he mutters grumpily. She asks for his phone and he hands it over. Look, lady! Trust! Probably government mandated trust, but still!

"You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing." … I don't have ten phone numbers on my phone. :( "Oh, and you've been ignoring texts from Sam." Well …

"I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad." lol. Tough love from the therapist. I'm feeling a little judged myself, though. "You're alone." ALRIGHT DON'T RUB IT IN!

"You're a hundred years old. You have no history. No family—" "Are you lashing out at me, doc? Because that's really unprofessional." I love you Bucky, but you are a disaster patient.

Bucky relents. "I'm trying. This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything. I had a little calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years." Get this man a goat farm!

"So now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?" "Peace." A goat farm. "That is utter bullshit." lol "You're a terrible shrink." "I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." Get some friends, Bucky. "I know you've been through a lot. But, you've got your mind back. You're being pardoned. These are good things. You're free." "To do what?"

On the streets of Brooklyn. Bucky breaks up an argument between neighbors about trashcans. Hey, Bucky has a friend! Yori Nakajima who's probably like 80+. Did you babysit him back in the day, Buck? har har. They were going to meet for lunch, but some punk named Unique was putting his trash into Mr. Nakajima's trash can and just derailed the whole day. The horror. No joke, though, people get so nutted up about that. It's weird to me. Of course, I did also have a neighbor who never put out his trash for pickup and just snuck out at night before trash day and distributed his garbage into in other people's bins. Cheapass.

"Hey man, I'm Unique. Like Monique but it's got a 'u' in there for uniqueness." Yeah, you should have let Yori smack him, Buck.

Well now Yori is just not in the mood for lunch. Bucky tries to persuade him, but one grumpy old man out grumps the other. "But Izzy. We always go to Izzy on Wednesday. What if I buy?" "Fine. But no talking." lol. BFFs!

Yori is looking at the obituaries. "Look, nobody made it past 90 this week." Bucky tsks "So young, such a shame."

Bucky kind of smiles at the girl behind the counter at the sushi joint, Yori tells him he should ask her out. Bucky makes a "are you nuts, shut up" face. That doesn't stop Yori. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle." You're a wild man, Yori!

She's down by it, though, and she and Yori hammer out the details while Bucky's like uh, okay, so wow, that's happening. "There's a dance to these things. You can't … you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943."

Yori sees something and suddenly gets sad. His son loves red bean mochi. His son was a consultant, working abroad and he was killed. Oh. Oh Bucky, why you gotta … Yori's son was the innocent witness he killed at the hotel in his nightmare/memory. "I will never know what really happened to him." Brutal.

Delacroix, Louisana

Sam's on his way home. Wilson Family Seafood. Aww. His nephews are helping mom with the catch. "Blue for the snapper, orange for the white fish," Sam calls out. The boys run over to him. They do look like fine gentlemen. It's weird, Sam, I get it. I recently realized my oldest nephew will be 13 in May and it's like "no, he's only in kindergarten, what are you talking about?"

His sister greets him then tells him he's looking all sneaky. Sam deflects. Their boat has seen better days. The Paul & Darlene. Aww. Is that his parents names? "Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers." Just needs to float long enough for his sister to sell it. But Sam's all, uh I thought we were going to *discuss* that. Uh oh, family drama. "We did, and then you were off fighting Dr Space Cape or whatever (lol), while I was holding it together for five long years." Ouch.

Sam is not down by this selling the boat thing. His sister doesn't seem to think they're in a position to hold on to it. Also, she'd really like to not hash this out on the pier with like twenty other people around, Sam.

They get into more of an argument on the boat. The family biz is not doing well financially. Sarah won't let Sam help for some reason, and he makes some comment about the house and loans and she punches him in the chest. lol "I forgot how hard you hit."

Sam insists they can turn it around, consolidate loans. And she's all, been there done that, I've come to terms with this. He's a persistent little jerk. This is such a perfectly sibling argument. Notably he has moved himself out of punching range.

Aww, she wants to believe he can save the boat, but she has DOUBTS.

Back in Brooklyn. Bucky attempts his date. He turns up at the end of the sushi girl's shift and gives her flowers. "Well, if that's not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone's ever done."

They chat while she tidies. He tried online dating oh lol. It didn't take. She tells him "You sound like my dad. Wait how old are you?" "Hundred and six." Oh yeah, what a funny joke. Next she wants to know why he's wearing gloves. "I have … um … poor circulation." He grimaces at himself and glances out the window. Smooth as silk, Bucky. Smoooooth.

"Let's play a game." Now, I'm thinking like some weird dating word/get-to-know-each-other game or something. I don't know. But, nope, she means Battleship. lol. I like her.

The drinking game version of battleship. Bucky sucks at it. "You sure can drink." "Yeah, well." Super assassin, unfair advantage.

We're just going to rub in this whole The Winter Soldier killed Yori's son thing, as she says it's nice that he's spending time with the old man. Since he was all messed up after his son was murdered and how it was extra hard because he didn't know what happened. I'm not sure this is healthy, Bucky.

"There's no word for someone whose kids die." Okay, ouch, lady, jeez. Bucky looks like he wants to puke. Or crawl into a deep dark hole. Or something. "Because it's the worst thing that can happen." Bucky nopes right out the front door. So, maybe they should have played pinochle instead.

Bucky goes to Yori. Are you really going to tell this man you murdered his son when you were a brain-washed Hydra assassin? Yori asks how the date was, and Bucky sees a shrine to the man's son in the apartment. Poor Bucky. He makes some excuse about owing Yori for lunch and leaves. Yori's name is in his book of amends. :(

Back in Louisiana. Sam and the kids are packing up meals. His sister maybe wants to sell meals in addition to fish. Sam says they've got to get going to their appointment at the bank. She's says it's in an hour. Sam must be just the worst brother to live with "There's no such thing as on time. You're either early or late. Pick one." Man, no wonder he gets punched.

Switzerland

Lt Torres is walking down a street with an unusually large number of people just sort of milling around in the middle of the street looking at their phones. He's got his kind of hidden, recording. He stops a guy and asks if he knows what they're supposed to be doing. Oh it's the flag munchers, or whatever. There's a weird phony bird whistle and then people gather around a person handing out masks with red handprints on them. His decoy bad guy phone chirps and gives the order to run. A guy jumps out of a nearby building with two huge duffle bags (of money it seems) and walks off while the previously milling people become a seemingly panicked mob, distracting police and whatnot.

Torres tries to arrest the jumper guy, who appears to have some super strength as he kicks a policeman halfway across the street. Torres, you're cute, but not super bright. Torres gets body slammed and then stomped. He survives again, however, defying the odds.

At the bank. The account manager keeps giving Sam the side-eye as he goes through their paperwork. "Do I know you from somewhere." Sam's all modest, "I don't know. Do you?" And then he makes a little wing flappy move with his hands. lol. What a nerd. "Falcon!" Then he takes a selfie with Sam. Sarah is very done with all this. She tries to get them back on track. Account guy wants to know how Avengers make a living. Probably not looking good for your loan, Sam.

"Is there some kind of fund for heroes? Or did Stark pay you when he was around? My condolences, by the way."

Yeah, financially this is looking bad, my dude. "You have no income over the last five years." Well, but, he was blipped. I mean …

Alas, shot down for the loan.

Sam and Sarah argue on the street. Ah, Sam ran off to the Air Force and didn't deal with what was going on at home. Oh my, this is getting ugly. Speaking as someone who got disowned on account of a family business, let me just say, they're not easy. Nuh-uh.

"Half the boat's mine and so is the house. We're not selling our family's legacy." "You gonna do me like what when you know I'm right?"

I get it might be awkward to ask, but I bet you could have asked Pepper for a loan, Sam, and she would have given it to you gladly. Come on, man.

Later. Sam's working on the boat's engine, and it's not cooperating. In the cabin he looks at the family pictures on all the walls. He's having a rough day. About as rough as Torres who texts him to find a secure line and call him along with a selfie of his bruised and battered face. #important (lol, really?)

Sam watches the footage Torres caught and they chat about how Torres was supposed to be doing that stuff online and not getting his face kicked in in Switzerland.

Sarah interrupts and turns on the TV. Some guy is giving a speech about how everybody needs a hero. "We need someone who can inspire us again. Someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero." hmm, no comment. Except, you should have taken up the shield, Sam. Now it's Sam's turn to look like he's going to puke. What did I say about power vacuums? Somebody will fill them, whether you want them to or not. 

This new guy looks like a goober. There, I said it.

credits

So … lots of setup. And very clear on the two guys trying to figure out where they fit in this world post blip and big wars. Both of them trying to fix broken families.

Plus a goober in a Cap suit.

So far so good. 

[feynavaley]

Cultural Dissonance

His body was weightless, comfortably curled upon the leather seat. The hum of the engine was like a secure blanket, lulling him to sleep. For the first time in weeks, the tension had left Matthew’s muscles and his body melted into a rejuvenating sleep. He felt like he could have spent the eternity just like that.

If it weren’t for the obnoxious tap against his right shoulder, of course.

“Mattie Mattie~ Time to wake up~”

Matthew grunted and curled deeper into himself, hiding his face between the seat and the crook of his shoulder in a clear indication that he wasn’t intentioned to abandon his rest.

Unsurprisingly, his tormentor didn’t get the hint.

“Come on, Mattie! You’ve been sleeping for three whole hours, it’s time to wake up! I’m bored!”

Alfred punctuated his words by turning on the radio full volume.

Matthew whimpered against the sound blasting in his ears, but an attempt to cover them with the collar of his coat proved futile. He was finally forced to uncurl his reluctant body in order to access the controls of the radio.

“Happy now?” he grumbled as he switched off the infernal sound.

Alfred gave a content hum of assent. His blue eyes looked bright and alert behind the glasses, his skin glowing and rested. There could be nothing further from the picture of a person who had just endured a transatlantic flight and then three hours of driving across English highways. Alfred was so lucky.

Matthew, instead, was still so sluggish he could barely put two words together, his brain a muddled mess.

“I wasn’t disturbing you by sleeping…”

“But you’ve had enough sleep already! All the time on the plane, plus those three hours! And I’ve been driving in silence for-e-ver. Time to spice things up!”

Said that, Alfred once again turned on the radio – at a reasonable volume, this time.

Matthew would have wanted to retort that Alfred was the one who had slept on the plane, that three hours weren’t enough to recover from how overworked he was… but there was no point, since Alfred had already made up his mind. Besides, he had decided on his own to be the one driving after noticing how exhausted his brother looked. Matthew owed him a bit of company.

With a sigh, he straightened up against the seat and rubbed his bleary eyes. Out of the windows, the English countryside ran along the highway. Small cottages and farmhouses sprinkled here and there in the distance testified the presence of civilization, but Alfred and Matthew were the only ones on the road. Well, them and an approaching vehicle, still only a small point in the distance but steadily getting bigger… and right towards them.

Matthew had a moment to take everything in. The car coming. The swapped, unfamiliar position of the driver’s seat. The English road. And the car running towards them at maximum speed.

“What the fuck is that?!”

“Alfred, you idiot!”

Out of instinct, Matthew jumped toward his brother and grabbed the steering wheel. Together, they jerked the car into the left lane just as the other car passed by them, honking.

Matthew’s ears were ringing.

“You can let go, Mattie. We’re fine.”

Matthew heard the words but he couldn’t move, his muscles locked by the adrenaline rush. It wasn’t until Alfred slowed down to a stop at the side of the road that his heartbeat slowed down. He still needed his brother gently prying his fingers away from the steering wheel before he could come back to himself.

“You…”

He had to stop, unable to put into words the mixture of fear and rage threatening to overwhelm him.

Alfred shrugged and offered him a thin, apologetic half-smile.

“Well, nobody got hurt so it’s all fine and well?”

Matthew could have lost it right there and then. The fading adrenaline threatened to turn into blind rage, his muscle tensed in preparation… but they still had hours of driving left. It wasn’t the right moment to bring Alfred to a breakdown.

“Get off. I’m driving from now on,” he snapped, glowering at his brother.

He could still lecture Alfred and drive at the same time, after all.

******

Something good had come out the scare, after all. Now, Matthew was wide awake, the previous sluggishness just a distant memory. He was alert enough to drive carefully, enjoy the road, and chat with Alfred, whom he had fully forgiven one hour earlier. There was something soothing in the sharpness and repetitive motions that driving gave him, he wasn’t in the right mood to stay mad. He was almost glad he had ended up being the one driving… Not that he would ever admit it to Alfred, of course. (Even if from the cheeky smile his brother addressed to him from time to time, Matthew was forced to deduce he knew.) Everything was going quite swimmingly.

Up until the flashing lights at the entrance of a service area signalled the presence of a police patrol.

Matthew dutifully slowed down a notch, a knot growing in his throat as he gave a quick check – he was driving just right under the speed limit, the lights and mirrors were correctly adjusted… everything seemed to be in order. But the anxiety only rose as a policeman signed at him to stop.

“It’s just a routine control,” Alfred reassured him in a soothing tone, offering his arm a squeeze.

Matthew wished he had even a tiny bit of his brother’s confidence. However, he was aware he couldn’t show any hesitation. Ignoring his thundering heart, he stopped in front of the policemen and offered them a smile as he rolled down the window. His driving license and passport were smoothly transitioned from his sweaty hands to the strong ones of a middle-aged, portly officer.

Matthew had checked numerous times before leaving, he didn’t like creating disturbances by appealing to his status of personification when something went wrong with his ‘human’ documents. Everything should have been in order.

��Then, why was the friendly face of the policeman slowly contorting into a frown?

Matthew’s throat was dry. He tried to smile as the officer raised his eyes from the documents to Matthew’s face, but could only stare at the stern expression.

Alfred leaned over him to get a closer look.

“Something wrong?”

The policeman sighed and passed the documents to a colleague that had just reached him.

“Son, I don’t know how things work where you come from, but you’re in England now. And in England, we don’t allow seventeen-year-olds to drive a car. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

******

That had to be among the most embarrassing moments of Matthew’s life. He kept his eyes stubbornly trained on the floor, analysing the dirt caked around the tiles. Another curious glance from a policeman or somebody working inside the police station, and he would have died of shame. He couldn’t believe he had overlooked such an important detail.

He buried his head in his hands when a pair of familiar footsteps approached him.

“Still pouting, Mattie?” asked Alfred, just back from his short trip to the vending machine.

He could have left at any time. Since he was of age, nothing was detaining him. But of course, he had decided to wait with Matthew and witness his humiliation, often adding to it with his cheeky remarks. Matthew wanted him gone.

And the worst part was still approaching – with another pair of familiar footsteps as an equally familiar voice talked with the same policeman who had stopped them. The words were clipped with irritation.

“Man, this is hilarious,” Alfred declared.

Matthew wished the earth could swallow him.

His prayer wasn’t granted. Arthur’s steps finally halted and Matthew had to lift his head.

He immediately wished he hadn’t. Arthur was staring at him with such a mixture of rage and disappointment that it physically hurt.

“I can’t believe you, Matthew. I was so sure I could trust you to be sensitive… How could you be so careless?”

Matthew had no words to justify himself. He could only stare at Arthur and let the embarrassment consume him.

He had been so focused on Arthur that he had almost forgotten about the policeman accompanying him, who startled Matthew when he cleared his throat.

“Now there, Mr. Kirkland. The boy is far from blameless, but somebody must have allowed him to get his driving license. As his legal guardian and an Englishman who knows the laws of England, this was quite an oversight on your part.”

For a moment, Matthew thought he must have heard wrong. He blinked, but the policemen was still standing in front of Arthur, with his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the apparently younger man with a stern expression.

Arthur’s face bleached; his fists tightened in fury.

“Excuse me, are you trying to insinuate—”

“Priceless,” Alfred whispered, offering a conspiratorial wink to Matthew.

Matthew dropped his face to his knees, his cheeks burning with humiliation. He would have wanted to retort that, by forcing him to drive, Alfred had been the cause of everything… pity that Alfred was clearly having the time of his life.

Why did everything always have to turn against Matthew?

(word count: 1536)

———

Note: There are reasons (100% based on canon) I write Canada as younger than America, I’ve already detailed them other times [x] [x] [x]. As for why I write him underage, it’s mainly because I think getting into situations like this one would be very fitting with the way he’s portrayed in canon, haha. This guy’s so unlucky...

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle. 

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there. 

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun. 

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light. 

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán. 

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it. 

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back. 

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something. 

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it. 

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words. 

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury. 

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate. 

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment. 

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat. 

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in. 

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle. 

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do. 

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent. 

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end? 

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word." 

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...." 

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still. 

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season. 

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up. 

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years? 

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.

[mynameiscarat]

There for him

y/n is basically from @phenomenally-thrombey​’s headcanon 

Being Jacob’s older sister and being in College Included (Link:   https://phenomenally-thrombey.tumblr.com/post/610906383161884672/being-jacobs-older-sister-and-being-in-college)

Probably that’s the thing people call “tooth-rotting fluff”.

My English is broken, so dm me if you see any mistakes.

Sun was slowly setting, colouring pale winter sky rosy. Day ended, although clock just struck 7 pm. It was a beginning of December, time was closing to Christmas. You wanted to talk about getting a tree and decorations - you loved Christmas so much - but now, looking in faces of your mother, father and brother you understood it’s probably not the best time to do it. You all were having dinner... sort of. Donna and Walt were chatting crossly, eating their food without much interest. And Jacob was just staring into his plate, clearly disgusted. „Jacob, - you whispered, - eat, please. You didn't have anything at lunch.” He said nothing, as if he didn’t hear you. But the one who certainly heard you - your mum - looked at him and ordered: „Listen to your sister, young man. Stop making that face!” Jacob glanced at your parents and looked in his plate with even more disgust. „It's a junk. I won't eat it. - he snorted. - I want roastbeef. Roastbeef and yorkshire pudding with jam.” A terrible silence reigned in a kitchen.  „Son, - said Walt, barely hiding his irritation, - you know that we can not afford those dishes anymore. Be happy with that you have now. We’re broke. I'm currently trying to start my own publishing house, your mother is a civil servant. At small position.” „So what? Because of that I have to starve? Isn't it your duty to care about me? I’m so freaking done with it!” Walt let out a bitter chuckle: „Probably if you'd been a bit better grandson, we wouldn't have become nobodies. Have you even thought about taking responsibility?” „And have you, father? You were messing with grandpa, and eventually he fed up. Good job! I'm sure your goddamn publishing house will bankrupt in two month.” Walt became deadly pale, his hand slowly rising: „You little son of a-” „Dad, no! - you yelled, terribly scared. - Don't hit Jay!” Walt looked at you: „Y/n, I-” „Please, dad, no!! Don't do it!” - you were practically begging. Jacob was silent, staring at his lap. Another second passed. „Go to your room. Jacob Archibald Thrombey. - said Walt eventually through clenched teeth. - You won't have dinner today.” And your brother stormed from a kitchen, face pale from rage. Then you heared how door in his room slammed. You were still listening, when Walt said: „Eat, dove. You are such a good girl. We are proud of you, y/n” „Jacob has so much ambitions, but I don't think there's anything behind them. - Donna added. - Jacob wants to be rich, powerful and respected. But I don't think he is able to make his way to this position. But you! - oh, you will get respect. You're still planing to be an architect, right?” You smiled weakly, but your thought were with your brother.

Once youve finished fried eggs and sausages, you swiftly went out from the kitchen and approached Jacob”s room. Door was locked. You knocked gently: „Jay, may I-” „Fuck off, bitch!” - yelled he. No, not now. You sighed and made your way to your small room. It was a really small room. You managed to place there your bed and writing table only. Even your clothes had to be kept in parents room, which was slightly bigger. Jacob, actually, tried to occupy it but failed.  All your apartment, with kitchen, bathroom and three rooms could fit into one room in Thrombey's house... Martha's house. You didn”t want to be cross at her, you really didn't. You understood that she was there for Harlan when no one else was. That she was honest, kind and absolute goody-two-shooes. That she, eventually, deserved the house. But now memories about this wonderful house returned... Christmas memories.  In the hall a huge Christmas tree stands, bright lights everywhere. More and more presents are arriving. Wonderfull smell of turkey and  potatoes, stuffed in the oven, fills the house. And you and Jacob sits before TV, rewatching «How Grinch stole christmas» and eating candy.  „You're a real-life Grinch!” - say you, and Jacob smiles with this wide and evil smile... You sighed again and stared out. Snowfall begun.

You didn’t even understand what happened. Glowing watches on a shelf showed half passed one. The room were dark, parents were snorting in their room, you could hear it very clearly.  But there was something else. Through cracking of a floor, parent's snorts and howling of the wind you heard another sound that really woke you. There was something like whimpering... very light, barely audible - but heartwreching even in slumber. That's why you woke up.  You jumped off your bed and run into Jacob”s room. He was tossing and turning in his bed, moaning, like he was in pain. You shook him: „Jacob, wake up! Please, dear, wake up, it's just a dream” And he opened his eyes, pure terror in them.  „I couldn't find the exit... - he croaked. - There were no exit, like only room and a hallway, but I couldn't go out, I-” „It's just a nightmare, - you whispered, helping him to sit. - You fell asleep hungry and had a nightmare. But now it's okay, I'm here. Do you want me to find you something to eat?” You didn't get a proper responce, but still went to the kitchen. You spred four pieces of bread with butter and honey and made two cups of milky tea.  You returned to Jacob's room with tray, proud of not waking your parents up. You found your brother in the same position, hugging his knees and staring blankly into the void.  „Here, - you said, - I've brought food. Don't you think it's cool to have a night snack from time to time?” Jacob said nothing. He ate his bread and butter, and then yours, but didn't touch his tea. „Come on, - you gently urged him, - your tea will get cold” He obediently took a cup and drank it in one gulp. You stared at him. You didn't like when he was sarcastic, or bitter, or rude to you, good god, you didn't - but this doll-like state of his was even worse. „Jacob, please, tell me, what are you thinking about? - you said, taking his hand. He firstly tried to pull his hand out, but this time your grip was strong.” And then he said: „How on earth we're going to live?” You blinked: „What?” „Am I speaking Russian, y/n? I said, how we're going to live? Don't you see where it's going? Dad is a crappy businessman, and mom will never earn enough for four peope! We don't starve now? But we will! I hate this old bastard so much, I hope he suffered before he died, how could he, how could-” „Jacob” - you started seriously, but then you noticed how a tear rolled down your brother's cheek. Your swallowed. You wanted to comfort him so much, to hold him close to you.  But you knew you have to act slowly and at ease to succeed - or he will kick you out. „Jacob, - now your tone was low and steady, - please, listen to me. It's only your fear. Your perception is a bit curved. We were upper-class, we lived in luxury. And now we will just become the middle-class. It doesn't mean starvation. I'm absolutely sure dad will establish his publishing house, because he's smart and knows so much about publishing business - and because he loves us. He doesn't want us, his family, to be poor. There are, actually, some virtues in our position. We don't have grandpa's money, right, but on the other hand we're independent now. We don't have to act nicely with anyone if we don't want to” While you were talking, you slowly moved closer, put your hands on Jacob's shoulders and then - on his back. And after that you hugged him tightly, unable to restrain a sigh.  You didn't expect much, but then this happened. Jacob, your nasty, supposedly heartless brother hugged you back and put his head on your shoulder. Such thing happened only once, five years ago, when you fell ill with a serious flu.  You could barely breath. You forgot when you were so happy last time. „Jacob, Jacob, - you whispered, rocking him gently, - do you want me to stay with you this night?” He nodded. You turned out the lamp and got into bed. There was a moment when you got scared he won't let you hug him again, but he snuggled to you eagerly. „Rest, honey. - you kissed his forehead. - We will be fine. Believe me. We will be fine, we will be happy. I can even built another home one day, just for us. I can do it. I will be an architect, remember?” Soon his breathing became slow. He fell asleep. And you stayed awake for a bit longer, stroking his hair and back. Jacob was a difficult person, but you knew how to handle him. You loved your brother more than anything.

[way-veee]

yān yǔ

 rating: m

genre: romance, fluff, comedy, wayv being absolute crackheads

word count: 1.5k +

pairing: reader x wayv

pt. 5

 “just fly with us, pleeeease  it’ll just be us and a few bodyguards. our flight is as lowkey as possible. nobody will notice.” xiaojun pleads as you guys exit customs at the airport.

“no, i have to be on the plane with the managers and crew. they’ll know if i’m missing.”

“then tell them you have stuff to do.” xiaojun says pleading into your eyes.

“say you have to visit family outside of bejiing but you’ll be there just in time for our first interview. they don’t have a formal contract with you so they can’t force you to fly with them.”

you look at all them. it was slightly alarming that they already had a cover story planned for something like this happening, but they also really wanted you to fly with them because they liked your company. it warmed your heart a little bit.

“okay.” you say defeated. “i’ll do it.”

the boys jump up in joy from their waiting seats on the terminal. “y/n’s on our plaaane! y/n’s on our plaaane!” yangyang yells.

you board the flight after sending the managers a message full of lies that their own idol group had crafted.

you quickly sit in a chair closeish to wayv while still giving them space to relax.

before they sit they sit down they run their hands across the pockets on the seats and curves of the wall before sitting. you give a questioning look that winwin noticed.

“sasaengs get creative.” he says matter of factly.

you get comfortable for the short flight, talking to kun about your archaeology courses with henderey chirping in every five seconds going “oh ya me too.” even though you know he only went to a performing arts high school.

you look over at the boys in the seats closer to the wall. lucas was trying to eat tens hair for absolutely no reason and ten was for some reason enjoying it, yangyang and xiaojun already had a full nintendo switch console out and were playing mario kart with winwin watching very focused from the seat behind. all seemed right with the world.

this continued on for around an hour and a half with lucas almost vomiting from a hairball.

then, all of a sudden, the light for seat belts turns on. and ten minutes later the speaker system goes on.

“because of harsh weather conditions we’ll have to land folks. sorry for the inconvenience.”

the p.a voice shuts off of the system an all chaos breaks loose. 

“we’re still hours from bejiing,” winwin frowns while visibly stressed.

“the other plane had to land 30 minutes ago, they can’t get to us.” kun says looking at the phone messages he missed while sleeping. “they said that they booked us a hotel nearby and that a driver will be waiting to take us there when we land.”

the others boys looked relieved while you were terrified. 

“what about me?” you say not trying to yell on the landing plane. 

“they don’t know i’m with you guys, they think im in the shenyang countryside!” 

the realization of the situation hits their faces all at once as your stomach churns with fear. 

“they can’t know i’m here. they’ll fire me if they do...” you look up at the boys.

“its okay y/n,” ten says trying to calm you down. “you can just book another hotel room for the night. 

“there’s only one hotel where we are, and guess who got the last room.” you look up at kun who finished reading the message that the managers sent him.

you put your head in your hands.

“no motels, shelters?” xiaojun asks.

kun shakes his head slowly trying not to freak you out more. “we’re too far away from the city for such things.

were you homeless for a night? was that what you have become?

the boys look at each other with knowing looks. 

“you can stay with us,” kun says while putting a supportive hand on your shaking arm.

“really?” 

“of course, we couldn’t let you suffer. insurance.” he smiles down at you and you can’t help but smile back.

you board the plane feeling relieved yet scared. after you all left customs wayv looked around for the driver. 

after more text message reading kun determined that the driver is held up by the storm and can no longer make it. 

instead the body guards had to use google maps and walk to the hotel that wayv is staying at.

you all walk in the cold rain for what seems like hours. trekking on long dirt roads in the dead of night.  you feel the cold seep into your bones and cut your skin. you shake unbearably in the cold and stormy night.

the boys didn't fair a much better fate. none of you had brought any cold or rain gear because you expected to be in bejiing right now.

when you got to the small hotel thirty minutes later you couldn’t feel your toes, or your face, or your hands.

“y/n are you okay?” one of them calls, but you barely don’t hear them.

“y/n?” lucas says stopping you.

“yeah?” you reply through chattering teeth.

“we just wanted to check to see if you were okay.” he says really worried

“oh yeah” you reply pretending to look warm. “i’m great!” you muster a fake smile as you guys enter their room. you were expecting to see a nicely furnished room with three beds, a pull out couch and floor space.

you were sadly disappointed.

there were two queen sized beds, with no pull out couch or chair for you to sleep on. it was also no warmer in here than outside. there was a power outage as soon as the storm knocked over the only cell tower for miles.

you couldn’t focus much on anything when you entered the room. you were so tired and cold, you had to sleep.

“i think, that i-i’m gonna go to bbed now.” you say to the members. 

“where would that be?” “

you can take that bed.” ten says, pointing to the one on the left. 

if you had a whole bed to yourself where would the boys sleep? the bed was barely enough for four people and they were gonna fit seven?

“yyou all can’t sleep in one bed?” you question.

“its fine, we’ll take turns” kun says while caringly guiding you to the bed.

you try to protest, but the second your body hits the mattress you go into a well needed and deep sleep.

“what are we gonna do?” ten asks.

“take turns like we said.” winwin says, trying not to look as cold as he feels.

“we should see how many people we can fit on one bed, the floor’s too cold to sleep on and we need a lot of body warmth until the power comes back on.”

the boys agree with their leader and figure out that they can tightly fit five members on the bed.

“okay, that’s good.” yangyang says assuredly. “then two people can take turns standing and waiting,” the boys hesitantly agree.

“guys,” henderey says looking at your shaking body. “i think she’s too cold. she might have hypothermia.”

they look at you shaking on top of the covers, with pale skin, blue lips and wet clothes.

“no, she’s okay. tomorrow we’ll get her to a hospital-” winwin says

“no.” henderey says feeling your rasping pulse. “she’s really bad, we need to do something now.”

“well what do you suggest?” xiaojun says somewhat annoyingly, “we take off her clothes? we conserve body heat?”

“well we can’t leave her!” kun whisper yells. “what kind of people would we be if we left her.”

they all stare at each other in silence.

“the two of us that can’t sleep on our bed should sleep beside her.” ten says.

the boys immediately protest.

“hey!” he yells trying to get them under control.

“she’ll freeze if she doesn’t have a heat source, and we know that the rotating system won’t work. this is the best way.”

they look around, 

“sh-should we ask her?” yangyang says somewhat hesitant looking over at your listless body.

“ i don’t think she’s waking up anytime soon.” hendery states, still inspecting your body, lifting up your arm, and then watching it fall back onto the bed.

“don’t worry i’m sure that when she wakes up she’ll be glad she isn’t dead and not as concerned on why you’re there.” ten says to the members.

after a bit more persuasion and time spent out in the cold apartment the boys agree.

lucas agrees to sleep in your bed because being the biggest and most warm blooded out of all of them, it was the right choice.

 then henderey volunteered himself but they thought he was too interested in your listless body. 

so in the end they chose yangyang, just because they felt like he was the man for the job, and also because he didn’t touch his nose fast enough.

“should we take off her clothes?” lucas suggests, unable to take his eyes off of your shaking body.

“what’re you crazy!” winwin says, slapping lucas on the back of his head.

“not all of her clothes idiot. but the more damp layers she has on the colder she’ll be.” 

“lucas is right,” xiaojun says while ringing out his wet hair. “the less the better.”

lucas shakes slightly while removing your outer layer of clothing. it felt wrong for him to do this, but he knew he had too. 

after your shoes, socks, hat and coat were removed, he took off your wet sweater and pants and left you in a baggy t-shirt with your undergarments.

his face was so red as he hung your clothes out to dry for the morning. the boys also felt embarrassed looking at your long legs and body.

they had thought of you as a reporter and sack wearer. it wasn’t until that day at the ramen shop that any of their minds started to wander. and now seeing you, they realized they were all attracted to you. because you were really pretty.

“that’s enough with that,” lucas says while wiping his hands on his legs. “guys?” he says snapping them out of their trance of looking at you. he covers you up and sees your body immediately relax. 

“good she’s already doing better.” kun says relieved. “now get to bed guys! it’s like three a.m and we have another flight tomorrow.

the boys grumble and slowly undress ready for one of the most crammed and awkward sleeps of their whole lives.

the whole time this was happening, yangyang was plastered to the door, unable to get close to you.

“come on yangyang!” lucas says in a somewhat annoying voice.

“you’ve slept with girls, this shouldn't embarrass you at all.”

“and somehow it does,” he replies weakly smiling while taking his wet shirt off.

“okay guys keep it civil,” henderey says while getting into the bed.

“jheeze henderey what do you think of us?” lucas says putting a hand to his heart in fake sadness.

“not much.” henderey says sticking his tongue out.

“be quiet!” winwin snaps.

and like that five boys on a queen sized bed fell asleep from their tiring day.

lucas and yangyang did not.

“do i just get in?” yangyang asks lucas.

“how should i know!” he whisper yells back. “i’ve never done this before!”

“but remember that one time when you told me that you hooked up-”

“hey!” lucas snaps cutting yangyang off.

“that was a little different than this.”

yangyang agrees.

“so, i say we do the sandwich technique. one on each side so she has warmth from both and we dont have to spoon each other.”

yangyang agrees instantly, looking over at the boys. 

xiaojun was literally the smallest spoon out of five boys facing the same direction. yangyang shudders at the thought.

then the two shirtless and pantless idols climbed into bed with you, of course with a respectable distance. they were both almost falling off the bed but didnt want to touch you without consent.

they were also both slightly attracted to you and seeing you in such a revealing state was a bit too much to handle.

they were both breathing heavily, trying to fall asleep beside a gorgeous reporter girl that they hated, then became friends with, then almost let freeze to death. it was a lot.

then, you backup. you were sleeping, but shifted your body back. you had no idea you had shifted yourself into yangyang's crotch. “aargh!” he moans as your soft butt brushes up against a certain something.

lucas chuckles deeply as yangyang almost falls off the bed. 

“man up yangyang,” lucas chuckles from the other side of the bed.

“you’re not the one being groped by a pretty and unconscious girl!”

lucas laughs again, “ i knew it, you think she’s pretty!”

“i do have eyes,” he says quietly. 

lucas only smiles silently agreeing before falling asleep.

yangyang falls asleep soon after, after deliberately pushing you away from him.

the sunlight streams into the hotel room. no one wakes yet. you feel so nice and warm with lucas wrapped around you. he was spooning you in your deep sleep and it made you feel so warm, your body forgot what cold was entirely.

 his arms wrapped you in a big hug, his hands resting just above your hip bones keeping you firmly planted to him.

your arms were wrapped around his, savoring the comfort and warmth that came from his cuddles. 

you two had yet to find out that you were both cuddly sleepers, and immediately gravitated to each other in the coldness of the night. how lucas moved over hendery was a mystery, but it nonetheless happened.

yangyang wakes up to a butt pressed against his dick. but it was in fact lucas’s butt, which made for a much more unpleasant wake up and shower. 

when he got out of the shower you two were still like that but all the other boys had woken and were watching the two of you with open mouths.

“i don’t believe it!” winwin says angrily. “he even gets girls in his sleep! im done, im leaving im moving away.”

the boys chuckle but don’t do much. a little groan sneaks out of lucas’s lips as he starts to wake up shifting around, moving his hands across your belly. you start to do the same.

as you wake up you feel so calm and protected, you move around and hear groans behind you.

you then feel lucas’s large arms wrapped around your chest, his big hands planted firmly on your hip bones. 

you gasp.

“hi!!” lucas says smiling a cheeky smile.

you sit up, remembering what happened last night. you look around at the boys. they were all looking at you. 

“y/n,” yangyang starts. “we can explain, it was because you looked very cold and we didn’t want you to die and-” you turn over to face yangyang resting your hands on lucas’s stomach.

“no, i understand.” you say smiling at the flustered boy. “thank you,” you add, turning back. 

“thank you all. you did what i would’ve done and probably saved me, even though you did get me into this mess.

“yeah, we’re sorry about that.” kun says.

you glance over at lucas laying flat out on the bed. he wiggles his eyebrows at you so you throw a pillow at his head. 

you hadn’t realized that the other boys  faces grew redder than they already were.

you stand up, still only in a shirt and underwear. you didn’t care. they definitely saw you in it last night. the thought made you blush quite a lot. so you rush into the bathroom. “i’m gonna take a shower.” you tell the boys, looking back while holding the doorpost smiling. 

“if one of you would bring me my clothes that would be greatly appreciated.”

you then disappear into the bathroom and the boys all look at lucas.

“whaat?” he says putting his hands up in fake confusion smiling like an idiot the whole time.

the boys just shake their heads at him, then tackle him asking him nonstop questions.

“what was it like?” winwin yells while atop lucas.

“aaah!”

you guys had very little trouble after that. you’re other flight came on time and the pilot on spoke to the passengers at the beginning and end of the flight.

you felt sudden relief as you stepped out onto the terminal in bejiing. you got to wayv’s headquarters. you were so shocked that the driver had to tap you on the shoulder to make you exit the car.

it made the place in osaka look like a house. when you walked in you saw wayv’s face plastered on various posters and signs. there were sm vending machines and wayv cupcakes. this was insane.

you forgot that amidst all of your jokes and sleeping in the same bed as wayv. they were still international celebrities with hundreds of thousands of fans.

the thought sobered you and made you remember that you weren’t anything more to them than a reporter, and you had better do more reporting.

“y/n?” ten says, ushering you further inside the building.

you nod and walk through the white hallways.

“we were gonna get lunch at this noodle place by here. wanna come?”

“ oh i better not i-” you were cut off by xiaojun running down the hall so fast that his feet kept falling out from under him. then you saw yangyang run after him with a t shirt in his hands yelling in chinese.

ten just laughs like it was normal behavior.

“what? why is there blood on the ground? was one of them bleeding?” you swear it wasn’t there before you saw the boys run by.

“they take borrowing their clothes very seriously.”

you laughed. “okay i’ll come. but just to make sure that they get the proper medical attention that they need.”

ten agreed by nodding his head.

 both of you seriously doubted that they knew they were bleeding. 

part 6

[innismode]

Terrorism in the 21st century is all about the social media. It was by the wings of tweets, posts and likes that ISIL and its affiliates had been elevated to meteoric heights of brutal spectacle. And it was only natural that the tech community took umbrage on this gross misappropriation of their space and maleficent abuse of their implements. Thus did the Global Internet Forum to Counter Terrorism came about, established in 2017 as a response to address the terrorist use of the internet, and their roster of supporters include industry giants such as Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Microsoft, to name a few. 

One of the most interesting work they are currently working on is the hash database, a collection of AI facilitated “hash” identifiers that allows tech companies like social media providers to quickly identify violent extremist material among the deluge of content that pass through their platforms everyday. By sharing this information among the industry players, the voluminous extremist content that still make their way through multiple platforms can be taken down a peg or two. To date, they have more than 300,000 unique hashes that are put to work to keep the internet clean of extremist material and impressionable minds away from such influences.

But such efforts may not be free from some challenges. This is something I brought up when I went to the RightsCon Summit in Silicon Valley in 2014. I was actually there to give a terribly forgettable spiel on some equally forgettable attempt to counter the narratives of violent extremists, in a panel where nobody would have remembered I was there in the first place. But I was carrying a question from some friends in an NGO back home who were doing their own part in countering violent extremism who were experiencing a rather unique problem.

They were actually part of a humanitarian mission that regularly organized relief for victims of the Syrian civil war, but they sometimes came across individuals who were interested in going to the zones of conflict for all the wrong reasons. They decided to do something about it by putting up advisory videos on popular social media platforms to dissuade emotionally-charged young men and women from picking up arms, buying one-way plane tickets and going down that very dark road. I mean, it was great that these guys were doing this - they had tons of credibility owing to the fact that they regularly went down to the ground in conflict zones and can give it as it is, and they were going to speak out that joining violent extremist groups is not going to be what these wannabees think it would be, and would very well be best AVOIDED like the plague. Problem is that their videos were being taken down and their accounts were being suspended.

Now, they had their suspicions. They thought, whether rightly or wrongly, that their videos were being red flagged by the social media companies. Probably had something to do with the fact that, oh, they were talking about the Syrian Civil war and were talking about extremists and were talking about one-way tickets... well, you get the idea. Well, they were talking about this, but they were doing it to prevent people from joining with the terrorists. (TLDR: they thought their video speaking out against violent extremism was taken down because their videos were thought to be pro-violent extremism. I know, right?). Lord knows we need more of this efforts to engage people at the emotional and motivational level to prevent such radicalization, but even this fledgling effort was unceremoniously taken down and hit the proverbial brick wall.

So, as I was going to Silicon Valley to take part of this Summit where big name tech companies were going to touch about some of these issues, they were wondering whether I could ask representatives of a particular social media platform whether they could look into their problem, maybe consider releasing their accounts from suspension and allow their CVE material back online. Now, I met such a representative, whose company shall remain nameless, suffice to say it was a pretty big “F”-ing company, if you catch my drift. But of course I realized it was a fool’s errand. Of course to expect such a tech behemoth to look into the mishap the be-felled a two-bit CVE operation was like reaching for the stars. Of course the representative was charmingly polite and reassured that the matter would be looked into. Of course the social media accounts in question remained status quo the last time I heard about them. Of course.

But therein lies the conundrum. It is great that tech companies are taking the much needed steps to take down much of the violent extremism material that are churning out all these freedom-fighter wannabees. But the AI processes that handle such voluminous amounts of content on a daily basis may have difficulty identifying when such material are actually countering the propaganda of violent extremists. So, baby? Bathwater? That kindova thing. I believe equally important to taking down the material would be active efforts to speak out against extremism. To engage meaningfully with those that are already coming dangerously close to the fence and wondering when would be the best time to jump over. Because if we think that all the take-downs in the world is gonna prevent Johnny or Jemilah from seeing those darnedest videos if they REALLY want to, we’ve got another thing coming. Building what a good friend of mine likes to call “mental firewalls” to help impressionable individuals come to their own decisions not to support or participate in violent extremism is another important step in making sure that we win the long game. And it would help if the babies, no matter how small or ineffectual they might currently be, remain to fight another day when the bathwater has drained away.

[cilldaracailin]

Now I’m Here

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys! And once more I am back with the start of another story in the Robyn and Taron series. Thank you for all the love, supports, comments and wonderfully positive response to Robyn and Taron. It honestly makes my heart swell with such love and makes me write and write and write some more! Hope you all enjoy the new story :)

1

“Saying 'I'm sorry' is saying 'I love you' with a wounded heart in one hand and your smothered pride in the other.”

If Taron thought Robyn flying to New York to confront him about his behaviour and call him out in front of the crew as he filmed for the new Kingsman movie was soul destroying, it was nothing to compared to what his mother had said to him when she had found out what happened and what he did. As humiliated as he had been by his actions as Robyn bought him to task over them, Tina has been utterly ashamed of him and made him feel like he was a little boy again as she chastised him for a full half an hour on the phone. He hadn’t been able to get a word in to explain to his mam that he and Robyn had talked through everything in person and once again on the phone as he rang her the next day, the two also speaking in a very civil manner, each taking their turns to explain how they were feeling, getting everything out in the air.

“You get on that phone to her Taron and you apologise once more.”

“Mam we have already…”

“I don’t care Taron. I couldn’t care if you have apologised to her twenty times, you will do it again. I raised you with respect and manners and you will not treat someone like that ever again. Robyn, of all people Taron. The woman who has done more for you than anyone else in this world and who had been nothing but a wonderful support for you and for you to just treat her so atrociously. I swear Taron, if you were near me, I would actually shake the stupid out of you. I am so mad at you.”

“I know mam.” Taron cringed as he took another verbal beating from a woman he loved.

“You have better think of every possible way to grovel to her.”

“I will mam.”

“And I need her address so I can send her some flowers to apologise for you on my behalf and you had better refund her the money for her flights.”

“I tried, but she wouldn’t let me and I have already sent the flowers mam.”

“Well do it again and again Taron because what you did is something that will take more than one simple bunch of flowers.”

Getting the speech from his mam in person was so much worse than on the phone and when he arrived home for Christmas, Tina actually clipped him across the back of the head, refusing to look at him for the first day he was home until she had calmed down, Taron taking refuge with his sisters for the day, the three of them sitting down to watch some Christmas movie’s together.

“And you are sure you got her work all sorted Taron.” Tina asked him the day before New Year’s Eve when she could finally sit and properly talk with him about his filming and his time so far in New York, now that most of the Christmas excitement had died down, but of course she couldn’t steer away from the subject of how he had treated Robyn.

“It was on the day she flew home mam. I got the email sent to her so she could send it out to the parents of the children in her creche, and it calmed everything down.”

“Do you realise how lucky you are Taron? She could have just walked away from you. She didn’t need to fly to New York to sort you out.”

“I know.” He replied quietly looking into his cup of tea that had gone cold. He never had the chance to drink it as his mam drilled him at the dining room table with more questions followed by another lecture.

“Never let that woman walk away from you, you understand me?”

“I do mam.”

“And you supposedly love her.”

Taron groaned, running his hands over his face. “Mam please don’t.”

“She is almost too good for you Taron.”

“Oh, I know that alright.”

Tina sighed and reached over to take his hand in hers. He could see the regret in his face and his eyes were a little watery. “What time is she getting here.”

“Tomorrow around twelve.”

“You promise me Taron Egerton, that you treat her like a princess the whole time she is with you, you hear me? Robyn asks you to jump and you answer with how high and the same when you go back to Ireland with her.”

“I will mam. I promise.”

Tina wrapped her arms around her son, giving him a long hug. “I know you love her Taron but there is only so much a woman can take, even someone as special to you as Robyn. You step out of line again and she will walk without question.”

Taron hugged his mam hard, appreciating how she rubbed his back. “I know mam.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are Taron.”

“Robyn is my lucky Irish charm.” Leaning into his mam, Taron closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort she gave to him. “I know how lucky I am.”

He had breathed such a sigh of relief when the newspaper had retracted the article two days after it was printed, apologising to him and Robyn for the printing it and was even more thankful that nothing at all had been seen on any media platform that Robyn had come to see him in New York, nobody knowing she had been there except the crew. He had been so appreciative to Lyndsey for everything she had done for him and how hard she had worked to make his mess right. It had been a hard couple of hours for him after Robyn left New York and he quickly worked with Lyndsey to get the letter composed for her for her work. He had phoned Robyn to tell her and it was a quick call as she was only off a plane and on her way to work but he had promised to call her once her shift ended.

That phone call, which became a skype call, although had ended on a cheery note, had been incredible hard for the two of them as they hashed out every disagreement and annoyance they had with one another, knowing that if they did not clear the air immediately, they would never get back to the way they were with each other. After three hours of hard-hitting conversation, tears and emotional admittance, Taron only realised more how unfair he had been with Robyn and his accusations, finally fully understanding how she was really feeling about the media and fans opinions of her and it hurt him when she was truly honest with him. His strong Robyn, suddenly became insecure about those trolls online and he was so broken inside with how she had been hiding how the comments really made her feel, realising that her reactions when he called her were to protect him so he wouldn’t be feeling so upset about the whole thing. Once they had talked and talked and talked some more, the air was well and truly clear between them and they had agreed to keep their compromise they made on the beach weeks before as well as being completely honest and open with each other, both agreeing that their friendship meant way too much to each other to give up on so easily.

Taron had found it difficult to sleep for a few nights after the phone call, his dreams haunted with scenes of him arriving at Robyn’ house begging her to forgive him but she slammed the door in his face and each night he woke in a cold sweat, his heart hammering hard in his chest but they settled down a week later when he asked Robyn a question during a happier phone call.

“So, do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“Ugh I hate New Year’s Eve Taron. I normally just order some take out, watch the count down in my pj’s and then go to bed.”

“Would you like to come to Aber and ring in the new year with me?”

He giggled like a school girl when she accepted his invite and even more so when she proposed one of her own.

“You want to fly back with me and go to a hurling game in Dublin?”

With the way the holidays fell, Robyn didn’t have to be back in work until the sixth of January and Taron didn’t fly back to New York until the tenth so between them they made a plan where each would visit the other in their respective homes and spend some time together and Taron was very much looking forward to it. With their rocky few days long past them, he was excited to just see Robyn and take out her for a few drinks with his friends, putting their best foot forward, hoping to get a few proper cuddles in too.

On the morning of the thirty-first of December, Taron was walking around like it was Christmas morning all over again. He had a wonderful few days at home and once his mam stopped looking at him like she wanted to murder him, the atmosphere at home was so light and happy and he was thoroughly enjoying his time off. Once the air was cleared with Robyn, and even though he hadn’t been sleeping great initially, he was back on his game at work and Matthew was thrilled with the progress the movie was making, delighted with how much they had filmed and how they were ahead of schedule once they wrapped up for Christmas break. Taron hadn’t planned anything at all for Robyn’s visit, except their night out with his friends and was just going to let the day plan itself. The only thing he was under orders to do was bring Robyn to his childhood home for a visit, his sisters stupidly excited to see her again but he had already explained to them, that their visit was going to be short with no sleep over. Taron selfishly wanted Robyn completely to himself at his home before they flew to hers after New Year’s Day.

Fluffing the pillows on his couch, he walked over to the Christmas tree to fix lights that were perfectly fine. He knew Robyn was due to arrive at his any minute and he was a belly of nerves and excitement. He bent down to adjust the present under the tree he had for her, fluffing the glitter bow out. He had asked if she wanted him to meet her at the train station but she had politely said no, deciding it was best if she arrived to his home by herself. He knew she was worried about being photographed together so was happy to let her get to him how she wanted. When it came down to it, he just wanted her there with him.

He needed these few days to run perfectly. He felt like he had so much to make up to her and prove to her and he wanted to see her smiling and hear her laughing with only tears of joy rolling down her face. Deep inside guilt still manifested for what he had done and he knew they were past it, and well past it as they had so many phone calls and laughs since but it still put him a little on edge and he needed to make sure Robyn felt at home and safe with him.

His head turned as the doorbell rang and he walked over to his front door, butterflies twirling in circles in his stomach. He opened the door and grinned widely when he saw her wrapped up in turquoise duffle coat, ocean blue scarf and hat to match.

“Hello chicken!” Taron’s smile immediately fell from his face when he realised what he said. It just came naturally to him to use her nickname but it had been the first time since New York that he had called her chicken and he didn’t know if he should and if he had already messed their few days together up. “Ahh shit Robyn, I mean, hi. I mean hello, I mean... Jesus Christ Taron…”

Robyn grinned and letting go of her case stepped forward and wrapped him up in a hug. “Hey rocketman. It is good to see you.” She gave his cheek a kiss. “And you can call me chicken.” Robyn enjoyed how Taron gave her a little tight squeeze before letting her go.

“Hey chicken.” He repeated, a wonderfully cute smile on his face. “Come on in. It is cold out there.” He stepped back and let her walk into his home, taking her case from her hands, thankful to see it was just a small case. “So, I guess hypnotherapy hasn’t work for cwtch then? He definitely can’t fit in here. Small case this time.”

Robyn smiled as she pulled off her hat and scarf. “You know, he just can’t be hypnotised no matter how many sessions he has.”

Taron laughed. “Rosie and Mari do not let their dinosaurs out of their sight and were really hoping cwtch was coming.”

“Like I told you last time. I bring cwtch here, I will never get him back and I need cuddles from cwtch every now and again.” Robyn rid herself of her coat and threw it over the back of Taron’s couch. “I like your tree. It’s pretty.” She walked over to his Christmas tree in corner beside the television.

“With extra lights too.” He said as he followed her.

“Love me some fairy lights.”

Taron grinned. “I know. So how was the flight?”

“Yeah it was good.” She turned to look at him, “You look tired. Why do you always look tired when I see you?”

A wide smile filled his lips. “Well I didn’t see my bed until very late Christmas Eve as you know and then I was up early with the girls and still haven’t recovered those hours of sleep and probably still trying to catch up on hours lost during filming too.”

Robyn reached up and gently traced the dark circles under his eyes. “You are back filming in a week. You need to rest and sleep. I suggest a nap before whatever antics you have planned for the evening.”

Taron inwardly groaned happily at the thought of taking a nap but shook his head. “I am not going to spend my time with you sleeping. I want to be able to enjoy your company. Watch some Christmas moves. Take a stroll on the beach.”

“Hmm a stroll on the beach?” She laughed when he winked at her. “Good thing I brought my bikini, isn’t it!” Turing away from him, she picked up her coat, hat, scarf and case. “I am going to go and put this stuff in the guest room. Why don’t you get us set up with a movie?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and made her way down the hall towards Taron’s guest room. She couldn’t help the smile that was fixed on her lips. She had been incredibly nervous coming to see Taron and it felt like it had been months since had seen him rather than weeks but once he opened the door and she was met with a smile, her nerves disappeared with the cold winter breeze that whirled past her outside. Leaving Taron in New York, with things somewhat unsaid and their conversation half-finished was hard for her as she was always one to see things through but their long and emotional skype call the next evening had definitely helped her talk through the truth of her feelings and Taron had finally been a wonderful confident and support to her and it healed some of her broken heart for him to actually listen to her properly. It also helped that Tina had been on the phone to her too, telling her that she had absolutely scolded Taron for his behaviour and apologised for her son. The many bunches of flowers with the thoughtful notes had made her smile as well, the ones that appeared at her work and home.

Taron had also completely kept his promise of getting Lyndsey’s help to sort her issue with the parents and once the email was circulated, Robyn could finally breathe easy in work and not be afraid to face the parents, most of them apologising to her for their rash words and when Taron’s publicist had assured her that nothing appeared in the media about her quick visit to New York, Robyn could finally sleep better at night.

His invite to come and spend New Year’s Eve with him was one she gladly accepted, happy to spend it somewhere else then her couch and she knew he was a little hesitant as he asked her, worried she was going to say no and but she countered his invite with one her own, glad she was able to do something for him too, getting two tickets for the hurling game she had asked him too. She knew their few days together were going to be a good time of proper healing for them.

She just had to remember not to let slip how much trouble she was in when Emma found out that her sick day wasn’t actually a sick day and the office door was closed for a while as Emma lectured her on the importance of her job and how she could not just swan off when she felt like it, no matter how pissed she was with Taron. Robyn had to make sure that any time she spent with Taron now had to be at the weekends or through a properly booked holiday day. Robyn knew Taron still held a lot of guilt about what had happened and as far as she was concerned the whole thing was sorted and didn’t want to tarnish his good mood by telling him just how much of a warning she had gotten for lying to her boss and going to see him.

“Hey you. What are you doing? I have a movie all set to go.” Taron sauntered into the room and sat on the bed.

“Just thinking.”

Taron looked at her. “About?”

“Stuff.” She didn’t like how his smile turned a little. “Just how glad I am here with you. We needed this.” She sat beside him on the bed and patted his knee. “I needed this. I can’t remember the last time I went out for New Year’s Eve.”

“Did I mention that it was a karaoke night?” Taron waited for the laugh and sure enough it came.

“Did you just walk yourself into our deal on purpose? And in front of your friends?”

“I thought you would get a kick out of it and you are not guaranteed to win. They are my friends.”

Robyn grinned. “Oh Taron, I don’t think I have ever looked forward to a night out as much as this one before. Just let me grab something from my case and we can go and chill out. What did you pick to watch?” Robyn stood up and lifted her case to the bed.

“A Muppets Christmas Carol.”

She smiled. “Such a good movie. I had it on tape as a kid and used to rewind and forward it to write down the words of the songs so I could learn them and sing them. There was no internet back then.” She explained when she saw his confused look. “Anyway, once I got it on DVD, I was so pissed that they got rid of the one of the songs.”

“They did? Which one.”

“The Love Is Gone. The one that Scrooges girlfriend sings on the bridge. It is not on the DVD. It was one of my favourites.” She turned away from him and opened her case.

“You don’t want to watch it now do you.”

“Of course I do. I still love that movie. ‘Light the lamp not the rat!’” She quoted. “Muppet Treasure Island is another of my favourites.”

Taron smiled and chuckled. “I have that one too.”

“The Great Muppet Caper is the best. Such a classic.”

“I do not have that one.”

“I have it on video. Never got the DVD version.” Finally pulling what she was looking for out of the case, she turned to Taron. “I am old school with my videos. Not that I can play any of them. So ready for a movie and chill out.”

“Yes please.” Taron stood up and tried to take a look to what Robyn was holding but she was hiding it behind her back. “What you got there?”

“Your Christmas present.” She replied. “Christmas present.” She repeated making sure she over pronounced on the word ‘Christmas’.

“Yours is under the tree.”

Robyn grinned. “Wanna do that first?”

With an agreement to exchange presents before they got comfortable on the couch for a few hours, they walked back to his sitting room, Robyn sitting down while Taron took her gift from under the Christmas tree. He sat down right beside her a beautiful giddy smile on his face.

“So, who goes first.” He asked.

“Rock, paper, scissors it?” She asked returning his grin.

After Taron lost the first game, he insisted they play two out of three and groaned when Robyn won again. “Definitely have the luck of the Irish on your side.”

She giggled and turned to sit crossed legged beside him, her knees touching his left hip and thigh. “I have something for you first though.”

Taron threw his hands up in the air. “What was the point of the game if you were going to go first anyway?”

Robyn felt so happy as she watched him protest and even more so that she had accepted his invite. It was so nice to be back in his company and hear him laugh and see him smile, even if his smile made the tiredness on his face more obvious. “It’s mainly for you but I get use from it too.” She handed him the gift wrapped in the bright Christmas paper.

“Do you know how many unmentionable thoughts are running through my head now Robyn?” He said as he took the present.

“Care to share some with me?” She winked, adoring how a flush filled his cheeks so easily.

Instead of answering, he concentrated on opening the present Robyn had given him, pulling the wrapping off. “Cookies!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Not just any cookies. Kilcreen’s second place white chocolate chip cookies.”

Taron had already pulled the cling film from the baked goods and pulled one out taking a bite as Robyn spoke. “Oh my God, I forgot how good these taste.” He said through his chewing. He closed his eyes and lay his head back on the couch. “Hmm yum.” He ripped another bite off with his teeth, the sweet cookie melting in his mouth. “Want some?” He asked handing her the one he was eating. His stomach dropped and he knew his cheeks blushed red as Robyn dipped her head and took a bite from the cookie he was holding in his hand. Inside he was feeling so blessed that his loving playful Robyn was back with him but her teasing actions were only increasing his fizzing feelings. Watching as she brushed crumbs from her lips, Taron ate another bite trying to keep his breathing even. It was as if their time in New York had never happened and they had just picked up with each other from when she had been in his home the last time. “You made me cookies.” He smiled breaking the last bite in two and handing her half.

“Freshly baked last night. I knew you would appreciate them.”

“So good. Thank you. You know I like your baking.”

“Yes I do.”

“Now your turn.” Taron brushed the crumbs from his hands and shirt, sweeping his hands down his thighs too. He then reached to his right and picked up the present he had for Robyn. It was wrapped in Christmas tree style of Christmas wrapping, a large gold litter bow tied the whole way around. “Merry Christmas chicken.” He said handing it over her.

“This is huge.” Commented Robyn as she took the present from him. It wasn’t any particular shape but felt squishy under her hands. “Hey did cwtch come here and you wrapped him up to give him back to me?”

Taron laughed and turned a little, moving so he sat on his left leg and could face Robyn. “I tried to convince him to come but he was having none of it.”

“It is my throw?”

“No that is in New York.”

Robyn looked over the gift to look at him. “You left the throw in New York?”

“Well yeah. I still have a month of filming to get through so left it in the apartment for when I am back.”

“No wonder you look knackered. You don’t have your throw to help you sleep.”

“No but now I have you.” The words were said before he could stop himself and he took a shaky breath, holding it a little while he waited for Robyn’s reply.

“I am sure I can find a way to help you sleep.”

Taron was so glad that Robyn went to open the present because his whole body froze for a good five seconds before he was able to breathe and move again after her comment. He had no idea what was going on but since Robyn was back in his flat, every word and movement she said and made sent a current of electricity bubbling through him and his whole face felt on fire with the blush he knew was there. He had felt these feelings many times before, their spark as they had named it but never with such ferocity before. Looking down to his hands, he saw the glitter ribbon on top of them.

“You and your fucking glitter Taron.” She growled at him before she returned to the wrapping paper, opening the sellotape and then tearing the paper off. “Taron you didn’t.” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked to her, enjoying the look of disbelief on her face. “How did… Where did you… Taron.”

Her babbling made him smile. “Well I can’t tell you that, now can I?”

“Taron.” Robyn looked to the pastel rainbow coloured Care Bear in her hands, the one she had told him about when he was at her home and had routed out all of her bears from under her bed. While he had taken to cwtch, she explained how annoyed and devastated she was that the shop wouldn’t sell her the Care Bear she had wanted to buy to add to her collection and once again he had shocked her with how he listened to her, actually finding the bear she never could. “It’s a True Heart Bear.”

“It’s the True Heart Bear.” Taron placed his hand on the bears head. “It is the one you had wanted but Tesco wouldn’t sell to you right?”

Her sudden hug, made a puff of air leave his lungs, the bear was squished very uncomfortably between them but he still chuckled as she wrapped her arms around him tightly, placing lots of kisses on his right cheek over and over again, his chuckles turning to giggles. “Robyn! Robyn!” He laughed, grinning her way as she moved away from him and taking the bear with her. “I guess you like your present.”

“You got me the bear.” Robyn looked at the cuddly Care Bear in her hands and then to Taron who had the most sweetest smile on his face, his dimples on show, his eyes bright. “Thank you Taron. Thank you so much. This is amazing. I can’t believe you found it.” She ran her fingers over the colourful star on the bears stomach and then over its rainbow fur. “Thank you.” She repeated. “Cwtch is going to have to find a new place to sit.”

“Don’t you dare move cwtch from his spot. I am glad I am going back to your home with you to make sure that doesn’t happen. Poor cwtch.”

“Well then this bear can go on my bed.”

“That is a much better idea.” Agreed Taron. “Can I have the bear for a second.”

“Sure.” Robyn handed the plush over and watched on amused and confused as Taron gave the bear a big squeeze, right up against his neck, rubbing the bear against his skin before he handed it back to Robyn. “You know I like your bed and now the bear smells like me so you won’t feel the need to take cwtch from his spot in my corner and can keep this bear with you on your bed. It will be like I am there with you.”

Robyn had to laugh to hide cough that caught in her throat and hoped the hug she gave the bear didn’t show how she quickly inhaled its fur, taking in the scent Taron had just transferred to her present. “It would be easier just to give me a bottle of your aftershave.” She returned, her face still buried in the bear.

“I will look into that for your birthday.”

She looked up from the bear. ���Spoiler alert on the birthday present.” Still with one arm wrapped around the bear, she reached out to take Taron’s hand. “Thank you so much for this Taron. I don’t know how you got one but thank you. It’s perfect and I love it.”

“You are very welcome.”

With the bear sitting on her lap, she pulled out another present from behind her. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”

Taron reached over and took the gift wrapped in another ream of brightly coloured Christmas paper. “But you gave me cookies.”

“The cookies were mainly for you but for me too. This is your actual present.”

He looked down to the rectangular gift in his hands that had the shape of a small book and finding a fold of paper, ripped the wrapping off quickly. Inside was a small spiralled notebook with different shades of blue stars on the front. Taped to the front of the book in calligraphy style writing where the words ‘Taron’s Voucher Book’.

“Robyn?”

“When you open it, it will make sense.”

Doing as was suggested, Taron opened the front cover of the book and inside was a message. ‘One voucher to be used when the bearer wishes it. One voucher per transaction.’ Taron was still very confused but turned the next page and sudden realisation hit him as he read the words on the page. ‘One baking lesson of your choice.’

“You figured it out yet?” Asked Robyn grinning as she took in the faces he made as his features changed from confusion to understanding to a cheeky grin.

“Yeah I got it.” The next five pages read ‘One head massage’. The next five ‘One face massage’. “This is the massage section I take it.” He asked raising an eyebrow. ‘One shoulder massage’ covered the next five pages. “A back massage? Seriously?” He said with a little doubt in his voice when the next few pages said ‘One back massage’.

“You like my head massages. Why not up the antsy a little bit and you already have had a mini back massage from me.”

“True.” Taron turned the back massage pages over. ‘Run a bath’. “This one will have to wait until I am back at yours.” He turned the page and Robyn enjoyed the shit eating grin that filled his face “‘Wear matching outfits’. Ohh Stella is going to love this one.”

“You only get one of those.”

“Yeah I saw but I like this one better I think. ‘Wear an outfit of my choosing’. You might regret that one.”

Robyn cringed a little. “I knew I shouldn’t have put that one in.”

“‘Go to premier with me’. Really? You would do that? Even after you were so insistent on not going ever?”

“You give me the voucher, I will go with you.”

Taron flicked through the remainder of the book, grinning at some of the ones Robyn had put in, simple little ones like ‘Do a face mask together’, ‘Sing Johnny Gorilla’, ‘Free piano lesson’, ‘Free guitar lesson’, ‘Go to the movies.’, ‘Time for a Robyn cuddle’. “Robyn this is amazing. I love this idea so much.”

“I knew you would get a kick out of it but have you read the terms and conditions on the back?”

Looking a little worried, Taron flipped the notebook over. “All vouchers must be used by Taron Egerton and with Robyn Quinn and once pulled from the book a voucher cannot be replaced or re-written. There is no expiry date required for the book and can be used at Taron Egerton’s own time and choosing though for the premier, Taron Egerton must make sure Robyn Quinn has enough notice to ensure time off work if needed.” He smiled and flicked through the book, stopping when he read through the pages with the massages. “Robyn…”

“Yes,”

“When I use all of these massage pages, does that mean no more head scratches ever?”

“Did you read the fine print under the terms and conditions?”

He flicked to the back of the book again and squinting, read the small writing under the terms and conditions. “There will never be a limit to the head massages even if all the vouchers have been used.”

She enjoyed how his face lit up. “There will always be head massages Taron. I like giving them to you.”

“Thank you so much for this Robyn. It is so special and I like how they are things for me and you do to together. It means we will have to see more of each other.”

“It means we will always see each other as often as we can. I know sometimes your life can be hectic and stressful and I wanted to give you something that you can use whenever you want when you need just a second to breathe and chill out and relax without asking for it. Just tear out what you need and we will do it, together.” He moved towards her and stretched closer her way and she accepted his hug, rubbing his back. “You don’t need to use any this weekend Taron. Save them for when you really desperately need them and some of them are for me too.”

“Like singing Johnny.” He asked into her neck.

“Yes. Love a bit of Johnny Gorilla.”

“I can sing Elton out of my arse you always go for the bloody gorilla.”

Robyn laughed against him. “He’s just a sweetheart. Like you.”

Taron moved back to his place and looked at the book in his hands. It was something so thoughtful and different, the gift meaning he got to spend more time with Robyn giving him such wonderful treats when he needed them the most. “You will really go to a premier with me? In something I choose for you to wear?”

“If you pull the vouchers out? Yes of course.”

“Even if it is a black sack?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.

“You think Stella is going to put me in a black sack?”

“No probably not. Robyn this is just so thoughtful. Thank you so much and I really mean that. Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome. Thanks for my bear.”

“I have a feeling I should have waited until Sunday before I gave you that bear. It is going to take all of your attention.”

Robyn chuckled. “I am going to go and put it on the bed in the guest room. I will be back.”

Taron watched as Robyn stood up and walked around the couch and down the hallway to the bedrooms. He then looked back to the book in his hands. Robyn’s presents always had such careful thought and love behind them and were so personal. He flicked through the book, stopping when the page read ‘One back massage’. He always melted into her hands when they were on his head, he couldn’t imagine how wonderful her hands on his back would feel and closing his eyes he wondered when he would ever get the chance to use one of those vouchers, then smiling because he knew that was exactly why Robyn had added them in. It would have to be a very special occasion, weekend or few days like the ones they had now to get to use the more complicated vouchers like a back massage but he knew he was going to make use of them all.

“Right the bear is all tucked up in bed.” She sat back down on couch beside him. “Ready to watch the movie?”

“Sure.” He reached over and carefully placed his voucher book the coffee table. “We are meeting my mates around seven in the pub if that is ok? The karaoke starts at eight and there will be finger food going around too.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“We are going to have to go and see my family before we actually head to the pub though.”

“That is fine Taron. You know I adore your family.”

“So, I was thinking, if we get to my parents for six? It will give us enough time for a quick chat before we can leave.”

“Not cutting it close with an hour there Taron?”

“I have already explained to Mari and Rosie that it will be a quick visit and we will be back tomorrow. You really shouldn’t have pulled out all the stops with your visit the last time. They are expecting unicorns and mermaids this time.”

Robyn laughed as she sat close to him on the couch. “I will put my thinking cap on for the next time I come and visit but that sounds fine Taron. It’s just gone one now. It gives us some quality Christmas movie time before we have to move to get ready.”

“I like the sound of that. I am ready to just sit and chill.”

“Even though it is your break, it has still been busy for you hasn’t it?” Robyn looked to his face again, seeing the weariness in his eyes even though they were happy and bright.

Taron nodded. “Normally the way.”

“Am I being used as your escape goat?” She asked.

“Honestly? A little bit.” Taron hoped she wasn’t going to take his admittance the wrong way. “I just need a few hours sitting and doing nothing.”

“I am happy to help you with you that Taron. Why don’t you lay down and take a nap? I have a feeling tonight is going to be all kinds of hectic fun. You might as well get some rest before hand.”

“But I want to watch the Christmas movie with you.” He answered a little sadly.

“I didn’t mean for you to go to your bed. I meant here. Lay down here on the couch.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” She questioned.

Taron hesitated with his answer and Robyn tilted her head a little before she finally understood why his little gestures of affection he was always so free with had been a little uncertain and timid. He was being extra careful with his movements because of what happened in New York even though as far as she was concerned that was behind them.

“Come here you tosspot.” Moving up so she sat right at the left side of the couch, she wrapped her right arm around his shoulders and gently pulled on him so he got the message to lay down on her lap, kicking his legs up tucking them into his chest a little, moving until he was comfortable. “Do you want a cushion for your head?” She asked him.

“No I am good.”

“You sure.”

“Perfect.” He answered. “Just perfect.” He reached out for the DVD controller and got the movie playing. Then the folded his arms into his chest, one hand resting flat on Robyn’s leg just beside his face. “Perfect.” He whispered again.

“You are not even going to make it past the opening song.” She whispered to him, watching as his whole body relaxed into the couch and her.

“Hmm.” He replied sleepily.

“And I haven’t even touched your head yet.”

“I am tired.”

“I know. I have been telling you that since I arrived. Why do you only have a decent sleep when I am around?” She asked him.

“Irish lucky chicken.” He answered her, his voice a soft coo.

“Sleep. I will wake you when we have to get ready.”

Taron never thought he would ever get near to feeling this close to Robyn after New York but here he was being held in her arms without question or fuss and a relieved happy tear rolled down his cheek. An appreciative moan left his lips when her hand slipped into his hair, her fingertips immediately scratching his scalp so satisfyingly.

“Your hair has grown.” She said to him brushing the strands through her fingers.

“It’s for Eggsy.” He replied.

“I like it like this. Easier to rake through and play with.”

Taron grinned, his eyes closing as Robyn made light circles on his head. “No voucher needed for this right?”

“No voucher needed.” She confirmed. “Now sleep.”

“Ok.”

His one-word answer made her chuckle a little and he raised his head to meet her hand when she dragged her fingers through his hair, enjoying the shivers it sent down his spine. His head settled again, snuggling into her lap and as he felt his breathing deepen and slow down, he knew he would be asleep in seconds. It was pure heaven and without a doubt he was certain that his Robyn was back and just as loving and comforting as she had always been for him.

The opening song on the screen had just finished and Robyn knew Taron was already sleeping. She had seen him sleep enough over the past few months to see the signs on his body. The deep rise and fall of his chest and shoulders, his completely relaxed body position and he head wasn’t leaning into her hand any more. She found it so hard to believe that it was only over three weeks ago that this man in her arms had caused her nothing but an agonising pain that cut her to the core but now as she gently manipulated her hand through his hair, she felt nothing but love from him and for him. As soon as he greeted her at the door and called her chicken her whole body softened to his voice and once he smiled her way, she was a goner. There was just something about Taron that had an effect on her like no other and her heart skipped beats, her words became flirty before she realised she had said them and his hugs were so wonderfully comforting and warm. It was going to be a very interesting evening with him and she was looking forward to every minute of it.

[sherrybaby14]

The Option I

A/N 1: This is a Dark!Bucky x Naive! Reader story.   While it will contain questionable consent it is not going to be as dark as some of my other stories.  That is not an invitation for those who are not comfortable with the topic to read, as much as it is an update for those who came to this looking for a very dark tale.  

Warnings: This chapter has none, but overall this story will be noncon/dubcon (Please Do NOT read if this offends you) 

Words: 4k

Summary:  While traveling through Europe you meet an unusual man under unusual circumstances. 

A/N 2:  This takes place in the same universe as “The Distraction”. You do not need to have read that to follow this at all though.  It is not canon-compliant but could be interpreted to take place after Winter Soldier and before Civil War.  

Did trains move this fast back home?  You looked out the window at the European countryside.  It was hard to take any of it in since the speed made everything a blur.

                You yawned and debated going back to your sleeping car, but your stomach gurgled and reminded you that you needed food. Besides, you’d been asleep for the last ten hours.  So far, this trip taught you that jet lag was a real thing.  

                From the moment you got off the plane in Paris, you were exhausted.  It took an hour to travel to the station, and three more until you boarded the train. You passed out as soon as you got to the teeny tiny private room your uncle had reserved for you.  

                The time change was messing with you almost as much as the travel itself, maybe more so.  To you, it felt like 10 am, but here the sun was setting and dusk was settling in.  You pulled out your phone and checked the time.  20:26. You did the math and realized it was already after 8 pm.  

                There was a text message from your uncle on the lockscreen.  

                Glad to hear you’re on the train.  My driver will pick you up in Istanbul in three days.  Safe travels.

                Visiting him was a good idea.  You needed family right now, and he was all you had left. The reminder made your heart hurt and you shut your eyes not wanting to relive the last month.  

                You wished he would have flown you directly into Turkey, but he told you that this was less expensive and would give you an opportunity to clear your head and enjoy traveling.  

                Another train breezed by and you jumped as the view of the countryside vanished.  

                “You mind if I sit here?”  A girl about your age slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry if I’m bothering you, but the dining car is starting to fill up.”  

                “You’re American?” You had heard a lot of languages being spoken, but this was the first English, it made you perk up.  

                “Born and raised in Colorado.  How about you?”  She gave a warm smile as she pushed her glasses up her nose.  

                You said your home town and glanced her up and down. She was pretty, with brown hair in a messy French braid, oversized glasses hiding doe-brown eyes, and no make-up to accentuate her natural beauty.  Beauty, it was almost like she was a model trying to dress down in her pale blue hoodie.

                “Never been.”  She held her hand out. “I’m Alice. What’s your name?”

                “Y/N.”  You reached out to shake. “I thought I wouldn’t find a soul to talk to until I got to my uncles.”  

                “Visiting a relative?  I’m studying abroad in Istanbul.  I wish I could have flown into Turkey, but the airfare was outrageous!” She rolled her eyes with over-accentuated movements.  

                “I’m going to Istanbul too.” You did an internal high-five that now you had a friend for the trip.  

                “Sweet, I have a buddy!” She reached out and squeezed your hand. “I’m starving.  Did you order yet?  What’s good?”

                “No, the server hasn’t come around.”  You grabbed a menu from the back of the table. “I’m not even sure what most of this is.  The English translation is off, one of the items is ‘pig in his own sauce’. “

               “Gross.” Alice scrunched up her nose and laughed. “This is your first time abroad huh?”

               “Believe it or not, this is my first time traveling in general.” You glanced around the train. “I was something of a homebody.”  

                “Well relax, enjoy your travel experience.” She nodded over her shoulder. “But if you want to eat on trains you have to go to the window and order.  Why don’t you wait here and I’ll bring us back something yummy?  I promise, no pig sauce.”

               “That would be great.” You reached into your purse and pulled out your wallet. “I have a few Euros.”  

                “Don’t worry.  This one is on me.” Alice slid up from the booth. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

                When she walked down the aisle you leaned back in the booth, a wave of relief washing over you.  If you hadn’t run into her, you probably would have sat in the dining car all night with no food.  

                You turned your attention back to your phone and replied to your uncle.  

                I’ll try. See you soon.  

                If it weren’t for him, you would have been completely alone in the world.  You were lucky he found you.  When he showed up at your parent’s funeral, surprise was an understatement.  The last time you saw him was when you were five or six. Then when he offered to move you to Turkey it blew your mind.  

                You weren’t ready to move away, but an extended vacation sounded nice while you figured things out.  The two of you agreed on a three-month trip. After that, it didn’t take much convincing to put your things in storage and get out of dodge.

                “Alright, the food will be up shortly.”  Alice slid back into the booth and set a glass filled with amber liquid in front of you.  “I believe we are getting a chicken dish with some French fries.  It may be potatoes though.”  

                Your eyes kept on the beer. You hated to be rude.

                “Cheers.” Alice picked up her glass and tilted it towards you.  

                “I don’t really drink.” You winced and pushed the glass away.  

                “Oh, my bad.”  She frowned. “It seems like everyone in Europe drinks.  Beer is cheaper than pop.  I can go get you something else.”

                She wasn’t lying, you figured that out when you were at the train station.  A coke cost three times what beer did.  Alice had treated for the meal.  

                “It’s not a big deal.”  You smiled. “I have drank, I just, it’s not a normal thing.”

                “No really.  I’ll drink yours.” Alice stood up. “Give me a minute.”

                “See?” You grabbed the beer and took a sip, not wanting her to waste money on you. “I’ll be fine.”

               Alice’s shoulders relaxed and she sat back down.

                “So you can drink?  I assumed, based off your age, you didn’t like it or had to quit or something.”  She picked up her beer and took a sip.  “Not that there’s any shame in that. I know a lot of people struggle with addictions.”

                “Like I said, just a homebody.” You smiled. “I always had friends, but small town, small options.   I lived with my parents until recently, they weren’t drinkers.”

                The smile dropped from your face.

                “What happened?” Alice set her beer down and took your hand.  

                “They died.” You glanced out the window. “A freak accident, nobody’s fault.”  

                “Oh my God, that’s terrible. You poor thing.” Alice squeezed harder. “I’m thinking you need more than one drink.”  

                “I couldn’t.” Her hand was on your wrist, raising the glass to your lips. “I’m pretty sure my parents would be disappointed over this one.  They were a little overprotective.”  

                You didn’t get the rest of the thought out before the glass was at your lips.  The beer was bitter, but not overpowering.  You were scared of the effects though.  

                “Let loose, have some fun. You need it more than most.” Alice took a drink of hers. “Besides, I’m practically a professional drinker.  I’ll make sure you’re safe.”  

               “Thank you for the offer.” Your stomach let out a grumble.  “But I’m more concerned with eating than drinking right now.”  

                “Foods not ready yet.” Alice looked over her shoulder. “But when it is I’m getting us another round.  And tonight is on me.  I’m treating.”

                “That’s not necessary.”  You reached for your wallet. “I’ll get the next drinks.”

               “See?  You need this.”  Alice cheered your glass again. “Drink up.  I’ll take good care of you.”  

               You glanced at the beer and back at your new friend.  It had been a long month and maybe drowning your sorrows wasn’t such a bad idea.  

                “Alright, fuck it.” You picked up the beer and took a huge sip.

                “Thata girl.”  Alice gave you a wink.  

                It could be time to relax.  After all, this was supposed to be a positive transition.

~~~

               Ice was in your veins. You hugged yourself as your teeth chattered, pulling your legs up to your chest and forming a ball. Your long-sleeved shirt and jeans weren’t providing you enough warmth.  You reached out to grab the blanket but felt nothing.  

               Once the coldness settled in a splitting headache came next.  You brought your hand to your forehead and groaned, slowly opening your eyes.  

                The sky was light grey, the sun blocked by heavy cloud coverage.  You looked down and saw the cement underneath you, as you pushed yourself up you craned your neck and realized you were on a small street, huddled against a brick building. Something of a small downtown area.

                “What?” You asked nobody.

                Where was the train?  What were you doing here?  Was this Istanbul?  You pushed yourself up from the sidewalk until you were on wobbly legs.  

                Istanbul was a sprawling metropolitan city.  This was more like a quaint village.  You brought your face to your hands, knowing you were having a delayed reaction.  

                Alice.  That was the last thing you remembered, drinking beer with her in the train car. How many had you had?  You struggled to think, but everything was coming up blank.  You couldn’t remember anything after the first one.  Did you even eat?  

                Your stomach churned and you turned towards the building, keeling over as you dry heaved, your mouth as dry as cotton. Once your stomach accepted there was nothing to throw up you felt a little better and stood back up.  

                Down the street, you spotted a person walking the opposite direction.  You moved as fast as you could toward them, hoping someone could give you a clue as to where you were at least.  Maybe help you call your uncle.

                Call.  Your phone. You felt down your pockets.  Empty.  Your purse was nowhere to be seen either.  Your passport, money, all your belongings were still on the train.  How the hell did this happen?  

                It was tempting to sit still and sob, but that would accomplish nothing so you moved faster hoping to catch up to the person. It was an older woman.  

                “Excuse me, Ma’am?”  You were almost caught up to her.  

                She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Her lips pressed together and she shook her head in disappointment at you.  

                “I’m sorry. I know this sounds strange, but could you tell me where I am or how to get to a phone?”  You weren’t even certain of your uncle’s phone number; you never wrote it down only stored it in your cell.  

               “Yaksh imam bradolbo.” The women clicked her tongue.

               “Oh.” You didn’t have a clue what the language was. “Do you speak English?”  

               The woman continued to shake her head.  

                “Do you know anyone who does? Who I can talk to?” You knew how stupid you sounded, but didn’t know what else to do. “Please.”

                “Bradolbo.” She shook her head and turned to start walking.

                “Is it alright if I follow you?” You kept pace with her.  “Is there a train station around here?”  

                “Shalp bradolbo esq quilnton.” The woman walked faster.  

                Shit. You were probably scaring her.  You needed to find some way to communicate.  

                “Choo-choo.”  You moved your arms at your sides in circles.  “Chugga chugga, choo choo?”  

                You hoped that imitating a train was the same in every language.  The woman didn’t stop walking, but the disappointment in her face turned to pity and she shook her head.  

                “No train stop?” You didn’t understand.  “No English?”  

                “Bradolbo.” She turned the corner.  

                A few blocks up there was a large white tent. It was some form of country market and you felt a slight bit of relief.  Someone there would speak English.  You took a deep breath, knowing you had to hold it together for a little bit longer.

~~~

               Bucky pulled down the rim of his hat, hiding his face as much as he could without wearing a mask.  He hated coming to public spaces, but he needed to restock some of his staples and that meant coming into the farmer’s market.  

               He told himself to relax, reminding himself he picked this small country to hide for a reason. Nobody was going to pay any attention to him.  Still, he was quick, moving from table to table buying double of what he needed.  

                The snow season wasn’t due to start for another month but the chill told him otherwise so he aired on the side of caution and over purchased just in case he found himself snowbound until spring.  

                “Please? Someone? Anyone?” The familiar language caught Bucky’s ear.  “Can anyone understand me?  Please!”

                Why was someone speaking English in a place like this? All of Bucky’s nerves flared.  Was this a trap?  Had they found him?  He bent down and pulled off his backpack, placing his purchases in the bag while retrieving the pistol he stashed in there, sliding it up his sleeve.  

                “Please?”  The voice was female, but that in no way shape or form calmed Bucky’s nerves.

                He wouldn’t look at them. That would risk drawing attention.  He would rather observe before attacking in the middle of a marketplace.  

                With the gun in his grip, he tugged down his jacket sleeve and walked away from the pleading girl.

                “Is there a payphone?  US Consulate?  Can you tell me the name of this city?  Even what country I’m in?”  The girl’s voice faded as Bucky put distance between them.  

                When he was confident he was far enough away he turned to assess the situation.  If she was an assassin sent to draw him out it was a convincing decoy.  She was beautiful, even with the pained look of terror on her face that she was trying to control.  Frustration filled her eyes as she frantically blinked away the tears.

                She was underdressed too, wearing far too little for the cold air.  She didn’t even have a jacket.  

                “Please, can anyone help me?”  She spun in a circle looking at the other shoppers.  

                Every person kept their eyes down, avoiding her at all costs.  It was like she may as well have been a ghost.  Why wasn’t anyone reacting to the poor girl?  Even though she was speaking in a strange language Bucky was surprised nobody tried to help her.  

                “They’ve seen this before,” Bucky whispered to himself.

                There was a reason they ignored her.  Bucky knew what sort of country this was; it was a big reason he chose it.  He bet the poor lost woman didn’t have that choice.

                He pushed the thought down. She had nothing to do with him.  He needed to ignore her and leave her to whatever the fates had in store.  

                “Please?”  She was struggling to keep the tears out of her voice as it shook.  

                Bucky turned to leave, but he felt a pang of guilt. He had two options: go home and forget about the woman or try and help her.  He didn’t like either.  

                It was early, not even nine am, he guessed whoever was on their way to collect her was minutes away.  They wouldn’t let their catch roam free for too long.  

                By the time they arrived, she would be so desperate and scared she wouldn’t question getting into a car with a stranger.  Bucky knew the dangers of falling into the wrong hands, having your life taken away.  

                “Why won’t anyone talk to me?”  The girl sounded frantic. “Can I just use a phone? Can someone call the police?”  

                Every voice in his head told him it was a bad idea. Leave.  Forget about her, but Bucky still wasn’t sure if it was really him in charge of the voices.  

                “Shit.” He cursed to himself as he moved from behind the table and made a beeline straight for the girl.  “Option two it is.”  

~~~  

               You were seconds away from screaming at the top of your lungs.  It didn’t matter that these people spoke a different language, how could none of them be attempting to speak to you at all?  Maybe call the police over the crazy lady screaming in the market?  

                Right before you sucked in the air an arm flung around your shoulder, pulling you in for a hug.  

                “Act like you’re happy to see me.  Like this was all planned,” a voice spoke from the top of your head.  

                “Oh, you speak English thank God.” You sighed and pulled away from the chest. “Can you help me?”  

               Your breath caught in your throat as sparkling blue eyes looked down at you, he wore a grin that to everyone else was shielded by a baseball hat.  

                “We have to move.  Remember, act like you were waiting for me.”  He kept his arm around your shoulder and guided you to the back of the market.  

                “Move? Where are we going?”  You weren’t about to leave the man’s side.

                “Away from the crowd.  Keep your eyes down. Try and blend.”  You didn’t know how you were supposed to do that when a few minutes ago you were causing a scene.  

                Most people continued to ignore you, but others gaped at the man who was walking you out of the tent.  Almost like he was doing something forbidden. It should have made you uncomfortable, but someone finally agreed to help and you weren’t about to take that for granted.  

                “I was on a train, and then I woke up on the sidewalk. Where am I?”  When you left the area of the market his arm dropped from around your shoulder.  

                “We have to keep moving.”  The man walked to a small bike.

                “Wait.” You’d never been on a motorcycle before and weren’t sure this would seat two. “Can you take me to the police?”  

                “We don’t have time for this.”  He took off his backpack and held it out to you.  “You have two options, stay here and see what happens or come with me.”  

                You glanced behind your shoulder at the market. The awful feeling of invisibility making you almost convulse.  Without hesitation you walked over to him, taking the oversized backpack and throwing the straps around your shoulders.  He had made it look so light, but it was heavy enough you almost thought your back would throw out.  

                He kicked the bike on and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you took off.  The sound of the engine filled the cold air and you tried to bury your head into his back, hoping to block the wind.  

               How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? Your teeth started chattering and as your exposed hands froze around the man’s stomach.  You focused on the cold, telling yourself this man would help you. He would get you in touch with the authorities and you would be on your way to your uncle in no time.  You were sure of it.  There was nothing to fear.  You wouldn’t allow yourself to think anything else.  

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

To this day, I still think of these things to help me conceptualize powers of 10

Say each little nub is a centimeter (because we live in a civilized society that uses the metric system).  About the size of a marble

A thousand is 10x10x10, about the size of a large Rubik’s cube, about the size of a softball, easily held in the palm of one hand.

Do that again, take ten of those, and then ten of those, and then ten again, and you get a cube 100x100x100, a minecraft block, abut waist high.  Maybe a little larger than a mini fridge.  If you have long legs, you could probably step on top of it.  That’s one million.

Do that again, ten by ten by ten, and you get a cube that’s 1000x1000x1000, 10 meters to a side, about as tall as a three story building, about as wide as two or three cars parked bumper to bumper.  That’s one billion.  Keep this block in your head, and imagine the original nub, the marble compared to a literal building.  Billion with a B is a LOT.  Billion with a B also ain’t shit.

Do it again, ten by ten by ten, you wind up with a cube 10000x10000x10000.  That’s 100 meters wide, as long as a football field, taller than the Statue of Liberty from ground to torch (that’s the statue AND the pedestal AND the base it was built upon).  Keep this in mind, and think back to the nub, the marble.  One Trillion, with a T.  That’s a million millions.  That’s a thousand thousand thousand thousands.  That’s about as big a number as people can really comprehend, it’s about as big a number as we’re ever likely to hear about in the news.  Sure, we know the names of bigger numbers, but those are just words, they don’t exist, nobody talks about higher orders

Do it again, ten by ten by ten, you have a cube 100000cm to a side, that’s a kilometer long, wide, and tall.  Taller than the tallest building on Earth, the Burj Khalifa; that tower is tall, but it’s super thin, so imagine you have  a bouquet of those, like a big thing of flowers, all scrunched together.  This cube is tall enough that you would reach terminal velocity if you jumped off of it.  It’s the size of a mountain, a literal mountain; Mount Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi, is 2km tall.  This cube is one Quadrillion.

Again, ten by ten by ten.  10 kilometers wide, 100 square kilometer base, that’s the size of a city (Tallahassee, Florida; Reno, Nevada; Amarillo, Texas), and as tall as the cruising altitude of a commercial jet.  This is TALLER than mountains; Mount Everest is only 8.8km tall, the air is so thin, you’d literally die.  It’s so high up that you can’t even see the ground, it’s all just a sky blue haze (you know what I mean if you’ve ever had a window seat on a plane).  This is one Quintillion, THAT’S NOT EVEN A REAL NUMBER.  THAT’S ILLEGAL!  That original little nub, that marble, it’s NOTHING.  This cube is visible from space, if you have keen eyes (you’d see the shadow before you see the cube itself, it would stretch across the globe at sunrise and sunset)

Again, ten ten ten, 100 kilometers to a side, 10000 square kilometers, that’s the size of Delaware and Rhode Island combined, the island of Cyprus, or the country of Lebanon, and taller than our atmosphere (literally; by definition, the Karman Line, 100km, is the height at which Earth stops and space starts).  One sextillion.

It’s 1AM at time of writing this, and I’m tired, so I’m gonna stop it there because I don’t need to experience existential dread at how big the universe is as I go to sleep.

[angelic-holland]

brb // th x fem!reader

Summary: You and Tom had been friends with benefits for a while. They both want something more, but they both don’t know how to use their words.

warnings: a little smut, mostly angst 

2.2k words

You had an arrangement with Tom, when he was in London he was yours and you were his, sexually. You were each other’s booty call essentially. When he was off filming you’d sext or get each other off over FaceTime but if either of you wanted to hook up with someone else it was fine, it’s not like either of you could drop everything and hop on a plane when you were horny. There wasn’t any romance involved, that shit’s too messy when he was never around.

Little did you know that he never hooked up with anyone else, even when he was gone for months he only wanted you. You were the same way, to be honest. You were busy with school, you didn’t have time to find a whole other guy to hook up with when Tom wasn’t around.

You got a text from Tom, telling you that his plane got to the airport early, asking if you wanted to meet him at his place in 30. It was Friday before spring break for you, having no plans you agreed, grabbing a coat before telling your roommate you’d be back later in the evening.

You took your time walking to his place, a little over 2 miles from your apartment. You figured he’d just want a quickie since he’s been stuck on a plane for 8 hours from Atlanta doing reshoots for the Avengers movie.

When you finally arrived the door was open and you let yourself in, “Tom? You home?”

“Fuck, Y/N, been thinking about you my entire flight,” he says, coming out of the shadows from the hallway.

“Hi to you too Tom,” you giggle as he pulls you into his chest, kissing you. His hair was all messy and he had bags under his eyes, probably from sleeping on the plane, trying to catch up on all the sleep he missed.

His hands move underneath your skirt, groping your ass.

“You miss me?” You laugh as he pulls you to his room, stripping as you go.

“So much Y/N,” he says, as you jump onto his bed, tossing your underwear to the side.

He joins you, kissing from your thighs to you mouth, taking his time.

****

“Fuck, Tom, oh my god,” you cry out as he makes you come again, you’ve lost track of how many times the both of you have come throughout the evening. He pulls his lips away from your pussy and smiles at you, kissing up your stomach to your mouth again. You savor the kiss, loving the way he knew just how to touch you and kiss you to make you swoon.

He flops onto the bed bedside you and you shake your leg, trying to bring some feeling to your lower half.

“Fuck you wore me out tonight Tom, what’s gotten into you?”

“Just missed you is all,” he says, waiting for the inevitable, for you to get up and leave.

You lay there, letting your body calm down, you see his hand fiddle at his side out of the corner of your eyes. You turn on your side to face him, “Can I stay the night?”

His eyes light up and he accepts a little too quickly.

“Thanks,” you say, stretching your arms above your head.

“Wanna, i was gonna shower did you wanna join me?” He asks, a nervousness to his voice.

“I’ll hang out here, I don’t think I can handle shower sex right now,” You laugh and he nods, getting up and leaving you in the bed. You grab your phone once he’s gone telling your roommate that you’ll be staying the night at your ‘special friends place’. Nobody, not even her knew you were fucking and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got up and grabbed his gray T-shirt, one of your favorites, he always seemed to wear it when he came back from wherever he was filming, maybe he knew how much you loved it. You pulled it on and sniffed it a little, loving how it smelled like him. You wish you had shirt of his to just have when he was gone but you shook the thought from your head, just friends with benefits, he’s never here, you can’t date someone who’s almost always halfway across the world.

You flopped back down on the bed, curling up under the covers, you had a long day, not nearly as long as Tom’s you were sure of that but still long.

You felt sleep overcome you as the door to his room opened.

****

Tom has just gotten out of the shower, he walked back to his room after drying off, tossing his towel in the laundry basket. He was humming softly to himself but stopped when he noticed you were asleep. He smiled at you, curled up under the blankets, wearing his shirt. He always wore that one because you said it was your favorite of his, you loved the way his skin looked under it, liked how no matter how many times he washed it it still smelled like him. He wore it whenever he came back from filming just for you.

He slipped into sweatpants and pulled back the covers, laying down next to you. He was hesitant to put his arm around your shoulder, not wanting to wake you up but decided he would. He gently rested his hand on your arm and smiled as you cuddled closer to him. You’ve never really stayed the night before, always left right after sex or after a quick shower. He could get used to this.

He remembered the first time the two of you ever kissed, it was at a party one of your friends threw, you’d been friends for a while throughout high school and you both just graduated. And what else would a bunch of drunk teenagers do at a party than play truth or dare? His best friend Harrison dared him to play 7 minutes in Heaven with you, which made you both blush, and you dragged him into the hallway closet.

You were both nervous, Tom was having one last hooray before he was going to film for Captain America: Civil War, you were going to go to university in the fall, you knew that now was your chance to do anything, maybe become more than friends before he was swept into the whirlwind of fame.

“Can I, can I kiss you?” He asked, stuttering the entire time. You nod, pulling him down towards you and initiating the kiss.

In the 7 minutes you had before you both knew that Harrison or someone else would come barging into the closet you gave him his first blow job, which blew his fucking mind, and ever since he’s been obsessed with your mouth. You swallowed his come and tucked him into his pants right as Harrison pulled the door open, looking at the messy hair and unzipped jeans of Tom before laughing his ass off and dragging you both back to the circle.

***

Ever since then he’d only been with you, sure there were opportunities while he was filming but every time it almost happened, he just thought of you and stopped. Over the years you’d visited him a few times when you weren’t in school, surprising him at his hotel room after the Spiderman Homecoming premiere. He nearly lost his mind he was so happy to see you. He wanted to take you out, show you off to all his friends, make you his girlfriend, take you on dates, but you were very strict with not wanting any of that. You didn’t want his fans to go crazy, you didn’t want your picture to be all over the internet, and he respected that. Hell, he knew what being linked to him romantically was like since half of the internet seemed to think Zendaya and him were seeing each other. You actually teased him about it a few times, saying you wouldn’t mind if he hooked up with her. But he never did.

He watched as you slept, wondering how bad it would be if he asked you to go on a date with him. He’s talked about it with Harrison, the only person who knew because he helped get you out to the Homecoming premiere and helped hide you from the rest of his family when you were initially seeing Tom.

Harrison had told Tom time and time again to just tell you how he feels, because what if you thought of him the same way. But he never did, scared of ruining everything you had together just because of stupid feelings.

“I-,” Tom starts, stumbling over his words. He knew he could never say this to your face, not now, so this was his chance.

****

You woke up, feeling the heartbeat of Tom underneath your cheek, letting it try to lull you back to sleep. You had to pee but you didn’t want to wake Tom up so you stilled, trying to force yourself back to sleep.

“I-,” you heard Tom say, pausing.

“I love you,” he says, a whisper, as if he isn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. You contemplate pretending you were still asleep, pretend you never heard it and move on. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t lay here and try to go back to sleep because you wouldn’t be able to.

“Tom,” you whisper, looking up at him. His face goes white, as you sit up and he pulls his arm away from you.

“I- fuck Y/N I’m sorry you weren’t supposed to hear that I-,”

“Tom, you can’t love me,” you say, getting up.

“Wait Y/N, don’t go just, I - I don’t know what I was saying.”

“You’re never here, and when you are here we just fuck and that’s fine because that’s what we wanted that’s what you wanted and-,”

“I- I wanted more than that Y/N, I’ve always wanted more than that but I knew you didn’t so I didn’t try-,”

“I mean, Tom, of course I didn’t want any of the bullshit that’s associated with dating a famous person, when would people attack you for literally everything!” You say, quickly pulling your skirt on and grabbing your phone.

“Y/N, if I knew what you wanted then I could’ve given it to you, we could’ve still dated, we could’ve hid it from everyone, I would’ve made an effort if that’s what you needed!”

“You don’t know what I need Tom, you can’t, and I don’t need this!” You say, leaving him, too stunned to move on his bed. You ran out of his apartment and made it halfway down the street before you realized you were still wearing his shirt. Tears streaming down your face you were too mad, or upset, or both, you couldn’t tell, to go back and get your own.

You rushed into your apartment, ignoring the buzz of your phone which was likely Tom, you ran past your roommate in the kitchen and collapsed on your bed.

“Y/N?” Your roommate asks, sitting on your bed.

“I fucked up,” you say, looking at her through teary eyes.

****

It’s been a few months, you haven’t spoken to Tom since and you missed him. He was one of your best friends. You talked to him often before everything and now you haven’t said a word to him. He called you a few times that night, sent you a few texts, saying sorry, saying he didn’t mean for you to hear that. Harrison texted you a few times, he knew how you really felt about Tom, knew that you didn’t mean to react like you did, but it just sort of happened. You didn’t know how to tell Tom that. You saw from his Instagram that he was filming reshoots for Chaos Walking, he was really excited about the project, talked to you about it all the time when he was first filming. You opened your messages, scrolling down to his name, the last text he sent was from two months ago.

Tom: even if you don’t love me, you still mean the world to me, and I’m sorry that I made you upset

You’ve done this every few weeks, let yourself wallow in your sadness, opening up his text messages, finger hovering over the message you had typed out, never actually hitting send.

You sighed, tossing your phone back down on the bed, not thinking anything of it as you went back to your laptop, you were getting into the video you were watching, an old Buzzfeed Unsolved episode when your phone buzzed. You frowned, picking it up.

Tom: Wait, you do? Love me? Y/N, why, why couldn’t you just tell me that that night?

Oh holy fuck, the message you had typed out ages ago must’ve sent when you tossed your phone to the side.

Tom, I love you, I’ve been trying to figure out how I could make myself not love you because I don’t know if I could handle everything that comes with you, but I realized that I don’t care about that stuff. I care about you, the guy who blushed when I kissed him in the closet four years ago, the guy who calls me beautiful when I feel not my best, the guy who hugged me so hard when I graduated a semester early, the guy who said I was going places when I was scared I would be stuck here in London for the rest of my life. Long story short, I love you too. And I’m sorry it took me so long to know what I needed.

[disarraycd]

it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s ALEX SUMMERS / HAVOK, a HERO from MARVEL! HE is 26 years old and look an awful lot like JAMES REID. i hear that they work as UNEMPLOYED. rumor has it they were AGAINST the Accords and ARE registered under the new laws. i wonder what they’ll find with their new beginning!

basics —

FULL NAME: alexander “alex” summers ALIAS: havok BIRTHDAY: february 14th AGE: 26 PLACE OF BIRTH: honolulu, hawaii CURRENT RESIDENCE: new york, new york HEIGHT: 5’8” SPECIES: mutant EYE COLOR: blue HAIR COLOR: blonde AFFILIATIONS: x-men, avengers (formerly) EDUCATION: masters in geophysics with some doctoral research completed ALLERGIES: tomatoes BIRTH FAMILY: scott summers (older brother), jean grey (future sister-in-law), gabriel summers (younger brother), christopher summers (father), katherine summers (mother, deceased), philip summers (grandfather), deborah summers (grandmother), nathan summers (nephew), rachel summers (niece), hope summers (grandniece) ADOPTIVE FAMILY: andrew blanding (father), joanna blanding (mother), haley blanding (older sister), todd blanding (older brother, deceased) SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic MARITAL STATUS: single LIKES: stephen king books, west side story, surfing DISLIKES: cauliflower, his short-temper

origin —

alexander summers is the son of christopher summers (a test pilot for the united states air force) and katherine ann summers. he has an older brother named scott that’s six years older than him which makes alex their second child. their father was away a lot, leaving the three of them alone more often than not. scott was always happy to help look after his baby brother — something that never quite changes. alex always waited outside to see scott come home from school, and would run to him.

one day the brothers were flying home with their parents on a vintage private plane. they were meant to be coming home from a family vacation, but their plane caught fire while in the air. unfortunately they only had one parachute on board. alex who was still young at the time was clinging to his older brother while crying about what was going on. he didn’t quite understand, but their mother was setting the boys up with the only parachute available. they got pushed out the door by katherine, and alex continued to hold onto his brother. scott held onto him so tight that there was bruises on alex’s arms. he shielded him from seeing the plane go down in flames. scott used his optic blasts for the first time to slow their descent after their parachute caught fire too. they were orphans now, and alex continues to stay close to his brother everywhere they went.

they both ended up being hospitalized after the incident. After two weeks the boys left the hospital to be placed in the State Home for Foundlings — an orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska. they were subjected to a battery of tests and experiments by the owner, mr. milbury. which was an alias for an evil geneticist named Sinister. alex didn’t know what to think about the orphanage, afraid of it so he would hide behind scott when anyone approached them. ainister ended up separating them by adopting alex out to the blanding family.

andrew and joanna blanding adopted alex into their family. they recently lost their son todd in a car accident. he wasn’t completely alone, gaining an older sister named haley who looked out for him the best she could. his adoptive parents would pressure alex into being a replacement for todd. he was forced to join the football team as a quarterback because that used to be the position todd played on the team. alex didn’t have any interest in the sport at all, preferring basketball if anything, but tries his hardest to please them. haley would help alex escape from awkward situations if she could.

it turns out todd’s death wasn’t an accident, but instead was killed by someone named vincent. one day while alex and haley were walking home vincent kidnapped them. he was angry and even accused alex of stealing his spot on the football team in the past. the attack causes alex to manifest his mutant abilities for the first time. although his plasma blasts accidentally incinerated the boy into bones and ash. his sister tried to clam him down, saying that they couldn’t tell anyone about what happened.

what alex didn’t know is that sinister has been keeping an eye on him all this time since he was adopted. so he came forward that night to place psi-blocks on both alex and haley so they would forget everything that happened that night. alex has no idea about his mutant powers the next day or the fact he killed vincent.

alex didn’t realize that he was a mutant until he became eighteen. his archeology professor ahmet abdol was also a mutant — who ended up kidnapping him. it was all part of a plan to use the ambient cosmic radiation from alex’s body to attain his latent potential. the energy transformed abdol into the living monolith — a gigantic mutant with vast cosmic power. the strain of abdol’s technology on alex made his mutant powers resurface again. the monolith was defeated by the x-men, and this is when the summers brothers got reunited after all these years. alex’s older brother scott became the x-men’s field leader known as cyclops.  

alex decided to stay in the egyptian desert because he wasn’t able to control his shock waves yet. although soon as the x-men left a sentinel captured alex. he was taken to the headquarters of larry trask. it was here that trask gave alex the codename havok.  he was given a suit that displayed his build up of cosmic energy within him. eventually the x-men freed the captive mutants here, and alex finally went with his brother to civilization. the x-men started to help alex train so he could keep his energy in check. he eventually mastered it to only release it when he wished to.

he left to go finish his degree after gaining control over his powers. he continued to be a member of the x-men, but it was important to finish his geophysics studies. he decided to transfer to a college in new york to be close to scott while completing his masters.

the registration —

after arriving much too late to the park, alex didn’t handle the news of his older brother dying well. while upset he accidentally incinerates several trees around him with his plasma blasts. this doesn’t go unnoticed. soon enough an inhibitor collar is put around his neck and he was sent to a cell on the raft for his destructive behavior. he spends the next several weeks locked up, mourning scott.

eventually they approach him with an offer since nobody was actually hurt by his display in the park. they decide to let him walk free on one condition. he is forced to register. they didn’t give him much choice, and claimed they were doing him a favor with this. alex is told to be thankful that they didn’t put a tracker under his skin. as if being spared from that should make him feel better about being forced to register.

it makes him feel sick.

he just got out of the raft, and put back into society which is how alex finds out scott is alive again. he doesn’t understand how, but worries about how his brother will react to what happened to him. the guards in the prison weren’t exactly the kindest to him since they would rough him up just for being a mutant.

powers and abilities —

alex is an alpha-level mutant

AMBIENT ENERGY CONVERSION: absorbs ambient cosmic energy into the cells of his body and processes it into plasma. this results in control over an extremely powerful sort of destructive force. at times he is not entirely able to control this ability, which sometimes makes him a danger to those around him unless he wears a special containment suit to assist him. alex’s body is constantly in the process of absorbing cosmic radiation. upon the total expenditure of all his available energy, it takes his body about 16 ½ hours to recharge to its peak level unless he absorbs a large amount of energy at once. the act of concentration involved in releasing his energy in anything other than an omni-directional wave is physically exhausting for alex if he continues it over an extended period of time. he can absorb cosmic energies from his environment (such as starlight, x-rays, and gamma radiation) and store them within his body cells, metabolizing the energy in order to generate plasma wave discharges that super-heat and disintegrate objects or create concussion bursts by violently displacing air molecules in his path. his ability to absorb energy is so great that he was able to survive being dropped into a large star, and use it’s energy to augment his powers.

ENERGY ABSORPTION: not only can alex passively absorb cosmic energy from his environment but has shown he can willingly absorb, store, and re-process various other energies from other sources through conscious force of will. he showcased this aspect once when he was thrown into a star.

PLASMA EMANATION: ability to shoot or emanate plasma in the form of a blast or discharge, with a tell-tale concentric circle pattern. these waves will emanate from his body in all directions unless he purposefully tries to channel them in a single direction, usually along the length of his arms. this results in control over an extremely powerful sort of destructive force. when havok strikes an object with the waves of intensity of hot plasma, the sudden vast jump in temperature will often cause objects to shatter, explode, or seemingly disintegrate. should havok direct his energy at the lowest level, he can project it towards a human being and his target will suffer a severe headache but will not burn up.

FLIGHT: can also use stored energy for flight by directing it as a downward thrust. at full energy capacity he has an easier time managing his energized propulsion through his powers.

HEAT IMMUNITY: virtually immune to the effects of most forms of heat.

RADIATION IMMUNITY:  virtually immune to the effects of most forms of radiation.

GENIUS LEVEL INTELLECT: well educated in geophysical sciences.

EXPERT MARTIAL ARTIST: he was taught by wolverine.

IMMUNE TO SCOTT’S OPTIC BLASTS.

[tocxmply-archive]

BUCHAREST [sources: click, click, click, click, click, click, click]

two things in particular that i want to mention before anything else:

          1. how did Bucky end up at Bucharest? because, yeah, even if we assume he just jumped into a plane and flew to Europe and then walked the rest of the way --- how was he able to afford that apartment? how was he able to afford food and every other basic need? when he didn’t have a job and no other source of income? what i headcanon, therefore, is that he paid a last visit to Pierce’s house before leaving the USA. we know that he knows where it is, having been there before at least once, and certainly it really wasn’t too difficult for him to break in --- even if it might already be off limits while the police and SHIELD fixed the whole mess. he went in, he grabbed a few expensive pieces of art and decor, he pawned the things off and gathered just enough money to allow him to travel somewhere else and to keep him living a very modest life for a while. because there is poetic justice in Alexander Pierce finally being of use for his asset, and i want this.

          2. how long has it been, since the events of “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” and up to the events of “Captain America: Civil War”? there is canon information stating it was around some 2 years time --- but i do not agree with this at all. i will write about this in more detail once i put down my meta about Bucky’s mental health (or lack, thereof), but at this point: it is undeniable that, at the very least, this boy suffered from depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and frequent episodes of dissociation. and, no, i personally don’t believe he would have been able to survive on his own for two years or more. because let’s remember: not only he’s a war veteran suffering from severe depression + ptsd (which, by itself, is associated with high prevalence of suicide), but he is slowly gaining awareness of everything the Winter Soldier did AND of what was done to the Winter Soldier. and what purpose in life does he have at that moment in time? he’s got literally nothing and nobody to ground him. even if he was constantly in a state of denial and repression, which in itself is exhausting, he would have been consumed by nightmares and said dissociation. he wouldn’t be as functional as we see him in CA:CW, not after such a long period of time on his own and without professional help. with this said, i headcanon that, AT MOST, some 5-6 months passed in between CA:TWS and CA:CW.

other than this, some more general headcanons:

despite the last point, Bucky IS actively trying to heal --- doesn’t mean he’s made much progress on his own, considering the severity of his case and the lack of help at the time, but he is trying as he can to build up a daily life as normal as possible;

this mindset is reflected on his apartment --- despite it being a super small thing with only one division, he keeps it neat and organized enough, and he takes care of his belongings;

on the other hand, the entire apartment is furnished and “decorated” so that it is prepared, at any moment and from any angle, to react to attacks from the outside and/or to provide an escape route immediately;

Bucky’s emergency backpack is hidden under the wood boards of the floor --- it contains notebooks where he has been writing down the memories that return to him (he does have half a dozen of them already filled out) + the rest of the money he made by pawning off Pierce’s stuff;

this one is a headcanon of mine that i will, in future, also explore in a more detailed meta --- which has to do with how it is probable that Pierce/ the American branch of HYDRA controlled the Winter Soldier mostly through mind wiping + drugs (as opposed to Karpov/ the Russian branch, who knew how to use the activation words/ conditioning/ hypnosis) --- which means, if the Winter Soldier was being pumped full of drugs before/during/after every mission, we have to consider the addiction & withdrawal effects once the Soldier parts ways with them and this steady supply is interrupted --- which, in turn, leads me to headcanon that Bucky used part of the money to regularly buy, at least, meds containing benzodiazepines (for example, diazepam/ Valium). these meds are kept in his tiny bathroom, safely tucked away at the back of one of the cupboard drawers;

this apartment is highly symbolic --- as mentioned, it is mostly a small, cheap, half-broken thing, but Bucky cares for it as well as he can. i interpret this as a projection and as an actual coping mechanism --- in the sense that this apartment is the first thing that Bucky, in detaching himself from the Winter Soldier, actively CHOOSES to care for --- maybe right then he still is unable to properly care for himself, but having a small safe haven to care for, instead, is a first step towards a hopefully brighter future. and it is the first time the Winter Soldier has ever created anything, rather than destroying.

[idexstuck]

LBTW’s current outline under the cut. suffer with me

1.0 - the letterbomb initiative

1.1 - ceaseless flight (RnR)

1.1.1 - ruth awakens to find rich has gone missing, seemingly voluntarily. after going about his daily routine, he gets a dispatch from verne to kill mysthuntonium. after assuming that

1.1.2 - the party agrees to lay off accelerating for a while, so ruth spends a good deal of time looking around the dimension he accelerated into. while doing a solo search, he comes across a temple that's seemingly taken the place of where he and his boyfriend used to live. inside, he finds a scrap of paper with standard galactic on it.

1.1.3 - at solar edge, johanna and emerson have a surprisingly civil conversation (only because reese and ruth are there to keep johanna from getting charged with murder). emerson does ruth a favor, translating the SGA on the paper into english. it says 'NOCTURNE.'

1.1.4 - with this, ruth is determined to accelerate further. the party advises against it for his own health, but after insisting he's survived worse, ruth and reese accelerate while johanna says she'll tag along later. she has some choice words with emerson, but follows the party to their next destination. led only by the paper scrap, ruth returns to the site of the temple with reese and finds nothing. after consolidations, ruth's resolve to find his boyf is restored.

1.1.5 - in all of her wisdom, verne has done some extraneous scouting for ruth, and says that- in uncertain terms- rich is alive and well. ruth is relieved, but unsatisfied with the answer; verne says that this NOCTURNE is a threat that bears immediate neutralization. his goals slightly shifted, ruth asks emerson for more help. emerson makes it a 'date,' of course, but he does disclose that NOCTURNE isn't connected to the wireframe at all.

1.1.6 - armed with new information, ruth begins devising new severance patterns to break through the wireframe and neutralize NOCTURNE. johanna and reese say he's jumping the gun, and after hours of failed attempts, johanna invites him to deal with things her way. her methods are questionable, but ruth does relax a little, and promises to stop putting himself in jeopardy.

1.1.7 - it's been a week since accelerating into the current dimension, and despite it being the middle of october, the weather is strangely warm. johanna and emerson have an entirely UN-civil chat, and reality starts falling apart.

1.1.8 - entirely unaffected by the strange happenings, ruth damn-near works himself to death conducting tests on the wireframe with severance patterns. emerson pays him a visit, somehow, and his true colors start to show. instead of watching ruth scramble to destroy the wireframe, emerson gives ruth the pattern that leads to NOCTURNE- but just before things start going xiang-liu levels of haywire.

1.1.8.1 - rich, entrapped by the NOCTURNE, reminisces on his time alone.

1.1.9 - ruth falls into the space outside the wireframe. encompassed by a wintry landscape on all sides, he begins his trek, and is quickly interrupted by a catatonic rich and what he can assume is the NOCTURNE, who appears now as a specter instead of its real form. ruth severs rich from the nocturne- or, at least, repels the nocturne, and they have a very cute and tearful reunite. the outside destabilizes without the NOCTURNE at full power, and ruth and rich fall into the septenary gardens. ruth delivers his letter, and the two of them make their way back to the nearest dimension.

1.0.10 - normalcy has, for the most part, returned- ruth gets his pay, rich gets sick leave for almost dying, and johanna and reese treat the main party to drinks on the house (emerson uninvited). even verne shows up!

1.2 - gridley and the septenary gardens (ruth)

1.2.1 - gridley zimmerman, on the brink of death from NOCTURNE, makes a 'tether' with one of the seven fundamental rules of reality: the septenary clocktower of consciousness. through her extreme faith in the goddess, she's granted theodora von ennekern's personal blade, forged with the purpose of being able to cleave anything in twain. training montage!

1.2.2 - gridley is getting used to her new powers, and tries to create an illusion in which her home was never destroyed. it ends badly, and, consumed with rage, she accidentally cleaves an entire timeline apart.

1.2.3 - focused entirely on vengeance, gridley travels around a few dimensions- one still engulfed by the mirror war, one archaic (theo cameo!), and one close to the present.

1.2.4 - ruth gets a notification from verne that a new threat is on the loose. he nicknames it neptuniomega-237. meanwhile, gridley is pulled back into the septenary gardens after a choice incident with 209 (not shown). while at solar edge, she talks to ruth one-on-one, and says something to the effect of 'i know who you are, and i know what you do, but stay out of my way.' ruth figures this is his target.

1.2.5 -

- show off the clocktowers

- gridleys out to find nocturne right? but like shes mad so shes destroying everything in her path (she doesnt know emerson is doing the exact same thing lol)

1.1.x - within the collapsing sixth clocktower, gridley and ruth have their final confrontation

1.3 - miranda and phoebe (reese)

1.3.1 - while mulling over a drink he can't consume, reese is approached by miranda cassidy and phoebe francis with a deal: he can go back in time and get a do-over of the incident that nearly ended his life- no strings attached.

1.3.2 - at the discretion of even emerson, reese accepts M&P's deal- in his eyes, he's got nothing to lose but his life for the second time. he meets up with M&P at phoebe's bar, and after tasting some of phoebe's house mix (bad idea), miranda and phoebe send him back a week before the incident.

1.3.3 - reese, restored to his old organic form, quickly remembers how the week before the incident played out, and begins to retrace his steps at the dis-advisement of phoebe and miranda (acting as the devil and angel on his shoulder in a sense). on wednesday- the seventh day before the accident- he tampers with the strange purple section of the wireframe he encountered earlier.

1.3.4 - thurs

1.3.5 - fri

1.3.6 - sat

1.3.7 - sun

1.3.8 - mon

1.3.9 - tues

1.3.10 - wed

1.4 - emerson (johanna)

1.4.1 - emerson and reese go on a 'date,' and when reese gets back to solar edge, he's nearly killed by johanna. johanna finally admits why emerson makes her so mad, but in vague terms at best. reese, determined to know why, presses further, but she avoids the topic by getting hammered and refusing to answer any more questions.

1.4.2 - while trying to visit an old friend in gracetown's hospital, johanna is stopped by emerson, and, constrained by social order, they catch up with each other. emerson is as slippery as ever when it comes to goals and motives, but johanna makes it 100% clear that her next move is ending his life.

1.4.3 - johanna asks ruth to help her in severing things from the wireframe. we get a lesson on wireframe mechanics, and a nice bonding bit between johanna and ruth. johanna is surprisingly competent, and ruth is a surprisingly good teacher.

1.4.x - within the wireframe, the party confronts 210, johanna leading the charge. in a final attempt to eliminate the neutralizers, emerson consumes the prime material plane. through sheer force of will, johanna survives, and severs emerson's connection to the wireframe, essentially killing him. his body collapses, and johanna is thrown into a (all things considered) pretty normal version of gracetown.

1.4.x - johanna and emerson (somehow still alive), have a chat about morals and stuff.

1.5 - reverse actor (RnR)

2.0 - catch you on the flip-side

2.1 - unit 12 & mirror stuff (reese)

2.1.1 - through a hole in the septenary gardens, the party finds themself on the flip-side, a mirror dimension from which the mirrors originate. they meet johanna's flip-side variant, and begin to explore this weird version of the world.

2.1.2 - while coming back from a scouting dispatch by verne, ruth is stopped by a strange man named unit twelve, who claims to be something called an observant. he says that ruth has tipped the cosmic scale of good and evil too far in the "good" direction, and before ruth can ask why that's a bad thing, U12 makes it clear that he's out to eliminate the neutralizers for good.

Unit Twelve Healing Chapter where he learns how to bake and Heals

do it like in HCDND i beg of you- u12 is concoting some runic shit to contact the nocturne directly and gain its favor- like, backstory then, etc etc

2.2 - marcia (main three)

2.2.1 - the main party wakes up in a gaudy ballroom, golden and clean, but inhabited by nobody. they quickly meet marcia, who has been alive and well this whole time, albeit under the dominion of the NOCTURNE. while showing them about the place, NOCTURNE sees it as a chance to strike. the group splits up- ruth with marcia, johanna with gridley, and reese with rich.

2.2.2.1 - ruth, while hiding from the NOCTURNE, gets some answers from marcia about NOCTURNE and the flip-side.

2.2.2.2 - johanna and gridley have found some kind of supply closet to hide in, and they find out that they're more similar than they thought.

2.2.2.3 - reese and rich share relationship advice (and cooking skills).

2.2.2 -

2.3 - nocturne (main three)

2.3.1 - the party regroups after sneaking around the NOCTURNE's shadow, and finally shows itself in its true form- a body double of ruth. it lets itself be 'defeated' by the party, but not before ruth is shown an illusion in which he becomes one of NOCTURNE's lackeys. afterwards, the ballroom returns to normal, and marcia seems mildly disappointed at the outcome of the battle. she offers to treat them to dinner, but specifically reese refuses, and they head back to flip-side solar edge.

2.3.2 - ruth and rich commiserate about missing home.

2.3.3 - over dinner, the party discusses just how they plan on getting home. verne contacts them with a call and ensures that she can and will bring them home- but the hurdles won't stop after that.

3.0 - zero mercy; red string

3.1 - the helena effect & more on the red string theorem (mercy)

3.1.1 - verne leads ruth and rich on a duo mission towards a woman named mercy helena, who is trying to deduce whether or not soulmates exist. through extensive testing, the answer seems to be no- but in a final gambit, she tests her experiments on ruth and rich. as it turns out, testing for the red string means that she has to sift through the entire story of how they met.

3.1.2 - turns out, ruth and rich met at solar edge!

3.1.3 - ruth takes a dispatch mission from verne, and runs into rich along the way. ruth comes clean about his true occupation, but rich seems to not mind.

3.1.4 - while on break, rich and emerson share relationship advice.

3.1.5 - ruth and rich go out, officially, at a nearby restaurant.

3.1.6 - after a particularly dangerous dispatch, rich patches up ruth in the med-bay. this is our first look at rich's healing magic!

3.1.7 - after another stressful day of dispatches, ruth and rich go out at solar edge.

3.1.8 - a few weeks after moving in with rich, ruth notices his boyfriend is acting a little on-edge as of late. when he tries to ask what's wrong, rich clams up and refuses to answer.

3.1.9 - rich, unable to sleep, makes tea and observes late-night gracetown. ruth, also unable to sleep, plays some tunes on his ol' guitar (gin blossoms, of course). rich simply requests that ruth stays with him instead of trying to fix his problems. ruth insists that rich's problems are his own, but rich is having none of it. the next day, ruth finds that rich has voluntarily gone missing.

3.1.10 - after intense calculations, helena determines that rich and ruth are indeed soulmates- and the whole backstory thing was just a tiny part of what she needed. as it turns out, the two of them are tethered to the zeroth and most enigmatic clocktower- that of which helena theorizes is human bonds.

3.2 - xiao lei and the zero

3.2.1 - a psychic woman named xiao lei asks gridley for help on her own time, and not because of a verne dispatch. gridley agrees to help, but for some reason, xiao lei can't be mind-read like anyone else normally can. she introduces gridley to the idea of the zero- a place beyond any '-side' that exists- the very edge of unobservable reality.

3.3 - anti-freeze

3.3.1 - in a strange twist of fate, ruth is the one that goes missing this time. he awakens in a strange laboratory, accompanied by a woman who calls herself "five" and claims to be part of an "anti-freeze initiative." they chat, and as it turns out, five has never heard of the clocktowers, and comes from an awfully odd place.

3.4 - macy and valentine's day

3.5 - vivian

- theo's whole thing

- alter-egos (main three)

- 209 proper (main three)

- who is R.Z. (RnR)

- astraea (theo)

- vernes backstory (verne)

- angelica (rich)

- vivian and more about the outside (main three)

- em alter (johanna and em)

- diagammathetium

- Girls' Frontline Healing Chapter Except It's Letterbomb! A Whole Part of Fluff!

- phoebe gets in lots of trouble for fucking w cosmic waste

- septenary clocktowers except its mirror temple b-side from celeste

- cass (oldie)

[crashdevlin]

Dinner and Dancing- 3: Bandwagon

Part One... Part Two

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3. Set post Civil War, pre-Infinity War. *Gifs are not mine.* Summary: Reader tracks down Steve in an attempt to track down Bucky. Bucky’s unreachable but Steve is more than happy to step into his shoes. Pairing(s): Steve Rogers/Reader Word Count: 3373 Story Warnings: sick baby, little bit of angst, romanipien (that gypsy soul/pick up and leave thing), oral sex (female and male receiving), naughty sketches, Little bit of angst, a lot of pining, the baby’s a cockblock… and so’s Bucky. Chapter Warnings: pining, slight angst because of Bucky, meddling Avenger friends

Steve sat in a chair with a book in front of him. His eyes were not on the papers, though. His eyes were across the lounge area where y/n was sitting on a barstool pulled up to the counter, reading a magazine.

"Man, you're starin' at her, again." Sam said, clapping his hand on Steve's well-muscled shoulder.

Steve looked down at the book he was supposed to be reading, but he couldn't focus on the words, looking at y/n out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn't help it that his eyes always seemed to linger on her. Her face was magnetic. Her smile, addictive. He, honestly, couldn't fathom what was going through Bucky's mind when he left her lying alone in his bed, probably naked and-

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't need to think of her like that. That's his best friend's best girl.

"This is gonna be like Sharon, isn't it?" Sam brought attention to himself again as he sat in the chair across the coffee table from Steve. "You're not going to make your move until way late in the game when you know you ain't gonna see her again for a long-ass time."

"Sam." Steve quietly chastised as he closed his book.

"What'd Sharon say when you finally kissed her? 'Overdue'? And then you never saw her again."

He sat forward and lowered his voice, eyes flicking to y/n and Wanda. "She's Bucky's girl, Sam."

"Pretty sure she's not, Steve. Barnes left her. She's been raising his kid with her brother because he was too much of a bitch to Dad up." Sam leaned forward, too. "Look, I don't hide how I feel about him. He's an unstable, dangerous dickhead and he ruined my damn car, but that's not why I'm sayin' this. I'm sayin' it because your boy Barnes had a month with her and ran off after three weeks because he didn't want to deal with 'Goodbye', didn't step up when she tried to tell him about that kid, but you did. Man, you treat that boy like he's yours and you want to treat her like she's yours, too. I can see it in your eyes."

Steve sighed and shook his head. "She's still got a thing for him. When she talks about him..."

"Man, when you talk about him, it sounds like you've got a thing for him." Sam interrupted. "That woman is perfect for you and you know it. Do I gotta get Wanda to dig into your heads, pull out your desires so that you can see-"

"I don't need Wanda to show me what I desire." Steve sat back and let his eyes fall on her again. She was excitedly pointing to something in a magazine. Her smile was radiant. "But, what I want isn't what's important."

"What about what she deserves? An upstanding, righteous, good man who wants to take care of her and her son. A damn American hero. Not in 1945. Now. She deserves a man like you. She deserves you."

"But she loves Bucky."

"I don't think she does. I think she was infatuated, that she had a hero complex for him because he saved her life, but you don't fall in love over three weeks and a couple black and white movies. You fall in love over life. Real love takes time, effort, and overcoming obstacles instead of running away from them. Cap, you are all about time, effort and overcoming obstacles. Your biggest obstacle here..." Sam stood, forcing Steve to look up at him. "...is yourself."

Steve opened his book again and tried to read, but he couldn't. Instead, the argument started up in head again. He'd had this argument with himself a dozen times since she walked up to him and recited her name, just with slightly more emotional attachment to call on as the time went by.

One side of the argument said everything he'd just heard from Sam: Bucky left, didn't answer her, he was happy that she was going back to America and didn't even stay until the day she got on her plane. Bucky didn't want to settle down in the first place.

The other side of the argument was... falling apart the longer he spent in her presence: Bucky was his best friend. Bucky always had his back, even when he didn't want him to. Bucky fell off a mountain and was tortured and became the Winter Soldier because of him. It would be a low thing to come in while Bucky's in cryo and take his girl, the one he'd spoken so highly of. Bucky was most important, no matter how he feels about her, no matter how he feels about George. Heck, he could help take care of George without being with y/n, right? And that would be honoring Bucky, to take care of his son, wouldn't it?

Of course, it wasn't just about George and he couldn't lie to himself about that.

*********

You looked across the room at Steve, reading his book. "Someday, he's going to look up and see you staring at him." Wanda said, slipping onto the stool next to you.

You looked down, embarrassed. "No, I've got a plan for that. I just look away really fast."

"Why are you embarrassed that you're attracted to Steve?"

You could feel your face turn red. "I'd thank you to stay out of my head, Wanda." You said, flipping your Game Informer open to a review of the newest Nintendo handheld.

"I don't need to be in your head, Y/n. I have eyes." She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it for a moment, staring at you. "Is it because of Sergeant Barnes?"

"He's Bucky's best friend."

"So? Barnes isn't here, y/n. He didn't want to be. You were his ideal because you were leaving, because he didn't have to worry about anything real developing. As soon as you considered staying, as soon as you became real, he disappeared. Steve lives in the real world. He likes the real things. He likes being depended on. He likes problems because he likes overcoming them. The only fight he's ever backed down from was when he almost let Winter Soldier kill him in an attempt to jog Barnes' memories."

"And that says more about why we're not going to be able to make it past the obstacle than anything, because Bucky is the obstacle and Bucky is of utmost importance for Steve."

"I think, if you worked together, you could get past it." Wanda said, before pointing at the Nintendo Switch ad in the magazine. "I think we need one of these."

"That'd be awesome. We should set up a gaming room! I've got a bunch of board games in a box somewhere, and in another box, I've got a bunch of old video game consoles! Oh, my gosh! That's a great distraction!"

"PlayStation or XBOX?"

"Both, also Wii. I never bought into the whole console wars. I just waited 'til i could find 'em used or super cheap and bought all of 'em."

"Now you're going to ignore your feelings via video games." Wanda said, matter-of-factly.

"Yup!" You said, jumping down from the stool and heading to George's closet where your still-packed boxes were stored.

The next morning, you came into the kitchen with George in a baby sling and smiled at everyone. "I set up a game room yesterday. Cards, board games and 12, count 'em 12, different video game consoles. It's the room that was empty next to Georgie's, so... If anyone's interested..."

Clint walked out of the kitchen immediately, bowl in hand, spoon in his mouth. Natasha followed, calmly. You grabbed a pack of Poptarts out of the cabinet and  headed back toward the game room. "Nat, I don't wanna be player two. Nobody wants to be Luigi." Clint's whining could be heard down the hall.

"Shoulda got here first."

"I did get here first! You stole the controller when I turned my back to put down my stupid cereal. Come on! Let me be Mario."

"When I die."

"You're a bitch."

"So are you." Natasha said, as Super Mario World music started to fill the room.

"Well, I didn't mean to start fights." You said, sitting at the card table and pulling open the Poptarts. "This was supposed to be fun."

"Oh, don't worry. You didn't start this fight. This is ongoing." Natasha responded, turning her head to look at you, but continuing to play. She jumped on several Koopa Troopas while her head was turned.

"Yeah. Every time we play anything, she's gotta be first. Shit, she's even Player 1 when we play Pong." Clint complained.

"You did all of this since last night?" Steve asked, looking around at the games and consoles. "You're amazing."

"I'm aware." You smiled, grabbing a box of playing cards and tossing it to him. "What kinda card games you know, Army?"

He chuckled. "I know poker." He offered, opening the box and sitting down across from you. He shuffled the deck easily.

"I've never played. Wanna teach me?"

"If we're doin' poker, we need to play with Monopoly money, 'cause we ain't having a replay of Cap's birthday." Sam said, dropping into the chair next to you.

"What happened?"

"Stark threw a July 4th bash and Maria Hill conned me into playing poker."

"She didn't con you, Sam. She offered, you accepted. She beat you, and me and Clint and Tony, fair and square." Steve responded with a smirk.

"Whatever, man. She hustled us." Sam said, as Wanda sat down with a fistful of multicolored dollars.

"Just because you fell for her saying 'What is a Full House again', doesn't mean she hustled you. You should have known she could play."

"I barely knew the woman! Whatever. Gimme some pink lettuce." Sam demanded.

Wanda handed out an even amount of Monopoly dollars to everyone, while Steve shuffled the cards. You lost. Badly. Between not knowing what you were doing, listening to Clint and Natasha bicker over the Nintendo, giving attention to the baby in the sling across your chest, and the nervous pit that grew bigger every time you locked eyes with Steve, Wanda and Sam cleaned you out of your play cash in no time. You bowed out of the game with a smile and headed across the hall to your room. About 15 minutes later, Steve was walking down the hall. "They busted you, too, huh?"

"I'm 90% certain Wanda's cheating. She's just too good, ya know." Steve smiled, leaning against your door frame. "Thank you for setting up that room. We haven't had much to do since we've been... criminals, and half of the comedy left when Scott did, so... distractions are welcome."

"That was the point. Crazy underground bunker gets a bit..."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Yeah. Hey, uh, when you get a minute... I, uh, dug out some of my old sketch books, if you-"

"Definitely." You stood, quickly bending down to pick up Georgie from his bouncer. You followed Steve to his office, where a stack of books sat on his desk. Steve took George from your arms and you picked on up. It was full of sketches of the things and people around him, some very detailed and lifelike, some purposely cartoonish caricatures. "These are really good, Steve. You have such a mastery of shadow."

Steve blushed, but you barely noticed as you ran your fingers across an almost photographic sketch of Natasha's face. You flipped a few pages until you got to a picture of Tony Stark looking lovingly into Pepper Potts' eyes. "I really like that one. Tony looked so human in that moment. I had to sketch it." He smiled. "This was at the July 4th party. They didn't know I was watching. I took a quick picture with my phone and drew that after I got home. I was gonna give it to them if Tony ever got around to popping the question."

"You'll have to send it to them. It's perfect."

"Well, I don't know about 'perfect'."

"Please, everything about you's perfect." You said, nonchalantly. You continued through the sketches, studying your favorites before moving on to the next. When you got to the bottom of the stack, you looked over at him. He was doing 'tummy time' on the floor with George. "Are you not drawing, anymore? These books, the latest date is two years ago, almost."

"Uh, no, I-I am, it's just..." He got up on his knees and looked over at you. "The sketches in the new book are... not finished." He seemed unsure of that answer.

You chuckled. "Okay, well, when they get finished, you gotta let me see 'em, because you are so good at this."

"Thanks." He said, standing and stepping over George. "Means a lot." You just looked down and smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She's not going to make a move." Wanda said, her eyes on her cards.

"Neither is he. Thinks it'd be a slap in Barnes' face or somethin' to go out with the chick he walked away from. I dunno."

"Well, maybe they need a push." Clint suggested as Mario fell to his death and Natasha wrenched the controller from his fingers.

"This isn't a Rom-com, Clint."

"It could be." Clint turned around, looking at the two at the table, each trying to bankrupt the other of their fake money. "All that really requires is two clueless assholes who don't realize they're perfect for each other, an antagonizing force or event and a couple friends to set them on the right course. I'm pretty sure this is a tailor-made Rom-com situation."

"I'm all for manipulation for the sake of romance, but what could we possibly do to make them stop focusing on Barnes?" Natasha asked, eyes not leaving the screen.

"Well, we could tr-"

"Trapping them in a room together isn't going to work. They've roadtripped together. Twice."

"Okay. Fair point. What if we-"

"Telling one or both that the other is sick or injured would be cruel. They just got done dealing with Georgie's cancer."

"We could-"

"Cap can't get drunk."

"You know what, Nat?! You come up with one!"

"Babysitting." Natasha said, succinctly. "We convince Steve to take her out for some much-needed fun and we offer to babysit."

"Sure. If you wanna go simple with it." Clint grumbled, flopping back down on the couch.

"I'll talk Steve into it, later." Natasha finished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm just sayin' she looks like she needs a break." Natasha looked up at Steve from her spot in his desk chair, her feet up on his desk.

"No, you're just saying that I need to take her out. I didn't take you for a bandwagon person, Natasha." He responded swatting her feet off of his desk.

She shrugged. "Only if the music makes sense, Steve."

"How does me courting Bucky's girl while he's incapacitated make sense?"

"He ghosted her. He left her, let her go through her pregnancy alone. He didn't want her or the whole family thing. You think he'd be upset that you took her out for some fun?"

"Okay, you weren't on our side in Germany so you missed the animated way he spoke about her. He talked about her like she could be his salvation, like she was everything he ever... I've never heard him talk about a woman the way he spoke about her. He 'ghosted' her because he was terrified for her, how his life might end hers. How could I even entertain taking the one thing he's wanted?"

"Easy. You take her out and ignore the frozen guy thousands of miles away."

Steve sighed, heavily. "Bucky's gonna wake up one day, Natasha. How would I explain that y/n came around looking for him and I was taken with her, so I took her from him?"

"You don't. You wouldn't have to. If he cared about her, he'd want her dating a quality guy. He'd want George around good people. If he cared, he'd want you guys together."

"I don't know. It just feels wrong."

"No. It doesn't and that's why you feel guilty." Natasha stood. "Ask her to dinner, Rogers. She's got a bunker full of folks who would love to babysit." She smirked as she walked out of the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked up as Steve walked into the game room. "What are you playing?"

"It's called Crash Bandicoot: Warped. It's... I don't even know how to describe this game."

Steve watched you for a few minutes, before clearing his throat. "So, I was wondering if... if you wanted to come to dinner with me tonight." You turned your head, staring at him in shock. The game over screen was suddenly on the screen because a boulder crashed into you as you stared. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get your... bandicoot killed."

"What did you say?" You whispered, dropping the PlayStation controller on the couch next to you.

"I asked if you wanted to go to dinner with me." He sat next to you, moving the controller out of his way. "There's a restaurant in the Bronx, the original owner was part of the 107. I saved him from HYDRA, so his grandson always has the Chef's Table free for me. We could go in through the back door. He makes the best burgers."

"Uh... are you... are you asking me on a date, Steve?"

He chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "I am. I think we need some time out of the compound and I'd like to spend it with you. If-if you wanted."

You bit your lip. "Of course. I would love to. But what about-"

"Natasha volunteered to babysit." Steve stood. "So... I'll pick you up at your room at 7?" He asked, with a smirk. You nodded, still a bit dumbfounded that he asked you out. "All right. I'll go make our reservations."

"And I'll... go take a... shower." You stood, turning off the PlayStation and heading for your room. Milo knocked on your door as you were trying to figure out something to wear.

"So. He finally asked you out?"

"It's not... I'm sure it's not like that."

"I'm sure you're lying to yourself. Captain America has invited you to dinner. Is not for no reason. Is because he likes you. You like him, too."

You shook your head. "Come on."

"When did you become a pussy?"

"Excuse me?"

"When I met you, you were going for what you want. You weren't lying to yourself about things right in front of your face. Did motherhood soften you so much or are you still holding out hope for James to come back when he ran away from you?"

You took a deep breath. He was kinda right. You wanted Bucky and you went for him. Why should you feel so bad about wanting Steve, especially when Steve obviously wants you, too. "Bucky's a good man. I might be pissed off at him, but what if that's why I'm so receptive to Steve? Maybe I like Steve because he reminds me of Bucky and-"

"You like Steve because Steve is amazing. You'll see after you go on this date with him."

"Maybe. I don't even know what to wear."

"Jeans and the purple blouse."

You sighed, looking at the outfit he picked. "I don't know if that'll work. I don't think it'll fit."

"It'll fit. You've lost most of the pregnancy weight. Go on. Try it on." Natasha showed up at your door. "I'll do your makeup, Wanda can do your hair."

"No. No, no. This is not gonna be a whole big-" You said, shaking your head at the Russian.

"It's a date. You oughta let us help you." Wanda said, pushing into the room with a hairbrush and a curling iron. "We know it's just dinner, but still. You want to look your best."

You took a deep breath. They weren't going to walk away on this. Stubborn Avenger friends. "Fine." You rolled your eyes and sat in your desk chair as the women started to attack you with hair brushes and makeup brushes.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#1yrago Behold! The astonishing mental gymnastics of TSA apologists explaining why rich people don't need to be screened

The project of making planes secure from terrorist attacks is an inescapable nonsense: nonsense because there's no way to screen millions of people to prevent a few dedicated ones from bringing down a plane (no, really); inescapable because no lawmaker or policymaker will ever have the courage to remove a measure that has previously been described as "essential for fighting terrorism" even if it was only ever security theater intended to assuage low-information voters.

That's generally OK, since terrorism is very rare and flying is very safe, and improving its safety involves some obvious, easy-to-attain goals like paying pilots more and making sure all crew are given adequate rest and benefits; tying executive compensation to long term safety; also re-onshoring maintenance instead of sending jets to unqualified, ununionized maintenance teams on another continent who are unable to read and understand the maintenance manuals.

But there's another problem with airplane hell: aviation is disproportionately the province of wealthy people with political influence (if you fly even once or twice a year and don't consider yourself wealthy, that's OK, but remember that a sizable fraction of Americans live in food poverty and precarious housing and will never fly, not even once in their lives). When government policies inconvenience people who vote, have disposable income, donate to political campaigns, and/or command a sizable microphone, those policies become untenable.

That puts policymakers in a bind. Having solemnly assured us that keeping our shoes on is an existential threat to the homeland, they can't announce that our shoes have suddenly become safe for the skies and let us keep them on again -- first, to save face, and second, because any kind of aviation disaster in the future will inevitably be hung around the neck of the last person to have relaxed any kind of security measure, no matter how absurd and ineffective it was in the first place.

But you can't make rich people take their shoes off forever. A certain fraction of the one percent will buy their way out of the system with private aviation, but the price differential between chartering or owning a jet and flying (even in first class) is so large that there will always be a sizable cohort of politically influential people clamoring for some way to keep their water bottles, shoes, and the sanctity of their unfondled genitals.

Enter "extreme vetting." If you are the kind of person who gets a Platinum Amex, or if you can save up two months' worth of Paul Ryan tax-savings units, you can buy your way out of the worst of the system, gaining access to a near-total bypass of the TSA system (shell out another couple Ryans and you can buy Clear, and jump to the front of the line of people who've paid to jump to the front of the line) (give it a year and I'm sure you'll be able to pay for "Clearer," the service that lets you jump ahead of the Clear people who are jumping ahead of the Precheck people who are jumping ahead of the Priority people).

In A Value Measure for Public-Sector Enterprise Risk Management: A TSA Case Study, a new paper in Risk Analysis (nonpaywalled Sci-Hub onion link), former TSA chief risk officer Kenneth Fletcher and USC professor of industrial and systems engineering Ali Abbas dance around this situation in a fascinating case-study of denialism, security theater apologism, and economic realism.

Fletcher and Abbas find that, more than anything, fliers value skipping the TSA checkpoints and will do almost anything to avoid them. Given that TSA checkpoints have no nexus with safety -- that they exist solely to perform a security theater dumbshow that satisfies the security syllogism ("something must be done; there, I've done something"), this is OK, because letting everyone skip the TSA checkpoints would have no meaningful impact on aviation safety.

But Fletcher and Abbas can't say this, so instead they say that, by subjecting these fliers to the kinds of (useless, pointless) vetting employed by Precheck and Clear (and next year's "Clearer"), they can be safely removed from the TSA's tender ministrations. This is totally true, but it's just as true to say that just letting rich people sail through security without background checks would make no meaningful difference to security and would relieve the political pressure that spoils the moods of empire-building civil servants whose jobs depend on the pretense that spending billions on TSA checkpoints makes the skies safer.

Even better, the deployment of increased "vetting" would deliver even more money -- and thus, power -- to the bureaucrats whose careers are made on security theater, making such a policy extremely politically palatable.

Not reflected in this analysis is what happens to everyone who doesn't buy their way out of the TSA: as people with political agency are stripped out of the system, the sadistic, high-handed and authoritarian urges of TSA inquistors can run riot, with no political force to check them. Thus, the way that the bottom 60% of fliers experience aviation will get much, much worse.

https://boingboing.net/2017/11/22/nobody-expects-the-american-in.html