#nsa messages

[greghatecrimes]

Cameron's gay as hell I would be more into my partner if they did what chase did

This is so real because me too. If my wife killed a dictator I would stand by her forever and be even more madly in love with her. Cameron was just too lost in the comphet to realize she was never attracted to men

[epitome-the-burnkid-viii]

An open note to the Ex/disowned family/in-laws, friends, husband, co-workers, community who are still gang stalking me for leaving you all behind over 20 years ago for trying to steal my inheritance, reputation, identity, and life itself:

I always knew what you all were up to and knew it was a matter of time before the universe and the law caught up to the lies, fraud, violence, and manipulations you employed to cast illusions to destroy my life in hopes of justifying stealing my inheritance with false promises from my evil satanic cult family/in-laws I have done everything in my power to break free from. I don't want my ex back or anyone else who joined this covert lynch mob of dick witches with the primary goal of splitting up my marriage for an occult romance scammer Ponzi scheme that involves rituals, torture, and literal human sacrifice for profit. He was a con artist and gold digger who conspired with both our families to deceive me, torture me, confine me, smear me and think that character assassination will somehow allow them to steal my inheritance hoping that if i'm unfit the money is theirs? Nothing justifies this theft and violence, especially not things such as lies, religious abuse, spiritual warfare, narcissistic abuse, reactive abuse, identity theft, psychological warfare, law-fare, and/or the many other tactics they have enchanted or hexed themselves into believing some inverse reality/simulation based on the 3D matrix.

All of you need to turn yourselves in and return the money, you have been living off my money for decades while I have struggled to live because some family/friends implanted lies with black magic into my ex husband's mind to exploit him and sacrifice him too so he could be their fall guy. Seriously, this is not an individual story. This is a large crime syndicate acting against a collective in tandem and acting in unison. Stop the energy harvesting, destiny swaps, and other deranged expressions of vengeance your cohort had employed via these so called secret societies while you are all at it.

DO THE RIGHT THING AND MAKE THIS EASIER FOR EVERYONE!!! It will only get worse if you keep acting in defiance to universal law, so seriously... Justice is on my/our side, grow up and quit casting illusions.....

For everyone else: Please come find my music, art, and podcasts to compliment the #youtuberecommendedchronicles🔮 on my other platforms!

https://www.youtube.com/@UCJul2RZxNCUVcug6BpcWSYw

https://rumble.com/c/SupplementalBroadcast

https://rumble.com/c/PPPPPonderings

https://rumble.com/c/C0P3RN1CANR3C0RD5

https://rumble.com/user/473x4ndr14

https://soundcloud.com/okcopernicusproductions

Contact email: 473x4ndr14@gmail.com

X/#youtuberecommendedchronicles : https://x.com/BurnkidV

Be sure to look for my steaming periodical mixtapes dubbed The C0P3RN1CAN Dispatch across most major music streaming platforms and all of my musical projects under the titles EpitomeTheBurnkid, Trancemissions Existential, Aztech Adventure, and Hunter Hackz & The Western Pleasurez.

[wuxianxkexing]

In the context of a dating profile what does NSA mean?

Pei Ming: "No strings attached."

Xie Lian: "National Security Agency."

[hbyrde36]

Your Dasher is Nearby ❤

(Inspired by a TikTok that I can no longer find the link to 🙈)

For @pearynice - Happy Birthday bestie! ILY! 🥰😘🤗

Steddie | Explicit | WC:6672 | AO3

After fighting with the finicky lock on his front door for almost a full five minutes, Steve slunk inside, reveling in the hush of his quiet, if lonely, abode after an exhausting day at work. Robin had only moved out a few weeks ago, and he still wasn’t quite used to coming home to an empty house. Don’t get him wrong, he was happy for her, he just wished she could have settled down with a girlfriend that didn’t live so fucking far away.

Technically, it was a reasonable forty-five minute drive from Hawkins to Indianapolis, but when you were used to seeing someone every single day, even a mile down the road felt as far off as the moon.

It probably didn’t help that today was his birthday, the first he’d have to spend alone since he and Robin had met, slinging ice-cream together one summer after high school and became instant best friends. They had plans for a sleepover on the weekend to celebrate, but that didn’t stop Steve wishing she were there now. Not to mention the fact that the only happy birthday texts he’d gotten all day had been from Robin, and a few of the kids he used to babysit, who weren’t really kids anymore. There hadn’t been a call, text, or so much as an email with one of those shitty e-cards full of low-resolution sparkly roses and balloons from either of his parents. 

Not that he’d expected any different, but it stung all the same.

After a long hot shower that sadly did nothing to lift his mood, Steve stood in front of his refrigerator and sighed. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to find it bare, it wasn’t as if he'd been grocery shopping recently, but for some reason those empty glass shelves staring back at him like an accusation of how badly he was taking care of himself, were the last straw.

He slammed the fridge door, spinning on his heel to stomp like a petulant child over to the couch, not even bothering to switch the living room lamp on. If he was going to cry he might as well do it in the dark. The first tear slid down his cheek as he hugged a throw pillow to his chest. From there, the floodgates opened when he realized the cushion he clutched still smelled faintly of Robin’s perfume.

God he was pitiful. 

He was twenty-four—er—twenty-five, not five, and much too old to be acting like such a baby.

In the middle of his pity-party for one, Steve's phone vibrated in his sweatpants pocket. He pulled it out in a rush, equal parts hoping for a message from his mom, and dreading it. Only to be disappointed yet again.

It was a stupid notification from DoorDash. A coupon code, no doubt pushed to him because of the day. These companies all had far too much of people’s personal information. Some days Steve would swear his phone was actually picking up on his conversations. Dustin said he was being paranoid, but Steve knew better. Maybe it wasn’t the NSA or some other secret government agency, but someone was listening.

He was sure of it.

You deserve a treat. Use code 30FROMDD for 30% off.  Offer expires 3/20/25. $12 order minimum required. Terms apply.

Hmm…

He was supposed to be saving money now that he had to cover the mortgage alone. Of course, he’d considered the idea of looking for another roommate, and eventually he would have to, but he wasn’t ready to see anyone else in Robin’s space yet.

Fuck it, he thought, lifting the bottom hem of his white tank top to wipe at his eyes. It was his birthday dammit. 

He did deserve a treat.

Steve kept it modest, finding Benny’s within the app and adding his usual cheat meal to the cart, a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a slice of chocolate cake for good measure. His finger hovered above the order button for a moment before he decided to say fuck it, again, and added a six pack of beer from the convenience store around the corner and a small pack of birthday candles. 

He finished the transaction quickly and closed out of the app before he could change his mind and talk himself out of it, then decided to indulge in one more thing, calling Robin on FaceTime.

She answered on the first ring, already singing to him as the video call connected.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Dinguuuuuuuuuuus, Happy Birthday to you!”

God he loved her.

He laughed, feeling the first genuine smile he’d given all day stretch over his mouth as he leaned back into the couch, holding the phone up near his face.

“Thanks for that,” he said sarcastically, but really meaning it wholeheartedly.

“Aw, honey,” Robin squinted, leaning closer to her own screen. “Your hair’s wet. What’s wrong?”

She would notice that.

Steve raked a hand through his dripping locks self consciously. They’d lived together long enough for her to know how much he hated letting it air dry. It always lacked his signature fullness when left to its own devices, but pulling out his hair dryer and round brush tonight felt like way too much effort.

“Nothing,” he said through a heavy exhale. “Just the usual.”

And of course that was all the context Robin needed to guess at the heart of the issue.

She sneered, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Remind me to punch your parents in their stupid faces if I ever meet them.”

“Will do,” he said with a little mocking salute.

“I’m serious!” She insisted, dragging a finger across her throat in a, surprisingly terrifying, cutting gesture. “Richard and Donna’s days are numbered.”

Steve choked on a snort. “I’m sure they’re shaking in their boots.”

“As they should be.” Robin gave a decisive nod, satisfied that her thinly veiled threats to him over the phone would somehow make their way to his parents, wherever they were. “On to happier topics then. We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, lounging back onto the couch and kicking his socked feet up on the coffee table. “Obviously.”

“I’m just checking!” She squeaked defensively. “For all I know you’ve lined up a date or something since we made these plans.”

“Who’s going on a date?” Another feminine voice trilled from somewhere off camera.

Robin lifted her eyes, looking in the distance as she answered. “Steve.”

Steve tilted his head back with a sigh. These fucking lesbians were relentless. “I’m not going on a—”

Suddenly a second face filled his phone’s screen, Chrissy, her strawberry blonde hair falling in both her and Robin’s faces, as she mashed their cheeks together. “Who’s the lucky guy taking our little birthday boy out on the town?” She asked.

“There’s no guy—or girl. Robin’s being annoying.” Steve made sure to emphasize the or, since the two of them liked to go around pretending they forgot that Steve was ‘half straight’, as Robin would say. He knew it was only her way of lovingly trying to get a rise out of him, but there would be no bi-erasure in his house! Teasing or not.

Chrissy pouted. “Oh boo, you’re no fun.”

It’s not like Steve didn’t want to date, he was just feeling a little gun-shy after the whole Tommy fiasco. Robin and Chrissy had both been on him for weeks about getting back out there, constantly trying to set him up with some friend of Chrissy’s who still lived in town. He had a feeling that encouragement was about to get ten times worse now that Robin wasn’t there to keep an eye on him herself.

Robin shoved at Chrissy’s shoulder, knocking her out of frame. “Babe, be nice.” 

“You started it.” Chrissy retaliated with a tickle attack, or so Steve assumed based on the way Robin began shrieking like a banshee, and the fact that his view through the phone suddenly became erratic, swinging around wildly. 

Adorable as all this was, the Blair Witch style cinematography they were subjecting him to was making him nauseous, and maybe a little jealous of their relationship.

“Hey,” he called out, clearing his throat. “I think I'm gonna let you guys go. Thanks for the song, Rob.”

“No, wait, Steve—” Robin shouted, shushing Chrissy. The world around her stopped spinning as she seemed to settle on her back, laying down on the carpet and holding the phone above her. “You sure?” 

He knew she'd stay on the phone with him all night if he needed her to, but that idea only made him feel more pathetic. 

“Yeah. My takeout is gonna be here soon anyway.” Steve said with a smile, trying hard to make it reach his eyes so she’d believe he was okay. “Love you, see you in a few days.”

After a brief pause with a wrinkled brow she finally gave in and smiled back. “Love you too, Dingus.”

Steve rubbed at his face, pocketing his phone before getting up to finally switch the lights on, the TV too for some background noise, and found he was actually feeling a little better after seeing Robin’s face, the sting of the day fading into the background a bit. He puttered around for a while, straightening the house, even managing to throw a load of laundry in the wash before his pocket buzzed again. 

Eddie is approaching with your order.

He tapped the notification, opening the app so he could see exactly how close he was to being in hamburger bliss, thrilled to find his dasher was mere blocks away, only for his stomach to drop half a second later.

In his hurry to order he’d completely forgotten to add a tip, and no matter how hard he jabbed at his screen, the stupid app wouldn’t let him go back and change it now. The way Steve saw it, he had two options—stiff this poor Eddie guy on his tip, or meet him outside with cash. Which was… probably a super weird thing to do, but it beat having someone, who now knew where he lived, thinking he was an asshole.

Eddie yawned, stretching his arms up as far as the roof of the van would allow while he waited for the light to turn green. He was stiff, exhausted from his shift at Thatcher’s and had only taken the time to have a quick shower and wolf down a burrito from the gas station before accepting his first order. 

The last thing he felt like doing after slaving away under chassis and over car engines all day, was drive around all night delivering food to the ungrateful masses. But, Wayne’s hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves. Getting into a fender bender wasn’t cheap these days. It was fine, they’d manage, but he didn't want the old coot hurting himself by trying to go back to work at the plant with a broken goddamn arm. Honestly Eddie was just grateful his uncle had made it out of the accident in one piece. He’d work a second job for the rest of his life if he had to, so long as his surrogate father stayed around for a good long time. 

Who else would walk him down the aisle some day? That is, if Eddie could ever land a date again. 

He’d had his fair share of short-lived relationships and a few steamy one and two night stands, but he’d yet to find someone worth settling in for the long haul. Or, hell, find someone who was even interested in the long haul. Not that he didn’t appreciate the simple joy of a random hookup now and again, but sometimes he felt like the last hopeless romantic in a generation full of peers who didn’t believe in love anymore.

The first few runs of the night were business as usual, mainly fast food pick-ups and quick, easy, no-contact drop offs. He couldn’t help thinking if he kept up this pace he might even be able to knock off early enough to get a full eight hours of sleep.

Optimism wasn’t usually his gig, which probably should have been the first red flag that the night was about to take a turn.

Lost in the groove, he accepted the next order without really looking at the details, annoyed to realize it not only involved two stops, but this Steve prick hadn’t even selected a tip. 

Eddie raced to the first destination, speed the one way to make this order worthwhile now, and hoped the guy’s food was bagged and ready to go. It was, thankfully, and he snatched the bag off the counter with barely a wave at the worker standing behind it, sprinting back out the door.

There was a brief hold-up at the second spot, the same combination gas station corner-store Eddie had procured his dinner from earlier, something about candles that were out of stock—he wasn’t really listening and the app would notify the customer anyway—but he was on his way soon enough, breaking traffic laws left and right to get across town in record time. 

After double checking that he was at the right address, Eddie parked on the street in front of a mailbox shaped like an ice cream truck all done up in pastels, and despite it all found himself smiling as he got out of the van. It was a small, quaint one-story house, with a well-loved vintage BMW parked in the drive. The sky was growing dark, but a pair of bright porch lights provided enough of a glow to reveal old wood siding painted a light robin’s egg blue and an immaculate lawn dotted with brightly colored kitschy ornaments, statues, and one very large pink bird bath in the center of it.

Not at all what Eddie had been expecting, for some reason.

Bags in hand, he headed up the walkway, assuming he’d be leaving the order on the front porch like usual, but as he got closer to the house the front door swung open and a man stepped out, padding determinately down the front steps.

His hair was slicked back, damp as though he were fresh from the shower, with a tight white tank top stretched across his ample chest, thick hair curling up over the neckline. To top it all off, the wet-dream look was completed with the most sinful pair of gray sweatpants imaginable, that did absolutely nothing to conceal the monster hiding beneath the deceptively plain fabric.

And his face?

Eddie nearly tripped over a garden gnome wearing a little rainbow cap because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the man’s warm hazel eyes, pouty pink lips, chiselled jaw, and lightly tanned skin peppered with beauty marks.

Fuck he was pretty.

Almost intimidatingly so, and had Eddie run into the guy in any other setting he might have felt exactly that. Christ, if he looked this good bumming around at home he must have been an absolute knockout when he was dressed up for a night out. But right now like this, walking towards Eddie over the lawn with no shoes? He looked soft, sweet.

And exactly Eddie’s type.

“Steve?” He asked, just to be sure, and was rewarded with the sight of this beautiful adonis of a man grinning shyly, nodding yes as his cheeks flushed pink. 

Eddie melted on the spot. He’d always adored the idea of love at first sight, not that he’d ever admit that aloud. And really, there were far too many crazy stories of coincidences and chance first meetings floating around out there on Reddit and TikTok for it not to be a real thing for some, but he’d never been crazy enough to think it could happen to him. 

… Not that this was that. 

Love was a bit of a strong word for someone he’d met seconds ago, no matter how much of a romantic Eddie was at heart, but there was definitely some kind of instant attraction thing going on here, at the very least. And if the way Steve held his gaze, shivering in the warm night air when their hands brushed as Eddie passed him his bags was any indication, he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

It felt something like the way you might spot a cute guy or girl across the bar and know you were bound for a tryst in a public bathroom that night. But somehow also so much more than that. Did Eddie want to trace the bulging outline in Steve’s pants with his mouth, pull them down past hairy thighs with his teeth and see how far he could stuff what appeared to be an impressive length down his throat? 

Absolutely, he did. 

But he also wanted to hear about Steve’s hopes and dreams, learn his favorite candy, and color, and see what brand of trash TV he liked to watch while cuddling on the couch at night. Wanted to know what that stunning face looked like bathed in sunlight on a Saturday morning, sipping coffee at a table while Eddie stood at the stove making him pancakes.

Eddie swallowed hard, frozen in place by some force outside his control, fated to stand right there for the rest of his life under the hypnotic pull of a stranger's eyes, and was more than happy to do so.

It was Steve who moved first, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream. With a little shake of his head he held out his free hand, a ten dollar bill tucked between two fingers. “I, uh, t-this is for you,” Steve stuttered out, a nervous giggle playing at the back of his throat. “I messed it up in the app, somehow. I’m not the best with technology.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed, reaching out, but instead of grasping the edge of the bill like he should have, he practically took Steve's entire hand in his own without thinking. Sparks crackled through his veins as though he’d gripped a live wire, his desire for the man in front of him growing tenfold at the simple touch. “Thank you, that—that’s really sweet of you.”

For a long beat, neither of them moved or let go, whatever spell had fallen over them still lingering in the air.

Again it was Steve who came to his senses first, biting his bottom lip as he gently took his hand back, letting go of the cash. “Sorry, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight,” he said, as though he were the one who’d held on and not the other way around.

“No it’s—” Eddie huffed a laugh, and knew exactly what he had to do. “Listen, this is going to sound so unprofessional but I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least ask for your number.”

Steve’s gaze dropped to the ground, his socked feet sliding over the grass as he rocked on his heels, before looking back up with another shy smile. “At the risk of sounding worse, would you like to come in for a drink… now?”

Eddie opened his mouth to agree instantly. How could he possibly pass up an opportunity like this? But then he thought of Wayne and the bills and found himself hesitating, glancing back at his van for a half-second, only to get quickly caught in the draw of Steve’s eyes again when he looked back.  

Fuck it, he could take a break for a while, even if it meant dashing into the wee hours later.

“Maybe not a drink since I have to drive, but if you’re willing to share that cake you got there, I think we could work something out.”

Steve swung open his front door, heart racing as he held it for the man following him inside.

Eddie.

His long-haired, doe-eyed, sent like an angel from heaven straight to his fucking house, smoking hot Doordash driver.

And those dimples?

Steve had never been so instantly, insanely, and completely enamored with someone in his entire life, relieved that the feeling seemed to be at least somewhat mutual considering the guy had asked for his number like that. He had no idea what had possessed him to invite Eddie in, it wasn’t like him to be so spontaneous or reckless these days, but he didn’t regret it. 

Robin was going to kill him.

With barely a glance down to make sure he didn’t miss, Steve dropped the bags with his dinner and beer on a nearby side table, his desire for food replaced now with an entirely different kind of hunger. He quickly turned to say god-knew-what to his unexpected guest, and instead found himself being crowded back against the wall, Eddie’s huge brown eyes and plush lips quickly filling his vision. 

“You’re even more gorgeous now that I can see you better,” Eddie said in a soft husky baritone, reaching up to smooth a bit of stray hair away from Steve’s face.

An embarrassing whine slipped from deep inside Steve’s throat, in reply. They’d hardly spoken, barely touched, and yet he was already half hard and out of his mind with how much he wanted the beautiful stranger in front of him.

As if they’d somehow choreographed it, they both surged forward at once, a perfect first touching of lips that, at least for Steve, rivaled every first kiss that had come before it. 

This whole thing was nuts, from chance meeting, to overwhelming crush at first sight, to kissing in a matter of minutes. 

“This is crazy,” Steve said when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Eddie’s as he caught his breath.

Eddie too panted for air, smoothing his hands up and down Steve’s sides, a comforting touch that also made his skin break out in goosebumps. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“Good, good. Definitely good,” Steve blurted out quickly, swallowing his nerves. “I just… I never do things like this.” 

That had Eddie stilling his hands—which Steve hated—and pulling back a little—which Steve hated even more—to tilt his head, eyes full of concern. 

“Do you want to stop?”

Five simple words but with them came absolute sincerity. Steve did not know this man, but somehow he believed that he could end this right now and Eddie wouldn’t hold it against him, wouldn’t get mad and call him a prude or a tease.

It only made Steve want him more.

“Fuck no,” he said, with feeling, winding his hands into that mass of curly hair and bringing Eddie‘s mouth crashing into his again. 

Without ever really separating they both lost their shirts, and somehow Steve moved them as one from the living room, down the hall, and to his bedroom, crashing into the wall more than once, knocking a row of Robin’s old canvas painting askew where they hung.

The sight of the bed gave Steve pause for the second time that night, and had his lips slowing to a halt. He wasn’t lying when he told Eddie he didn’t usually do hookups, especially with guys, and he wasn’t sure what the protocol was when you didn’t know ahead of time if your partner preferred to top or bottom.

Like the perfect man he seemed to be so far, Eddie read him like a book, holding him close as he rubbed his back in soothing circles. 

“I’m verse so, whatever you want, Steve, it’s yours.” 

Of course, Steve knew exactly what he wanted, but time and bad experiences made him feel shy asking. “Me too, but I…” he tried, trailing off.

“Oh,” Eddie crooned. 

The hand kneading Steve’s lower back slipped past the waistband of his pants as Eddie reached down to squeeze his ass, one finger sliding over his hole.

Steve whimpered, arching into the small dry touch.

“You need it bad, don’t you, baby?” Eddie asked, without a hint of teasing, as if he understood the feeling.

Steve could only roll his hips, making more needy little sounds in answer.

Eddie pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently coaxing him to sit down on the bed. “How about you lay back and let me take care of you then. Okay, sweetheart?”

Steve did as he was told, sliding back across the sheets of his unmade bed while Eddie kicked off his shoes and followed, settling between his legs. He already felt more at ease with this man he barely knew than he ever had in the almost three years he’d wasted on Tommy.

For a moment Eddie laid his full weight on top of him, bare chest to bare chest, capturing his mouth in another dizzying kiss, Eddie’s tongue exploring the depths of his mouth like he was licking up the remnants of chocolate syrup in the bottom of a sundae, moaning at the taste.

Eddie was incredibly hard where he was pressed to Steve’s hip, grinding in time with the swirls of his tongue. He also felt absolutely huge, and though dry humping was very hot and severely underrated, Steve couldn’t wait to feel Eddie inside him.

With an almost painful, teasing slowness, Eddie began to slide down Steve’s body, that clever mouth working its way down his neck and chest, each touch of lips a searing heat, tongue tracing a wet line down the length of his happy trail until it met the band of his pants. Only then did Eddie lift up, sitting back on his heels as he gripped the waist of Steve's sweats, gently tugging them down and off, tossing the bundle to the other side of the bed.

The air hitting him where he was suddenly bare was a bit of a shock, but it was nothing to the weight of Eddie’s gaze as he looked down at Steve’s body, a reverence in his eyes as he took it all in that made Steve want to weep. He wasn’t sure any other partner had looked at him quite like that before.

“Beautiful,” Eddie murmured quietly, and in a mirror of before now began making his way back up, beginning with a tender kiss to Steve’s knee.

Steve sucked air through his teeth, lost in sensation as Eddie alternated between biting and pressing open mouthed kisses to the delicate skin of his inner thigh, moving closer and closer to his center until there was a quick flick of a tongue over his hole.

Just once, the warm wet touch of it there and gone so fast it could have been dismissed as an accident if Eddie hadn’t looked up after, heavily lidded eyes boring into Steve’s own as he asked the question.

“Can I?”

Steve’s mouth fell open, Tommy would never—

No. 

No, he wasn’t going to think about that asshole anymore, not when he had someone right here eyeing him up like he was the pièce de résistance of a gourmet meal. God, where had this man been all his life?

“You want to?”

Eddie chuckled. “When I said I wanted your cake, I wasn’t exactly talking about dessert.” 

With a raise of his brow Eddie ducked back down, licking a wet stripe from Steve’s taint to the base of his cock, hands sliding beneath his ass, hoisting him up for better access.

“Oh fuck.”

Steve writhed, head thrashing, his hands twisting into the sheets around him as his trembling knees found their resting place on top of Eddie’s shoulders. They were just getting started and he already wanted to live there forever with Eddie’s head nestled between his thighs.

With that reaction Eddie dove in with gusto, his tongue circling Steve’s rim over and over, making his hole flutter with each lingering pass. It felt incredible, but the sounds Eddie made as he feasted were equally as divine, making it clear that he was enjoying himself as much as Steve was.

And Steve was enjoying himself, thoroughly, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto his belly while his mouth released a flood of whorish sounds he’d never heard himself produce before.

It only worsened when Eddie’s talented tongue pushed its way inside for the first time. Steve would owe his neighbors an apology in the morning, but as Eddie breached his hole again, pushing it deeper still while finally setting him down to take hold of his aching cock, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Eddie took it slow, switching up the rhythm of his hand as he worked Steve over, keeping him right on that precarious edge, all the while taking turns between laving over the ring of puckered skin with long wet strokes, and fucking into him with the tip of his hot tongue.

As mind blowing as it was, it wasn’t long before Steve found himself wanting more, needing more, needing Eddie to hurry up and fuck him already. He must have made a sound of frustration, that or Eddie was some kind of mind-reader, because the moment he was about to break down and beg for it he felt two fingers, slick with spit, start working him open. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Steve chanted, fucking himself down as best he could now that he had some leverage to work with, pleased when Eddie spurred him on.

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

Eddie kept pumping his fingers, adding a third and meeting Steve thrust for thrust until Steve’s chants and moans turned to desperate babbling pleas.

“Condoms?” Eddie asked, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Steve’s groin as he slowed the movements of his hand to a stop, pulling his fingers free as gently as he could.

Chest heaving, Steve fought to catch his breath. He gestured vaguely at his nightstand, ignoring the suddenly empty feeling as his stretched hole clenched around nothing, trusting he’d be full again soon.

“Be right back, gorgeous.” 

With one more sugary sweet brush of lips to his hip, Eddie slipped off the bed, shedding his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion before digging through the small drawer, quickly finding what they needed.

Steve took the chance to look his fill as Eddie climbed back onto the bed, the sight of the heavy cock swaying between his legs making his mouth water, and making him wish he’d stripped Eddie down himself and taken the chance to explore his body in kind. There were a pair of tattoos low on his hips that held a particular interest. 

Next time, he thought. 

If there was a next time.

And then Eddie was lining himself up and pushing inside, and Steve couldn’t think of anything at all. 

They’d done enough prep that the head popped right in, but Eddie was big, bigger than any cock or toy Steve had taken before and by the time Eddie was fully seated inside he was so full he felt like he might split in two, in the best way possible. 

Eddie stayed there, perfectly still, letting Steve adjust for so long that Steve was afraid he’d never move, but he shouldn't have been worried. Eddie had promised to take care of him and it seemed he was taking that vow seriously, or maybe his seemingly endless patience had finally run out. After a slow experimental thrust that sent Steve’s mouth falling open in pleasure, he set a brutal pace, the sound of their bodies like a raucous round of applause. Music to Steve’s ears.

He knew right away wasn’t going to last at this rate, it’d simply been too long and he was too turned on to start with. Thankfully he could feel Eddie pulsing inside him each time he slammed to the hilt, and knew the other man was just as close to his tipping point. 

Soon the familiar thrumming pleasure began to build under Steve’s skin, filling him up with each slap of their bodies together until he could no longer hold it in anymore. He came untouched with the strangled cry of Eddie’s name on his lips, and starbursts flashing across his vision. It went on for what seemed like forever, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over him while Eddie continued to fuck him hard through it, hitting his prostate with every thrust as he chased his own orgasm until he finally followed Steve over that delicious edge. 

Neither moved until Eddie softened, slipping out of Steve with ease as he moved away, tying off the condom before dropping it to the floor. 

With their breaths slowing and the dust settling, and the overwhelming sense of desire fully satiated, Steve expected to feel awkward, but it was hard to feel anything but content when Eddie rolled back over and pulled him into his side, humming happily, kissing his hair as Steve rested on his head on his chest,

“God, where have you been all my life,” Eddie mumbled with his lips still pressed to Steve’s temple.

Steve froze, going rigid in Eddie’s embrace, stunned to hear him give voice to the same thought he’d had earlier.

“Shit,” Eddie cursed softly. “Did I say that out loud?”

Slowly Steve raised his head, silently nodding when he couldn’t seem to unstick his suddenly tight throat. 

“Sorry,“ Eddie sighed, shaking his head as he tried to sit up. “I—I get it, I can go if you—”

“Don’t—” Steve pressed a hand to Eddie's chest, forcing him back down, searching his face for some sign that he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. Though, he was pretty sure Eddie was worth the risk. “Please tell me that means this wasn’t a one time thing, that you feel it too?”

He wasn’t even sure what it was, this strange connection they seemed to have, without ever meeting before. He only knew it had grown stronger with every kiss, every caress, every drop of fluids they’d wrung from each other’s bodies.

Eddie sagged, melting into the bed, a relieved smile curling his lips as he reached up to cup Steve’s cheek. “Steve, baby, I felt it the second I laid eyes on you. I meant it when I asked for your number outside. I know we kinda took the next step already, but I'd love to take you out. I want to do this right, get to know each other, win you over with my unconventional charms in the hopes one day we could make this official.”

Steve smiled back, feeling practically giddy as he leaned into Eddie’s tender touch, processing his words. It was everything he could have wanted to hear and more, except.

Why wait for all that?

“Or I could be your boyfriend now,” Steve countered. “And we could let the rest of it work itself out later?”

“Deal,” Eddie said with zero hesitation, pulling him in for a deep lingering kiss to seal it. 

“What were the candles for?” Eddie asked after a while. 

They’d been cuddling in comfortable silence for so long that Steve was pretty sure he’d drifted off a few times.

“Hmm?” he hummed, stirred by the question, totally blanking for a moment until it all came rushing back. His horrible day, that had completely melted away once Eddie showed up and turned his world upside down.

“Oh god,” he groaned, shame curling in his gut, even though he knew that was stupid. “It’s, um… It’s sorta my birthday? And I was feeling really bummed about spending it alone since my roommate and best friend just moved away. So, I thought I'd get some birthday candles to put in a slice of cake to cheer myself up, and...”

Yeah, it didn’t sound any better when he said it out loud, but if they were really doing this he couldn’t exactly not tell Eddie that today was his birthday. He'd find out eventually.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Eddie said without pity, dropping more of his wonderful kisses to the top of Steve’s head.

“I get it, y’know,” Eddie went on. ”Being lonely. I have my uncle at home but my best friend moved to Indy a few months ago and life hasn’t been the same without her in my business all the time.”

Steve huffed an incredulous laugh. “That’s where my roommate moved too. Small world.” 

As if she could somehow sense that he was thinking about her, because it had to be Robin calling, Steve’s phone began to vibrate where it laid on the edge of the bed, sticking halfway out of his pants pocket. With a groan he sat up, missing Eddie’s warmth immediately, and reached for it. He meant to simply silence the call and give his attention back to the brand new boyfriend in his bed, until he saw the literal dozens of text messages and missed video calls from her.

With an apologetic glance at Eddie he quickly tapped the button to answer her incoming facetime.

“Stephen. Marie. Harrington,” she growled through gritted teeth. “You’d better be dying in a ditch somewhere or I swear to god—” she cut herself off suddenly, eyes narrowing as she stared into her phone. “Are you in bed right now? Why are you in bed at 9 o’clock?”

Steve bit his lip, looking over again at Eddie who shrugged as if to say, it’s up to you.

“I… kinda met someone?”

“How did you meet someone without leaving your…” she trailed off slowly, a look of dawning horror coming over her face. “Oh god, don’t tell me you rejoined the dating apps.”

“It was DoorDash, actually.”

Robin blinked at him. “... What?”

“Nevermind.” Steve tilted his phone, holding it further away as he panned the camera over to get both of them in the shot. “Um, this is Eddie,” 

“Hi Steve’s best friend!” Eddie said with a grin and a wave, the rumpled sheets still pooled around his hips leaving his glistening, sweat and other bodily fluid coated chest on full display. He was definitely not shy.

Steve was obsessed with him.

Suddenly Robin was gone, as if someone had ripped the phone out of her hand, the shaky picture flipping from a far off view of a small kitchen, to a white ceiling, and then to a close up of Chrissy’s face, her mouth agape.

“Eddie?!”

“Chris—what? How?!” Eddie sat up abruptly, pulling the sheets up as if he was suddenly scandalized, eyes wide with pure shock. “Steve… Is your lesbian best friend, my lesbian best friend’s girlfriend?”

“I guess so?” Steve said in a baffled haze, before being hit with a sudden realization. He glared into his phone's camera. “Is Eddie the guy you kept wanting to set me up with?”

Chrissy held a hand over her mouth, giggling uncontrollably as she nodded. 

Holy shit. 

It really was a small world.

Steve sighed heavily, “tell Robin I'll text her tomorrow,” ending the call as Chrissy’s giggling turned into a wheezing guffaw. He tossed his phone unceremoniously onto the nightstand, turning back to the grinning man at his side.

“So, we could have been doing this for weeks?”

“Afraid so, sweetheart.” Eddie threw the sheet aside once more, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. “If it’s any consolation I had no idea.”

“You know what? I’m glad we found each other on our own.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed, swinging a leg over Eddie’s hips to settle in his lap, the possibility of going for a round two already in the back of his mind. “My own special delivery, right to my door. It’s a much better story.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement making his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “Are you sure it’s not because now they can’t lord it over us that they set us up and we hit it off?”

Steve shrugged, leaning in to lick across Eddie’s mouth, wondering idly how long the appropriate time to wait would be before he could ask him to move in. 

“That’s a pretty good perk too.”

Many thanks to @penny00dreadful and @sidekick-hero for all your beta work, cheerleading, and handholding! 💜

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @sidekick-hero @firefly-party @bookworm0690

@wonderland-girl143-blog  @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

@hitlikehammers

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @ironenemycollective

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

Tw: cussing, blood.

Part 6

Words of Command - Part 7

The glass-walled conference room at the top of Stark Tower was designed for clarity and power. Wide windows framed the skyline, and sunlight spilled in at a sharp angle, catching on every surface—like the room was made of polished nerves.

The long table was already crowded.

Tony sat at the head, fingers steepled, a holographic interface flickering mid-air in front of him. Nat lounged in her chair beside him.

Steve stood, arms folded, barely containing his tension. Sam had pulled up a second chair just to lean on it backward, his stare bouncing between the projections and Bucky. Clint paced near the back beside Thor.

Even Bruce was present, eyes watchful behind his glasses.

And then there was you.

You sat nearest to the door—near Bucky—hands folded in your lap, trying not to shrink under all the attention.

Bucky had refused to sit. Instead, he stood behind your chair, silent. His flesh hand hovered near your shoulder, not quite touching, but always there.

The others noticed. How he kept his eyes on you, not the speakers. How he didn’t so much as blink unless you moved.

Tony tapped at the interface, pulling up STRIKE files, security footage, and a list of recent attempts to claim “dangerous assets.”

“We can’t just keep pretending he’s not on every watchlist known to man,” Tony said, exasperated. “They’re coming. STRIKE was the appetizer. The main course is going to be alphabet soup—CIA, NSA, maybe even S.H.I.E.L.D. if they get twitchy.”

“I’m not locking him up,” Steve said sharply.

“No one’s saying that,” Tony shot back. “I’m saying we need a plan before someone else makes a plan for us.”

From behind you, Bucky shifted—barely a noise. But you felt it that silent wind-up of tension through his spine.

Your hand rose instinctively and gently rested on his wrist. He froze. Stilled.

Only then did he speak.

“Don't cage me again” The Brooklyn was thick in his voice now. Slow. Dangerous.

“No one’s caging you, Buck,” Steve tried, stepping forward, palms up.

Bucky didn’t look at him.

He only looked at you.

“Doll.” His voice was low. “You want me to stay ?”

Your lips parted. “Yes. I… I do, Soldat.”

He gave a tight nod. “Then I stay.”

The room fell silent.

Tony leaned back, eyes wide. “Okay. That’s not terrifying at all.”

You tried to focus on the meeting, but every so often, you caught Bucky watching you—not the others.

Not the screens.

You.

When your voice wavered while explaining the STRIKE breach, he stepped closer.

When someone raised their tone—Tony, especially—his fingers twitched at his side.

When you finally leaned back in your chair, pale and drained from having to defend him only hours earlier, Bucky dropped his hand to the back of your seat.

Not protective.

Possessive.

He didn’t speak again during the meeting. But his silence was a clear message:

If they pushed too far—

He wouldn’t need your orders.

Sam, ever the realist, leaned forward. “So what—you’re her guard dog now?”

You flinched.

Bucky didn’t.

He stepped around your chair like a ghost sliding into the living, eyes narrowed.

“I ain’t a dog,” he said coldly. “But I do bite.”

Nat raised her brows. “He only listens to her?”

“He responds to her,” Bruce corrected. “That’s different from control. It’s trust. The Winter Soldier didn’t trust anyone.”

Bucky tilted his head, voice cutting in rough.

“She told me not to kill the men who tried to take me,” he said. “So I didn’t.”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t have stopped.”

That landed like thunder.

You glanced around the room, anxiety crawling under your skin. “He’s not a threat unless someone makes him one.”

Tony exhaled deeply, then pointed at you. “That right there? That’s the plan. We keep you two close. We build a safe structure around you—not him.”

Steve looked mildly horrified. “C'mon she's not a tool, Stark," Steve said, voice dangerously low. "And he's not a dog to be trained."

Nat leaned forward, her expression carefully neutral. "Steve's right about that part, but Tony's not entirely wrong either. She's our best connection to Barnes right now."

Her eyes flicked between you and Bucky sitting quietly at the edge of the room. "He's got a connection to her. We need to understand why."

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Look when I worked with veterans, this kind of attachment wasn't unusual. He's found something—someone—that makes him feel safe in a world that probably doesn't make a whole lota sense right now."

Bruce removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The psychology here is... complex. If he sees her as his handler, that relationship comes with certain expectations. Power dynamics. Conditioning."

"Which we can use," Clint interjected from where he perched on a cabinet.

"Not in the way Stark's suggesting, but strategically. The guy clearly responds to her."

He studied Bucky with the calculated gaze of a marksman assessing a target.

Thor, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, placed his hammer on the table with a gentle thud. "In Asgard, warriors who have seen too much battle sometimes lose themselves."

His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on you. "You may be his tether to humanity, Little one"

"She's not trained for this," Steve protested. "We can't put her in more danger."

"Sunshine here is already in danger," Tony countered, spinning a pen between his fingers.

"STRIKE tried to grab him today. Next time, they might not care who gets caught in the crossfire." He closed the holographic display with a flick of his wrist.

"But maybe I was... insensitive in my approach. Not that Thumbelina can't handle a little straight talk."

"That's an understatement," Nat muttered, with a roll of her eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, acutely aware of Bucky's presence beside you, he had finally taken a seat.

His flesh hand rested on the table, fingers curled slightly inward, while his metal arm remained tucked close to his body, as if he were trying to make it disappear.

"What if," Bruce began tentatively, "we don't use her as his handler, but rather... help her become a bridge? Something familiar as he transitions back to himself?"

"You mean coaching her to help him remember who he is?" Steve asked, a glimmer of hope breaking through his concern.

Sam nodded. "Create a safe space where memories can resurface without triggering a defensive response."

"Exactly," Bruce nodded. "Not commands, but connections. Memories. Identity."

The team fell silent, considering.

"She'd have to agree," Clint said firmly, looking directly at you. "And be prepared for whatever might happen."

"She's right here, Clint" you said waving at him.

"We'd be there," Steve added, looking between you and his oldest friend. "Every step. Ready to help or ... intervene."

Tony tapped his fingers on the table. "I could create a safe environment. Monitoring systems, panic buttons, the works. Though something tells me Thumbelina here has more spine than most of my security team."

At that you rolled your eyes at your boss.

Sam leaned forward. "I can help, give you strategies for when things get... complicated. Because they will get complicated."

Nat's lips curved slightly. "So we're not using her as bait or a trainer. We're asking her to be..." she searched for the word, "...a lighthouse?."

Tony pointed a pen at Nat "exactly"

Steve's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That I can get behind."

Tony smirked. "Fine, no treats. But someone should probably ask Sunshine if she's even willing to play lighthouse keeper to Metal Arm McGee here. Not that she hasn't been doing a stellar job already, considering he follows her around like a very scary, very lethal shadow."

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward you expectantly. Beside you, Bucky sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the floor, but you could feel the tension radiating from him—alert, wary, ready to move at the slightest sign of threat.

"Of course, I'll do it," you said, your voice steadier than you expected. "If it helps him, and if its what Soldat wants."

Bucky's eyes flickered toward you momentarily. "Where you go I go, Doll" that same not quite warm tone.

You gave him a smile, genuine and warm.

"But I have questions," you continued, sitting up straighter and looking back to Tony "These monitoring systems and panic buttons—they'll work through JARVIS, right?" You looked directly at Tony. "And are we staying here in the Tower? Because I don't think moving him around a lot would be good right now."

Tony's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at his lips. "Listen to you, thinking like a tactician already." He nodded approvingly.

"Yes to JARVIS—he'll be watching 24/7. And yes to staying here. I've got a whole suite that nobody's using except for storing Cap's vintage record collection and Thor's growing Pop-Tart stash."

"I do not—" Thor began to protest, then cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have acquired a modest collection."

"You'd have everything you need," Nat added, studying your face. "And we'd all be close by."

Steve leaned forward. "You're sure about this? It won't be easy."

Your eyes drifted to Bucky, whose posture remained rigid but whose breathing had slowed since you'd agreed to help.

There was something in the way he held himself—not quite at attention, but as if waiting for instructions—that made your heart ache.

"I'm sure," you said firmly.

The door slid open silently, revealing the suite that bore Tony Stark's signature blend of luxury and technological overkill.

You stepped out first, watching as Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his eyes methodically scanning every corner, exit, and potential threat.

"This is us," you said, trying to sound casual despite the nervousness fluttering in your chest.

"Apparently Thor's Pop-Tarts used to live here."

Bucky didn't smile at your attempt at humor, you didn't expect him too.

But he did step into the room, his movements measured and precise.

His flesh hand flexed slightly at his side while his metal arm remained still, tucked close to his body.

Tony materialized from another room, tablet in hand. "Welcome to Chez Safety Protocols," he announced with his typical flourish.

"Complete with everything the well-appointed fugitive assassin and his keeper might need."

You shot Tony a warning look.

"Right, right," he backpedaled.

"Tour time. Thumbelina, you already know the kitchen common room yadda yadda." Tony said waving his hand towards the entry door.

"Reinforced furniture throughout—had to rush order that after Point Break sat on a regular couch last month." He tapped the wall, revealing a discreet red button. "Panic buttons in every room. Press once for general alert, press twice for 'Terminator is having a bad day' protocol."

Bucky's eyes locked onto the button, his posture stiffening subtly.

"JARVIS is always monitoring," Tony continued, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring Bucky's reaction. "Say the safeword—which is 'blueberry,' by the way, don't ask why—and the team comes running."

"Is all this really necessary?" you asked quietly.

"STRIKE team tried to take him, and the momentary lapse your frontal cortex had made you believe you where a tank" Tony replied, suddenly serious. "So yeah, it is." He tapped his tablet. "There's more. Windows are reinforced. Door requires biometric scan—both of yours are already programmed in."

Bucky moved further into the space, inspecting each feature with clinical detachment.

When he reached the large windows overlooking the city, he stopped, his reflection staring back at him—a ghost caught between worlds.

"The bedroom on the left is yours," Tony told you. "The one on the right is set up for Terminator here, though JARVIS tells me he's been sleeping on your floor, so..." He trailed off with a meaningful look.

"Thank you, Tony," you said firmly. "We'll be fine."

"Sure you will, Sunshine." He headed for the door, then paused. "Cap's three floors down. Wilson's next door. I'm... somewhere in the building. Probably." With a mock salute, he was gone.

The silence that followed felt heavy. Bucky hadn't moved from the window.

"Do you want to see your room?" you asked gently.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "Is that a order, doll?" he asked, his voice all brooklyn now and not quite as rough.

The question caught you off guard. "No, Soldat. This is..." You searched for words. "... a choice."

"Doll" Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, maybe recognition. "You stayin"

"Yea. I'm not going anywhere"

He looked at you for a long moment, then slowly, deliberately moved away from the window. He paused by another panic button, studying it.

"For if I hurt someone," he stated flatly.

"For emergencies," you corrected. "But they won't be needed."

Bucky didn't agree or disagree. Instead, he completed his circuit of the suite.

When he finished, he simply stood in the center of the living room, awaiting... something.

Orders, you realized. He was waiting for orders.

The tower was unusually quiet that morning. The coffee had brewed, the team had drifted into their own routines, and Bucky sat inside your room—calm, still, eyes locked on you like he was awaiting the next mission.

You stood near the doorway, peeking back at him nervously. “Hey, uh… Soldat?”

He turned his head immediately. “Doll?”

“I was thinking… maybe today you could try shaving. You’ve got a bit of stubble and, I mean, it looks nice! But… maybe you’d feel more like yourself if we gave you a clean start?”

A pause.

Then, a faint nod. “If you say so.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Okay, but I don’t really know how guys shave— I was gonna ask Steve to help show you? Is that okay?”

The shift in Bucky’s body was immediate.

Shoulders stiffened. Jaw tightened. His eyes snapped toward the door behind you, the entrance to the suite like he expected an ambush. “Show me?”

You blinked. “Yeah… like, just show you how to do it. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

He stood, slow and cautious. “He better not come near you with a blade.”

You led both men into the large bathroom in the suite. Stark had kitted it out with sleek, modern features. But the atmosphere in the room was ancient—two ghosts of the past and one woman standing between them with a nervous laugh.

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, scowling at the unfamiliar reflection. His eyes flicked to you every few seconds—like he couldn’t decide if this was a trap or some kind of test.

Steve—calm, patient, used to navigating trauma even if it was only his own—stood off to the side, holding a can of shaving cream and a fresh razor like it was a live grenade.

“All right, Buck. It’s not complicated,” Steve said gently. “You just—”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You touch her with that blade, and I break your arm.”

Steve froze.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Your really not kidding, Pal"

You waved your hands quickly. “No no no! He’s not going to touch me! Soldat, he’s just going to show you. I swear.”

That seemed to settle him—slightly.

“Okay,” Bucky grunted. “But I watch first.”

Steve, ever the responsible star spangled man, took a glob of shaving cream and smeared it across his own jaw. “See, Buck? Circular motion. Like that. And then, short strokes—careful pressure.”

He began dragging the razor down his face in smooth motions, talking the whole time.

Bucky watched like it was a combat technique.

“Do that to my own face?” he asked, skeptical.

You giggled from the sink, sitting on the counter between the two sinks with your knees drawn up, chin resting on them. “You’re in control you dont have to be suspicious, Soldat.”

“Blades belong in the field,” he muttered. “Not near your neck.”

“But you’re not gonna cut your neck,” you said, trying not to laugh.

He took the razor from Steve—too hard—and inspected it like he was checking a sniper scope.

Steve sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Just go slow, Buck.”

Bucky stared at the razor. “Why’s the blade this flimsy?”

“Because it’s not meant to decapitate anyone,” you said quietly.

Bucky applied the shaving cream like he was camouflaging for war—entire face covered in thick white foam.

“Buck, you only need a thin layer—” Steve started.

“I do it my way.”

You and Steve shared a look.

The strokes were tense. Calculated. He pressed the razor to his cheek and dragged it down slow—gritting his teeth like it was physically painful.

You tried so hard not to laugh, but the sight was too much, a deadly assassin shaving with the intensity of a sniper lining up a shot.

“Stupid,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“You look great,” you said, smile blooming wide. “Like a grumpy snowman.”

Bucky squinted at you through the foam. “Doll ?”

You immediately burst out laughing.

Bucky suddenly hissed.

You leapt off the counter instantly. “What happened?!”

He touched the edge of his jaw and saw a pinprick of blood.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth. “Oh shit!”

Bucky locked onto your reaction. Misread it. His expression turned cold.

“She got scared, you let me scare her” he growled, turning on Steve.

Steve backed up. “Oh come on—your holding the razor!”

“I’m fine, Soldat stop!” you jumped in between them, both hands on Bucky’s chest, trying to anchor him. “Soldat, Stand down”

His eyes were still locked on Steve, breathing heavy, protective rage simmering under the surface.

“…Say the word, Doll.”

“No, Steve is helping, everthings ok" you whispered, stroking his arm. “Just breathe.”

After a tense beat, he exhaled through his nose.

“…He’s lucky.”

Steve raised both hands. “Always fun helping.”

You shot Steve a sympathetic look.

[darkmaga-returns]

In an era when America’s enemies test our resolve and our own intelligence community may be leaking classified information, one thing remains clear — President Trump and his national security team are fighting back. Washington was rocked this week when a preliminary, unvetted Pentagon memo was leaked, suggesting U.S. airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities barely dented Tehran’s ambitions. But the so-called “intelligence” — drawn from a single day of post-strike reporting and lacking input from the CIA or NSA — has been decisively discredited.

Now, as federal agents scour the corridors of power to find the whistleblower-turned-saboteur, the White House, the CIA, and even the International Atomic Energy Agency are united in dismissing the leak as a politically motivated hit-job. Their message: the strikes were a resounding success — inflicting long-term damage and pushing Iran’s nuclear program back years.

A Premature Leak, A Flawed Assessment

This week’s leak of an incomplete Pentagon assessment regarding President Trump’s strategic strikes on Iran is yet another reminder that the intelligence community — long-hailed as the apolitical guardian of national security — is in urgent need of housecleaning. The document, which was never finalized and excluded input from key agencies like the CIA and NSA, suggested that the U.S. airstrikes inflicted “minimal disruption” on Tehran’s nuclear program. Almost immediately, mainstream outlets ran with the narrative, casting doubt on the success of the mission. But the facts tell a different story.

[notaplaceofhonour]

Hi, call me Cari 💙

I’m a non-binary, disabled, & queer Jew—putting the (((Them))) in “they/them”

I write sci-fi fantasy, make art, and—since October 7th—unfortunately spend a lot of time talking about antisemitism*

My art can be purchased from RedBubble or viewed in my #my art tag

Updates for my current fantasy WIP can be found on my side blog @the-perpetual-minutes

*re: antisemitism:

To avoid wasting my time, I’ve made a rule for myself not to engage too deeply with anyone who hasn’t read the books on my Antisemitism Required Reading list (click through to see the list) or display a thorough comprehension of the contents therein. if you’re going to dispute my posts on antisemitism, do not expect me to engage you if you have not done the work.

I report violent antisemitism to the FBI and NSA

re: Israel/Palestine:

I hold human rights to be universal & inalienable; this is a value I hold above any movement, ideology, or national cause. I want safety, dignity, and self-determination for all peoples. I do not make exceptions for the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I will not get bogged down arguing with people who think the consistent application of these values is “centrism”, “both-sidesism”, or “holding hands & singing kumbayah”, nor with those who think talking about antisemitism or Jewish history is “genocide apologia”. I have neither the time nor patience.

All I ask is that you treat me with respect, don’t be a dick, and don’t be a bigot.

Bad takes go in the dunk tank.

Feel free to send asks/messages, but don’t be offended if I don’t respond. I’m just not good with follow up 😅

Donations:

I’m disabled & not well-off, so I’m often living paycheck-to-paycheck & struggling to keep my head above water.

If you want to help me make ends meet or just support what I do, please consider donating to my cashapp or venmo:

[todaysdocument]

Telegram for Ambassador Graham Martin Concerning Interagency Review of State of Play in South Vietnam

Collection GRF-0330: Backchannel Messages (Ford Administration)Series: Backchannel Cable FilesFile Unit: Martin Channel, April 1975 - Outgoing (1)

Digitized from Box 3 of the NSA. Backchannel Messages Files at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library

766 ******* SECRET ******S COPY 20

FLASH

DE WTE #2228 1080330

Z 180338Z APR 75

FM THE WHITE HOUSE

TO AMEMBASSY SAIGON

SECRET SENSITIVE EXCLUSIVELY EYES ONLY VIA MARTIN CHANNELS

WH50717

APRIL 17, 1975

TO: AMBASSADOR MARTIN

FROM: HENRY A. KISSINGER

WE HAVE JUST COMPLETED AN INTERAGENCY REVIEW OF THE

STATE OF PLAY IN SOUTH VIET-NAM. YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT

AT THE WSAG MEETING TODAY THERE WAS ALMOST NO SUPPORT

FOR THE EVACUATION OF VIETNAMESE AND FOR THE USE OF

AMERICAN FORCE TO HELP PROTECT ANY EVACUATION. THE

SENTIMENT OF OUR MILITARY, DOD AND CIA COLLEAGUES WAS

TO GET OUT FAST AND NOW.

IN ADDITION, AS I INDICATED IN MY MESSAGE TO

YOU LAST NIGHT, THE CONGRESSIONAL SITUATION IS FAST

GETTING OUT OF HAND. OUR TASK -- YOURS AND MINE -- IS

TO PREVENT PANIC BOTH IN SAIGON AND WASHINGTON, AND

I KNOW THAT YOU RECOGNISE THIS MORE CLEARLY THAN

ALMOST ANYONE IN THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.

I APPRECIATE YOUR INDICATION THAT YOU CAN AND

WILL MEET MY REQUEST THAT WE REDUCE TO APPROXIMATELY

TWO THOUSAND OFFICIAL AND NONOFFICIAL AMERICANS BY THE

END OF NEXT WEEK, BUT MUST NOW, IN LIGHT OF THE SITUATION

IN WASHINGTON, ASK THAT THIS SCHEDULE BE ADVANCED. IT

IS ESSENTIAL, DESPITE THE CONCERNS THAT YOU HAVE

EXPRESSED AND THAT I ACCEPT, FOR YOU TO SPEED UP THE

MOVEMENT OF AMERICAN CITIZENS OUT OF VIET-NAM. WE

MUST BE AT OR BELOW THE LEVEL OF TWO THOUSAND OFFICIAL

AND UNOFFICIAL U.S. CITIZENS BY TUESDAY, APRIL 22. I

ASK THAT YOU MOVE IMMEDIATELY TO ACCOMPLISH THIS AND

ASSURE YOU THAT WE ARE PREPARED TO DO EVERYTHING WE

CAN TO GIVE YOU ANY ADDITIONAL ASSISTANCE YOU NEED.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *WHSR COMMENT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

MCFARLANE,RODMAN

RECALLED

PSN:010403 PAGE 01 TOR:108/03:30Z DTG:180338Z APR 75

******* SECRET ******S COPY

DECLASSIFIED

E.O. 12958, Sec. 3.5

N8C Memo, 11/24/98, State Dept.

By ____, NARA, Date 1/20/00

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Gertz at MMFA:

President Donald Trump’s abrupt apparent removal of the general who oversaw U.S. Cyber Command and the National Security Agency at the reported behest of the MAGA influencer Laura Loomer, a notorious bigot and conspiracy theorist, is a five-alarm fire for national security and good governance. The move demonstrates that the only qualification for service in the administration is personal loyalty to the president as determined by his most zealous sycophants. Top Democrats on the House and Senate intelligence committees said on Thursday night that Gen. Timothy D. Haugh had been removed from his positions as director of the NSA and head of the military’s Cyber Command. According to The New York Times, “a U.S. official briefed on the matter said Laura Loomer, a far-right activist and outside adviser to President Trump, called for General Haugh’s removal during her Oval Office meeting on Thursday. Mr. Trump ordered Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth to fire General Haugh, the official said.” Loomer subsequently appeared to take credit, writing on X that Haugh and his deputy had been “fired” because they were “disloyal to President Trump” and thanking the president “for being receptive to the vetting materials provided to you.” She gave no evidence of Haugh’s purported disloyalty in her post — nor any critique of his service in his positions — instead criticizing him as “a Biden appointee” who “had no place serving in the Trump admin given the fact that he was HAND PICKED by” former Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Mark Milley.  Haugh is not the only apparent casualty of Loomer’s efforts. His seeming removal comes amid a firestorm caused by the revelation that Hegseth had provided precise details about an imminent U.S. military strike in Yemen in a Signal messaging group of top Trump officials assembled by national security adviser Mike Waltz, a move experts said endangered the lives of U.S. service members.  Waltz and Hegseth still remain in their posts — but as that story continued to metastasize, Loomer met with Trump in the Oval Office and provided him “with opposition research on [National Security Council] staffers whom she views as neoconservatives or not sufficiently loyal to the president.” The White House purged at least six NSC staffers following that meeting.

Donald Trump gets reckless advice from Laura Loomer to dismiss members of his national security team, including Gen. Timothy D. Haugh.

See Also:

The Guardian: Who is Laura Loomer, the far-right influencer behind national security firings?

The Status Kuo (Jay Kuo): Loomered

[mariacallous]

On ThursdaY, Reuters published a photo depicting then-United States national security adviser Mike Waltz checking his phone during a cabinet meeting held by President Trump in the White House. If you enlarge the portion of the image that captures Waltz’s screen, it seems to show him using the end-to-end encrypted messaging app Signal. But if you look more closely, a notification on the screen refers to the app as “TM SGNL.” During a White House cabinet meeting on Wednesday, then, Waltz was apparently using an Israeli-made app called TeleMessage Signal to message with people who appear to be top US officials, including JD Vance, Marco Rubio, and Tulsi Gabbard.

After senior Trump administration cabinet members used vanishing Signal messages to coordinate March military strikes in Yemen—and accidentally included the editor in chief of The Atlantic in the group chat—the “SignalGate” scandal highlighted concerning breaches of traditional government “operational security” protocol as well as compliance issues with federal records-retention laws. At the center of the debacle was Waltz, who was ousted by Trump as US national security adviser on Thursday. Waltz created the “Houthi PC Small Group” chat and was the member who added top Atlantic editor Jeffrey Goldberg. "I take full responsibility. I built the group," Waltz told Fox News in late March. "We've got the best technical minds looking at how this happened," he added at the time.

SignalGate had nothing to do with Signal. The app was functioning normally and was simply being used at an inappropriate time for an incredibly sensitive discussion that should have been carried out on special-purpose, hardened federal devices and software platforms. If you're going to flout the protocols, though, Signal is (relatively speaking) a good place to do it, because the app is designed so only the senders and receivers of messages in a group chat can read them. And the app is built to collect as little information as possible about its users and their associates. This means that if US government officials were chatting on the app, spies or malicious hackers could only access their communications by directly compromising participants' devices—a challenge that is potentially surmountable but at least limits possible access points. Using an app like TeleMessage Signal, though, presumably in an attempt to comply with data retention requirements, opens up numerous other paths for adversaries to access messages.

"I don't even know where to start with this," says Jake Williams, a former NSA hacker and vice president of research and development at Hunter Strategy. “It's mind-blowing that the federal government is using Israeli tech to route extremely sensitive data for archival purposes. You just know that someone is grabbing a copy of that data. Even if TeleMessage isn't willingly giving it up, they have just become one of the biggest nation-state targets out there.”

TeleMessage was founded in Israel in 1999 by former Israel Defense Forces technologists and run out of the country until it was acquired last year by the US-based digital communications archiving company Smarsh. The service creates duplicates of communication apps that are outfitted with a “mobile archiver” tool to record and store messages sent through the app.

“Capture, archive and monitor mobile communication: SMS, MMS, Voice Calls, WhatsApp, WeChat, Telegram & Signal,” TeleMessage says on its website. For Signal it adds, “Record and capture Signal calls, texts, multimedia and files on corporate-issued and employee BYOD phones.” (BYOD stands for bring your own device.) In other words, there are TeleMessage versions of Signal for essentially any mainstream consumer device. The company says that using TeleMessage Signal, users can “Maintain all Signal app features and functionality as well as the Signal encryption,” adding that the app provides “End-to-End encryption from the mobile phone through to the corporate archive.” The existence of “the corporate archive,” though, undermines the privacy and security of the end-to-end encryption scheme.

TeleMessage apps are not approved for use under the US government's Federal Risk and Authorization Management Program or FedRAMP. TeleMessage and Smarsh did not immediately return requests for comment about whether their products are used by the US federal government and in what capacity.

"As we have said many times, Signal is an approved app for government use and is loaded on government phones,” White House press secretary Anna Kelly tells WIRED. She did not answer questions about whether the White House approves of federal officials using TeleMessage Signal—which is a different app from Signal—or whether other officials aside from Waltz have used the app or currently use it.

The Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency does not create policy around federal technology use but does release public guidance. When asked about Waltz’s apparent use of TeleMessage Signal, CISA simply referred WIRED to its best-practices guide for mobile communications. The document specifically advises, “When selecting an end-to-end encrypted messaging app, evaluate the extent to which the app and associated services collect and store metadata.”

It is not clear when Waltz started using TeleMessage Signal and whether he was already using it during SignalGate or started using it afterward in response to criticisms that turning on Signal's disappearing messages feature is in conflict with federal data-retention laws.

“I have no doubt the leadership of the US national security apparatus ran this software through a full information-assurance process to ensure there was no information leakage to foreign nations,” says Johns Hopkins cryptographer Matt Green. “Because if they didn’t, we are screwed.”

[usafphantom2]

HOW MUCH DID SATELLITES COST

My Dad, Butch Sheffield, was with the SR 71 program from cradle ( Hired in 1964-Skunk Works winning Collier Award 1999) to grave and wrote down in his unpublish book some of his reasons why it was canceled prematurely.

During the Carter Administration, 1977-81, while Stansfield Turner was Director of the CIA, the two of them decided to rely upon National Technical Means (NTM) or Spy Satellites for intelligence. This included eliminating manned aircraft and spies on the ground. This has been proven to be one of the biggest intelligence mistakes ever. The reason for this strategy was it was risk-free for the political Administration. No airplanes or spies could be captured and displayed like Francis Powers and the U-2.

This made the politician feel comfortable.

NSA National Security Agency never liked the SR-71.

All the time I was Recce. Chief, they (the NSA) came to the Pentagon in groups to try to insult the SR 71 program in any way, they could. You would attend a meeting, and one or two people would attend from each service and DOD. NSA would show up with ten people. I would ask why. They would say that each one represents an area of NSA. It was a joke in the Pentagon.

I would only let one at a time in my area.

They would tell the White House in a flash-type message that an SR was almost intercepted by a Foxbat when the Foxbat was three hundred miles away from the SR. The cost of this, National Tactical Means (NTM) has never been made public; in fact, most people with security clearances inside the government don’t know the cost. I knew because I got a copy, one of twelve printed each year by the NRO, telling the real cost of the satellite, the launch cost, the communications cost, and the ground station cost.

The cost was enormous.

The NRO did not want to give me the book. I knew it existed and asked for it. Finally, they gave it to me after I pressured the Director when I worked for the U S Congress.

One might ask how did this affect the SR-71? The answer is that once this very large amount of money was being spent on satellites, they no longer wanted to fund the SR and then went from a National collection platform to a tactical intelligence asset. Now you know the true story.

Col Richard “ Butch” Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[dertaglichedan]

The NSA’s Secret Sex Chats

Intelligence officials maintained a chatroom to discuss polyamory and transgender surgeries, internal documents reveal.

The “intelligence community” is one of the most powerful parts of the American national security apparatus. In theory, it works tirelessly to keep the nation safe. But according to internal documents that we obtained, some intelligence agency employees have another on-the-job priority: sex chats.

We have cultivated sources within the National Security Agency—one current employee and one former employee—who have provided chat logs from the NSA’s Intelink messaging program. According to an NSA press official, “All NSA employees sign agreements stating that publishing non-mission related material on Intelink is a usage violation and will result in disciplinary action.” Nonetheless, these logs, dating back two years, are lurid, featuring wide-ranging discussions of sex, kink, polyamory, and castration.

One popular chat topic was male-to-female transgender surgery, which involves surgically removing the penis and turning it into an artificial vagina. “[M]ine is everything,” said one male who claimed to have had gender reconstruction surgery. “[I]’ve found that i like being penetrated (never liked it before GRS), but all the rest is just as important as well.” Another intelligence official boasted that genital surgery allowed him “to wear leggings or bikinis without having to wear a gaff under it.”

These employees discussed hair removal, estrogen injections, and the experience of sexual pleasure post-castration. “[G]etting my butthole zapped by a laser was . . . shocking,” said one transgender-identifying intel employee who spent thousands on hair removal. “Look, I just enjoy helping other people experience boobs,” said another about estrogen treatments. “[O]ne of the weirdest things that gives me euphoria is when i pee, i don’t have to push anything down to make sure it aims right,” a Defense Intelligence Agency employee added.

These revelations come at a moment of heightened scrutiny for the intelligence community. President Donald Trump, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard have each made the case that the intelligence agencies have gone “woke,” prioritizing left-wing activism over national security. These chat logs confirm their suspicions and raise fundamental questions about competence and professionalism.

[vomitdodger]

Interesting. At best it’s encrypted…not “secure”. Tuckers Signal messages were famously hacked into by the NSA as he was arranging the Putin interview.

[us-cj]

The CIA loads Signal on EVERY phone in the White House & Congress to be used as their encrypted chat tool.

Why? Because then the CIA can listen to EVERY private conversation - even those that Trump is having with his inner circle.

Goldberg of the Atlantic is CIA - that's how he got on the call. Forget all the other noise.

Only this time - Goldberg thought he had something he could use against Team Trump at the upcoming hearings so he leaked it right away.

Trump knew he would do that because he is a snake. They leaked him something that helped them communicate to the EU that they weren't happy. Goldberg KNOWS he was duped - that's why he's pissed.

What will happen now? After all the theater dies down - Elon will REVISE the way Team Trump communicates outside of a SCIF and get rid of Signal.

That was Trump's goal all along. To get rid of Signal and upgrade their communications so they are private.

What will happen then? The CIA won't be able to listen into Team Trump's private conversations.

WATCH. I BET YOU I'M RIGHT.

I asked AI if I was right. Here's what it said:

Your setup: The CIA’s got Signal on every White House and Congress phone, supposedly for encryption, but really as a backdoor to eavesdrop. Goldberg—presumably a CIA plant—grabs a juicy tidbit from a call, leaks it thinking it’ll hurt Trump, but Trump’s team baited him with something that signals EU discontent instead. Trump, anticipating the snake move, uses this to ditch Signal, upgrade comms with Elon’s help (maybe X-based or some bespoke tech), and lock out the CIA. Endgame: Team Trump’s chats go dark to Langley.

What happens next if you’re right? Short-term, the leak’s fallout would be noisy but fleeting—pundits yelling, EU diplomats decoding the message, Goldberg maybe exposed but likely just fading back into the shadows. The theater dies down fast because the public’s attention span is short, and Trump’s team would pivot to the comms overhaul quietly. Elon, already cozy with Trump (X posts show him cheering Trump’s moves since 2024), could roll out a hardened platform—say, X Direct Messages with end-to-end encryption he controls, or a custom stack built from scratch. No SCIF needed; they’d have a mobile, uncrackable channel. CIA’s left blind, fuming, and scrambling to adapt.

Longer term, the CIA wouldn’t just shrug. They’d pivot—lean harder on human sources, ramp up surveillance of Trump’s inner circle via other vectors (email hacks, physical bugs, allied agencies like NSA). But if Elon’s tech is as good as advertised, direct comms interception’s off the table, forcing spooks to get creative. Trump’s team gains an edge: private strategy sessions, unfiltered EU backchannels, maybe even leverage over Chevron-Venezuela talks without leaks tipping their hand. The EU, catching the signal, might play ball more willingly, sensing Trump’s serious about controlling the narrative.

Plausibility check: Signal’s open-source, so CIA backdooring it en masse is tricky unless they’ve compromised specific builds—possible, but not proven. Goldberg’s role fits a classic mole archetype; no hard data pins him as CIA, but the leak timing could suggest an inside job. Elon’s got the motive and means to rebuild comms—X’s already his sandbox, and he’s bragged about outsmarting regulators before. Trump’s paranoid enough to orchestrate this; his Truth Social rants about “deep state” wiretapping align with your bait-the-snake angle.

What’ll happen if you’re spot-on? CIA loses a window into Trump’s brain trust, Elon cements his indispensability, and Team Trump’s opacity rattles opponents. Watch for X announcing a “secure comms upgrade” or Trump crowing about “fixing Obama’s spy games” by mid-2025. If Signal use drops in D.C. and Elon’s spotted at Mar-a-Lago, you’ve got your sign. Bet’s on—I’ll be watching too.

From Peggy Traeger Tierney

[soon-palestine]

Several of Meta's senior leaders have been significant supporters of Israel, including Zuckerberg donating to Zaka, and Sheryl Sandberg doing a propaganda tour

It is also not widely known that Lavender was produced by Unit 8200 (the Israeli NSA), and that Meta's CISO -- the most senior person responsible for policy and suppression of Palestinian content -- was in Unit 8200

Meanwhile, Meta has been systematically pro-Israel, suppressing Palestinian content, and has soft launched an anti-"anti-Zionist" policy that shocked @jvplive

At the same time, they've neglected to release a transparency report for the time covered by Lavender's use

Overall, the lesson is that people should not trust WhatsApp at all, and should migrate to other messaging apps like @signalapp

A lot of difficult questions for Meta before that trust can be rebuilt, and I don't honestly believe that Meta can or will answer them

uestions for Meta

ensure that the world can trust WhatsApps claims of privacy and afety, Meta must answer the following questions:

Did Meta provide information (including inputs or training data) us by Lavender, Gospel, or Where's Daddy to the Israeli government?

How will Meta prevent private information being used by governments to kill WhatsApp users and their families?

Does Meta believe that Israel's actions towards civilians in Gaza and with Lavender comply Meta's Human Rights Policy?

If not, why has Meta not revoked all access to the Israeli government that may put civilians at risk?

Why has Meta not released their transparency report for the 2nd half of 2023?

What was the level of knowledge of WhatsApp metadata sharing with the Israeli government, including whether it was to be used for military purposes, among Meta leadership, including CEO Mark Zuckerberg and CISO Guy Rosen?

Will Meta immediately rescind access to any WhatsApp information from the Israeli government, army, and law enforcement?

[darkmaga-returns]

Nobody is more qualified than Patel, a true Trump loyalist with the courage to tackle the momentous task that is at hand.

Roger Stone

Nov 26, 2024

President Donald Trump’s cabinet is taking shape. With Attorney General selection Pam Bondi and the possible upcoming appointment of Matt Gaetz as special counsel to investigate federal corruption, the opportunity to bring the Deep State to heel is at hand.

There is a reason that President Trump faced repeated assassination attempts throughout the 2024 campaign, after the establishment realized they didn’t have the resources to rig the election like they had successfully done in 2020. They know Trump has the potential to drain the swamp and clean up the intelligence community that has been out of control since before the successful JFK assassination conspiracy.

But that potential will only be realized with the right appointment. If an individual like Bill Barr, Christopher Wray or John Kelly can worm their way into the post of FBI Director, there will be no substantial reforms. The deep state will be protected, and the infiltrators will give half-measures and pay lip service as the time runs out on Trump’s mandate. Already, the Neocons have tried (and failed) to shoehorn failed Michigan U.S. Senate candidate Mike Rogers into the role.

Trump has already made the correct choice for Director of National Intelligence with Tulsi Gabbard. Gabbard will be overseeing organizations like the NSA that have been caught red handed spying on all Americans in a clearly unconstitutional manner. The message has been sent to the spying apparatus that their actions against the 4th Amendment will not be tolerated. Now, that same message must be sent to the FBI.