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ot3tropetober · 4 years ago

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Fic: A Bushel And A Peck

AU: Eliot runs an apple orchard. @aimlessglee [AO3]

“What the hell is this?” Eliot asked, but he took the folder Hardison was handing him.

“Flavor,” Hardison said. “Background. Worldbuilding. Just read it, okay? I spend a lot of damn time on these aliases. You need to know who you are if we have to deploy them.”

Eliot flipped through the file. “Why is there a picture of me holding a basket of apples?”

“Just read it!” Hardison said.

Jeremiah Atherton, Jem to absolutely everyone or suffer the consequences, stood at the booth at the entrance to his family’s orchard. Momma and Pops had finally taken the plunge and bought a place down in Florida for the winter. The days were still sunlit and warm, but the nights were getting nippy, and they’d headed south a few weeks ago, promising to be back in the spring. They’d earned it, he thought. He smiled at the pretty blonde beside him - he’d known Heather since they were kids, even babysat her a few times when their parents went out and did stuff together. She made the best apple cider doughnuts in the county, and her pies were melt-in-your-mouth good. Their families had worked together a long time. It was a solid partnership, kind of part of his inheritance, and only he knew if he had a couple of soft thoughts about her every one in a while.

“Is that supposed to be Parker?” Eliot asked.

“Yes, it’s Parker,” Hardison said.

“Apple orchard, huh,” Eliot said. “Kinda…not very tough. Why can’t I run cattle?”

“Damn, Eliot, do you know the kind of effort it takes to keep a small operation running in this economy?” Hardison scowled. “Cows take care of themselves. Trees don’t. Also you can’t run cattle like that in New England.”

“Huh,” Eliot said, and went back to the file.

“Think it’s gonna be a good weekend?” Jem asked her.

Heather grinned. “It’s always a good weekend in the orchard.” She gestured around her. “Sun’s out. Nice and cool. People are gonna come pick a ton of apples and eat a bunch of doughnuts.”

“And they’ll drink cider,” Jem told her, hefting a gallon jug in each hand. “Don’t forget about the cider.”

“I never could,” Heather promised.

“It’s farm fresh,” he said.

“Honey, I know,” she said, putting her hand over his. “Why do you think I started making doughnuts? I wanted to get out of cider pressing.”

“‘Scuse me,” somebody said. They looked up to see a very tall, very handsome Black man dressed in a v-neck sweater that clung to the muscles of his chest, an expensive coat, and a scarf.

“Uh huh,” Eliot said. I see you.“

"What?” Hardison asked, all innocence.

“Hey, man, what can I do for you?” Jem said.

“I’m here to pick apples,” the guy said. “I kinda thought that was what people did here?”

“Weren’t you here last weekend?” Heather asked suddenly. She leaned her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin in her hand. “You were. You bought a dozen doughnuts and a half-gallon of cider.”

The guy smiled at her. “Good memory. I was, and I did. But you make a couple of pies and a batch of applesauce and boom, you need more apples.”

“And the weekend before that,” Heather said.

“I…like apples?” the guy said.

“We should make you a punch card or something,” Jem teased. “Tell you what.” He took one of the orchard’s business cards from a rack and scribbled on the back of it. “Come four weekends and I’ll give you a free peck the fifth time.” He held out the card, and the guy took it and looked at it fondly before he tucked it in his pocket.

“Deal,” the guy said.

“Take a doughnut,” Heather urged, wrapping one in a napkin as Jem pulled a basket off the stack and put it on the counter. “On me. You’ll need your energy.”

“Thanks,” the guy said. He smiled at them as he took the basket and the doughnut.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Jem called.

“Alistair,” the guy said. “Alistair Weaver.”

“What are you in this fantasy, some kind of fancy city lawyer?” Eliot asked.

“Well, yeah,” Hardison said. “That’s kind of how it works.”

Alistair did come back the next weekend, and then the weekend after that. They had a nice conversation every time Alistair showed up at the booth, which he did more and more often, coming back for a refreshing glass of cider or one of Heather’s sandwiches or a bag of cinnamon almonds. Jem found he was looking forward to seeing him. This time, Alistair was in a more casual outfit: a fleece and fitted jeans. He looked good, sophisticated in a kind of way Jem couldn’t pull off.

“Can’t resist that free peck, huh?” Jem teased.

“Not when you’ve got the best apples in the state,” Alistair said, and grinned.

“Did you know a peck can also be a quick kiss?” Heather said suddenly. “Usually on the cheek, but sometimes on the lips.” They both looked at her.

“She’s just kind of like that,” Jem told Alistair. “Says things.”

“I get it,” Alistair said.

“He owes you a peck,” Heather insisted. “Come on, Jemothy. Cough up.”

“That’s not my name,” Jem mumbled.

“Hey, if it’ll make you happy,” Alistair said. He leaned over the counter and presented his cheek to Jem.

“Uh,” Jem said.

“We’ll both do it,” Heather said. “Ready, Jem?” She pushed herself up on the counter and gave Alistair a dry little kiss on the cheek. Jem didn’t move.

“I get it,” Alistair said, winking at Jem. “You’re a big talker. You talk the talk, but you don’t peck the peck.”

“I do,” Jem insisted, and he leaned in and gave Alistair a quick kiss, barely brushing his lips over Alistair’s warm, freshly shaved skin. Alistair smelled really good, honestly. It kinda made Jem tingly inside. He wanted to press his nose against Alistair’s neck and just breathe him in.

“Now that’s customer service,” Alistair said. He took his basket and the doughnut Heather had insisted on giving him again. He grinned at them. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“A guy like that doesn’t drive out from the city every weekend just because he likes our apples,” Heather told him. “He likes you.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Jem said.

Heather shrugs. “Everybody likes me. He likes you especially. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Jem squinted at her. “I don’t think so.” But he was definitely waiting for Alistair to come back, he realized, as he weighed people’s baskets of apples and took their money. His heart jumped around a little when he saw Alistair approaching, or maybe that was his stomach. He’d stress-eaten a couple of doughnuts between customers. He snuck a glance at Heather, but she was busy, thank heavens. He’d had enough of her help for one day.

“Hey, man,” he said as Alistair handed the basket over.

“Hey yourself,” Alistair said, smiling sweetly. Jem ducked his face to hide the fact that he was blushing a little. Alistair leaned on the counter. “About earlier…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Seemed like kind of a joke between you and Heather, you know? I was just trying to play along.”

“What, the kiss?” Jem said airily, pretending like it hadn’t meant anything to him. “Nah. Heather’s like that. She likes to meddle. Don’t ever play Truth or Dare with her. I’ll give you that one for free.”

“Oh, that was a kiss to you?” Alistair joked. “Damn, I guess it’s a good thing I never asked for your number.”

“No, it wasn’t…” Jem started and then squinted at Alistair. “I gave you my number. It’s on the business card. You could have called any time. If, uh, you wanted to call. For whatever reason.”

“I didn’t think that was your personal number,” Alistair said. “Besides, I was kind of busy this week. Had to rush to finish all the work for a big trial so I could come out here today. Then I find out if I did call you and ask you out, the kiss I’m gonna get at the end of the date is a peck on the cheek.”

“That’s not how I kiss,” Jem protested.

Alistair raised one eyebrow and smirked.

“Not on a date, anyway,” Jem mumbled. He felt half-hypnotized by the warmth in Alistair’s deep voice and dark eyes.

“Tell you what,” Alistair said. “I’ll come back next week and you can prove it. When does the orchard close?”

“Seven,” Jem said.

Alistair nodded. “I’ll make reservations for eight. Where’s good around here?”

“My place,” Jem said boldly. “Not a better cook in the county.”

“It’s a date,” Alistair said. He checked his watch. “Hey, let me pay you for those apples.” Jem startled out of his daze and started bagging them up.

“You leaving already?” Heather said, finally disentangled from her customers. She started putting doughnuts and a half-dozen hand pies into a box. “Aww, Alistair. I feel like I barely saw you.”

“Don’t you worry,” Alistair said. “I’ll see you both next weekend.” He took the apples and the bakery box and handed over some cash.

“Y'ain’t that slick, ace,” Eliot said, but he said it fondly. He reached over and patted Hardison’s knee.

“You wanna put together the aliases, be my guest,” Hardison said, tapping at his keyboard and frowning at his screen. He softened up enough to smile at Eliot.

The date went well. Really well, actually. Jem had made dessert to go with the simple bread and stew he’d prepared, but dessert had to wait while he proved to Alistair that hell yeah, he kissed better than a peck on the cheek. Alistair made it back to his AirBnB that night, but after the next couple of weekends, he stopped bothering to book one, and they started waking up cuddled together on crisp Sunday mornings. Honestly, their relationship was pretty perfect: Alistair worked in the city in the week and came out on the weekends. Sometimes he even helped in the orchard, though operations were winding down and Jem was shifting to pumpkins, the corn maze, and hay rides, motorized and unmotorized.

“It’s not like work at all,” he said, standing in the front booth with Heather while Jem tinkered around in the engine of the old farm truck they used for hay rides sometimes. “Work is all research and computers and suits and yelling. This is peaceful. There’s fresh air. People are happy to see me.”

“I’m happy to see you,” Heather told him. He put his arm around her companionably. Jem grinned at both of them. He looked down at his stomach.

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Got grease all over my t-shirt.” He shrugged off his overshirt and reached down and stripped off his t-shirt. He put his overshirt back on and started to do up the buttons.

“WAIT,” Heather yelled. She ran to the house and came back with a glass, which she filled with cider and handed to Jem. “Alistair! Do you have your phone on you? Take a picture!”

“Way ahead of you, H,” Alistair said, coming up and crouching. “Jem, baby, strike a pose on that hay bale.”

“This is dumb,” Jem said.

“It’s absolutely not,” Alistair said. “I’ve got a buddy in advertising and we’re gonna use this to make an ad campaign for the orchard. Double your business easy.”

“We’re going to sell so much cider!” Heather said excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“Now that’s too much,” Eliot said.

“You wanna see the cider ad campaign or not?” Hardison asked.

“…yeah,” Eliot said.

“Back page,” Hardison said, still staring into his screen. Eliot flipped through. He had to admit, Hardison had done a hell of a job. He didn’t remember lying half-shirtless on a hay bale at any point, but looking at the photos, maybe he’d just forgotten. Hardison asked him to do a lot of stuff that seemed foolish at the time, and Eliot tried to forget it.

“Are we gonna use this any time soon?” he asked.

“You never know,” Hardison said mysteriously.

“I know,” Parker said, coming down from the ceiling. “And I like it. So maybe.”

“Well,” Eliot said. “Could be worse.”

“I know you know how good you’ve got it,” Hardison told him.

“Really good,” Parker agreed.

“Really good,” Eliot said, nodding along. He grinned at them. “The best.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Parker told him. “Let’s go find some cider doughnuts. I need to know what those are.”

“Let’s do it,” Eliot said, and together they pried Hardison away from his computer and went to find an orchard.

#au: apple orchard #ot3tropetober

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strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

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Yes, Sheriff || Chapter 1

Sheriff Carol Danvers takes her job of protecting the citizens of her small town very seriously — there are just some that she cares about more than others. A lot more, in fact, and she will take care of her sweet baby girl whether she likes it or not.

relationship: Carol Danvers/Reader rating: Explicit chapters: 1/? length: 5,413 warnings: Dark Carol Danvers, coercion, manipulation, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat additional warnings: open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

This is my entry for searchforanotherway’s Onyx Night Challenge! My plan is for this story to span several chapters, so it certainly won’t be finished by the deadline of January 11th but I wanted to try and write a fic longer than just a oneshot. That being said this chapter can stand alone and doesn’t have to be read in conjunction with other chapters for plot coherency or effect. Oh, also please keep in mind that I’ve never written a reader insert before, so go easy on me if anything seems off!

Being the sheriff of a very small town and the rather empty surrounding county came with some very particular challenges Carol hadn’t necessarily expected when she signed on. Burgess was mostly concentrated in a small area where the main town was built, about three or four streets worth of businesses. Beyond that were what they jokingly referred to within the department as the Suburbs, mostly cute little farmhouses with plenty of space in between. Of course, the distance between plots hadn’t done them any good when the fire broke out about 6 years ago, before Carol signed on with the department, and had taken out 12 houses. 36 people had died, the fire was so hot and spread so fast through the 100 year old homes the volunteer fire department had barely been able to keep it from jumping the road.

Y/N’s parents, her only family, had been 2 of the casualties. She would’ve been too, had she not been spending the night at a friends house on the other side of the Suburbs. From what Carol had been able to gather, the young woman had just graduated from getting her Masters degree in library sciences and had intended to only move back home for a little while before moving to the city permanently. The death of her parents had destroyed many of her plans, especially when she had to deal with so much fallout from the insurance companies and lawyers. Luckily her family had owned the land her house sat on, the money from the home insurance had come through and y/n inherited everything. She’d rebuilt the house, smaller but just as old fashioned in design, and taken a job as the town’s librarian, enabling the previous one to retire (the woman had been older, didn’t actually have the education necessary to be a librarian and was happy to step aside so sweet little y/n could have the position).

Most of the town seemed to have a soft spot for y/n. When Carol first started, the entire population had been leery of her. She’d expected it, luckily, and wasn’t shocked by the reserved nature of the people she served. She was relatively shocked when they started accepting her presence, their topics of conversation ranging from now the town fair is very important around here so you need to handle it correctly—those townies will run amok if you’re not careful to do you think you could drive past the library this evening while y/n walks to her car? I get so worried when she’s out late like that with no one around. It was consistent that the townsfolk would find a way to wriggle y/n into conversation but they didn’t seem to know it was a collective issue; every person who asked her devote some extra attention to the young woman did so covertly, as if to prevent anyone from knowing. It was endearing and cute and Carol honestly didn’t have much to do most of the time so she didn’t mind the little side tasks.

The small town and county police department was made up of 90% locals who were happy to respond to most calls. They mostly dealt with domestics and property violations, occasionally some sort of larceny or robbery or breaking and entering calls. Wilson and Barnes were trained paramedics and dealt with the medical calls, luckily, although when she rolled into town Carol had forced all of her deputies to get certified in multiple emergency life saving techniques. The nearest ambulance dispatch was an hour away and she was baffled the former Sheriff hadn’t enforced even basic CPR certifications. Rogers, one of her two deputies, handled most of the domestics with Carol as his back up if necessary (it was almost never necessary, even if Rogers didn’t have that disarming Good Ol’ Boy Charm he had biceps as wide as y/n’s thighs and could handle most things on his own). Rhodes, her second deputy, was good for dealing with bored teenagers who liked to play at crime, breaking and entering and minor burglary, along with trespassing. Property violations and agricultural issues were big in a town like Burgess too, but Odinson (another transplant like herself) had grown up in an even tinier town devoted to farming and could handle such problems in his sleep. Pietro, the youngest and greenest in the department, handled what she considered the beat; traffic and parking violations, jaywalking that caused endangerment, vandalism, etc. Most of what came down on Carol’s shoulders were the big issues—the small amount of drug situations they dealt with, any prostitution or assaults. The other officers said they liked her to be open for those sorts of calls, which left her driving around on patrol at least 50% of the time with nothing to do.

It gave her more time to talk to locals than she expected, more time to subtly watch y/n than she could’ve ever anticipated. The more she watched her, the bigger Carol’s problem became; y/n was lovely and sweet and beautiful and Carol was finding that she had a crush on the young woman. Well, it might’ve started as a crush. Carol found herself very quickly falling down a rabbit hole of obsession and honestly wasn’t all that mad about it—the longer she watched, the more she realized how perfect y/n was, in general and for her.

Carol had embraced her bisexuality at a young age, had dated men and women over the years but never really found anyone to her liking. She had an incredibly dominant personality, both in general and in the bedroom and finding someone willing to unconditionally follow direction was hard. Moving to a small town had seemed like a sexual death sentence in all honesty, until she came across y/n. She was so small and demure, averted her eyes and blushed constantly under Carol’s strong gaze and said yes Sheriff when prompted with the most precious drawl. Carol could look down her nose at the woman, could imagine the way she’d feel slotted right against her chest with her head tucked perfectly under her chin, knew that y/n was just short enough that she’d have to stand on her tiptoes when Carol put her thigh right between those pretty legs and made her work for her orgasm, those tiptoes slipping for purchase while her pussy ground hard into her thigh.

It had gotten harder and harder to ignore, the all too carnal desires she had for the young woman and she was relieved when she decided there was no reason to ignore them. There was no reason not to take y/n as her own— she’d take good care of her, in every way, and love her so deeply that she’d never dream of anything else, never want anyone else. Carol was meticulous and careful and manipulative, even if she pretended not to be. It wouldn’t be hard to get her right where she wanted her.

The spark plugs in the glove box of her cruiser were a testament to that. It had been easily to quickly take them after the sun had gone down, Carol knew for a fact there weren’t security cameras anywhere nearby and there was no one around to see (usually the library was rather busy right up until close, but most of the population was at the high school football game a town over). Several of her officers were there too, Carol correctly assuming that it would be a slow night for calls. Peter Parker had offered to take the dispatch shift and run the receptionist desk so that the usual evening dispatcher, Wanda could attend the game too.

Carol sat straighter in her seat as y/n emerged from the library, taking the time to carefully lock the doors—first the door that led straight to the her help desk and then the double doors that opened into the main library, the entrances separated by a wall between the doors and a small hallway that allowed y/n a little bit of privacy in her “office” unless someone needed extra assistance. The keys went into her purse, exchanged for her car keys with a generous pause that made Carol cringe slightly; she wished y/n would have her keys ready and out when she left the building, the long hesitation while she stood alone in the dark was ample opportunity for a mugging or abduction. She’d impress the importance of being prepared and quick once she had an opportunity that wouldn’t betray the fact she’d been watching her from afar.

There was another uncomfortably long pause as she unlocked her car and climbed in, leaving the door open for an extended time while she settled and Carol was sure y/n didn’t lock the doors even once it was closed. It would evidently be a rather long conversation regarding safety. Carol smiled when the car didn’t start after several minutes and turned up her radio. Most of the townsfolk would call the non emergency line at the station when they had car troubles and Carol was nearly positive y/n would do the same. It took about five minutes give or take for her radio to crackle to life, Peter’s voice coming through.

“Sheriff, Rhodey, are either of you near the library? Y/n just called in from the parking lot, she just finished closing up the building and can’t get her car to start."

"I’m just across the street, actually— Coach Steveson asked me to make sure y/n got home alright since he figured nobody would be around because of the game,” it was true, Carol regularly got requests from different citizens asking her or the other officers to check in on people and y/n was one of the top requests, obviously, because everyone knew she was alone, “tell her to wait in her car, I’ll be over in just a second."

"Will do, Sheriff!” There was a click and crackle on the radio and Carol smiled; Peter made an excellent receptionist but his dispatch skills could use some work and professionalism, not that she really minded the candor.

She cranked her car on and reached into the glovebox to retrieve the spark plugs she’d grabbed earlier, glancing at herself carefully in the rearview mirror. Her hair was pulled back to show off her undercut, the front in a twist away from her face with some strands having managed to escape over the course of the day. Y/n liked the undercut, evidenced by how flustered the poor thing got the first day she saw it (actually that was the day Carol realized y/n wasn’t straight, the poor thing had been so caught off guard she’d stuttered and blushed and had 100% rubbed her pretty thighs together under her skirt).

She quickly popped across the street, spark plugs tucked discreetly into her pants pocket and pulled up beside y/n’s car. The door opened immediately, much to Carol’s displeasure; she was sure Peter relayed the message that y/n was to stay in her car. The order was likely too ambiguous and Carol would be more careful in the future.

“I’m so sorry to bother you Sheriff,” y/n started immediately as Carol exited her cruiser, “I hate to call but my car won’t start, I could pop the hood but I have no idea what I’m looking for."

She looked embarrassed, hands twisting together at her waist and Carol had to carefully arrange her features to prevent her excitement from showing, her demure little baby was so cute, "that’s alright y/n, I always want you to call if you need help. How about you get back in and pop the hood for me, I’ll take a look."

Y/n did so quickly before joining Carol at the front of the car, much to her amusement, "you go ahead and sit down, sweetheart, I might want you to try cranking the engine, okay? I’ll tell you when."

The pet name was easy to pass under y/n’s radar, the endearments a regular part of the small town life. Even Carol got called sweetheart and honey on a regular basis, but it didn’t stop y/n from blushing darkly all the way down to her chest. Carol carefully kept her eyes from trailing down the neckline of y/n’s sensible tank top (it was hot as hell outside and paired with a long, flowy skirt Carol was sure anyone would think it professional enough for a small town librarian) despite the fact she desperately wanted to know if the redness spread all the way to her tits. The young woman did as directed, quickly hustling around to sit in the driver’s seat with the door open.

It was easy to quickly reattach the spark plugs, just so that when the mechanic showed up in the morning they wouldn’t be suspiciously missing. She didn’t bother disconnecting anything else, instead staying ducked under the hood long enough to justify a good look around before standing straight and closing it.

"There must be something going on below the surface honey, everything up here looks fine,” she stated, walking around to meet y/n as she stood up, “why don’t I give you a ride and I’ll call Tony out in the morning to take a look."

There was a torn look on y/n’s face at the suggestion and Carol watched the gears turn in her head; leaving her car overnight in the lot wasn’t the problem, no one would tow it or anything, the problem would come in the morning when she needed to get back to the library to open. The blonde had already considered all of the options though and smiled sweetly when y/n hesitated.

"I’m just about to get off for the night anyway, we could swing by your place and grab some of your clothes and you can stay the night at mine, I can drop you over here on my way in,” she offered, enjoying the flustered way that y/n shifted on her feet, “I guess I could just drive around to come pick you up at your place before I start my shift…"

The sheer thought of inconveniencing the town Sheriff made y/n look like she might cry and she quickly shook her head, "no, no I can stay over tonight. I’d hate to make you go out of your way—no, thank you so much for the offer, it’s so kind thank you."

Y/n wouldn’t look up from her feet but Carol didn’t push, couldn’t push quite yet. Instead she encouraged y/n to grab her purse and held the door of the passenger seat open while the smaller woman slipped inside. She’d call Tony in the morning, say she couldn’t find anything wrong with the car but would you please take a look for y/n’s peace of mind. The mechanic would surely be happy to help and would make up some excuse for why the car hadn’t started so y/n wouldn’t get embarrassed over not being able to properly start her car.

The ride to y/n’s house only took about five minutes and she was quick to collect an overnight bag before running back out to the cruiser. Carol kept a very careful eye on her as she continued on to her own home, a good fifteen minutes further into the suburbs. She could tell y/n was confused, if Carol’s house was further than hers why couldn’t she stay at her own home overnight? It would’ve been on the Sheriff’s way into town, just a quick stop. But y/n was a good girl and never questioned those she considered superiors, instead just sitting in vague discomfort as they got farther and farther from her home.

Carol lived on what was considered the very edge of town, as a new addition to the population it was hard to get a place closer, but she appreciated the the isolation. Y/n waited until Carol opened her car door to do the same, shuffling nervously along behind her up the steps. The house wasn’t as nice as the one y/n had built but it was quaint and old and smelled like all of the old houses that had survived the fire.

"Here we go,” Carol unlocked the door and waived y/n inside with a pleasant smile, “I left dinner in a slow cooker this morning, give me just a minute to change and I’ll get it all together."

"Oh, Sheriff, I couldn't—"

"Of course you can sweetheart, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she joked with a smile, “you can put your stuff where ever, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back."

Carol could tell y/n had been expecting her to show her to a bedroom and pressed her lips together; y/n would be sleeping in her bed by the end of the night but the poor thing didn’t know that and wouldn’t know what to do if Carol instructed her to put her things in there. She changed quickly, into a pair of tight joggers and a slightly cropped workout top that showed her abs—she wanted to see what shade of red y/n’s skin would turn at the sight. Plus, she had aspirations of y/n riding the hard planes of her abdomen until she came and a short shirt would make that easier if she could make it happen, no matter how far fetched the hope.

Y/n’s eyes immediately dropped to the exposed skin when Carol returned and the blonde wanted to coo her face turned so red, it was so cute, her baby was so precious. She carefully pretended not to notice the staring, crossing into the kitchen quickly and checking on the crock pot of spicy pulled pork.

"I could put this over a salad for you or put it on a roll, which do you prefer?” She turned back just in time to see y/n’s eyes snap up from where they’d been locked on her ass and was unable to hide the that came over her features; teasing her at this point would be a mistake, but it was so hard not to, “come over here and I’ll make you a plate honey."

Y/n shuffled over, red faced and very obviously embarrassed to have been caught checking out the ass of the local sheriff, "just-just a sandwich, please."

Carol made sure to pull from the bottom of the pot, where the meat would be the spiciest for y/n’s sandwich before handing her the plate and grabbing a bag of chips to go with it from the pantry. Y/n dutifully went to go sit at the table, waiting patiently while Carol fixed herself both a sandwich and a salad. She didn’t bother to ask if y/n drank, pouring them both a large glass of the strongest red wine she currently had in the house (bought specifically for this occasion) and setting one down in front of y/n.

"This is my favourite wine,” she stated, looking to subtly manipulate y/n’s coming actions, “it’s a bit expensive but I haven’t had such lovely company over in a minute, might as well share it."

The wine was already poured, Carol’s favourite, and it was expensive; there was no way y/n would reject it now. The food was spicy, she’d likely drink the entire glass, and with her smaller stature would certainly not be entirely herself afterwards. And poor y/n played right into her hands, following the script Carol had written in her head to a T. She got flirtier as the meal progressed, as her wine disappeared, responding to Carol’s carefully probing words beautifully. The blonde was two seconds from stealing her off her chair to sit her right on her lap when y/n gave a little sigh.

"I think I drank a little more than I meant to,” the words were punctuated by a little hiccup and Carol cooed in response, immediately standing when y/n pressed to her feet.

She didn’t give the shorter woman time to move too far, carefully latching an arm around her waist and drawing her in close, her other hand catching y/n’s cheek gently to direct her gaze, “that’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you."

Y/n took just a second longer to process than it usually would’ve taken before her cheeks darkened, her lips parting in surprise, "O-oh, I—"

Carol hushed her gently, her lips finding purchase against y/n’s jaw and running the length of her cheek to her ear, "you’re so shy for me baby girl, it’s so precious. I’ve always wondered if that blush goes all the way to your tits."

The tank top came off easily, y/n squeaking in shock but not fast enough to prevent her bra from following. Carol’s hands grasped her hips and she walked the smaller woman backwards until she could lift her to sit on the counter, her lips pressed hungrily against y/n’s own. Her skirt lifted easily until the fabric bunched at her waist and Carol pressed herself firmly between y/n’s thighs, happy for the extra bit of height. She wished she’d put on a strap on after changing, she could’ve slipped right into y/n’s pussy so easily at this angle.

"Wait-wait, Carol—Sh-Sheriff!"

"You’ll feel so good after this,” Carol’s lips trailed down her cheek, to her neck and down to her pretty tits, lapping at her nipple gently, “just let me…"

Her lips engulfed one of y/n’s nipples and she gave a deep, languid suck while the young woman on the counter writhed. One hand kept purchase on y/n’s back, a careful but firm hold to prevent her from squirming away while the other trailed down to her panty covered pussy. She was wet, a spot beginning to form on the fabric and Carol grinned. Her teeth scraped over y/n’s nipple, drawing a sharp cry from her and quickly slipped her fingers up into her wet cunt while she was distracted. Although it didn’t take long for her baby to notice the intrusion, her legs shifting and her thighs attempting to close even as Carol stood between them.

"You’re so wet, baby girl,” she cooed darkly, watching y/n’s face coloured with humiliation, “you want this so bad, don’t you? You want me to make you cum? Huh? On my fingers or my tongue?"

"N-no, wait,” her head spun as she reached down, grabbing Carol’s wrist in a weak attempt to keep her fingers from pumping into her cunt, “Carol, I don't—"

"When we’re fucking you call me Sheriff or Sir, do you understand?” Her thumb gave a rough pass over y/n’s clit and she jumped, a short whine escaping her even as her eyes started to shine with tears, “tell me you understand, y/n."

"Y-yes sir,” she hiccups slightly but was rewarded with Carol’s lips returning to her nipple, tongue laving over her sensitive bud forcefully enough that y/n tried to wiggle away.

Carol immediately withdrew her hand from y/n’s pussy and slapped her cunt hard through the fabric of her panties, earning a yelp and the blonde was forced to hold her hip tightly in place with the other hand, “you don’t try to get away from me baby, not ever."

It was easy to lift y/n over her shoulder, her baby screeching in shock as she was forced to hang upside down. The walk to her bedroom was quick and she tossed y/n onto the bed without hesitation, absently deciding to add more weight to her workouts— she liked manhandling her baby girl and some extra training might help it go smoother, especially if y/n decided to be naughty and needed a bit of extra restraining.

Y/n was still dizzy from the ride, too shocked to attempt to slip off the bed and simply not coordinated enough to try anything clever. Carol caught the edge of her toy box with her toe and dragged it over to the edge of the bed for easy access, slipping onto the mattress and covering y/n’s small body with hers. She quickly returned her mouth to the perky tits beneath her, lips latching onto the under stimulated nipple and sucking hard. Y/n whined him response, chest rising with each hard tug in attempts to lessen the pressure.

"I’m glad your pussy’s so wet,” Carol murmured after releasing the abused nipple with a pop, hand reaching over the edge of the bed to dig one of her smaller strap ons out of the box, “I don’t know if I have any lube."

She whipped her top off quickly after finding the one she wanted, followed by her pants. Forgoing underwear had been convenient and she quickly worked to attach the strap on around her waist. The moment y/n realized what was happening, her face scrunched and the tears came back with a vengeance. The no trying to run away rule was obviously immediately forgotten as she scrambled for purchase on the bed, her coordination nonexistent after the strong wine. Carol reached out and easily flipped her onto her stomach, subduing her flailing limbs with ease.

"What did I say about trying to get away from me baby?” Carol yanked the skirt down over her legs, catching the waistband of her panties in the same tug and shucked both articles across the room, “now I’ve gotta punish you before I fuck you, naughty girl."

"N-No, no! Wha—"

Carol slapped her hand down on y/n’s ass with enough force to make her shriek, the sound lighting the blonde’s pussy up like nobody’s business. She could feel her wetness dripping, the press of the strap on over her clit delicious. When she finished up the spanking, leaving her pretty ass red and raw and painful, Carol flipped y/n onto her back once more. The yelp she let out made the blonde smile, knowing that even the soft fabric of her sheets would feel like sandpaper at the moment.

"Awe, don’t cry baby, shhh,” Carol stretched out above her, letting the cock of her strap on drag against y/n’s wet little cunt in the process and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, “shhh, be a good girl now. You’re gonna take my cock so well, won’t you baby girl?"

"P-please, I don't—"

"You don’t what, baby girl? You don’t wanna take my piece?” Carol’s hand immediately found her wet pussy, scooping a good amount of arousal onto her fingers before bringing it back up to smear the moisture across y/n’s lips and cheeks, “this greedy little cunt disagrees. It wants my cock bad baby and who am I to deny this pretty pussy anything."

The head of the strapon nudged between y/n’s pussy lips, drawing a loud whine. Her knees drew up as Carol pressed deeper and deeper and the blonde was quick to spread her thighs wide, the muscles jumping as she pressed those pretty thighs flat to the mattress. When Carol finally bottomed out, y/n was whining and squirming, hands pressed against her taut abs. The movement chafed her raw ass against the sheets and the blonde knew the pain must’ve been a sharp burn.

"Is it a lot baby?” The blonde panted slightly, clit well stimulated by the strap on, “is that a lot for your little cunny? This is one of the small ones baby girl, you better get used to the stretch."

Carol withdrew and thrust in deeply before y/n could speak, repeating the motion roughly several times before she fell into rhythm pounding away at her pussy. Y/n wailed, her ass dragging brutally over the sheets with each sharp thrust and igniting a truly awful burn. The squelch of her pussy was obscene though and Carol shivered at the sound—she was so wet it was dripping out of her pussy, sliding down her ass crack and soaking into the bedsheets. Her mind might not’ve been entirely on board but her cunt was 100% involved, ready, and excited for the pounding even as her burning ass was rubbed raw by the bedding and the constant, torturous movement.

"God your pussys ruining my sheets baby,” she slapped at y/n’s clit several times in rapid succession, drawing a loud wail from her lips, “your cunts so excited to be fucked, so fucking wet its gushing. You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you? Cum on my cock baby girl, cum on it!"

Y/n wailed in response, her little body pulling tight for several seconds before she came so hard her eyes rolled back and she shook. Carol fucked her through it with force, only stopping when the desperation for her own orgasm set in. She pulled her cock from y/n’s gaping pussy and removed the strap, dropping it over the side of the bed as she moved up her baby girl’s body until her cunt was positioned over that little gasping mouth.

"Mouth open, baby girl,” she ordered, hands digging into her hair to angle her chin up, “you’re gonna eat my pussy until I cum."

A small noise escaped y/n, some cute little grunting whine as Carol flattened her cunt over her mouth and thrust her hips forward. The drag was lovely, y/n’s open mouth warm and wet against her sopping pussy lips.

"Use your tongue,” she ordered with a small gasp, feeling her orgasm getting closer as her hand closed over the back of y/n’s head to keep her mouth pressed firmly against against her cunt, hips rolling swiftly back and forth as she chased her own end.

She moaned loudly when little kitten licks teased her lower lips, concentrating the movement of her hips to press her clit against y/n’s tongue. The drag was wonderful, a loud cry escaped her lips as she started to cum and she doubled her efforts, fucking y/n’s face brutally into the mattress until it abated. She let her weight rest suffocatingly over y/n’s mouth and nose for several seconds, lifting up just before she could start to panic.

“God that was even better than I could’ve imagined, you’re so good for me baby girl,” Carol slipped down her prone form, kissing her soundly but gently and licking the cum and arousal from her shell shocked face, “fuck, I knew you’d be perfect."

Y/n looked up at the blonde with big, wet eyes even as Carol continued to whisper praises against her lips. A hand had returned to her sopping pussy, Carol collecting her cum with taunting fingers before swiping the residual from her own messy cunt as well, bringing it up to y/n’s mouth. When her baby girl’s lips didn’t open she grabbed her jaw, squeezing with increasing pressure until her mouth opened and she was able to shovel the mix of their cum into her mouth.

"Swallow it down baby girl,” Carol cooed, hand sealing over y/n’s nose and mouth tightly until her throat visibly worked several times to swallow the load, “so good, so precious sweet girl."

The blonde’s eyes glanced to the bedside table and she sighed lightly, ignoring the huge wet spot on the bed beneath y/n and lying to her left on the mattress. She easily pulled the smaller woman on top of her, y/n’s little waist cushioned between her sticky thighs and her head rested perfectly between Carol’s breasts. She could see the bright red, chafed skin from her position and smiled darkly—y/n would feel it for days, everytime she sat would be a reminder.

"It’s gotten late baby, we should go to sleep. We’ll wake up early and go to breakfast at the diner before I drop you off at work,” her hands worked gently up and down y/n’s back with soft, sleepy touches, brushing the top of her ass with careful fingers.

“I—”

Carol hushed her before she could get a word in, “go to sleep baby, the alcohol in your system must be making you drowsy by now, especially after that kind of fucking. We’ll talk in the morning."

content warnings: alcohol consumption, nonconsenual vaginal fingering, strap on insertion and fucking, ass and pussy spanking, cunnilingus and face riding (is that what that’s called? i’m honestly not sure how to tag that), suffocation, and cum eating. hmu if i’ve missed anything.

#carol danvers x reader #dark!carol danvers #captain marvel x reader #dark!fic #sheriff au #yes sheriff

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 7)

My Masterlist

Summary: You finally decide to open up to your friends, realizing that opening up your heart would definitely make everything better. You knew exactly what you needed to be better.

Word Count: 7170

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Natasha x Platonic!Reader, Lawyer!Peggy x Platonic!Reader, Doctor!Tony

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Homelessness, Anxiety, Betrayal

A/N: After the last few updates, some of you have been very upset with me and I know that. I hope this make all of you happy. <3 Gif is not mine, credits to the respective owner!

Primum non nocere // “First, do no harm”

Though some may say that Latin was a dead language, it was that single Latin phrase which you had always lived by. No one really knew the origins of that phrase. Whether this exact phrase was even mentioned in the original Hippocratic Oath was debatable, but it is commonly believed that the promise “to abstain from doing harm” in the modern version oath itself came from this particular Latin phrase.

As a doctor, you had sworn to uphold the Hippocratic Oath in order to be able to practice medicine. But upholding the oath did not just apply to you practicing medicine alone. It was certainly binding; it was a sacred piece of text to all doctors, nurses and other medical professionals in the world for generations. It applied to the way you lived your life, just as much as it applied to the way you practiced medicine. Perhaps the Hippocratic Oath had been the reason why you were currently in this situation. After all, being a better person had been just as important to you as being a better doctor.

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.”

You had firmly believed that it was your duty to apply all measures that are required for the benefit of the sick. That was why you had even volunteered to donate your liver in the first place. Even if he was your abusive father, he was still a patient. This was a measure that only you could have taken, for you were your father’s only offspring. Anyone else may have had a choice in whether they must come forward to donate a piece of their liver to save another life, but as a doctor who had sworn to the Hippocratic Oath, you had been left with no choice. You had to do what you had to do. There was no other option for you than cutting out a piece of your own flesh.

“If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.”

It was true. You as a doctor, with your knowledge and the skills that you had acquired from the professors and surgeons before you, did have the power to take a life as much as you had the power to save a life. All it took was one wrong cut, one wrong dosage and one wrong judgement to take a life on your table. But as a physician, you could certainly not do that. You had to uphold the Hippocratic Oath. Did this certain promise to not use your power to take a life or play at God not apply to every other decision you made in your life? You did have the power to take your father’s life had you chosen not to move forward with the transplant. With his position on the list and the wait time for a liver transplant, he certainly would not have made it. But you knew that it was not the right thing to do. You could not violate your oath nor play at God like that. You had to do what was within your power to save his life, not take it.

“I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.”

This was your obligation as member of society to your fellow human beings. Your father, regardless of who he was and whatever the issues you had with him, was a fellow human being who deserved to be treated as such.

You had thought that you did the right thing by donating your liver. You had saved his life and it had brought you a sense of relief. You had not brought him harm. You had often wondered if you leaving behind your parents had brought them more harm than good. Had you intentionally did them harm? While you wished that the answer was no, you knew that was certainly not the truth. After all, you had done them harm... though not physically, you had put them in harm’s way by worsening their financial situation. It was only a matter of time before they end up on the streets of Buck’s County, and as someone who’s had to live through that, even if it was for one night, you would not even wish that upon your worst enemy let alone your own parents.

You could not deny that a part of you wanted to fix this for them. You wanted nothing more than to make their lives easy. After all, you had made their lives harder as they had made your life harder as well. Sure, they had abused you. But you could not blame them for their behavior. Losing their business had put a strain on their whole being. While being a child who needed to be provided with food, clothing and shelter was certainly not your fault, you blamed the added stress of providing for a child along with the emotional distress that came with being bankrupt for being their reasons to take it all out on you. Had they been right about doing what they did? No, certainly not. But should you wish that they must continue to be punished for their wrong-doings? Had they not had enough, being hated by an entire town while their own child had fled them? Had they not had enough, with your father drinking away his health and your mother being burdened to be the sole breadwinner of the family? They had had enough. You could not let things get worse for them.

You certainly did have the money. But you also knew that paying off their medical bills would mean that you could no longer afford to keep your make shift clinic running at the local homeless shelter. You had been put in a position where you had to choose between the countless of homeless people who depended on that shelter and your clinic and your own biological family. And what kind of a daughter, let alone human being could you be, if you chose to help those unknown people while your own family might even end up in the streets at this point. This choice was certainly not as easy as the first one.

It had taken a few days for the hospital’s in-house attorney to draft a proper contract upon the request of Dr. James Barnes. But she had done it to the best of her ability, ensuring that by accepting his payment, your parents did agree to never contact you ever again. She had triple-checked that this contract had no loopholes and that you were protected from them, as you should have always been.

She had even informed Dr. Romanoff, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Parker of the situation, for they had been the doctors on your case and needed to know of the current circumstances between you and the recipient of your liver. However, she had only shared the financial aspects and not the emotional ones. After all, she still respected your privacy and decision not to over-share the issues your personal life with anyone else, even if they were your friends.

For the sake of protecting you and this hospital, though she knew that your parents were certainly not smart enough to come after the hospital anyways, she had also informed Dr. Stark of what Dr. Barnes was about to do. There was no reason for the hospital to be involved in this transaction, unless there was an eventual lawsuit, which there would not be. As long as the hospitals bills were paid off, Tony did not object to it. In a way, even he had cared about ensuring that your abusive parents were out of your life. He had even mentioned to Peggy about him paying off the bills out of his own pocket; all it took was a little nudge from the attorney for the Chief of Surgery to understand that this was Bucky’s burden to bear.

“No, he pays them off. She finds out, even though he doesn’t want her to. Then she’ll finally realize that he’s been in love with her all along. She’ll ask him about it. He’ll have no choice but to fess up and they’ll both live happily ever after. Is that not what you want, Tony?” Peggy Carter had asked him, a hint of frustration evident in her voice. As a mother herself, she was disappointed extremely disappointed at what your own parents had done. If she could have done more than just draft a contract in this situation, she would have done it all. Hell, she would have taken their asses to court and ripped them to shreds if you did have a strong case. But you did not and this was the next best thing she could do for you. “Because that’s literally what every single person in this entire fucking hospital wants at this point.”

“Do you really think he’ll fess up though? I made a bet with Pep. She says he will but... I wouldn’t put all of my faith in him.” Tony had remarked with a chuckle.

“This thing’s been going on and on forever. It’s about time it all came to an end.”

“But he doesn’t even want her to know that he’s paying them off. How is she going to find out about it?” He had asked the lawyer, his eyebrow raised at her.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Tony?” She asked the man as she crossed her arms against her chest. “He can be this selfless, righteous... ‘I just want to protect her even though she doesn’t love me back and I don’t want to put my money down because of my own personal gains’ ... all he wants, but I’m not going to let him do whatever he pleases by now. The bloke’s the godfather of my child and she’s the closest thing Steve’s had to a sister. Those two are going to get together by the end of this thing and I’ll make sure of it.”

“Sounds like you’re meddling, Peggy. Are you a meddler though?” He asked as he feigned a dramatic gasp. “Is this what my father taught you? Meddling? Really? Is that what Howard taught you to do in court? How often do you do this in court anyways? How much have you meddled in the past?”

“Oh get over yourself...” She rolled her eyes at him. “As a matter of fact, your father did... teach me what it means to meddle in certain cases, not that I agreed with him or anything like that. There is a reason why I left his firm all those years ago but that’s not the point. This isn’t a court case, its Bucky and Y/N’s life and I’m going to meddle... the living shit out of it if it means that we’ll get a happy ending. Steve agrees that someone’s got to do something and he knows he’s not the right one to do it either. So, I’m going to meddle and get those two together, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I guess I better get ready to lose my bet with Pepper then.”

While Peggy did not completely agree with Bucky’s decision to pay off your parents himself, she knew that this was the only plausible solution to your dilemma. Though there were certain legal actions that could have been taken against your parents, she knew that you would not want to go forward with that. And even if you did make that call and had approached her for legal advice yourself, she would have told you not to do it. After all, the court would have suggested settlement anyways. A case of emotional extortion would not stand in court and knowing of your past, the last thing Peggy would have wanted was for you to relive that trauma in a court room. The court room was a brutal place just as it was and you had suffered enough.

“Are you alright, love?” She asked you as she sat down at the edge of your bed, her hand reaching over to grab yours. “I know you’ve had a rough couple of days but is there anything... anything we could do for you?”

Your eyes glazed over as you shook your head. “No... no, I... I’ll be fine, Peg.” You croaked out. You were still in and out of consciousness, thanks to the pain medications that continued to be pumped into your system. The dosage was controlled, but it made no difference. Even when you were completely knocked out, a part of you still felt the pain. But you could not tell for sure if the pain you had been feeling was physical or emotional. It was blurry...

“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to us about anything... right?” Natasha asked you as she stood by your bedside. To say that a part of her felt slightly frustrated that you had not opened up to her over the years would be an understatement. But she understood that you must have had a valid reason for trusting only a few people. Though she could not deny that she had grown to despise your parents a lot more now that she had found out about their attempt at extorting money from you, she had tried her hardest not to show it when she had to face them. After all, she was still in a conflicted position being your father’s doctor and your friend. She wanted nothing more than for all of this to be done for good. After hearing from Peggy about Bucky’s decision, all she could do was hope that the man would finally come forward and confess his feelings to you. She knew that he did not want to do that but she also knew him. She had known him for years, ever since they were residents. If anything, Dr. James Barnes was good and fixing broken hearts and your broken heart was indeed his to fix. “We’re your friends, Y/N. We’re here for you because we care about you. You know that, right?”

You sniffled as you turned over to look at your general surgeon, though you tried to ignore her words. A part of you wondered if your request might offend her, but it was for the best. You did not want to hurt her as much as you did not want to get yourself hurt again as well. You had a reason to want what you had wanted, so you might as well just ask her already. “Actually... Nat, there is something you could do for me.” You told her with a nervous smile, a sigh escaping your chapped lips as you looked over at her..

The red-headed surgeon perked up at your response. “Sure, what is it? What can I do for you?” Ever since you had first started working it this hospital, Natasha Romanoff had been the one who had constantly approached you in hopes of befriending you. Though her attempts had often failed, she took no offense to that. She had heard from Steve that you were not the kind of person who liked to hang out in a large group of people so she had let it slide until you were ready to accept her friendship.

You could not deny that this woman was extremely forward and perky, much to your dismay at first. It may have taken you a few weeks to warm up to her, thanks to a heart-liver transplant that the two of you had first worked together on. But eventually, you had managed to hang out with her outside of work. You were not one to go out a lot, but when you did, it had always been because you had accepted Natasha’s invite.

Even when it came to her being your father’s doctor, you had requested for her to be yours too. In most transplant cases, the donor and the recipient had different doctors and a whole separate team dedicated to them, working on them separately. But Natasha had been the one you had trusted with your own life. You had asked her to be the one to cut you open and remove your liver and she had made the arrangements to do so. You had trusted her to be your doctor and she was your doctor, a good one at that.

“Can you... can you refer me to... psych?” You asked her as you looked down at your lap. “Preferably with Dr. Rhodes, he already has a file on me and he’s familiar with me... I think I have a lot to talk to him about.”

Dr. Romanoff frowned at your request as she walked up to you, sitting down across from Peggy and taking your other hand in hers. “Y/N, honey...” She let out a sigh and you could have sworn that you saw her eyes glaze over with tears. “I’m not going to pressure you to open up to us. None of what’s been happening to you lately is any of our business. But it breaks my heart that you... that you’d rather share what’s going on with you to a psychiatrist than your own friends. I don’t know what it would take for you to trust us... but we’re all here for you and we’re all worried about you. I just want you to know that we’re not going to leave you hanging. And as your doctor, I’m telling you... you don’t need a psychiatrist. You need a friend. You need a family and you have a god damn family. You have all of us.”

You wanted to believe it. You really did. But you did not know if you should. Someone else had said these exact words to you all those years ago and you had believed her, only to realize how wrong you had been about putting all of your trust in her. She had also said the opposite of these exact words to you to and you had still believed her. For all these years, you had held back from making close friends because you had been terrified to get hurt again, the same way she had hurt you.

Peggy reached over to place her free hand on Nat’s shoulder and turned over to look at you with a frown that matched hers. “Sweetheart, come on... we’re not going to let you go through this alone. Steve’s not going to let you go through this alone. Tony’s not going to let you go through this alone. Barnes... is not going to let you go through this alone.”

You could not deny that your heart skipped a beat when the woman had mentioned his name. Dr. James Barnes had always had a special place in your heart. You knew that you shared a very special bond with him, a bond that was just not the same as what you had or did not have with anyone else at this Brooklyn Hospital. You had met him that night when you had been at one of your lowest points in life; you had been ready to give up on your entire career that night, which had been the one thing that had kept you going up until that point. You would have given up on your whole life had you not met him, for he had told you to aim to be a better surgeon and you had strived to be just that over the years. In a way, he was the reason why you were still alive today.

You remembered the first time you had become acquainted with his name though. It was not when you had first arrived at Brooklyn Hospital. No, it was years before that. You had been a fourth year medical student at NYU Med at that time, meeting with one of your former undergraduate professors for coffee. Though the woman had only taught you in your freshman year, you had kept in touch with her throughout the years of your undergrad and medical school. She had always appreciated having her former students come back to visit her, though you knew that you weren’t the only one who had kept in touch with her over the years.

When you had mentioned that you were planning on becoming a cardiothoracic surgeon following your graduation from NYU Med, she had recalled to you that two of her former students had went on to become successful cardiothoracic surgeons in Brooklyn. All it took was a Google search for you to find out who they were, Dr. Steven Rogers and Dr James Barnes. In a matter of hours, you knew exactly why the two of them were the best heart surgeons in all of New York. You had read every article they had published on the medical journal and watched every video of their surgeries that had been recorded and published for teaching purposes. They really were the best at what they did and you knew that training under one of them was the only way to succeed in your own career.

You had become determined to land a fellowship at Brooklyn Hospital and had worked your butt off during residency to get there. You had made it where you wanted to be. But even then, things did not seem like they were going to get better for you, at least not until you had met Dr. Barnes. He made you want to be better. He made you better.

Over the years, you had gotten to know Bucky as much as you had gotten to know Steve. Aside from having to work closely together, he had been one of the few people whom you had gotten to know outside of work as well. Although that had not been your intention, you could not deny that he had gotten to know you a little more than you would have allowed him to.

Perhaps the turn of recent events had been you realize just how oblivious you had been to your own emotions. But you felt something for that man. You knew you did, even though a part of you knew that he may just be way out of your league and he may not feel the same way about you. You did not have the courage to act on these feelings but you knew that you felt something for him, you had been feeling something for him the moment he had walked into your make shift clinic at the homeless shelter that night.

It may have been his dark jeans and leather jacket that he had been wearing that night. They did make him look extremely attractive. It may have been the way he had come all the way to the shelter after not finding you at home and apologized for the way he had treated you in the OR. He sure had been persistent that night. He had respected you enough to give you a personal apology and no one had ever treated you with such courtesy. It may have been the way he had walked you back home or told you that you were capable of doing better than what life had to offer you. He was a true gentleman though. There was no denying that. But that snowy night in New York, when you had ditched the formalities and gathered the courage to address him by his first name, you had fallen for him. And unbeknownst to you, that same night when you had called him by his first name, your James had fallen for you too.

“Peggy, where’s Barnes?” You asked her as you turned over to look at her, biting down on your chapped bottom lip as you let the tears stream down your face. “He hasn’t come by to see me in the last couple of days. I haven’t seen him since... before my mother... came to see me.” The James Barnes you knew had not dared to leave your bedside since the moment you had first woken up from your surgery. But when you needed him the most, he was nowhere to be found. “I know he was mad at me for... not listening to him and going forward with this transplant. But is... is he...” You could not find the words to say that all you wanted at that moment was his presence, the glint of his bright blue eyes and his genuine smile that always calmed you down. You wanted his hands on top of yours or your head to rest on his shoulders like that day in the supply room almost two weeks ago. All you wanted was James, even if he did not want you. You wanted that clarity that he always brought to you.

“Well... I’m glad you asked about him because I didn’t know how to start that conversation.” The British woman let out a sigh of relief as she gave your hand a squeeze. “He’s... not mad at you, darling. I can tell you that for sure. He’ll never be mad at you. He respects you and your bodily autonomy above anything else. He’s... just been a bit busy with patients, you know... you know how it is. He’s also been... um...” If the woman could just spit out Bucky’s plan and did her meddling as she should, she knew that all would be well. But she was hesitant about sharing this with you, for a part of her was worried about your reaction while another part of her was not willing to break Bucky’s trust. She felt conflicted, even though she knew exactly what she had to do.

“I miss him...” You admitted, a small smile creeping upon your lips. “I miss... him sitting on that chair with a book in his hand and pretending to read it even though he knows I’m awake and watching him. He’ll keep reading until he gets to the end of the page before he turns over to look at me... I miss his smile, the way he always calls me ‘doll’ and... I miss him... scolding me for not wanting anymore pain meds... and grabbing my PCA remote and pushing the button himself because he can’t stand to see me in pain. I miss him watching me doze off. I miss him... placing a kiss on my forehead... when I fall asleep. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating when I first felt him do that but... he did it more that once so I know that actually happened... more than once. I miss... waking up to him... and... he was always there and I felt safe, like I could get through this with him at my bedside. But ever since he left me... things haven’t been getting better and... I don’t know. I miss him.”

Natasha and Peggy looked at each other with wide eyes before quickly looking back to you. “What?” They both said, in unison. They both knew what this meant. You must not have been as oblivious to Bucky’s feelings as they had thought you were. Not to mention that it seemed as though you had felt the same way about them. If they only knew for sure, they would know just how to meddle with things.

You leaned back your head against your pillow as you close your eyes, thinking about everything that had happened to you that had led up to this moment. “Margaret...” You whispered, as though her name had imprinted itself as a curse word in your mind. Saying the name of the woman who had somehow instilled some sort of fear in your heart had been terrifying itself to say the least. But you knew that you had to let her go. It was the only way you could finally allow yourself to open up to anyone. To Natasha and to James.

“What?” Peggy perked up at the sound of her name. You did know that it was her name. Perhaps, she may have been the reason why you believed that not all Margaret’s could be so cruel.

You opened your eyes to look at the woman and shook your head, letting out a sigh. “Margaret. She was my... roommate... at NYU. The first real friend I had... or so I thought. It was strange to me, you know... to find a friend in someone that the housing department had assigned to live with me. But I... I was young, just turned eighteen, finally out of the system, on my own and starting college... I was so excited to have a friend after being alone for... my whole life. I had a whole life ahead of me and... Here was... someone who... who actually gave a shit about me and I was grateful that... I had someone to call my friend, maybe even my found-family.” You could not help the tears that continued to stream down your face, the ping at your heart as you had just opened up the baggage you had been unnecessarily holding onto for years. “You know that feeling that you get when you... think that this person would be there for you throughout your whole life when no one else would? That was her. I thought she would be my best friend for life but... I was wrong about that.”

Natasha was still holding onto your hand as you continued to speak. The thought of you having had a best friend in the past did not surprise her to the slightest. After all, she firmly believed that anyone who met you would genuinely want to be your friend, as she had done so when she had first met you. But she could not help but wonder how this friendship had ended for you, since it had certainly left such a lasting impact on your social life, even after all of these years. Whatever happened between you and this Margaret, it must have caused you a lot of pain. Because if there was one thing that she had just realized, it was that this person was the reason why you had been so closed off; the reason why you had been hesitant to accept her friendship at first. There was one thing that she knew for sure though. Whatever may have happened with you and your former friend, it must not have been your fault. She knew you well enough to know that you would never intentionally even hurt a fly, let alone another human being.

“I mean, we were best friends. We... spent a lot of time together, did things that friends in college... did. She was the one who took me to my first college party, bought me my first drink when I turned twenty-one... she really got me to come out of my shell. And I was willing to do that for her. I was willing to put myself out there for her; I never did that for anyone. I went above and beyond for her... you know... I valued her friendship so much that I was willing to sacrifice... anything for her. No one wanted to be my friend through high school because everyone hated my parents. No one knew my parents in New York, no one cared who they were or what they did... or who I was, really. So, her wanting to be a close friend of mine... I was grateful. I gave up a campus job once in first year because she needed a job; I had two other jobs already so it was fine. I... uh... always did things when she asked me to... like... things that she did around campus. She... had joined a sorority and when she... did these events for them, I would buy myself a ticket and show up because I wanted to support her. Charity fundraisers... I was the first one to donate. I... couldn’t afford it but... being a good friend was more important to me and I would have expected her to do the same for me. I guess... we were close friends, but maybe it was just... me... maybe I was the only one who thought that when she didn’t...? I don’t know how things... even happened. I mean, after a while... she started hanging out with all of her sorority sisters a lot more... ditched me but... I didn’t think much of it at first. You know, I... I’m not an idiot. I did notice that she was spending a lot less time at home, but I really didn’t think much of it. I thought I was overreacting... and I let it slide.” You paused to take a breath. “I didn’t think she was... deliberately trying to distance herself from me. I mean... it was my fault.”

Peggy was listening intently as you spoke, for you had not even told her or Steve about this certain Margaret. But there must have been a reason why you had kept this from them. If you had kept it from them for as long as you had done, it made her wonder why you had chosen to share this with her and Natasha rather than her and Steve. Why now? The problem was your parents, right? So, why were you bringing up your former friend? She wanted to put the puzzle pieces together but she was unable to figure it out on her own.

“I... I always told her everything... everything about me and... What I’d been through, what was going on with me. I mean, she had to live with me... right, so... I know I had a lot of emotional baggage then, still do now but... back then, I was younger and a lot more... vulnerable. The wounds were still fresh. I just needed someone to lean on and she was always there... she didn’t mind it. She always told me that she didn’t... until one night. I remember being in my room, studying for a Biology exam. It was... December... and it was snowing really badly. I could see the snow falling from my bedroom window and... The next thing I knew, I felt like... I don’t know, I had an anxiety attack. I felt like the room was closing in on me and it just... I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking, I was cold... I remember putting a sweater on and just... hiding under my blanket. The heater was on. I tried to warm myself up but... I felt cold, my feet were numb. I panicked and I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to grab my phone and call her. She didn’t pick up and... I was... my hands were shaking so much when I texted her. I asked her where she was, she said that she was just leaving class and that she wasn’t coming home that night. I told her that I was... having a panic attack and that I needed help... that it felt like the night... that night in the snow storm... she knew what it meant. I had told her about what happened that night with my mother... so she knew why I was feeling... the way I did. But... just when I needed her the most... just when I thought that... she would... at least try to get me some help...” You felt a sob before wincing in pain and you could have sworn that you had felt a tug at your heartstrings. Margaret was not an easy subject to talk about but she was necessarily. She was the reason why you had given up on finding any sort of companionship in anyone, whether it was a genuine friendship or a romantic relationship.

Dr. Romanoff immediately sprung to her feet, moving over to gently pull you into a side-hug, careful not to mess with the wires and tubes that were still attached to you. Honestly, at this point she could care less about them though. If she did mess them up, she could just put them back in you herself. She knew that you needed a hug and she was going to give you a damn hug.

“The next thing she said to me... the last thing she ever said to me before she moved into her sorority house... she said and I quote, ‘Fuck off, I’m not a qualified therapist,’ and... I kid you not... it hurt like a bitch when she said that. I was shocked... I was... I didn’t know what to do, I... I knew that I’d just lost the one friend I had, I wasn’t sure if... she was the one real friend anymore but... I thought it was my fault. I blamed myself. I had ruined something for myself, I felt like I could never do anything right. Things were finally starting to get better and I had... just fucked it up with her. I just cried myself to sleep that night.” You admitted as you let out another sob, leaning your head gently against the red-headed surgeon’s shoulder as you sobbed.

“Holy shit, what a bitch!” Peggy exclaimed as she stood up to hug you from the other sweetheart. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry... you had to deal with her. You know, none of that is true. You’re...” Even she was at a loss for words as she turned over to look at Natasha and gave her a nod. If was not the right time for you to know just how unconditionally loved really were, she did not know when it would be. You needed to know what Bucky was about to do and she was going to tell you either way.

“I thought she was my friend but... she had hurt me. I never saw her again but... after what happened with her, I just... couldn’t get myself to become friends with anyone. I couldn’t let myself trust someone and... Give my all in a friendship and get nothing in return. To have my feelings be hurt like that... Nat, I didn’t mean to push you away for all these years. I was just terrified... terrified to get close to anyone because... you become close to someone, you tell them everything, do everything for them... one day, they’ll be your best friend and the next day, they’ll tell you to get a therapist.”

“Oh Y/N...” Natasha Romanoff did not utter a she word as she held onto you, her arms wrapped tightly over your shoulder as she gently held you against her body. Her hand stroked through your hair as you continued to sob, and you had felt the weight that you had been holding onto for years start to fade away. “I’m so sorry you had such a terrible friend. I can understand why you would have had such a hard time trusting anyone after what she did, after what your own mother did. People suck, Y/N... I know that for sure. But not all of us can be so terrible. We’re not like that; we won’t ever... judge you or throw you away like that. We are actually in it for life.”

“I’ve been... I’ve been holding myself back from trusting people, from having relationships. I kept believing that I wasn’t worthy of being loved because... I thought no one could love me.”

“Oh honey, you know that’s not true...”

Peggy looked over at Natasha and bit her lip. “No, it’s not... Y/N, I can’t speak for all Margaret’s but I’m sure that not all of us are such devils. I mean, at least I’m not like that and you know that. I would be honored to be your replacement Margaret if you would let me. I... I hope you would let me.”

You gave her a weak smile through the tears. “Yeah, well... you’re a much better Margaret than her, Peggy. But... um... I’m still scared... I.. I want to tell him everything, everything since the very beginning... the night I left Buck’s County, the day I got to New York, Margaret... my parents... the loss of a sense of belonging... a sense of being loved... that I lost years ago... the sense of belonging that I lost when I left home... that I didn’t get back until that night... when I was crying in an on call room and he made me realize... that I did belong in this hospital. He made me better... he makes me better, and I need him right now. I want to be better. I want him. Buck’s County is not my home... it never was, that’s where I left. But Bucky Barnes... James... he wouldn’t tell me to fuck off and get a therapist if I opened up to him and... told him how I really feel about... everything, would he?”

Natasha was in tears when she realized what all of this meant. Things were finally starting to be better for both of her friends and all she could do was hope that they ended well. She pulled back from the hug before wiping away her tears, her hands on his hips as she looked down at you and shook her head. “Fuck, no... of course, not!” She told you as she let out a chuckled. “If he dares to do such a thing, I’ll pull him by his hair and drag his ass through hell myself.”

Peggy Carter let out a sigh of relief as she wiped away her tears, hugging you for a moment longer before she pulled back. “As a matter of fact, he... he’s been thinking about making things better for you long before any one of us did. He... uh... he’s decided to take care of your dad’s medical bills himself. Of course, he didn’t want you to find out what he was going to do because you would have said no. But um... he said he’ll take care of it. He’ll make sure that your parents are well taken care of... financially speaking.”

You reached your hand up to wipe away your tears, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “James was always quite philanthropic. But it makes sense because... he... my clinic received a cheque from an anonymous donor a few years ago. I knew it was him because he... he has a big heart, even though he says he doesn’t. He’s always had a big heart.”

“You knew...? You knew it was him?”

You nodded. “I’ve known all along, Nat. I’ve known everything. I was just dumb enough to believe that I didn’t deserve any of it. But I’ll be doing much better once I see him. I need to see him.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #doctor!bucky #marvel x reader #marvel au #tw abuse #tw alchoholism #tw surgery #tw needles #tw pain #tw anxiety #aj writes #better

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tuseriesdetv · 4 years ago

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Noticias de series de la semana

Renovaciones

ITV ha renovado McDonald & Dodds por una tercera temporada

FOX ha renovado Duncanville por una tercera temporada

Cancelaciones

CBS ha cancelado MacGyver tras su quinta temporada

Noticias cortas

Tatiana Maslany (Sister Alice) no estará en la segunda temporada de Perry Mason.

Jodie Turner-Smith abandona The Witcher: Blood Origin debido a un retraso en las fechas de producción.

Netflix adquiere The 39 Steps, la adaptación de la novela de John Buchan (1915) protagonizada por Benedict Cumberbatch.

Fichajes

Jennifer Jason Leigh (The Hateful Eight, Single White Female) se une a la segunda temporada de Hunters. Será Chava, cazadora de nazis.

Nick Offerman (Parks and Recreation, Devs) será Uncle Miltie, quien ayuda a Rand (Seth Rogen) a distribuir la sex tape, en Pam and Tommy.

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Game of Thrones) protagonizará y producirá el drama The Second Home, la miniserie adaptación de la novela de Christina Clancy (2020) que sigue a dos familias separadas a raíz de un fatídico verano en Cabo Cod, Massachusetts.

Samantha Morton (Harlots, The Walking Dead) será Catherine de Medici en The Serpent Queen.

T'Nia Miller (Years and Years, The Haunting of Bly Manor), Charlotte Riley (Trust, Peaky Blinders), Alex Hernandez (UnREAL, The Son), JJ Feild (Turn, Lost in Space), Eli Goree (Riverdale, Pearson), Gary Carr (The Deuce, Death in Paradise) y Adelind Horan (The Pioneers) se unen a The Peripheral.

Renée Elise Goldsberry (Hamilton, Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist) se une a She-Hulk. Interpretará a un personaje llamado Amelia.

Hayley Squires (Adult Material, The Miniaturist), Frak Dillane (Fear The Walking Dead, The Girlfriend Experience), Clémence Poésy (Genius, The Tunnel) y Jamael Westman (Anne Boleyn) se unen a The Essex Serpent.

Wayne Brady (How I Met Your Mother, Colony) será Del Cooper, un comediante convertido en productor y el nuevo interés amoroso de un personaje aún no desvelado, en la quinta temporada de The Good Fight.

Shelley Conn (Liar, The Lottery) y Calam Lynch (Mrs. Wilson) serán Mary Sharma, la madre de las hermanas Kate (Simone Ashley) y Edwina (Charithra Chandran); y Theo Sharpe, ayudante de un impresor; en la segunda temporada de Bridgerton.

Sebastian Roché (The Young Pope, The Originals) y Michelle Ventimilla (Seven Seconds, Gotham) serán recurrentes en Big Sky como Wagy, el sheriff de Lochsa County; y Rosie Amaya, hija de Gil Amaya, el gerente del rancho de los Kleinsasser.

Adepero Oduye (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, 12 Years a Slave) y Cornelius Smith Jr. (Scandal, God Friended Me) serán Karen Wynn, enfermera jefe en la unidad de cuidados intensivos y líder del comité ético; y Bryant King, especialista en medicina interna y uno de los pocos doctores negros del hospital; en Five Days at Memorial.

Karen Robinson (Schitt's Creek, Tiny Pretty Things) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de A Million Little Things como Florence, una dulce viuda con sentido del humor.

Kareem Green (It's Showtime at the Apollo) será recurrente en Flatbush Misdemeanors como Kareem, padrastro de Dan (Dan Perlman).

Patricia Hodge (Miranda, A Very English Scandal) sustituye a la fallecida Diana Rigg en el papel de Mrs. Pumphrey en la segunda temporada de All Creatures Great and Small.

Ebonee Noel (FBI, Wrecked), Karen LeBlanc (Ransom, Departure), Yaani King Mondschein (Saving Grace, Blood & Oil) y Rance Nix protagonizarán The Kings of Napa.

Peta Sergeant (Snowfall, The Originals) se une como regular a la sexta y última temporada de Supergirl. Será Nyxly, una prisionera de la Phantom Zone.

Max Osinski (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., The Last Ship) será recurrente en la segunda y última temporada de The Walking Dead: World Beyond como Dennis, un soldado dedicado y disciplinado que trata de recuperar su vida.

Tom Kenny retomará su papel de narrador en Powerpuff. Robyn Lively (Twin Peaks, Light as a Feather) será Sara Bellum.

Sinéad Keenan (Being Human, My Left Nut), Lola Petticrew (Bloodlands, My Left Nut), Amy James-Kelly (Gentleman Jack, Safe), Genenieve O'Reilly (Tin Star, The Honourable Woman), Colin Morgan (Humans, Merlin), Owen McDonnell (Killing Eve, The Bay), Prasanna Puwanarajah (Doctor Foster, Patrick Melrose) y Kerri Quinn (Come Home, Coronation Street) protagonizarán Three Families, antes conocida como When It Happens To You.

Nicholas Burton (Dave & Theo) y Aaron Jeffery (Wentworth, McLeod's Daughters) se unen como recurrentes a Pieces of Her. Serán Andrew Queller, el hijo pequeño de Martin Queller (Terry O'Quinn); y un misterioso y potencialmente peligroso personaje que aparece en la vida de Laura (Toni Collette) y Andy (Bella Heathcote).

Barbara Alyn Woods (One Tree Hill; Honey, I Shrunk the Kids: The TV Show) será recurrente en Chucky como la alcaldesa Michelle Cross.

John de Lancie (Star Trek: The Next Generation) volverá a interpretar a Q en la segunda temporada de Star Trek: Picard.

Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine (The Chi, Treme) será recurrente en The Lincoln Lawyer como Raymond Griggs, un intenso y tenaz detective de Los Ángeles que investiga un asesinato.

Osy Ikhile (The Feed) y Caoilinn Springall (The Midnight Sky) se unen como regulares a Citadel. Stanley Tucci (Feud, The Lovely Bones), Nikki Amuka-Bir (Avenue 5, Luther), Susan Lynch (Happy Valley, Apple Tree Yard), Sara Martins (Death in Paradise), Leo Woodall (Cherry), Gráinne Good (The Other Lamb) y Leo Ashizawa (A Discovery of Witches) serán recurrentes.

Raff Law (Twist) será el sargento Ken Lemmons en Masters of the Air.

Tammy Townsend (K.C. Undercover) se une como regular a la sexta temporada de Queen Sugar. Paula Jai Parker (A House Divided, Family Time), Marquis Rodríguez (When They See Us, Iron Fist) y McKinley Freeman (Hit the Floor, Samantha Who?) se unen como recurrentes.

Thomas Barbusca (The Mick, Chad) y Adrienne Wells se unen como recurrentes a la tercera temporada de Black Monday. Serán Werner, un joven republicano del equipo de Blair (Andrew Rannells); y Nomi, una joven talentosa que pronto se convierte en la joya de la corona en el nuevo negocio de Mo (Don Cheadle).

Vic Mensa será recurrente en la cuarta temporada de The Chi como Jamal, alguien que quiere ayudar a su novia y a su hermana pequeña.

Eugenio Mastrandrea (All Cops Are Bastards), Keith David (Greenleaf, Future Man), Danielle Deadwyler (P-Valley, Watchmen), Kellita Smith (Z Nation, The Bernie Mac Show), Judith Scott (Snowfall, Dexter), Lucia Sardo, Paride Benassai y Roberta Rigano se unen a From Scratch.

Pósters

Nuevas series

Peacock ha encargado un reboot de Queer as Folk centrado en un grupo diverso de amigos de Nueva Orleans cuyas vidas cambian tras una tragedia. Creada, escrita y producida por Stephen Dunn (Little America, Closet Monster), que además dirigirá el piloto. Produce Russell T. Davies (Queer as Folk, It's a Sin).

Tom Holland (Spider-Man: Homecoming, Lo imposible) protagonizará y producirá la primera temporada de The Crowded Room (diez episodios), antología de Apple TV+ que contará historias reales de personas que aprendieron a vivir con enfermedades mentales. Esta primera tanda, basada en 'The Minds of Billy Milligan' (1981), la biografía escrita por Daniel Keyes, trata sobre la primera persona absuelta por su desorden de personalidad múltiple, conocido ahora como trastorno de identidad disociativo, en los años 70. Escrita por Akiva Goldsman (A Beautiful Mind, Fringe).

Justin Timberlake (Inside Llewyn Davis, The Social Network) interpretará al productor y presentador de concursos de televisión Chuck Barris. Según sus memorias, publicadas en 1984, esta profesión era una tapadera para ocultar su verdadero trabajo como asesino de la CIA en los años 60 y 70. Creada y producida por Jon Worley (Justified, SEAL Team). Escrita y producida por David Hollander (Ray Donovan, The Cleaner). Hubo adaptación cinematográfica en 2002.

HBO Max encarga King Shark, spin-off de The Suicide Squad. Escrita y dirigida por James Gunn (Guardians of the Galaxy, Scooby-Doo).

HBO Max encarga diez episodios de Minx, comedia ambientada en Los Ángeles en los años 70 y protagonizada por una feminista joven y formal (Ophelia Lovibond; Elementary, W1A) que se alía con un editor de poca monta (Jake Johnson; New Girl, Stumptown) para crear la primera revista erótica para mujeres. Con Idara Victor (Turn, Rizzoli & Isles), Jessica Lowe (Wrecked, Miracle Workers), Lennon Parham (Lady Dynamite, Bless This Mess), Michael Angarano (The Knick, This Is Us) y Oscar Montoya (Bless the Harts). Escrita y producida por Ellen Rapoport (Desperados). Produce Paul Feig (The Office, Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist).

HBO Max desarrolla Deeds, comedia negra sobre una agente inmobiliaria desesperada (Kristin Davis; Sex and the City, Melrose Place) que se embarca en un camino cada vez más oscuro cuando se ve obligada a aliarse con una pareja de sociópatas jóvenes y drogadictos que pronto descubren que en el mundo de los bienes raíces de Los Ángeles, en lo que se refiere a inmoralidad y comportamientos despiadados, les llevan ventaja. Escrita por Michael Davidoff (Working) y producida por Kristin Davis (And Just Like That...) y Ellen Pompeo (Grey's Anatomy).

HBO Max desarrolla una comedia ambientada en un campamento de verano en la que cuatro amigas de toda la vida que se preparan para ser monitoras jurarán mantener su amistad tras la llegada de una chica nueva desde otro campamento. Escrita por Lauren Herstik (American Vandal, Pearson).

Showtime desarrolla Mabel, serie precuela de Madea en la que Mabel Simmons se muda a Atlanta en 1972. Escrita por JaNeika James y JaSheika James y producida por Tyler Perry.

The Downstairs Girl, la novela de Stacey Lee (2019), tendrá adaptación televisiva. Ambientada en Atlanta en 1890, sigue a una joven que vive con su guardián en un sótano y trabaja como criada para una de las familias más adineradas por el día y escribe anónimamente en un periódico por la noche. Escrita por Aminta Goyel (Ghostwriter).

Fechas

La décima temporada de Call the Midwife se estrena en BBC One el 18 de abril

El estreno de la 2ª y última temporada de Selena: The Series se adelanta del 14 al 4 de mayo

Girls5eva se estrena en Peacock el 6 de mayo

Run The World se estrena en Starz el 16 de mayo

La quinta y última temporada de The Bold Type se estrena en Freeform el 26 de mayo

Panic se estrena en Prime Video el 28 de mayo

La tercera temporada de Sistas se estrena en BET el 9 de junio

La undécima y última temporada de The Walking Dead se estrena en AMC el 22 de agosto

Tráilers y promos

Loki

youtube

Selena: The Series - Temporada 2 y última

youtube

Run The World

youtube

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series - Temporada 2

youtube

The Mosquito Coast

youtube

Pose - Temporada 3 y última

youtube

Girls5eva

youtube

The Chi - Temporada 4

youtube

Jupiter's Legacy

youtube

#series tv #television

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jed-thomas · 4 years ago

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Ministers with and without Portfolios

When you want to demonstrate your sincerity, you write a letter.

The summer is nearing its summit and 1982 is disappearing in a confused fog. Somewhere, Micheal Foot opens up an envelope. An ambitious young candidate, recently selected in some leafy suburb of London, has written to him. You can feel the youth in his writing - and, regrettably, a palpable eagerness to impress. Nevertheless, there are some admirable phrases:

Socialism ultimately must appeal to the better minds of the people. You cannot do that if you are tainted overmuch with a pragmatic period in power.

For men like Foot, members of a modern British tradition, politics and oratory are not separable. Even the timbre of your voice comes into it. On some cold picket-line, at some bored union congress, or against the baying of the other half of the House, you have to fill the air and rouse the spirits. In so many ways, the tradition of British socialism is a poetic tradition.

Maybe, then, he spots it a mile away. A lack of inspiration, the absence of a real perspective. That faint sense of pantomime. Or otherwise, Michael Foot, soon to be an ex-leader of the Labour Party, dimly registers the writer’s display of party-loyalty and just puts the letter aside. This man had crashed the party’s vote-share in Beaconsfield. Tony Blair is saving face.

Last Friday, it was announced that the constituency of Hartlepool would return its first Conservative MP in 62 years. Labour’s vote-share crashed by 16%. Perhaps most astonishingly, the Conservative victory in Hartlepool is only the second time in 40 years that a party in government has taken a seat from their opposition.

In immediate response, Leader of the Opposition Keir Starmer MP moved to reorganise the Labour Party’s campaign office. Importantly, Deputy Leader Angela Rayner MP was removed from her position as Chair of the Labour Party, the position ultimately responsible for election campaigns. As the Deputy Leader is elected separately, Starmer’s decision has been criticised as an attempt to undermine the influence of a senior elected official. However, as the days have passed, Rayner has emerged with a new position - or, more accurately, a few new positions. Angela Rayner MP now shadows Michael Gove MP as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster and occupies the newly-created, elegantly-titled office of Shadow Secretary for the Future of Work.

Former MP for Hartlepool and Minister without Portfolio under Tony Blair, Peter Mandelson has been named by sources within the party to Guardian columnist Owen Jones. According to Jones, Mandelson signed off the press strategy for Shadow Cabinet members following the result in his former constituency.

It’s raining in Stockport. The King Street bridge is abandoned. Looking at the slow river, she knows that she is a cliché, a tired punchline. And she knows that she’ll have to leave school. Other girls have done it, so she’ll get through it, too. But it’s an abrupt and unceremonious change to whatever path she was on before. 16 and pregnant. A joke. Then again, wasn’t this always the intended outcome, in one way or another? Cornered. It was going to be a long time before she understood that there was anything that could be done about that.

The wind takes a few of the leaflets out from under his armpit and scatters them all over the carpark of Oxted station. A favour, he thinks. It’s 8 in the morning, they’re all commuters. No-one’s taking them. As if some serious city lawyer is going to read about the future of proletarian resistance, let alone in a pamphlet handed to him by a spotty adolescent. East Surrey Young Socialists. He isn’t blind to the humour of that. Some preachy privately-educated Surrey boy. He had tried to explain that he’d gotten into Reigate fairly and squarely, that it’d only just started asking for fees in the last few years. Much to his chagrin, by the way. People around here don’t listen. If they did, they’d see that there was nothing to be scared of. But they’re closed off, rigid. It’s enough to make you want to pack it all in, honestly.

His father was staring out at the snow falling on the houses of Hampstead Garden in one of his attitudes of preparation. He had an abiding sense of danger, of impending calamity. Peter always attributed that to his religiosity. Eschatology. The End Times. “Have you compiled your application yet?” “Of course, Dad.” Peter knew the counterpoint melody. Your mother and I have worked too hard. He would say it like that because his mother is the real concerned party. Descendants of the Labour Party aristocracy are obsessed with elite education. He is pretty sure that he will get in. He’s clever, goes to a good grammar. And when he gets in, he is going to have fun, the sort of fun you can only have at a place like Oxford. Judgement Day is a long way off.

The Hampstead Garden Suburb was the brain-child of two idealist architects, Raymond Unwin and Barry Parker. The pair were disciples of the Arts and Crafts movement, an aesthetic philosophy with global reach that found particular purchase among British socialists; indeed, Unwin was a life-long and active member of various socialist organisations. Hampstead Garden was to be spacious, communal and open to all social classes. It was built on land purchased from Eton College by a wealthy patron. The Hampstead Garden Suburb Trust Ltd., established in 1906, executed Parker and Unwin’s designs.

Peter Mandelson was born in 1953 to an advertising manager and the daughter of Herbert Morrison, the Leader of the House of Commons under Clement Attlee. He was raised in the Hampstead Garden Suburb, attended a local grammar school and then, studied at Oxford. As a teenager, he was a member of the Young Communist League. At university, he joined the Oxford University Labour Club.

As a veteran in public relations by the time of Tony Blair’s bid for leadership of the Labour Party in 1994, Mandelson, distrusted by trade union representatives within the party, played his part in the successful campaign in near anonymity, being referred to by staff only as “Bobby”. In his acceptance speech, Blair used the moniker when expressing gratitude to his campaign team. After running Blair’s successful general election campaign a few years later, Mandelson was appointed to the office of Minister without Portfolio, allowing him to attend Cabinet meetings without having any formal obligations. Critics have likened it to a sinecure. In 1998, Mandelson resigned from government, having failed to declare dealings with millionaire Cabinet colleague, Geoffrey Robinson. He is now a peer, happy to be part of the club.

Oxted is an incredibly old town. When William the Conqueror ordered a survey in 1086, Oxted had its various assets - hides, churches, ploughs - recorded. It remained a sleepy time-capsule until it was reached by the new railway system in 1884 and run-off trade from London began to bring money into the town. At the beginning of the last decade, it was the twentieth richest town in Britain by income.

Born to a nurse and a toolmaker in 1962, Keir Starmer was named for the first parliamentary leader of what would become the Labour Party, Keir Hardie. He attended a grammar school and was the first in his family to graduate from university, obtaining an undergraduate degree in law from the University of Leeds. As a result, he undertook postgraduate study at Oxford and became a barrister in 1987. During this time, he edited Socialist Alternative, a controversial magazine associated with various factions on the Marxist left.

Starmer is a relatively green politician, having only been selected as a candidate for Holborn and St. Pancras in 2014. The majority of his life has been spent working in the legal system. In 2010, Starmer successfully prosecuted 3 Labour MPs and a Conservative peer on charges of false accounting. In 2011, he encouraged the rapid prosecution of several rioters, sometimes on the testimony of undercover police officers. In 2012, Starmer brought a case against former Energy Secretary Chris Huhne which resulted in the only resignation of a Cabinet Minister over legal proceedings in British parliamentary history. In 2020, as Leader of the Opposition, Starmer ordered Labour MPs to abstain on the third reading of the Covert Human Intelligence Sources Bill, which granted undercover police officers full legal immunity for all actions undertaken on duty. Desperate to be heard, Starmer re-tweeted a Guardian column by Angela Rayner MP, adding: ‘We’ll make sure you know Labour is on your side.’

Stockport lies just south-east of the City of Manchester at the point where the Rivers Tame and Goyt become the Mersey. Although bisected by the feudal borders of the counties Cheshire and Lancashire, it belongs to a different epoch. Stockport is a town with almost 300 years of industrial history, home to one of the first mechanised silk factories in the entire British Isles. Surveying all of England for his 1845 history ‘The Condition of the English Working Class’, Friedrich Engels remarked that Stockport was ‘renowned as one of the duskiest, smokiest holes’ to be found in the industrial heartlands.

By the time Angela Rayner was born on a Stockport council estate in 1980, the country seemed eager to be free of this history. This eagerness sometimes manifested as a disdain for trade unionists and benefit claimants. Both of Rayner’s parents were eligible for benefits. And at 31, Angela Rayner was a senior official for the public-sector union Unison.

Having left school at 16 to raise her first son, she got her GCSEs by studying part-time at Stockport College, where she eventually qualified as a social care worker. At work, she clashed with management, discovering a flair for negotiation that would get her elected as a union steward. Finally, after years and years of confusion and uncertainty, someone was being made to answer.

#hartlepool #labour #boris johnson #peter mandelson #tony blair #angela rayner #keir starmer #conservative party #owen jones

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harleyquinnbluemoonlove · 4 years ago

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Welcoming the new Social Movement/Platform/Political Party in the World

Official Name: Blue Dog Bite Mafia 888 *BETA*

Owner/CEO/Founder/Dealer/Player/Delivery BAD B:

Current Name: Monica Gill FUTURE Name: Mercedes Lynnette Giovanni

Email: [email protected]

Current Financial Status: $0.00 ---- You may DONATE by using CASH APP Cash Tag #$bluedogbitemafia888

***MY CYBER FAMILY MUST ENSURE THAT DONATIONS ARE NOT HIGHJACKED/STOLEN****

BASIC IDEA/PLAN OF ATTACK/EXECUTION OR POSITIVE WORDS LIKE “LAUNCH”. We can issue an ATTACK or a LAUNCH CODE.

I will dumb it down a little bit. I am taking advantage of my position of power, now that I am a Celebrity in the World. Its the greatest feeling in the world, feels better than good sex and that is a hard thing for me to admit because I love some good, hot, sweaty sex and I’ve been going without for several weeks. I almost fell like a Nun because I cannot even pleasure myself because I was molested as a child by Lovie Price’s boyfriend “Frank Parker” a gasoline man from an early. I told Connie Price about it when I was 15 and her name at the time was Connie Dunford. It was the same day Brandie Ann Thompson said Curtis Triplett tried to rape her in the bathroom at the house In Frayser, Memphis TN. Brandie Ann in her hayday, resembled a youthful Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz dated Justin Timberlake once upon a time. She played in the move “The mask” and the mask was green. At the end of the movie, the dog put on the mask. You all know, when you wear that mask---you become a Shape Shifter, transforming into anything/anyone you think will grab the Hot or Not Rated #10 Woman’s ATTENTION/HEART/LOVE and will do anything, I mean anything to get it. The secret to my success is a compilation of everything good, bad, dirty, evil and let’s call it “The Struggle” or the “Human Experience”.

Old School (OS) Operating System (OS) Back to Basics (B2B) Brandie Thompson (BT) Barry Thompson (BT) Blue Tooth (BT) Brandie Smith (BS) Bull Shit (BS) Rent A Center (RAC) Roger Adren Crawford (RAC) $1K (RAK) Rags to Riches Richard Abernathy (RA) **secret boyfriend shh!!** Douche Bag (DB) or Douglas Belknap (DB) Thomas Jones (TJ) County Road (CR) Danny Thomas (DT) Deanna Thomas (DT) ... Trying to show you how I think period dot. In ya’ll are slow, period dot also equal two dots. You must have two dots to play connect the dots and draw the lines to illustrate inspiration into a masterpiece. The best pieces of Art are very old, have a solid reputation, and is properly curated to ensure it maintains its value for infinity times three.

Basically, you can get with my program, drink my Kool Aid, swallow your pride, do the right thing, if you have done something wrong, you really need to return to your basic religious beliefs what they may be, get right with yourself, because what you have done will come to light, exposed, we are moving on from there. We are, as a society going to change and deliver the children and the children’s children: a brighter future with more options, a limited amount of privacy, give them the world and see what they can accomplish with living in a world of positive vibes, beautiful colors, great music, entrepreneurship, dreams, and now, the little girls if we get married will truly believe in fairytales. This right here is whats up because we have an opportunity, once in a lifetime opportunity, to fix society, establish unity and peace, competition is good but everyone needs a chance to win sometimes to boost their confidence and pride. When there is monopoly or kingdom, it fosters the seven deadly sins, seven capital sins, and the seven cardinal sins, which is systemic to original sin.

Genesis clearly explains that certain things were created on certain days and back time was measured. You cannot just create a man or a woman. First, you need the Universe. Then, you need the Galaxy which creates Space. In Space, you have the moon, stars, sun, planets, black holes, asteroids, comets, shooting stars, orbit, gravitational pull. Here we are on planet Earth with 7 continents and 7 oceans. I like the number 8 because it represent a number, a symbol, and no limitations--infinity. My son was born on 3-8-03 weighing 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 19.5 inches long, color: BLUE, life: No sign of it. It took 10 minutes and PLEADING WITH THE LORD AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS SCREAMING PRAYING TO PLEASE GIVE HIM LIFE, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE GONE THROUGH 35.5 HOURS OF LABOR AND 7 HOURS OF HARD PUSHING WITH NO PAIN MEDICINE, NO EPIDURAL, GAVE BIRTH TO A STILL BORN BABY NATURALLY AND THE GOOD LORD ANSWERED MY PRAYERS AND THAT BOY CRIED AND WENT TO THE NICU AT BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND. ITS ALSO REFERRED TO AS “THE PRESIDENTS HOSPITAL”.

He is 17 years old, already a MASTERMIND and a Professional Gamer. He is so smart like me, that he had to design/build/code his own computer because there is not a computer on the planet that can keep up with his level of gaming. I saw a photo of it. Its a desktop computer with the case taken off the side--lit up with blue LED lights

It’s Confession Time and Holy Communion Time that means confess your sin, wrongdoing, break bread, eat bread, drink wine, not whine. No days off, no excuse, no immunity, no setups, no blame game, no liars, no stealing, checks and balances, no absolute power because absolute power fosters absolute corruption, which is why were in this position right now with COVID-19, Corona Virus.

I think one person needs a pardon because he has stayed on the job, even though he was originally lied to by the Feds. He deserves a pardon, record expunged, and an opportunity. I see great potential, just needs an opportunity, believe in himself, and have the courage to escape his own prison of gold diggers, groupies, fans, and whores.

In this triad, it is a rags to riches story times three. There is only 1 TRUE VERSION of ME, and its right here in Memphis TN, age: 41(Birth Cert).

To succeed in any sports game, you must be fit, educated, content with yourself to include your pros/cons/demons and knowledgeable & intelligent enough to know that I am certified True OG, I got your back no matter what because to me money ain’t a thing, fame fades just like stars, but loyal dogs do not turn on their master unless they are abused or hungry. I am a Blue AKC Royal Bloodline Pitbull, Staffordshire Terrier. Pitbull is the image you need to have in your mind when you think of ME.

#donations #loyalty #888 #TRUMP2020 #IG #WHISTEBLOWER ACT #RULES #ESPNSPORTS #RAPGODS #GREEKGODS #GOD #CLASHOFTITANS #THEGAME #THEROCK #GLUE #DOCTORS #LAWYERS #COWBOYS #DANCE #L.I.F.E. #LOVE #SM #EM

#NEED SOME COM[ANY AND VITAMIN D

BLUE, COME ON UNLESS YOU ARE “CHICKEN” “SCARED”

I PROMISE I WILL NOT BITE. BUT, I AM STARVING, LONELY, NEED MONEY TO CREATE AND LAUNCH MY DREAMS TO POSITIVELY AND EFFECTIVELY CHANGE THE WORLD WHICH WILL PLACE ME AND PRESIDENT TRUMP IN THE HISTORY BOOKDS. AND THE HISTORY BOOKS ARE GOING TO BECOME FACTBOOKS, AND HISTORY CLASSES WILL BE MANDATORY THROUGHOUT LIFE REGARDLESS OF AGE, POSITION, JOB, FINANCIAL STATUS BECAUSE THE BEST EDUCATION IS A “CONTINUOUS EDUCATION”. IF YOU DO NOT CONTINUE LEARNING, YOU BECOME RUSTY AND THEN, YOU CANNOT KEEP UP THE FAST PACED CHANGES OF ADVANCE TECHNOLOGY IN THE REAL WORLD AND IN THE REAL GAME OF LIFE.

RECOMMENDATIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:

1. DONATE MONEY TO MY CAUSE ON CASH APP

$BLUEDOGBITEMAFIA888

DO NOT HACK MY PHONE OR MY LAPTOP, DO NOT HACK ANYTHING OR ANYBODY BC YOU CANNOT DO IT BETTER THAN U.S. BC U.S. CREATED THE INTERNET IN WASHINGTON DC AT THE PENTAGON CALLED “DARPANET” IN 1974. THE FIRST COMPUTER WAS AN APPLE, SECOND COMPUTER WAS MICROSOFT. A GOOD BRAND IS A HP WITH MS WINDOWS. I HAVE A BLUE HP LAPTOP STREAM, I HAVE A BLACK APPLE IPHONE 7. I AM ON A WIFI WITH A VPN THAT KEEPS GETTING DISABLED. THE SOUND ON MY PHONE DOES NOT WORK. I AM BACKING UP BOTH DEVICES AND GOING TO RESET TO FACTORY SETTINGS SO I CAN GURANTEE EFFECTIVE DIGITAL SECURITY.

2. I NEED COMPANY TO SIT WITH ME, DRINK WITH ME. I WOULD LOVE SOME JACK AND COKE OR A BUD LIGHT. I WOULD ALSO LOVE SOME FOOD THAT CONTAINS RED MEAT TO ASSIST ME WITH MY BLOOD PROBLEMS. BUDDY OR BLUE OR YO -- FIGURE IT AND SEND ME SOMEONE I KNOW. I AM TOO PRETTY AND TOO COOL TO BE CHILLING BY MYSELF WITH NO FOOD, NO ALCOHOL, NO MONEY, NO WEED, ETC.

3. SELF EVALUATE OR DO A PEER REVIEW/. SELF EVALUATION IS LOOKING AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND THINKING ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I LIKE TO WRITE THINGS DOWN, IF HELPS ME. IT WILL BRING ABOUT A SENSE OF UNDERSTANDING WHO, WHAT, WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE, HOW YOU BECAME PERSON, AND DESIGN YOUR OWN ROADMAP TO BEING A BETTER PERSON AND OPENING YOUR HEART TO REALIZATION THAT THE CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE, RIGHT WE ARE THE WORLD, WE CAN ACHIEVE GREATNESS, A NEW TYPE OF MAGIC “UTOPIA”.

WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT? WHAT DO YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE? ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOURSELF? CAN YOU FREE YOUR MIND? CAN YOU OPEN YOUR HEARTS? CAN YOU COMMIT? DO YOU KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN? DO YOU HAVE CONFIDENCE? ARE YOU IN YOUR OWN PRISON--YOUR MIND, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS?

WISDOM COMES WITH TIME, EXPERIENCE, EDUCATION, HARD WORK, SERVICE, LOYALTY, PURPOSE, AND TRAVELING.

At the end of the day, who do you want to be with?

Woman - Wise can deliver the world or drop the world, age 41 -- looks better than 20 & 30 year old GIRLS. Does not care about money, fame, status, power because the game was scheduled and unfortunately, unaware of the OP -- she walked, ran, sprinted STOLE the Flag, and won the game.

Everyone wants to still run their mouths, try to control a man, and those hos, have no power, position, fame, etc. They are with or around you because of who you are, what you have done, and what you can give them---in my opinion that is abuse of power and targeting someone to manipulating them to do what you want them to do.

I like structure, things to be done a certain way because I like cleanliness, organization, faith, love, hope, trust, and loyalty.

I would not cop an attitude with everyone, if I did not feel like the world was against me. Hint, hint -- I don’t trust authority figures because I was molested, abused, targeted, almost died several times, lied to, cheated on, setups, smear campaigns, gossiped about, bullied, beat on, yelled at, called names, jealous women everywhere so dumb they forget I have a hunger against Human Trafficking. People are on this RACISM BULL SHIT.

Its 2020, Racism = IGNORANCE AND IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS ANYMORE, IGNORANCE IS DEADLY.

Basic belief system of Karma, it is a metaphysical/paranormal reality that is mixed with real, artificial, and soon-to-be virtual reality. It is what it is.

What you set your mind, what you do and the thoughts and actions you put into the world will either grant you your dreams or come back times three by the of karma, what goes around, comes around.

I want/will do good and be a good role model for everyone. I am going to teach, help you, do what I want, when I want, how I want because I know my worth, my value, and what I can GURANTEE/DELIVER.

Greed, jealousy, laziness, and all the ugly things that are in the world

WILL

get you no where but hungry, lonely but free, penniless, candy-less, eliminate sports.

COMMIT OR QUIT

MY MISSION WILL ENDURE AND CARRY ON UNTIL I FEEL MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. I DO NOT HAVE A FAILURE TO THRIVE AND I DO NOT LACK A WILL TO LIVE.

MY ISNT OVER, YET;

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torturedwarrior · 5 years ago

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John Wayne Gacy:

“I should never have been convicted of anything more serious than running a cemetery without a license.” -- John Wayne Gacy, “A clown can get away with murder.” -- John Wayne Gacy. Who is John Wayne Gacy? What makes him a serial killer? How was he caught? American serial killer whose killings of 33 boys and young men in the 1970s attracted international media coverage and stunned his affluent Chicago neighborhood, where he was renowned for his sociability and success as a clown at charitable events and children's parties.

Gacy was raised into a blue-collar family and seems to have had a pretty ordinary upbringing. Yet he displayed an increasing inclination towards sadism, which resulted in a number of experiences with the law in the 1960s. In 1968, after his accusation that he had sexually assaulted a teenage boy, he was sentenced to the Iowa State Men's Reformatory (Anamosa State Penitentiary) and forced to undergo psychological evaluation. Following his release in 1970 and while still on parole, he was again arrested for sexual assault, but the charges were dropped later. In December 1978, the police found the first of 29 bodies buried in the affluent billionaire John Wayne Gacy's estate—26 in the crawl space beneath his residence in Norwood Park Township, and three more outside the building. He admitted to four further victims ' killings discovered in the waters south of Chicago. Forty years later, here's a roadmap to Gacy's trial, prosecution and execution, and ongoing attempts to identify the other six missing survivors. Gacy then became a fairly successful independent contractor and bought a house in Chicago's suburbs.

In 1975 teens in the uptown community inform the Chicago police that a man named "John" is circling the city in his car to pick up young people. It's John Wayne Gacy, a suburban man who runs a remodeling company. Officers are watching dozens of young men in and out of Gacy's house in Norwood Park Township. They're stopping many of them for questioning, but they don't say anything against Gacy. He is popular in his family to hold get-togethers and sometimes dress up as Pogo the Clown. In January of 1976 the police stake out John Wayne Gacy’s Home. Suspecting that Gacy might be responsible for the disappearance of a 9-year-old boy, the Chicago Police Youth Division is monitoring his house just east of O'Hare International Airport, although it is outside their jurisdiction. They're not in a position to make a case against Gacy.

“No, I don't think that's possible. I think it...after 14 years under truth serum had I committed the crime I would have known it. There's got to be something that would... would click in my mind. I've had photos of 21 of the victims and I've looked at them all over the years here and I've never recognized anyone of them.” -- John Wayne Gacy. Then in March of 1977 Gacy was suspected by police of a sexual assault. Twenty-seven-year-old North Sider Jeff Rignall says that Gacy lured him into his car by offering him marijuana before using chloroform to make him unconscious. Rignall claims Gacy then brought him to his home, arrested him, then sexually assaulted him before he let him leave. A $3,000 civil suit was dismissed in the incident. On December 31st, 1977 police had seized Gacy but then released him. He was charged by Chicago police when a 19-year-old North Side youth claims he was kidnapped by a gunpoint guy and compelled to participate in sexual acts. The police document reveals that when he was brought into custody, Gacy acknowledged that he was participating in activities with the youth—and their brutality—but declined to encourage the child to participate. The Deputy State Attorney chooses not to charge Gacy.

In December 11, 1978 a young boy by the name Robert Piest who was a 15-year-old sophomore at Maine West High School goes missing. Piest says to his mother to wait for a couple of minutes, because he has to see a man who pays 5 $/hour for a construction job, almost twice as much as he does in the drug store. But he has not been seen again. Then on December 12th, 1978 Lt. Kozenczak, whose son is attending the same high school as Piest, is insisting on a thorough investigation. He learns that Gacy, whose PDM Contractors had recently remodeled Nisson Pharmacy, was the man Piest went to talk about a job. Gacy was then asked to come to the station for investigation.

The next day on December 13th, 1978 Gacy leads police to a search warrant because he denied everything he was being charged with. Later investigators discover that Gacy's car was towed at 2 a.m. from a snowbank. On the Tri-State Tollway north of Ogden Avenue— about 38 miles north of where Gacy later claimed to have dumped the body of Piest. The tow truck company's reports help investigators assess the moment Gacy disposed of the youth's body within an hour. Around 3:20 a.m., Gacy marches with mud on his pants and shoes to the Des Plaines police station. He asks for a conversation with Kozenczak but is told to return later. He returns and gives a brief statement to the officers. Kozenczak asks Gacy to give him a search warrant for the keys to his house. Gacy is protesting but giving up his keys. Then December 21st, 1978 Gacy was arrested. Gacy is seen as passing a package containing cannabis to a gas station clerk while under police surveillance. According to Gacy, then arrested. Investigators were informed that Gacy has already confirmed that he has conducted "maybe 30" killings to his attorney. With Gacy in custody, police from Des Plaines and investigators from the office of Cook County sheriff get a warrant and enter Gacy's one-story. Police accuse Gacy against his will to hold Piest there and threaten to tear the floor to find the body of the teen. Gacy denies that Piest is there but says he was forced to kill a self-defense man and buried him under his garage's concrete floor. He directs police to the driveway and labels the place on the ground where the corpse is found with a can of spray paint., ranch-style house again.

On December 22nd, 1978 Gacy Finally confesses. "(Gacy's) giving all kinds of statements, saying there's a body here, a body there, a body in a lake or a lagoon, a body buried.” -- Cook County Sheriff Richard Elrod. In a rambling, repetitive speech that continues for several hours, Gacy tells police that after having sex with them, he murdered 32 young men. He speaks about himself in the third person, claiming "Jack" or "John" performed the murders and sex acts. He claims he hid the corpses of 27 people on his estate (29 would be found), most of them in the crawl space. Five other corpses (four would be found by police), including Piest's, have been dumped into waterways south of Chicago, claims Gacy. He sketches a diagram showing where the bodies are buried, offering six of his victims ' addresses. Gacy was convicted of the assassination of Piest, although the corpse of the teenager was not identified. December 26, 1978 the police find eight bodies in the crawlspace in Gacy’s home; but nine bodies were recovered. " ... one of the most horrendous (cases) I have ever had anything to do with."-- Cook County State's Attorney Bernard Carey. eight so far from the crawl space in the northeast quarter of the house, in an area under the office where Gacy conducted his remodeling business.

The Police have found thirty-two bodies but only five were not identified. The victims of John Wayne Gacy are: John Butkovich (18 years old), James Mazzara (20 years old), Frank Landingin (19 years old), Gregory Godzik ( 17 years old), John Szye (19 years old), Rick Johnston (17 years old), Timothy Jack McCoy (16 years old), Michael Bonnin (17 years old), Robert Gilroy (18 years old), Jon Prestidge (20 years old), Russell Nelson (21-22 years old), Victim No. 28 (14-18 years old), Victim No. 5 (22-32 years old), Darrel Samson (19 years old), Samuel Stapleton (14 years old), Randall Reffett (15 years old), William Carroll (16 years old), Victim No. 26 (22-30 years old), Jimmy Haakenson (16 years old), Victim No. 21 (21-27 years old), William George Bundy (19 years old). Michael Marino (14 years old), Kenneth Parker (16 years old), Victim No. 10 (17-21 years old), Matthew Bowman (18 years old), John Mowery (19 years old), Robert Winch (18 years old), Tommy Boling (20 years old), David Talsma (20 years old), William Kindred (19 years old), Timothy O’Rourke (20 years old), and Robert Piest (15 years old).

"I don't know what this trial cost. Whatever the cost, it was a small price. My voice is cracking because I really feel it's a small price we pay for our freedom. What we do for the John Gacy’s of this world, we will do for everyone." -- Judge Louis Garippo. March 13th, 1980 John Wayne Gacy has been sentenced to death. Judge Garippo imposes an execution date for John Wayne Gacy for June 2, 1980, but the penalty is indefinitely postponed while the case is brought before the Supreme Court of Illinois. On May 15th,1980 Gacy’s Lawyers; Sam Amirante and Robert Motta who have been paid each of the amount of $44,424 for defending Gacy have withdrawn from the case and then they billed the county $57,603 for expenses. Then his judge-Judge Garippo resigns from the bench after twelve years as a Cook County Judge to go into private practice. "If his lawyers believed that deluging the court with paper at the last instant would lead us to delay the execution in order to have more time to read the documents, they were mistaken."-- Judge Frank Easterbrook, U.S. Court of Appeals. Gacy finally died after a lethal injection of drugs at 12:58 a.m., with all his civil challenges rejected. At the Corrections Facility in Stateville near Joliet and Fried chicken and butterfly shrimp was his last meal.

Work Cited:

Jenkins, John Philip. “John Wayne Gacy.” Encyclopedia Britannica. Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc., 31 Oct. 2019. Web. 14 Dec. 2019.

Rumore, Kori and Kyle Bentle. "Here are John Wayne Gacy's victims - Chicago Tribune." Chicago Tribune: Chicago news, sports, weather, entertainment. 17 Dec 2018. Web. 13 Dec 2019. <http://www.chicagotribune.com/history/ct-john-wayne-gacy-victims-20181215-htmlstory.html>.

"Timeline: Suburban serial killer John Wayne Gacy and the efforts to recover, name his 33 victims - Chicago Tribune." Chicago Tribune: Chicago news, sports, weather, entertainment. Web. 13 Dec 2019. <http://www.chicagotribune.com/history/ct-john-wayne-gacy-timeline-htmlstory.html>.

"Top 20 quotes of JOHN WAYNE GACY famous quotes and sayings | inspringquotes.us." Inspiring Quotes | inspiringquotes.us. Web. 13 Dec 2019. <http://www.inspiringquotes.us/author/1001-john-wayne-gacy>.

#clown #john wayne gacy #serial killer

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loftin-law-firm · 14 days ago

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Looking for an experienced assaults and family crimes lawyer in Aledo, Weatherford and Parker County? Get trusted legal support and a strong defense for your case. Our skilled attorneys are here to provide personalized guidance and fight for your rights.

#aledo assaults and family crimes lawyer #weatherford assaults and family crimes lawyer #parker county assaults and family crimes lawyer

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devinfm · 5 years ago

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joe keery. cis male. he/him. ／ jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i also write parker ( @prkrfm ) which is the best place to contact me for plotting!

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he has one sibling, a younger sister.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed.

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since.

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchman and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just…doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled…he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #just posting for reference!

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lboogie1906 · 3 months ago

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Attorney Louis L. Redding (October 25, 1901 - September 29, 1998) was the first African American man admitted to practice law in Delaware. He argued one of the cases that formed part of the SCOTUS Brown v. Board of Education decision.

He was born in Alexandria, Virginia to Lewis Alfred Redding and Mary Ann Holmes Redding. His father worked for the post office and founded the Black YMCA in Wilmington. He graduated from Brown University, where he was the commencement speaker for his graduating class. He earned money for law school by working as an assistant principal at Fessenden Academy. He taught English at Morehouse College. He was the only African American in the Harvard Law School Class of 1928.

He became Delaware’s first and only African American lawyer for 26 years, he was not admitted to the Delaware Bar Association until 1949. His cases ranged from divorces and criminal defense to business mergers. During WWII, he was recruited to serve as a lawyer for the federal Office of Price Administration office in New York City.

He won a lawsuit proving that the Delaware State College for Negroes was not “equal” to the white-only University of Delaware. Judge Collins J. Seitz, in Parker v. University of Delaware, ordered the University of Delaware to admit African Americans. The integration of the university led to integration at many other locations, including movie theaters, hospitals, and retail stores.

He undertook two new lawsuits, the first for African American high school students in Claymont who wanted to attend the all-white Claymont High School, and the second for a family in Hockessin, Delaware, asking for a school bus for their daughter. He successfully argued a SCOTUS decision, Burton v. Wilmington Parking Authority, which held that segregation in public accommodations was not permissible.

He received an honorary LLD from his alma mater, Brown University. The University of Delaware named one of the dormitories after him. The County-City building in Wilmington is named after him.

His brother was J. Saunders Redding, author, and professor of literature. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #alphaphialpha

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renegadepharmacist · 6 years ago

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An onslaught of pills, hundreds of thousands of deaths: Who is accountable?

By Joel Achenbach, Lenny Bernstein, Robert O'Harrow Jr. and Shawn Boburg

July 20 at 7:53 PM

Logan County, W.Va., saw more than 45 million oxycodone and hydrocodone pain pills between 2006 and 2012, according to a DEA database. (Michael S. Williamson/The Washington Post)

The origin, evolution and astonishing scale of America’s catastrophic opioid epidemic just got a lot clearer. The drug industry — the pill manufacturers, wholesalers and retailers — found it profitable to flood some of the most vulnerable communities in America with billions of painkillers. They continued to move their product, and the medical community and government agencies failed to take effective action, even when it became apparent that these pills were fueling addiction and overdoses and were getting diverted to the streets.

This has been broadly known for years, but this past week, the more precise details became public for the first time in a trove of data released after a legal challenge from The Washington Post and the owner of the Charleston Gazette-Mail in West Virginia.

The revelatory data comes from the Drug Enforcement Administration and its Automation of Reports and Consolidated Orders System (ARCOS). It tracks the movement of every prescription pill in the country, from factory to pharmacy .

[Explore The Post’s database: Find the data for where you live]

Retired from the DEA, Jim Geldhof is a consultant for plaintiffs in a lawsuit against the drug industry. (Mark Abramson for The Washington Post)

“This really shows a relationship between the manufacturers and the distributors: They were all in it together,” said Jim Geldhof, a retired DEA employee who spent his 43-year career working on drug diversion cases and is now a consultant for plaintiffs in a massive lawsuit against the drug industry. “We’re seeing a lot of internal stuff that basically confirms what we already knew. It just reinforces the fact that it was all about greed, and all about money.”

The industry has denied that vigorously, blaming criminal doctors who prescribed opioids as if they were candy and individuals who abused the drugs. The industry also contends that the DEA had all the information it needed to stop diversion of pills into the black market.

“The DEA has been the only entity to have all of this data at their fingertips, and it could have used the information to consistently monitor the supply of opioids and when appropriate, proactively identify bad actors,” said John Parker, spokesman for the Arlington, Va.-based Healthcare Distribution Alliance. “Unlike the DEA, distributors have no authority to stop physicians from writing prescriptions, nor can they take unilateral action to halt pharmacies’ ability to dispense medication.”

The DEA declined to comment this past week, citing pending litigation.

It appears that failures mark every point along the supply chain — from manufacturers to distributors to pharmacies to the doctor all too ready to write a script. The epidemic was not something out of sight, behind closed doors, under a bridge. In full view, it intensified and the companies, health care professionals, law enforcement officials and government regulators were unable or unwilling to stop it.

The Post had made public a significant portion of a government database that records the flood of prescription opioid pain pills distributed across the U.S.VIEW GRAPHIC

The Post had made public a significant portion of a government database that records the flood of prescription opioid pain pills distributed across the U.S.

“We have a tradition of trusting companies, and the [government] is kind of weak here,” said Keith Humphreys, a Stanford professor who served as a drug policy adviser to Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama. “Here it was misplaced trust.”

The data shows a trend in pill distribution that, according to the lawsuit plaintiffs, can’t be passed off as reasonable therapeutic medical treatment.

The industry shipped 76 billion oxycodone and hydrocodone pills across the country from 2006 through 2012, the period covered by the ARCOS data released this past week . These pills didn’t flow in a steady stream but were more like a flash flood, spiking from 8.4 billion in 2006 to 12.6 billion in 2012. As a point of comparison, doses of morphine, another mainstream treatment for severe pain, averaged slightly more than 500 million a year throughout the seven-year period, according to the data.

[Five takeaways from the DEA’s pain pill database]

The industry was supposed to self-regulate. Companies have an obligation, under the Controlled Substances Act, to report suspicious orders of prescription drugs. The plaintiffs suing the drug companies allege that the incentive structures were tilted in favor of moving more product.

A new Mallinckrodt logo is unveiled in St. Louis in 2013. (Whitney Curtis/AP Images for Mallinckrodt)

For example, in a filing released Friday, the plaintiffs alleged that Ireland-based drug manufacturer Mallinckrodt gave the sales people in charge of generic opioids “key roles” in investigating suspicious orders of drugs. The compensation scheme “was weighted heavily to favor sales over compliance,” the plaintiffs allege, adding that bonuses for the sale of opioids could exceed six figures.

“In contrast, there is nothing in the record indicating that [national account managers] were evaluated based on their compliance responsibilities” or “ever penalized for failing to stop suspicious orders,” the lawsuit claims.

[Internal drug company emails show indifference to opioid epidemic]

After the release of the ARCOS data, Mallinckrodt said in a statement that the company produced opioids only within a government-controlled quota and sold only to DEA-approved distributors.

As of September 2012, Teva Pharmaceuticals, an Israeli-based manufacturer of generic drugs, didn’t have a suspicious-order monitoring system in place, according to the court filing. The company apparently decided it needed a system, and hired an AmerisourceBergen employee in 2014 to design it. He created a system called “DefOps,” short for “Defensible Operations,” which he admitted in a deposition was designed “to keep Teva out of trouble with the DEA and because it ‘sounded good,’ ” according to the court papers.

From 2013 to 2016, the papers allege, Teva reported only six suspicious orders out of 600,000.

Teva declined to comment Saturday.

The new details have made more nuanced and complex the familiar narrative of the pharmaceutical industry’s role in the drug epidemic. Many Americans knew about the role of Purdue Pharma, which in 1996 introduced the slow-release opioid painkiller OxyContin. The new formulation of oxycodone was heavily marketed by Purdue as being less likely to become addictive because, the company said, it didn’t give patients such a jolt of a high.

Experts trace the epidemic to the appearance of Oxy, its heavy marketing, and its migration into the illicit drug trade along with other opioid painkillers.

[How have opioids affected your community? Share your story.]

The public’s search for accountability has centered on Purdue and its owners, the Sackler family. Protesters gathered last year at the Smithsonian’s Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, as well as other institutions that received support from Sackler family members. Earlier this year, Harvard President Lawrence Bacow rejected a demand by activists that the university remove Arthur M. Sackler’s name from a museum collection, saying that the Sackler family had made the donation to the school before the introduction of OxyContin and noting that Sackler himself had passed away by that point.

Family and friends who lost loved ones to opioid overdoses leave protests on bottles outside the headquarters of Purdue Pharma in Stamford, Conn., in 2018. (Jessica Hill/AP)

In an earlier statement, Purdue denied the claims brought in the lawsuit and said they are based on mischaracterizations and without merit.

“We live in an age when assigning blame has become a national obsession, especially when it comes to the horrors of the opioid crisis,” Jillian Sackler, president of the Dame Jillian and Dr. Arthur M. Sackler Foundation for the Arts, Sciences and Humanities wrote in an op-ed in The Post in April.

Now Purdue is just one character on a crowded stage. During the height of the crisis, from 2006 to 2012, Purdue’s sales represented only 3 percent of the market. It was not even one of the three biggest companies manufacturing the opioids.

At the top were generic drug companies many Americans have never heard of: Actavis, a product of U.S. mergers, and now owned by Teva; Par Pharmaceutical, since acquired by Endo Pharmaceuticals of Ireland; and a generics subsidiary of Mallinckrodt, now known as SpecGx. They manufactured 88 percent of the opioids in those seven years.

Generic drug companies have been on an endless quest for steady profits because the prices of their drugs are unstable and generally declining, said David Amsellem, a managing director at financial firm Piper Jaffray and an expert on specialty pharmaceuticals. He calls these companies “low-market businesses that are looking for pockets of high margins.”

[As lawyers zero in on drug companies, a reckoning may be coming]

That situation has contributed to constant churn in the business. Companies are routinely bought and sold, divisions spun off, names changed. That’s part of the reason the firms responsible for the vast bulk of sales from 2006 through 2012 are virtually unknown to most of the nation. The generic companies don’t promote drugs on television, like the big-brand pharma companies.

“They’re order-takers,” Amsellem said.

The CVS in Norton, Va., population 4,000, received 1.3 million opioids from 2006 through 2012, according to the DEA database. (Charles Mostoller for The Washington Post)

The city’s Walmart received more than 3.5 million of the pills in those same seven years, according to the database. (Charles Mostoller for The Washington Post)

Less obscure are the big distributors: McKesson Corp., Cardinal Health and AmerisourceBergen. Also mentioned in the ARCOS data are retailers who distributed drugs. They are some of the most familiar names in America, including Walgreens, CVS and Walmart.

In statements to The Post on Tuesday in response to the release of the DEA database, several drug companies issued broad defenses of their actions during the opioid epidemic, saying they were committed to providing a legal product to legitimate pain patients while combating the diversion of drugs.

The drug epidemic is a case of supply and demand, and the newly released data makes clear that supply was never in doubt. The demand side is a more complex public health issue that brings into play the ongoing challenges of communities where the social fabric has been frayed. The new data shows that pills surged most dramatically into central Appalachia, particularly coal country, and bordering areas where the economy has been depressed.

In rural Virginia, 'ground zero' for America's opioid crisis

Norton, Va. was flooded with 306 pain pills per person per year from 2006-2012, according to previously undisclosed data obtained by The Washington Post.

Many people in those areas have endured hardship and job injuries. They need painkillers, including the powerful kind provided by derivatives of the opium poppy. Almost lost in the national controversy over the opioid epidemic is that some people need them badly. In the 1990s, amid extensive drug industry marketing, the medical community seized on a big idea: that freedom from pain was a fundamental human right. As a result, some of the stigma associated with opioid painkillers, which are cousins of street heroin, dissipated.

Within a decade, the pills became their own self-sustaining industry, a black-market and even street-corner product. The painkillers arrived in bulk at small-town pharmacies. That trend is parallel to a rise in the death rates in those communities. Prescription opioid overdoses have claimed the lives of more than 200,000 people in the United States since 1996.

A crackdown on indiscriminate doctors and pharmacists — commonly known as pill mills — as well as tighter prescription guidelines by the medical community have helped drive down the number of overdoses due to prescription drugs. This past week, in a rare drug-statistic bulletin delivering good news, government officials said the overall number of fatal drug overdoses in the country had dropped 5.1 percent from 2017 to 2018, the sharpest decline involving prescription opioids.

But the drug epidemic has hardly abated. Deaths from fentanyl, the powerful synthetic opioid that is being illicitly manufactured abroad and smuggled into the United States, continue to increase. There has also been a rise in deaths from cocaine and methamphetamine.

Just cutting off the supply of one type of drug, or focusing on treating people with addiction and throwing drug dealers in jail, won’t be enough to solve the underlying problem, said Paula Masters, vice president of population health for Ballad Health, which operates hospitals in some of the hardest-hit areas, including Southwest Virginia.

“All you’re doing is squeezing that balloon. If you only squeeze it one way, all you’re going to do is put the air in the other side,” Masters said.

Joseph Mastandrea, chairman of the now-defunct drug distributor Miami-Luken, testifies before Congress in 2018 about opioids. (Alex Brandon/AP)

The accountability question is now being played out in courts across the country. The big event is in Cleveland, where a federal judge is overseeing roughly 2,000 separate lawsuits filed against a rash of drug companies by counties, cities and towns across the country. Opening arguments are supposed to begin this fall in two test cases involving counties in Ohio. Thousands of records remain under seal, but may be released in coming weeks and could include depositions, internal company emails and internal company policies.

The outcome in Cleveland could be a massive, industry-wide settlement along the lines of what happened with the tobacco industry many years ago. But the drug companies have denied wrongdoing. Several executives have testified before a congressional subcommittee under oath that they did not believe their companies contributed to the epidemic.

John Hammergren, then chairman, president and chief executive of McKesson, the nation’s largest drug distributor, testified last year that overprescribing by doctors was the “key driver of the crisis.” He added, “At the same time, there clearly were certain pharmacies in West Virginia that were bad actors that McKesson itself terminated. In hindsight, I would have liked to have seen us move much more quickly to identify the issues with these pharmacies.”

George Barrett, then executive chairman of Cardinal Health, testified: “Pharmaceutical wholesale distributors do not and should not have visibility into the medical judgment or the patients for whom prescriptions are written. However, we can play a role by raising awareness of the dangers of overprescribing, which we are doing.”

The companies have said they remained within established guidelines for opioid distribution. They have argued that state regulators or the DEA should have stepped in if there was a problem.

“The ARCOS data show that distributors have consistently reported sales of opioid-based medications, along with the quantity of the order and the identity of the receiving pharmacy to the DEA. Distributors only recently received access to the full set of data with information about the total shipment of opioid medicines a particular pharmacy received from all distributors,” said Parker, of the Healthcare Distribution Alliance.

The DEA, with limited resources, relied largely on corporate self-regulation.

Some DEA agents and investigators tried to hold the industry accountable, and in 2005 and 2006, as the pill flood was building, they sent letters to drug distributors and manufacturers saying that they needed to comply with federal law and work harder to prevent their pills from being diverted to the black market.

Despite these warnings, diversion continued. The DEA began making cases against some of the biggest drug companies. The industry fought back. Some members of Congress pushed a new, more industry-friendly law, making it harder for the DEA to penalize companies for failing to report suspicious shipments of narcotics.

When companies did face penalties after government investigations, the fines were trivial compared with corporate revenue. The fines were essentially just one cost of doing business.

For example McKesson, the drug distributor, was fined a record $150 million in 2017. Its net income reported that year was $5 billion.

#opioid epidemic

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dovebuffy92 · 3 years ago

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Spoilers Below

INTRODUCTION

In The Staircase Episode Four, “Common Sense,” directed by Antonio Campos, the Kathleen Peterson (Toni Collette) Murder trial causes the Peterson-Ratliff family to crumble apart. “Common Sense” opens with Michael Peterson (Colin Firth) and his French girlfriend, Sophie Brunet (Juliette Binoche), entering the Durham County Courthouse on February 24, 2017. Michael walks into a courtroom while Sophie waits outside. A little bit later, Jean-Xavier de Lestrade (Vincent Vermignon) interviews Sophie.

Most of the Peterson-Ratliff clan sits through the trial to support Michael. They sometimes stay during supremely uncomfortable testimony. However, the family “screw up” Clayton Peterson (Dane DeHaan) stays in Baltimore because nobody wants him at the trial. Defense lawyer David Rudolf (Michael Stuhlbarg) and Michael bully Martha Ratliff (Odessa Young) into staying for the state pathologist’s testimony. The prosecution shows Kathleen’s horrific autopsy photographs. Jean-Xavier continues to document the trial and send tapes back to Paris so the editor can begin her work.

The pathologist finds that Elizabeth Ratliff didn’t die from a brain hemorrhage. Instead, she and Kathleen share similar head wounds pointing toward foul play. Margaret Ratliff (Sophie Turner) feels guilty for granting the prosecution permission to dig up her biological mother’s body. The former Ratliff babysitter, Angus Schaffer’s testimony, shakes Martha to the core. Angus suspected Michael of hurting Kathleen because he is the one who said Elizabeth died of a brain hemorrhage and abused his sons. After seeing Elizabeth’s autopsy results, Clayton rushes home to mixed reception.

Forensic expert Dr. Henry Lee (Wilky Lau) testifies that he believes that Kathleen died from multiple falls. Prosecutor Jim Hardin (Cullen Moss) can’t force the doctor to change his story. David feels like Dr. Lee’s testimony is the perfect end to the defense’s case, but now Michael wants to talk directly to the jury.

While fixing up a car, Clayton finds the clean blow poke that the prosecution said was the murder weapon. The defense team advises Clayton on how to answer questions in court. The siblings verbally attack one another when the eldest son’s domestic abuse charges come up. Michael stops the fight in its track by announcing he will testify about the blow poke.

David explains that if Michael testifies, the prosecution will ask him why he lied about receiving a Purple Heart. The author tells David about how he earned other military medals during the Vietnam war. Michael dragged his dying best friend into a foxhole. He held the other soldier until he died. The lawyer explains to Michael that the jury might assume that his story about a seasoned military veteran freezing up instead of conducting CPR on his dying wife is another lie. In the end, the novelist decides not to testify. Instead, David closes the case after introducing the missing blow poke. The prosecution panics now that they no longer have a murder weapon.

Prosecutor Freda Black’s (Parker Posey) fiery closing statement pulls on the juror’s emotions while David points out all the reasonable doubt in their case against his client. The jury finds Michael guilty. Flashbacks reveal Michael beat Kathleen to death on the stairs. Kathleen found the gay porn on his computer. She planned to divorce Michael, which he couldn’t allow. Back in the present, Jean-Xavier hugs the sobbing novelist in his last few moments of freedom.

The last sequence of the episode reveals that Sophie is the editor of The Staircase docu-series. Sophie writes to Michael in English, promising that she will tell his story. A story where he is the innocent intellectual widower found guilty by close-minded conservative Southerners. The editor plays Jean-Xavier, and producer Denis Poncet (Frank Feys) screens her first rough cut.

QUESTIONS OF JUSTICE

Sophie reveals her philosophy about justice during her 2007 interview with Jean-Xavier. The documentary crew films Sophie inside an empty courtroom. The director asks if Sophie thinks today’s proceedings prove that the American justice system works. She shrugs. Sophie states that it depends on one’s definition of justice.

There is a cut to the Paris editing suite as the post-production staff opens boxes full of trial tapes. The assistant editor starts editing a sequence about the trial. Sophie’s voice-over explains that a trial is just two sides trying to tell the best story. Then the jurors pick which side they believe. The winner’s story becomes justice. The assistant editor edits together a shot of a female juror looking shocked and Freda cross-examining a Gay man about what sex acts he was ready to perform with Michael. These two shots are entirely unconnected but editing them next to each other makes the juror look homophobic. The juror may have been reacting to an autopsy picture or some other piece of testimony. She may not even have a problem with queer men or women. The human mind creates a story if two images are placed next to each other, even if it’s not based on reality.

Now that we know that Sophie plans to paint Michael as a persecuted widower, it’s apparent that she is manipulating footage to tell her version of the story. Editing is always about making choices, but it’s hard to create an ethical account of events when you love your subject. The editor doesn’t care about attempting to tell the truth, only creating a seductive narrative that convinces the public to side with Michael. She wants to make “justice.”

A little later, Sophie’s voice-over interview states that justice is a construct that can affect somebody’s whole life. In other words, justice is not real. The editor is shirking her responsibility to seek justice through the documentary by denying it exists. Sophie’s ethics allow her to edit a bluntly subjective docu-series because she doesn’t think she owes the victim anything.

SISTERS TORN APART

Before this episode, Michael’s actions destroyed his family, but small moments of connection reveal that there is still a sisterly bond between the Ratliff siblings and Caitlin Atwater (Olivia DeJonge). Caitlin broke off from the Peterson-Ratliff-Atwater family because she believes Michael killed her mother. Everybody in Michael’s camp practically disowned her. Caitlin’s aunts also forced her to give up on a relationship with the Ratliff sisters because they couldn’t let go of their last living parent. Candance’s only sympathies are with her dead sister. The young adult sisters’ love for each other bleeds into the background of the trial.

Martha freaks out after seeing enlarged photos of Kathleen’s autopsy during the pathologist’s testimony. She falls into herself as the pathologist explains what’s happening in the images. Martha cries audibly. Caitlin, concerned, glances at Martha from across the aisle. She wants to comfort her little sister. They are all struggling with these horrific images of their mother.

Caitlin’s love for her two sisters affects how she hears Michael being found guilty. Instead of celebrating, she silently cries after witnessing Martha and Margaret sobbing in each other’s arms. Caitlin understands how hard it is to lose a parent. The Ratliff sisters have lost four. She runs into the women’s bathroom to throw up. When Caitlin finally exits the bathroom, her aunts guide her away. The Peterson family usher Martha and Margaret in the opposite direction. The press hounds both sides with flashing cameras and probing questions. The three sisters look back at each other. They all stare into each other’s eyes with desperation. Nobody wins at the end of a murder trial. Martha, Margaret, and Caitlin wish they could be leaving the courthouse together instead of being forced apart forever because they chose different sides.

LAST THOUGHTS

Michael destroyed his whole family when he murdered Kathleen. Let us know what you think of “Common Sense” in the comments below.

#tv recap #tv blogger #awards radar #the staircase #the staircase hbo #docu series #michael peterson #kathleen peterson #toni collette #colin firth #juliette binoche #Sophie Brunet

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