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kadebronson · 1 year

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ok i finally have a moment to type up about my c2e2 weekend

well it unfortunately started with a run to the DMV so i could get my ID because the site was kind of cryptic saying that everyone needed to have an ID on them at all times which like..... no one got carded but it was definitely needed for all the after hours stuff we did so whatever

and then i rushed to get ready to meet up with my friend rowan that i met through a transmasc fan discord for ofmd he came in for the convention but decided to be a bit early and stay a bit late to do all the typical chicago tourist stuff so i just him and his friends at their hotel and we hung out at the hotel bar

then saturday was the pirate day! i started the day meeting even more of people i met thru ofmd fandom and we did a quick walk around the con before getting into line for the panel so we got good seats (and we got such great seats!) and the panel was actually so good! i usually don't like watching panels and even being an ADHD dude with hyperfixations i usually don't even watch them because the second hand embarrassment is too much but it was just SO much fun! like you can tell they all really love being a part of the show and the fan questions were actually all so good

we had out photos after that and it was intense they really do rush you through those we did our samba photo first and he was so excited he was like "oh yes! knife happy roach! got it!" then we had our picture with kristian who is just the sweetest and then the trio together which was so funny rowan really wanted us to do prom picture so we decided that he was gonna stand with vico, abbi with kristian, ally with samba, and i was gonna stand to the side and pretend to be depressed i was dateless

and we get in and say "prom pose" and i strike my pose and the photographer laughed at me before realizing that vico's partner, who was sitting to the side and watching, was going "NO PROM PROM" because none of the actors really got it lmao so they let us redo it i can only imagine what the first pic looked like lol

and then i had my individual vico photo which was my gift to myself this year and i just walked in and was like "can i have a hug" and they were like "OF COURSE" and just pulled me in and i quickly got to say my planned "i love you thank you so much for jim" and was like backing out and they had honestly been getting yelled at by c2e2 staff for taking too long because they were like "of course by the way i LOVE your hair" and i'm like "omg thank you" as i'm still backing out because the staff are GLARING lol

rowan was on a panel for "found family trope in our flag means death" so we went to that and it was so cute and i teared up tbqh but yeah he gave a shout out like "yeah like most i found so many amazing people through this fandom and i even got to meet a friend from the transmasc discord server i'm in HI NOAH" lol

then we did a quick walk around artist alley because it closed so early we thought we'd have time to do the official meet up first but we knew we wouldn't make it and i am a bit sad i missed it but i got a shorty from killer klowns from outer space plushie and i love him so worth it

saturday night was karaoke then and some of my other friends julie and krys had planned that out and rented a private room that we then chipped in for and so it was all of us just hanging out in a nice sectioned off room and could enjoy ourselves and sing without worrying

and somehow i wasn't hungover and made it to drag brunch where one of our friends was in full kraken era ed cosplay and got pulled up on stage and roasted by the MC and we got kinda drunk again on mimosas but we still made it to the actual con although rowan only had some autos and then his individual vico photo i just kinda hung around i tried to find some more cool stuff but sadly i couldn't find any ofmd stuff really i did get one ed charm but i also got some great patches for my vest which i definitely could always use more patches for my vest

me and rowan had a bit of a quiet evening we ordered some food and watched ofmd (naturally) and then i had to head home because i couldn't really take off work so i went to work half dead and then me and rowan met up again after he had done the rest of his touristy stuff (he went to the bean of course and i ragged on him a bit for that) and we just hung out like lumps until he had to leave for his plane home (and i had to start dnd i know rip me)

i miss everyone so much already and i had such a great time like i only had a couple con experiences and they weren't great but ofmd fandom is honestly so awesome i had such a wonderful time so much so that even though i'm like i'm sad it's over i haven't had a post con depression as it were lol

but yeah i'm so exhausted now and for some reason i'm still making myself try to type up my writing today so now i gotta go do that before i pass out

#slice of life

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thegeekx · 2 years

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Film Threat Panels At Los Angeles Comic Con 2022

Join Chris Gore, Alan Ng, Dante James and the Film Threat team for a trio of panels at Los Angeles Comic Con on Saturday, December 3rd starting at 10AM. Come to the LA Convention Center and join in the fun. Here’s the schedule: Future Indies You Must See – 10AM (room 411) Prepare for an exclusive preview of independent genre films coming in 2023 and beyond with host Chris Gore (Film Threat)…

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kickmag · 2 years

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Terri Lyne Carrington Curates Carr Center & Midtown Detroit Jazz Crawl October 14th-28th

Terri Lyne Carrington is the curator of The Carr Center and Midtown Detroit's Jazz Crawl on October 14-28th. The New Standards Jazz Crawl, Shifting The Narrative: Jazz and Gender Justice kicks off its inaugural series of free concerts at eight of the city's cultural and educational institutions this month. Carrington, who is also a Grammy-winning jazz drummer and composer is among the list of performers that includes vocalists Lisa Fischer, Carmen Lundy, Jazzmeia Horn, Lizz Wright, Daryn Dean, and Charenée Wade, saxophonists Tia Fuller, Nicole Glover, and Camille Thurman, bassists Linda May Han Oh and Marian Hayden, pianists Andy Milne and Paul Cornish, drummers Susie Ibarra and Savannah Harris, flutist Nicole Mitchell, percussionist JoVia Armstrong, guitarist Matthew Stevens, and The Gathering Orchestra Nonet.

The Jazz Crawl is part of The Carr Center's yearlong 30th-anniversary celebration and the opening of the new Carr Center performance studio. Oliver Ragsdale Jr. President and CEO of The Carr Center says, “The opening of the Performance Studio is the pinnacle of our anniversary celebration. As we move closer to the opening, we are honored to work closely with partners Midtown Detroit Inc., and our Artistic Director Terri Lyne Carrington, who is not only expanding her artistry with compelling publications, visual arts, and film, but she continues to provide high-level and innovating programming and is a great collaborator for the Carr Center."

The New Standards Installation opens on October 14th and is a four-part interdisciplinary look at jazz through the lens of gender equality. There are works created by jazz artists Cécile McCLorin Salvant, Carmen Lundy and Jazzmeia Horn and contributions from visual artists Monica Haslip, Joe Diggs, Yesmin Tosuner and Ramsess. Sherry Rubel has a portrait of 30 influential women instrumentalists and Lizz Wright will present a recipe inspired by the New Standards theme.

Carrington's first-ever children's book Three Of A Kind will be introduced. The story revolves around the musical partnership of comprised of Carrington, the late Geri Allen, and Esperanza Spalding (ACS Trio). The book is written by Carrington, illustrated by Ramsess and designed to inspire young women to play instruments. The installation also includes a New Standards film documenting the creators, and the purpose of the book and album.

On Friday, October 14th the Carr Center will present a panel discussion, “Jazz and Gender: Forging a New Legacy” with scholar and cultural icon Angela Davis; and educators and authors Gina Dent and Robin D.G. Kelly, along with Carrington at the Carr Center Performance Studio.

On Saturday, October 15, the Carr Center will present a Professional Development Master Class with Carrington for band directors and band leaders to engage with her and other composers featured in her new book.

Carrington has promoted equality in the arts since founding the Berklee Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice in 2018. Last month the Berklee Press debuted her book New Standard: 101 Lead Sheets By Women Composers. The book brings light to compositions not usually thought of as jazz standards from composers like Lil' Hardin Armstrong, Mary Lou Williams, Alice Coltrane, Dorothy Ashby, Dianne Reeves, Geri Allen, Cécile McClorin Salvant, Maria Schneider, Cassandra Wilson, Nubya Garcia, Esperanza Spalding, Mary Halvorson, Nicole Mitchell and the recently departed Jamie Branch.

In addition to the book, Carrington's new STANDARDS vol.1 album was just released.

For more information about the Jazz Crawl check out The Carr Center site.

#terri lyne carrington #carr center detroit #jazz #patriarchy #free concert #Spotify

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mayquita · 5 years

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Enchanted 2019 - Colin & Josh

(x) (x)

#colin o'donoghue #josh dallas #colin cons #josh cons #o'dallas #enchanted 2019 #cons 19 #saturday trio panel #saturday trio panel pics

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bunnyinatree · 2 years

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I felt the need to draw the main trio in silly shirts. I like to call the second image, “The handcuffs were Light’s idea” :P

[image ID: The first image is a portrait-style drawing of Misa wearing a t-shirt that reads, “I love doomed relationships.” (I first saw that shirt in this post!) The second image is divided into two panels and is based on what I think is a Saturday Night Live skit. In the first panel, L and Light are standing inside of a bar wearing matching sweaters that read “not” and “Kira,” respectively. L seems distracted by something, and by the second panel, he has walked completely out of frame, leaving a disgruntled Light behind with a shirt labeling him as “Kira.” (I used this post for reference!) End image ID.]

#death note #misa amane #light yagami #l lawliet #my art

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especially-obsessed · 3 years

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Fog of the Heart (pt. 1)

Summary: After 70 years, you find out one of your best friends from the war has come back. You deal with the events as your life takes on multiple complications.

Word count: 4.1k

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader, Peggy Carter x reader, Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes (friendship trio)

Series Masterlist

*** - time skip (sorry there's a lot of these)

1944

“Is it true?” you asked, walking over to Steve. He remained silent. You couldn’t see his face, but you had a feeling you didn’t want to. Pins and needles started prickling at your fingertips. “Steve…” you try again. You can hear him take a deep inhale. You want nothing more but to reach out and rest your hand on his shoulder. Instead, you walk over to where he is and sit opposite him, as a tear threatens to roll down your cheek. You don’t dare look up at him. He let out a deep breath and you held yours.

“I couldn’t save him,” Steve said. You look down as more tears roll down your face. “H-he’s gone…”

The words echoed in your head. Couldn’t save him. You lifted your head, looked through blurred vision at Steve. Your heart clenched at the sight of him. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were puffy and red. His body was shaking as he tried to control himself. You stand up and walk over to sit next to him. You weren’t sure how to comfort him but you knew you needed to. Your mind was replaying his words over and over again in your head. He’s gone.

***

“Steve?” You asked, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. You felt a familiar tingle at your fingertips. You shoved your hands at your thighs, squeezing them together into fists.

“Steve, what’s happening?” Peggy pushed you away from the comms panel.

“Schmidt’s dead. . .but the plane’s heading straight for New York. It’s not going to be a safe landing.”

“We can get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do-”

“Y/n, there’s no time. I’ve gotta put her in the water.” A tear fell from Peggy’s cheek as she took a shaky breath.

“Steve, I can’t lose you too,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. You could hear the sincerity in his voice. You knew he was doing what he needed to do.

“Peggy,” Steve’s voice came through the mic. “I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance,” he said, his voice cracking. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the mic or him.

Peggy closed her eyes. Her lip started to quiver. You reached over and placed your hand on top of hers. She opened her eyes and looked at you, all of her tears ready to come crashing down.

“Alright,” she breathed out. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stark Club.” She bit her lip.

“You got it,” Steve replied.

“Eight-o-clock on the dot; don't you dare be late. Understood?” Steve didn’t answer and your heart skipped a beat. Peggy grabbed your hand.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance,” Steve said. Peggy smiled as much as she could.

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.” She said, another tear rolling down her cheek.

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve said quickly. “I’d hate to step on your fe-”

“Steve?” Peggy gasped.

Static.

***

2011

You visited Peggy from time to time, but as she got older, it grew harder and harder for you to visit without people getting suspicious as to why you weren’t. For a while, you had to meet in secret. Then it was only writing letters back and forth to each other.

She was old enough now that she was living in a nursing home, and you could visit her as much as you wanted. You told the people there that she was your aunt or something along those lines. It made you sad visiting her here. Although it was a nice facility and her family still visited when they could, you knew she was still alone.

Today was a bit different though. Your chest felt heavier as you walked through the automatic doors and past the front desk. You gave the girl there a fake smile and kept walking back towards the elevator; to Peggy’s room. You stood in the doorway when you got to her room, watching her for a moment. She was laying in bed, looking towards the window and smiling. You took a deep breath and walked in, putting a genuine, but small, smile on your face as you sat down in the chair across from her bed. She smiled at you as soon as she saw you.

“Hey, Pegs. How are you?” She nodded and thought for a moment.

“I know why you’re here, y/n,” She said.

“What do you mean? I can’t come by to visit an old friend?” You asked, pretending to be offended by her accusation. She only huffed at you and rolled her eyes.

“I know you too well, I suppose. I know you heard the news, otherwise, I wouldn’t be seeing you until next week.”

“You’ve figured out my schedule pattern now, too?” you joked. But she knew you were dragging this out.

“Have you seen him yet?” You asked quietly. You folded your hands in your lap and played with your fingers. “Yes, he came by yesterday.” You look down, staring at the odd coloring of the carpet. You couldn’t even explain what you were feeling right now if someone had asked you to. The weight in your chest grew.

Peggy broke the silence, cutting off your thoughts. “He asked about you.”

“And . . .?”

“And I told him that I didn’t know where you were. That you left soon after he did,” She said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

You nod, still looking at the ground. “Thank you, Pegs,” you thanked her quietly.

“Y/n, he misses you. You can finally see him again yet you’d rather run from him. Why are you so afraid?”

You looked at her and could tell she already knew the answer. She just wanted you to say it out loud. You took a deep breath. “C’mon, you know why. Unlike you, I didn’t grow old. I’m still the same age I was when he last saw me. He can’t know what I am.”

“Why not? y/n, you mean the world to him. If he knew you were alive and well-”

“No, Peggy.” you cut her off abruptly. You lowered your voice a little. “He can’t know. You can’t tell him, either. It’s better he thinks I’m somewhere else, old and grey, maybe even dead.”

“He needs you,” she gave you a pleading look.

“He doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Peggy just shakes her head at you. You sigh and take her hand.

“Pegs, you’ve been my best friend for almost 70 years. I trusted you with my biggest secret. Just because you understood and stood by me all this time doesn’t mean he will.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You try to read the expression on her face. Surely she’s not angry with you. She’s always understood this. You needed to tell her what you came here to say, anyways. Before she can say anything, you quickly fill the silence. “Peggy, I’m leaving. I’m going to London. I can’t stay in New York now that Steve’s back.

“But what about me? All I have to look forward to is seeing you every week.” Her words break your heart. You shove down the lump growing in your throat and smile at her.

“You have Steve now and I’ll still call you almost every day. And if anything happens I’ll be right back here as soon as possible. I promise.” You give her a reassuring smile, feeling the tears brimming in your eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” She says, tears forming in her eyes. You wipe a tear from her cheek and squeeze her hand.

“I’ll miss you too.”

***

Steve couldn’t keep his mind from racing. Coming back, visiting Peggy, thinking of everyone he lost, Bucky, you. His mind won’t stay quiet. He keeps his eyes open, elbows tight to his body, and lets the punches roll out onto the punching bag in front of him. E tries to focus on anything but his thoughts. He focuses on his breathing, how many punches he puts on the bag in a minute, the rhythm of his punches. He doesn’t pay close enough attention to realize that his punches have been getting harder. He speeds up, hitting the bag one right after the other until the bag gives out and collapses on the floor. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Something on your mind, Cap?” Fury asks him. Steve wonders how long he’s been standing there watching him. But he doesn’t say anything, just picks the bag up and hauls it off where there are five other busted bags laying on the floor. He wipes a strand of sweaty hair out of his eyes and walks back towards Fury.

“Did you visit her?” Fury asks.

“Yeah,” Steve replied bluntly.

“How was it?”

Steve sits down and starts to unwrap his hands and doesn’t say anything.

“Did she tell you anything about y/n?” Fury asks. Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of your name. Now he can’t physically bring himself to say anything. “Forgive me for being insensitive Cap. We just can’t figure out what happened to her. All we know is that she stayed with Agent Carter for 2 years after you went in the ice,” he stated. Steve still doesn’t say anything, just stares at Fury. An almost angry expression on his face. “And then she just disappeared, without a trace.”

“She went and lived her life, just like Peggy,” Steve said, standing up. Fury shakes his head.

“We don’t believe that. We suspect Agent Carter knows more.”

Steve racks his brain for any indication that Peggy might’ve known more when he visited her, but she was just glad to see him, not much else was said. And if she had something important like this, he would know by now. Wouldn’t he?

“If she did she would’ve told me. y/n was my best friend.”

Steve walks over, grabs his duffle bag, and walks out of the gym without another word. His mind was spinning.

***

2014

You almost forgot how much you hated New York traffic. This was unbelievable. It felt like you had been stopped at the light for at least ten minutes. The light finally turns green and you wait for the two cars ahead of you to start going. You’ve never been one for road rage, but the cars weren’t moving after a couple of seconds, and you had the urge to honk your horn at them several times. Funnily enough, the taxi driver ahead of you beat you to the punch, and the car in the front quickly pulled forward.

You only get a couple of yards past the intersection before you hear police sirens in the distance. You try to get over as far as you can and watch as an SUV flies past you, followed by multiple police cars. Ahead, two police cars collide, and one of them jumps out, wearing a cheap police outfit and sunglasses that hid his facial features. He jumps on top of the car and pulls out a huge gun and opens fire on the fast-moving SUV. You quickly decide that you should follow the chase, and pull your car from the side of the road and follow the chase, zipping past the two police cars that were stopped in the road. The officer out of his car watched you as you drove by, which made the hair on your arms stand up.

The cars chasing ahead of you swerve in and out of traffic. Cars tried to move out of the way but failed. The police cars slammed into them without a care. Something didn’t seem right here. You followed behind them carefully, making sure not to hit anyone who had gotten out of their beaten-up car from the chase. There’s a roadblock ahead at an intersection, and you come to a stop as you watch a man step out in front of the fast-approaching SUV.

The man launches some sort of device that flies under the SUV and ignites under the car. IT sends the back end of the car soaring in the air. The man moves out of the way just as the car flies past him, landing on its roof. You open your car door and can hear the breaking glass hit the concrete. The man starts to walk towards the SUV, and you start walking towards him. You can tell what’s about to happen next.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” You mutter as you start to pick up speed.

You know you need to help and quickly, so you decide to approach the man head-on. The man cocks his gun and aims it at you, which you duck out of the way. He doesn’t stop, his focus now on you. You jump at him, kicking the gun from his hands. You note his metal arm. He throws a few punches, and you grab his metal arm, using its momentum to mount yourself on his shoulders and lock your legs around his head. You use a piece of wire and wrap it around his neck, pulling up on his throat to try and cut off his airways. He tries to grab at the wire and pry his fingers between it and his skin.

He struggles with the wire, then grabs ahold of your wrists and grabs you with an amount of strength you didn’t even think was possible. You try to kick him, missing his arm and hitting his face instead. You hear something snap from the impact of your foot. He grips your wrists and leans forward, propelling you into a nearby car.

But as you get up, the man's mask falls off. You stare at him in disbelief, recognizing his face immediately. Your heart drops; skips a beat.

“No . . . Bucky?” You ask him, forgetting where you are for a moment.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He says with no emotion in his tone.

You decide at that moment you need to leave. You turn and run behind cars, running in the direction of where you had left your own. You yell at people to get out of the way and run. People give you funny looks and a few listen to you. You could hear more police sirens in the distance and hope that some actual cops were showing up, or even SHIELD. at this point.

You reached your car and fumbled with the door handle. You looked up to make sure he hadn’t followed you and threw the door open. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Surely, everyone else would be able to hear it, too. You started the engine and took off in the opposite direction as fast as you could, putting as much distance between you and the catastrophe you were just in.

***

Ever since his conversation with Fury, Steve felt as though Peggy was hiding something about you. He tried his best not to dwell on it so as to not upset Peggy. He tried not to bring up the subject, only mentioning past memories of the three of you together. Fury had never brought it up to him again, either. He must’ve dropped it as well. After all, it had been a couple of years.

But Steve couldn’t get it out of his mind. Over the last year or so he decided it was time to try and find some answers. The only place he could go without raising red flags everywhere was the Smithsonian. He visited the section dedicated to him and everyone that had a part helping him during the war. Steve saw pictures of Bucky and his face scattered throughout the museum. He still never got used to seeing pictures of his face plastered everywhere. It was strange. He pushed the thought aside and ventured further into the museum, passing the huge banners hanging from the ceiling. He subconsciously pulled the brim of his hat down. Making sure that it was hiding most of his face along with his sunglasses. Surprisingly, no one ever noticed that it was him.

He stopped to watch a video of you and Bucky together. He looked up to read the sign above the screen..

“Steve Rogers and James Barnes had been friends since childhood, with y/n y/l/n joining them in their late teens, forming the inseparable trio”

He looked back at the screen, yours and Bucky’s smiles making him grin. The screen changed to a video of just you. You were in some sort of interview and you were wearing your SHIELD uniform. There were a couple of people watching the screen as well, and he decided to move out of their way and sit down on one of the benches. He was just happy to hear your voice again.

“Bucky and Steve were my best friends. They were two of the most amazing people you’d ever meet.”

Steve looked down at the floor, a wave of emotions hitting him. Peggy came onto the screen, in the same style you had. He looked up when he heard her voice.

“Steve saved thousands of men. He really is . . . was, a hero. Without him, I would’ve never met y/n,” The screen panned out to the two of you sitting together. You looked at her and gave a sad smile, one that Steve could see right through.

“We’re all we have left now,” you said softly

Steve could sense how much the sadness weighed in your voice. He started to get the feeling that you would have never left Peggy.

Steve flipped open his watch and looked at the picture of Peggy.

“Peggy, where is y/n?” he asks himself quietly.

Steve had walked back to his apartment, which was some 12 miles from the museum. But he needed the time to think. He must have lost himself in thought because before he knew it, he was standing in front of his apartment door fumbling in the wrong pocket of his jeans for the key.

Once he’s in the apartment, he throws his keys on the nearby table and is about to kick off his shoes when he hears the soft melody of a trumpet filling the apartment. He wasn’t alone.

Steve makes quick work to flip the shield in his hand, and walk down the hallway leading to the living room, where the record player was set up. He takes a deep breath and turns the corner, protecting his body with the shield.

“About damn time,” came a familiar voice. Of course, it was Fury.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, lowering his shield.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just out . . .” Steve shrugged, trying to act like nothing was on his mind. Nonchalant, as Sam would say.

“Don’t tell me you’re still looking for her?” Fury said, sitting up in his chair.

“You’re the one that said-”

“I said that three years ago. I’m sorry I gave you hope.”

Steve set down the shield and walked into the room, closer to Fury. “If y/n’s out there, I need to find her.” He turns the light on and notices how beat up Fury’s face is. “What happened to you?”

Fury reaches up and turns off the lamp. “We’ve got bigger problems now, Cap. I need you to forget about her.”

The words rattled in Steve’s brain. Forget about her? How could he do that when nobody can tell him what happened to her? Steve looked at Fury, pleading for an honest answer.

“Do you think she’s gone?

“Yes,” he replies bluntly and stands up. “And I think she has been for a long time.” He walks closer to Steve and sighs. “I’m sorry you lost her, but we need you in the present day now, Cap. There's a mission briefing in an hour. We're looking for an assassin called the Winter Soldier.”

***

(A few days later)

Steve stopped dead in his tracks and watched as the man in front of him continued towards the elevator door. He needed to be stopped before the ships took off. Steve couldn’t think of anything better to say to get his attention and instead blurted out a loud “Hey!”. The Winter Soldier turned around and faced Steve. At this point, he didn’t even try to hide the shock on his face. He could barely breathe. He tried pulling himself together and slightly let his guard down. He took a couple of steps towards him.

“Bucky?” he asked quietly. Steve almost thought he was imagining this. “You can’t be . . . how are you alive . .?”

Bucky only stares at Steve with a blank expression on his face.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Steve says, more than shocked that Bucky showed no signs of recognizing him.

Without notice, Bucky takes long strides towards Steve and throws a punch, which Steve instinctively blocks with his shield. He notices Bucky’s metal arm as he also blocks that. Bucky kept going after him, and Steve could hardly focus enough to protect himself, let alone fight him. Steve looked for a way out. He slipped underneath Bucky and bolted to the elevator where he made his quick escape. Bucky stared at him as the doors shut, sending a chill down Steve’s spine.

He looked right at me and didn’t even know who I was. Steve thought to himself. How is it even possible that he’s still alive? It’s been over 70 years!

“Zola . . .” Steve uttered as it dawned on him what happened. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43 where Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did had to have helped Bucky survive the fall. They must’ve found him.

This was all of his fault. Steve slammed his fist into the elevator door, leaving a large dent in the metal.

***

“He didn’t even know who I was.”

“I’m sure he’s still in there.”

Steve looks over to Peggy’s dresser, where there’s a photo of y/n with Peggy’s kids when they were little.

“I just wish y/n knew Bucky and I were still both alive,” he said glumly.

Peggy looks over at the photo and then back at Steve. She can see the sorrow on his face.

“Steve,” she said softly. He looked at her, instantly hiding his pain. She smiled at him. “y/n will kill me for telling you this, but I’m dying now anyway.” She laughs softly at her own dark humor. “She’s alive, and she’s here, in New York.” Steve doesn’t say anything, and she can tell he’s having a hard time.

“When the time comes, she’ll be at my funeral. Find her. Once I’m gone she won’t have anyone left.”

A grin crept its way onto Steve’s face as he knew his instincts were right. “She never left you, did she?

Peggy shook her head. “Not once, until you came back. But she came back when I got ill.”

“Has she visited you since she got back?” Steve asked, wondering how often Peggy has someone to talk to, and how many times he’s missed seeing you.

“Everyday.”

Steve looked away, trying to hide his grin at this.

“Did she age as well as you?” He laughs.

“Almost, but not quite.” Peggy answered with a smile.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! I literally have no idea how to write a fight scene and I also didn't really know how to connect all of the different time jumps. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated!!

Likes, reblogs, and follows are greatly appreciated! Reblogs let me know I should keep on doing what I'm doing! (:

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fic #marvel x reader #nick fury #agents of shield #especially obsessed

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

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Anything for my Friends

[Gif Credit to @jarpadandjensens]

Square: Jensen Ackles ( @supernatural-jackles tell me a story bingo)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: She calls her one friend she can rely on when things go bad. Even remembering all the times he never let her down. Could it be he is the one?

Warnings: Break ups, angst, fluff, language (1 f-bomb mostly), light kissing.

Word Count: 2,261

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a/n: all respect to Danneel and her family, just for the sake of the FICTION, Jensen is single.

a/n2: Hope ya’ll enjoy! :3

She sat on her couch, watching her sad chick flick movie. Another break up under her belt having her in tears and ruins.

Not feeling right, she texts her best friend.

‘Hey, you got a minute? I could use a friend right now.’

‘Sure, be there in a sec.’

She met him while at a convention. She missed her room check in by two minutes and they had already given her room to anther group of people. And he happen to be standing there.

“You can stay with me if you’d like, I know you probably don’t know me personally but, we’re a fandom family, right?”

She stood there, shock and awe. He was asking her that? Was he serious?

“Are you sure? I mean, a fan staying with you.” She asks him.

“I’m sure.” He says with the sweetest smile.

“Okay, but if I make you uncomfortable, say the word and I’ll try to get me a room.”

He chuckles. “Sure thing, though I doubt you’d make me uncomfortable.”

He was hardly in his room, only in there to change some article of clothing, freshen up.

She, however, had the whole day open until later that afternoon for the J2 panel. Then Saturday morning the golden panel, and photo ops with J2M, J2 and Jensen, and the Saturday night special.

Sure the first thing she did when she and Jensen went up to the room, she snagged a bed and took a nap.

But due to the jet lag she missed out on the panel.

She woke up, seeing the time, she was already 2 hours late…the panel was long done.

Mad at herself for not setting the alarm, she heads out to the suites living room. Taking a spot on the couch, curling into herself, bringing her knees to her chest. The TV not even on.

She was looking forward to hanging out with everyone, meeting new people. And what does she do? Naps through the whole thing.

She heard the door open quietly.

“Oh hey, she’s up.” Jensen says.

She hears two sets of footsteps following him in.

“She looks upset,” she heard Jared say.

Misha plopped down on the couch next to her playfully. Making her bounce, but she doesn’t respond.

“I’d say yeah, she’s upset.” Misha says, taking the playful attitude down a notch so he could help her out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What’s got you upset?” Jensen asked, sitting on the edge of the couch next to her, Jared sitting next to Misha. The trio of tall handsome men committed in making her feel better.

“I missed the panel. I was looking forward to meeting everyone, and I missed it.” she says quietly.

“There’s always tomorrow.” Jared says.

“Yeah but I missed the main panel. I know someone’s gonna post that on YouTube and I’m gonna see it and think…oh yeah, the panel I napped through.” She says, putting her head down on her knees.

“How about we give you a sneak peek?” Misha says.

She looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Well, what are you wanting to know?” Misha asks.

“Season sneak peeks mostly. And I guess I do have questions on certain scenes and stuff but I’d have to show and tell them because I don’t know how to explain it.” she explains. “And just, stories, I love listening to your guys’ stories.”

“It might be a bit boring to you.” Jensen says.

“I’ll be the judge of that, can you share some please, I’m just feeling mad at myself for not setting an alarm, and missing out on all of that. Over a stupid nap.”

“Well, shit happens. You were tired, then there was missing your check in. You just needed to relax, and it slipped your mind. It happens.” Jared says.

She nods. “I know. I just take things that seem silly to people so seriously.”

“There’s no shame in that, it’s okay.” Jensen says.

Misha started telling stories about his kids, his time off. Jared jumping in with comments and a story. Jensen even jumping in with his time off.

“You and Sharon broke up, but you guys were so cute!”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t meant to be. She couldn’t stand the distance. So she ended things.”

“I’m sorry Jensen.” She says.

“It’s alright, I always see it coming whenever I’m in a relationship.”

“Well, if I were ever in a long distance relationship, I’d stay loyal to my man. I just worry if he’ll stay loyal.” She says.

Jensen smiles sweetly at her comment. “Well if he were me, I’d stay loyal.”

“Yeah, Jensen’s the most loyal guy you’ll ever meet.” Jared says, vouching for his friend.

“Well, do you guys want to be friends with me? I could really use some.”

“Hell yeah!” the men said in unison. Making her giggle.

And for the whole night, they ordered room service and binged Supernatural. Her asking any question that popped into her question when a scene came up, or even a particular episode.

Thinking back on this, there were moments she needed him, and he never failed to impress. He was always there.

She did worry how she’ll give the same amount of love he was giving her back to him when he needed it.

The long distance never bugged her however, one day he was away filming when he texted her.

‘Hey, you up?’

‘I am indeedy, what’s up Jay?’

‘Could use a friend right now, I need you.’

I need you.

She knew it was bad when she seen him text that.

She dropped everything, catching the first flight she got her hands on to Vancouver. Driving to his apartment.

She had told him she’d be right there. He didn’t know she met it literally.

She knocked on his apartment door at 4 in the morning. The door opening to a very tired looking Jensen Ackles.

“Y/N? I didn’t expect you to come all the way out here from Omaha.”

“What are friends for?” she says.

He let her in with a simple gesture. She took her shoes off at the door, hanging up her hoodie and purse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing him walk to his living room slowly with a slump in his shoulders.

“Had a rough scene today, we ended season 9 today. Jared was going through a rough time, and is hanging out with his girl Gen. And I’m over here, with no one.”

“I’m here now, you’re not going through this alone Jay.” She tells him.

He shot her a quick, crooked smile. She could see he wasn’t convinced.

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him close. He slowly returned the hug. He then began to bury his face in the crook of her neck, holding her just as close. She could feel a wetness land on her neck and shoulder. She readjusted her hold on him, as if she was trying to hold him inhumanly close.

“It’s okay Jay, I’m here. Let it all out.” She whispered.

They stood there for what seemed like forever, until she felt his lips on her neck, then her cheek and atop her head. He held her face in his hands as he looked at her with tearful eyes.

“Don’t ever change sweetheart.” He says.

“Never, anything for my friends.” she says with a sweet smile.

He returns a smile, bringing her back into a hug.

“You ready for bed, because judging when you sent that text and seeing you up and awake now, I’m judging you didn’t get any sleep?” she asked.

He shook his head against her.

“Lets go to bed Jay, you must be exhausted.”

“I hope I’m not over stepping, but could you stay. I just, don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Sure Jay,”

“Can you sleep with me, nothing more than a friendly cuddle?”

“Of course Jay, like I said, anything for my friends.” she says with a sweet smile.

He led her to his room, she was already in her pajamas having gotten some strange looks from people at the airports in both Omaha and Vancouver. Jensen was already in some comfy clothes, so he just shut his lights off and climbed into his side of the bed. She climbed in on the other side behind him.

As the two settled, she continued to hold him close as he snuggled into her as if making himself smaller. Her heart melted and broke at the sight. Someone so strong yet so vulnerable in front of her.

The next morning when she woke, he was curled into her side, holding onto her, sleeping soundly and peacefully. She couldn’t help but stare and play with his hair. Combing her fingers through the long strands of dark, dirty blonde hair. Her nails dragging lightly across his scalp.

He groaned, smiling before letting out a relaxed sigh.

She stopped, thinking she woke him up.

“Mornin’” he says groggily. Then takes her hand in his, placing her hand on his head. “Keep going.” He says.

Smiling, she continued to play with his hair. “Morning Jay. Feel better?”

“mm-hmm, much better.”

“That’s good.” She says with a smile.

Now here she was, another break up, waiting for her friend.

She heard a key being inserted into the lock, unlocking the door. The door opening revealing Jensen in a hoodie and sweats.

It was late at night; he was probably asleep or getting to bed.

“Sorry for bugging you.” She sniffles.

“Anything for my friends.” he says.

He walks over to her on the couch, sitting beside her.

“Who am I hurting?”

“No one.”

“Alright, then who’s got my girl crying?”

“He broke up with me.”

“He…you mean, Derek broke up with you, why?”

“Said he was getting tired of me. That I wasn’t giving him too much love.”

“Then he wasn’t a true boyfriend, let alone a friend to begin with.”

“He was so sweet when we first met, it’s like, after a year he just got tired of me.”

“Then that’s him, and his problem. This is not your fault.”

“I can’t keep a relationship longer than a fucking year, what is wrong with me?” she cried.

“Nothing, you want to know why?”

She looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“You and me, we’ve been friends for five years now. That’s a relationship you’ve kept for more than a year.”

“But we hardly talked when you were filming season 10…”

“That doesn’t mean anything, we can go months, years not talking, but we’re still friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I have some friends from the movie Devour, My Bloody Valentine, I haven’t spoken to them in years. And when we see each other it’s like nothing’s changed.”

She wiped her tears away as best she could, he brought up a finger, brushing it against her cheek.

“Not everything is your fault, you did nothing wrong sweetheart. He’s just a dick, and I don’t like it when my girl is crying.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s like you’re calling me your girlfriend.”

“Well you are my girl, and let’s not jump to that just yet, you just had your heart broken. Let it heal and you can ask me that when you’re better.”

She sat up, fully calm now. Looking him in the eye, not serious or upset. Just wanting the answer.

“Jensen, do you like me?”

“I might have fallen for you, I felt it that night you came over for me. You went out of your way to make me feel better. And you did so much for me. I loved you for it. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You love me?” she whispers. Shocked mostly that he admitted it.

“I do, but like I said you just went through a breakup, I wouldn’t ---”

She took the leap, her lips crashing into his in a sweet kiss.

It did shock him a bit, but he responded to her kiss, kissing her back bringing his hand to her neck, bring her close in the kiss. Their lips began to move, turning the kiss into a needy kiss.

After a moment, the pair pulled away gasping for breath. His forehead resting on hers.

“Say it again.” she says, breathlessly.

“I love you.”

She smiles, gushing at the three words leaving his lips.

“Thank you, I love you too Jay.”

He chuckles, smiling. “You sure you want to do this, I mean you just had someone break up with you, I don’t want to feel like a rebound.”

“You’re not, I fell for you after I stayed with you at the con. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He chuckles.

“I kept saying, it was just a crush. So I tried dating other guys. And they all ended the same, lasting one year. I just got tired of trying again, and I figured I just fess up and admit I’m in love before I hurt myself more.”

“Smart, and like I said, you wouldn’t make me uncomfortable.” He says.

“You sure?” she says coyly. Making him chuckle again.

“I’m sure.”

“So what do you want to do now?” she asks.

“Lets hang out some more, unless you want to continue making out like horny teenagers.”

“Both sound tempting, but lets hang out first.” She says.

“And how about I take you out to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up around 6.”

“Sounds good, can’t wait.” She smiles. Their lips meeting once again in a sweet kiss.

a/n: was it as fluffy as a fleece blanket? let me know! Feedback is always appreciated! :3

Jensen Girls:

@moonlight-on-her-skin, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy, @salt-n-burn-em-all, @akshi8278

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @flamencodiva, @megzdoodle, @misfit0118, @shawnie74, @akshi8278, @lyarr24, @anotherspnfanfic

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 4/12/2021

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queenbirbs · 3 years

Text

in plain sight | Ch. 1 | Ethan x MC

Book/Pairing: Open Heart / Ethan Ramsey x female MC

Word count: 3.3k

Rating: T

Summary: After Senator Farrugia's mysterious death at the Edenbrook, an upscale hotel in Boston, Special Agent Ethan Ramsey and CNN investigative reporter Sloane McTavish must untangle a web of secrets and murders before time runs out.

Category: AU series

Warnings: mention of off-screen su*cide, language

Continue to chapter two or read on AO3

Link to Spotify playlist

Saturday, January 10, 8:34 p.m.

“They could at least shut off the car alarm,” Bryce complains as they weave through the crowd.

A sea of phone screens float above their heads, all capturing the same lousy photo of a blue-tarped Nissan Rogue. Glass from the shattered windows sprinkles the pavement, where investigators are circling like vultures in their white Tyvek suits. Police cruisers and fire engines form a protective circle around the spectacle. Though their sirens are quiet, their lights flash in bright strobes of red, blue, and amber -- more of a crowd deterrent than anything else. Clogging the rest of the street are vans from all the local stations. Reporters are scattered about the sidewalk, all vying for the best angle of the scene, all spouting the same minute-thirty soundbites for the viewers at home. One of their own, Elijah, waves at them from his spot amongst the circus.

Above it all, rows upon rows of faces press against the glass of their windows, hands covering their mouths at the sight, ignoring the officers’ shouts to close their curtains.

“No way we’re getting a peek at whoever’s under that tarp.” Next to her, Bryce pauses to readjust his bag, trying to make it look less obvious. “So, how you wanna do this?”

From underneath her hat, Sloane shoots him a grin.

Pushing through the stragglers at the crowd’s edge, they navigate around the border of emergency vehicles and into the ornate building. The lobby is just as flashy with its gleaming floors and wooden panels. A chandelier hangs in the center, formed from hundreds of blown glass leaves suspended in a spiral. A marble staircase leads up to the second floor where the bar’s warm lights shine through floor-to-ceiling windows. Piped in through hidden speakers, classical music floats under the anxious murmur of guests. Bellhops herd them towards the elevator bank, urging them upstairs to their rooms. A woman sits on a velvet chaise lounge, black lines running down her face as she gives her statement to a trio of detectives.

It’s not hard to spot the stairwell door, teeming with cops as it is. Bryce frowns when he spots the uniforms. Sloane reads his expression with ease.

“It’s your fault for wearing that jacket everywhere.”

“It’s your fault for not snagging one of those for me.”

Patting him on the arm, she tugs the hat down further and slips into the group of officers headed up the stairs. It’s easy to go unnoticed in her dark clothes and makeshift disguise -- especially when one of them loudly jokes about out-of-shape cops, prompting a wave of sarcastic remarks. Despite the jesting, they all make it up to the twelfth floor landing to join three detectives, some CSU techs, and a hotel employee.

“Why are you all here?” one of the detectives demands to know.

“Lozoya said you needed us to secure the--”

“It’s a fuckin’ roof. What the hell is there to secure?”

The officers grumble at the tone, but stand firm. “Fine, sure.” The detective waves them through. “But no takin’ photos for your Pictagrams and no botherin’ the feds.”

Sloane steps out onto the roof with the rest, lagging behind but not pulling away completely. Two men stand near the door, their backs turned away from the wind as they converse. Whatever they’re saying is lost to the noise carrying up from below, so she passes on eavesdropping and trails after the officers as they circle towards the building’s front. Yellow tape has already been posted around a section of gravel, where the loose stones have been kicked around. From someone pacing and contemplating their decision, or two someones having a fight, she isn’t sure. One of the cops makes a comment about how he must have hit the fire escape on the way down, what with how his face was caved in. The others cringe at the mental image.

Slipping her phone from her coat pocket, Sloane hides it in her palm and snaps a round of photos. At least one of them will be useful, she figures. She’s edging closer to the tape and feigning interest in the view below when she spots the signet ring. It’s gold, made of three bands stacked and melted together. On the front is a small, black triangle with the number “33” stamped in gold.

“You’re not being as subtle as you think you are.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she raises an eyebrow at the man approaching her. He’s one of the FBI agents -- obvious by the expensive suit and coat, and from his lack of a visible badge. Homicide always wears theirs around their necks.

“I’m sorry?” she asks when he comes to a stop in front of her.

He’s tall -- like really fucking tall. This close, she can see the striking blue of his eyes as he glares down at her. His breath fogs out in a heavy sigh.

“Just because the majority of these morons don’t watch CNN doesn’t mean you can get away with trespassing.” With a pointed glance down at her hand, he continues: “Or taking pictures of active crime scenes. I could have you arrested, you know, for impersonating an officer.”

She slides her phone back into her pocket and reaches up to adjust her hat.

“Maybe I’m a fan.”

He levels an unimpressed look at her.

“No one is a fan of the Boston Police Department.”

“What’s your name?” she asks, sidestepping his attempt to corral her towards the access door.

“I’m not interested in being interviewed.”

Sloane tilts her head back and assesses him: no-nonsense and a little condescending, but there’s enough of a spark of sardonic humor in there to use. She could play up the charm, but she has a feeling he wouldn’t fall for it. Getting under his skin it is, then.

“Well, considering you aren’t in coveralls and booties, you’ve clearly nothing better to do than stand around anyway.”

“Getting you out of an active crime scene is in my job description, actually. Besides, don’t you have a war-torn country to parachute into?”

“They’re on a ceasefire right now. And besides, I know who’s under the tarp downstairs.”

The agent snorts at her claim and guides her closer to the door, his hand hovering near her back but never making contact.

“You and every other lookie-loo down there with a camera phone.”

“I was supposed to have a meeting with him tomorrow,” she tells him, keeping her voice low.

The brief chuckle is enough to tell her that she isn’t winning this one.

“Looks like your schedule cleared up a bit, then. Now, if you’d like, you can join your friend in the garish Hawaiian-print jacket who’s shooting B-roll in the lobby. But if I see you up here again, I won’t hesitate to arrest you.”

Sloane shrugs off his warning and digs into her pocket for her business card.

“I have information that might be relevant to this case, if you’d like to get in touch with me.”

“I’m sure you do, Miss McTavish,” is all he says as he takes the card. “But I’m not one for schmoozing, even if you deem it ‘relevant.’”

With an aborted gesture, he waves her to go on through the door and leave. She does so without comment, which surprises him. Though the look she gives him before she disappears down the stairs tells him that this may not be their last communication.

“Reporters,” he scoffs and crumples her card into his coat pocket. With that distraction taken care of, he turns to find his partner.

Tuesday, January 13, 12:46 p.m.

“Ethan, hear me out: maybe we try a different type of knock.”

His hand pauses in front of the door as he turns to his partner, asking his question by raising a single brow.

“I was reading about intimidation tactics in regards to psychological manipulation,” Baz continues. “It talked about the ‘cop knock’ and how commonly associated with guilt it can be. Maybe we try a softer knock, to let them know they aren’t in trouble.”

“They might very well be in trouble, though, if they lied to the police,” Ethan points out, to which Baz blinks at him and then sighs.

“I know. But we drove all this way and if we have to turn back around because another person decides not to answer their door I’m going to scream.” At Ethan’s look of doubt, he shifts on the stoop. “Okay, fine. I’ll sigh really, really loud.”

“Very out of character for you.”

Ignoring the comment dripping with sarcasm, Baz leans forward and knocks a gentle melody against the door. To the right of the stoop, the curtains in the window move back a few inches before falling back into place.

“Mr. Stevenson, I’m Special Agent Mirani and this is Special Agent Ramsey,” he speaks to the closed door. “We’re just here to ask a few follow-up questions.”

Inside, there’s the high tone of a woman’s voice before the muffled roar of a television reaches them. Knowing that camping out front of their door isn’t going to do them any good, Ethan nudges Baz and tips his head to the sidewalk. With a sigh of defeat, Baz follows him down to the SUV parked down the block.

“That’s the third one this week,” he whines, shuffling from foot to foot to keep warm as he waits for Ethan to unlock the car. “And it’s only Tuesday.”

Pulling the keys from his pocket, Ethan curses when a paper falls out with them and onto the asphalt. He bends down and snatches it up, crushing it in his palm to relieve some of the frustration he feels. Because Baz is right -- that’s the third witness who has refused to talk to them about what they saw Saturday night. The distrust of law enforcement he can understand as a reasoning, but for there to be so many in such a small span of time is nothing less than odd. It goes against the average, which is something he finds frustrating.

He slides into the driver’s seat and turns on the car. Baz lets out a weak cry of relief as he climbs into the cab and flips on the seat warmer. The crushed card ends up tossed into the other debris of the center console, where Baz eyes it with interest.

“Have you reached out to her yet?”

“Have I reached out to the person who trespassed onto a crime scene?” Ethan scoffs. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Maybe you should.”

“It would be a waste of time.”

Baz shoots him a look, as if he’s the one being insufferable.

“And driving out to Quincy isn’t?” he questions with a gesture to the neighborhood around them. “She said she had information. Right now, she might be the only one who’s willing to talk to us.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, then berating himself for the bad habit, Ethan glares out at the wintry mix settling on the trees and shrubbery. As much as the bureau likes to brag about solidarity with the press, he doesn’t like dealing with them. It’s no surprise that people whose job it is to stick their nose into other people’s business aren’t the easiest bunch to work with. Though the same could be said for his fellow agents. Including his partner.

Heaving out a sigh, Ethan hands the card over. The momentary event is cut short, however, when her phone rings out and then rolls over to her voicemail.

“This is Sloane. Leave your name, number, and reason for calling at the--” Baz hits the end call button and classical music plays through the car speakers once more.

“I could’ve left a voicemail.”

“Nobody leaves voicemails anymore.”

“Then how will she know it’s me?” Ethan asks.

With an elaborate gesture, Baz opens up the messaging app and begins tapping at the screen. Ethan rolls his eyes as he pulls out into traffic. The muddy water of the Neponset River churns below them as they head north along the interstate for Boston. The chime of a text notification rings through the cab.

“‘Can’t talk right now, in a meeting. Ready to share?’” Baz reads off.

“Tell her yes.”

Another moment of silence, then: “She says ‘no beating around the bush, then. I like that.’ Um, then says she’ll be downtown for the next hour, then has an interview at two. Are you able to meet her today, or do you want to do this over the phone?”

“I despise texting.” Ethan does a double-take when Baz’s fingers move in a flurry across the screen. “No, don’t send--”

Another chime sounds.

“She says ‘that checks out.’”

“What does she mean by that?”

“That you’re a classic type of guy, you know,” Baz fumbles. “Really… old-school, but in a cool, retro way.”

“Uh-huh. So, where does she want to meet?”

Tuesday, January 13, 1:34 p.m.

“Where’s your hat?”

McTavish lets out a dry chuckle at his question and hops down from the retaining wall as they approach. The leather messenger bag she carries smacks against her hip; she immediately shoves it behind her as a reflex.

“Last time I wore it, I was accused of impersonating an officer. Figured it would be safer to leave it at home.”

“A wise decision,” Ethan says. “An even wiser one would be to toss it.”

At the suggestion, she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

“Nah. But c’mon, you aren’t here to share fashion advice. Let’s walk and talk.”

This time of year, the Common has nothing more to offer than the bare limbs of the famous oaks and elms. Being the middle of the day, only a few people are out skating on the frog pond. Dreary weather aside, Ethan likes the winter season -- there’s less violent crime when it’s cold out. It’s hard to motivate hardened criminals into action when it’s below freezing. Not that it stopped whoever tossed Senator Farrugia off the Edenbrook’s roof.

“I assume you’ve had less than good luck when it comes to follow-ups,” McTavish says as they wander down a branching path.

“What makes you say that?” Baz asks.

Rolling her head to the side, she glances between the two of them before settling on Ethan.

“Because you wouldn’t have stooped to contacting me if things were going fine. How many times have you been stiffed?”

“One no-show and two others that wouldn’t come to the door.”

“Damn.” McTavish clicks her tongue. “And it’s only Tuesday. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve had about the same luck.”

Ethan stops short, forcing the others to halt, as well.

“We’re not here to make conversation. At the hotel, you said you had information.”

“I do, or -- at least, I’m trying to uncover a deal he was working on with--”

“Everyone knows the deal he was working on,” he interrupts, much to her obvious frustration. “That addiction rehabilitation bill was all over every news site for the past three months. Including yours.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “and everyone knew he wasn’t going to go through with it. Not when the Cyrus Brothers donated to his campaign last week. It’s no coincidence that they’re one of the biggest players behind privatizing the prison system in Massachusetts. The less people clogging the prisons, the less money in their pockets.”

When he glances over to his partner for confirmation -- he’s never been one to pay much attention to the finer workings of corporate America -- Baz gives a small nod.

“Tell us something that everyone isn’t aware of, then,” Ethan demands.

“The Edenbrook and a big-name pharma company have something going on under the table.”

It’s certainly not what he was expecting her to say, as evident by the fact that he has to bite back a reaction.

“Who we talkin’?” Baz jumps in. “Lavinium? Cale-Anderson?”

“Bigger,” McTavish says with a shake of her head.

“Sachmis?”

“Think Greek.”

“Can you two stop--” Ethan tries to quash their guessing game, but he’s drowned out by Baz’s excited gasp.

“No way! Panacea?”

“Bingo.”

Crossing his arms, Ethan frowns at the name.

“What do they want with an old-money hotel, though?”

McTavish bites at her lip and fiddles with her bag’s strap.

“I’m not entirely certain just yet. But it can’t be pure coincidence that their CEO Declan Nash stays at the hotel pretty often, especially when he owns two properties in the area. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that legislators who stay at the Edenbrook later pull their support from anything that would wound Panacea’s revenue. There’s something suspicious going on there, though, I’m sure of it.”

“Nash is a total scumbag,” Baz agrees. At Ethan’s pointed look, he doubles down with: “In my professional opinion, of course.”

McTavish gives a not-so-subtle gesture to her watch.

“Damn, and it’s almost two. Okay, so here’s my deal: I give you whatever information I learn from my interviews if you share the tox results from Farrugia’s autopsy.”

“We won’t get those back until--” Baz tries to deflect, but it’s no use.

“You mean you won’t share results with the public until three weeks from now as a precaution. Especially since everyone thinks he killed himself since his mistress came forward.”

“Ah, but you don’t?”

She levels an unimpressed glance at Ethan for his tone. He doesn’t bother adding that he’s fine with the public thinking that; it gives them more time to work behind the scenes. He gets the sense that she’s smart enough to know that.

“Politicians don’t commit suicide over infidelities -- they go to sex rehab or church and then pay to get themselves out of the news circuit. C’mon, guys, you’re the feds and he’s a United States senator. Give me a little credit.”

“Why do you want them so badly?”

“I’ve got a hunch.”

Humming as he weighs his options, Ethan scrubs a hand across his jaw.

“And I’m supposed to let you in on an investigation because you have a hunch.”

“I think my hunch record speaks for itself,” she says, her chin lifting as she smirks. “I was the one who dropped the Nighthawks’ doping scandal. And I uncovered Farrugia’s shady dealings when he was the mayor of Worcester in the mid-2000s.”

The agents share a look. Maybe adding another player to the field wouldn’t be so bad. After all, they have been trying to talk to the senator’s aide for the past few days and haven’t had much luck. Though his whereabouts were confirmed the night of the supposed murder, Ethan has his suspicions. And if there’s anything the guilty hate, it’s talking to the feds.

“How easy would it be for you to secure an interview with Travis Perry?”

McTavish’s mouth curls into a scowl at the name.

“Not very,” she murmurs. The grimace drops from her face a moment later. “But I’m always up for a challenge. I’ll see what more I can do. But I think something bigger is at play here.”

“So do we,” Ethan assures her. “Like you said, this is a senator’s death we’re dealing with. We have to be methodical about this. If that means taking the time to clear some names from the board, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“But keep in mind that we are on a tight schedule here because they’re firing up the retort next Monday morning. Any physical evidence will be gone.” The corner of Baz’s mouth dips into a frown. “There’s no exhuming and running another autopsy on ashes.”

“Understood. And as much as I’d love to stay and discuss funeral plans, I’ve got an interview with a former bellhop.” With that, McTavish readjusts the strap across her shoulder and nods at them. “I’ll be back in touch when I’ve got something to share, boys.”

“Ramsey,” he offers as he reaches out to shake her hand.

“Baz,” his partner says as he does the same. “It’s what all my friends and/or secret press contacts call me.”

He rolls his eyes at Baz’s comradery. McTavish flashes him a smile, her nose scrunching up as she does, as if this is some private joke he isn’t privy to. Ethan shoves down the immediate notion of how charming he finds the expression.

“Well, you can call me Sloane, then.”

Taglist: @openheartfanfics @writinghereandthere @maurine07 @lsvdw-blog

Author's notes and what-have-yous:

*rolls up to the club six months later to find a closed sign on it*

Okay, all kidding aside, I've been working on this thing since September 2020 and decided it was high time to post. I'm breaking my Number One Rule posting it now, since this story is technically still incomplete, but I am currently working on the final chapter.

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart fics #Kaila writes things #f: in plain sight

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