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thisapplepielife · 3 months ago

Text

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Tip Your Driver

Of all the shitty service jobs Steve's had, this one is definitely among the worst.

And he's been stuck working some pretty shitty jobs over the years, both before and after they moved out here. If he hadn't hated the one at the shoe store so much, because ew feet, he wouldn't be doing this in the first place. At least that was in one location, a steady paycheck, and not that far from their apartment. But, he didn't know that feet draw in some weirdos, so here he is, lugging other people's shit around, because he needs the money.

He just sighs as he pulls up in front of the address on the app. He double checks the posted numbers over the garage, and it seems to be the right place. Everything matches enough for him to call it good.

The house is really nice.

It's not in The Hills or anything, so he hadn't expected something so nice.

Now, Steve doesn't mind delivering groceries, not really, but this guy, Eddie it says, ordered a bunch of heavy shit, and the tip was only the mediocre bare minimum. Which, he wasn't that mad about, until right now, after he's seen the house this guy lives in.

No, now he's pretty annoyed.

Whatever. Par for the fucking course from Fancy Pants Rich McGee over here. How the hell you spell chauffeur? Chauffeur. Indeed. Maybe he should make tiktoks about situations just like this. Robin keeps hounding him, saying if he'd just do it, that he could rake in a little extra cash.

He's skeptical.

Steve looks back at the house.

Oh well. He left his money behind for a reason, the only thing he kept was his car because his parents were dumb enough to put it in his name. And honestly? It does him no good to be jealous or whatever the fuck he's feeling right now.

At least this guy had been responsive, and pretty nice, when answering Steve's messages about substitutions and out of stock items. Not everybody is, unfortunately, acting as if Steve is the one stocking the store himself.

Steve opens the back hatch of his car, and leans in to grab the first items to be left at the door, as requested. If they don't see you, they feel less bad about the shitty tip, Steve's learned.

But it's fine. Steve doesn't want to deal with anyone face-to-face today, anyway. Because he needs to hurry. He and Robin are already a couple days late on rent, and he's gotta try to make up the difference today. If not, they're gonna be fucking screwed. Why is this city so goddamn expensive to live in? It's bullshit.

"Let me help," comes the voice right next to him, and Steve jumps, hitting his head on the open hatch door.

Now, he's skipped over annoyed and has been vaulted straight into pissed off.

Partly at himself for being so far in his own head that he didn't even hear this guy approaching, but mainly at this asshole for even being in his personal space in the first place. He needs to take about three big steps back.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" the guy shouts, and Steve hasn't even seen this asshole yet, but he knows he hates him.

"Most people don't help unload the car," Steve snaps, turning to look at him, and the guy is looking back at him with big, big brown eyes. Robin would call them doe eyes, without a doubt. Well, fuck. Fine. Steve softens his tone, "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry," Eddie says again, still too close. "I'm Eddie. I ordered the groceries. Can I help? Please?"

Steve nods, and lets him reach in and grab his own case of water, while Steve picks up a few of the sacks. It's the least the guy can do, now that he's given him a headache. Literally.

Steve carries the sacks towards the porch, and leans over to put them down.

"Just come on in," Eddie says, and the door swings open, banging against the rubber doorstop on the wall.

"Don't bang the door!" comes the yell from the other room, and Steve peers into the house and sees an older guy sitting in a lift chair, with a walker in front of him.

"It's my door, old man, I'll bang it if I want to!" Eddie yells back, but there's no heat there. Steve can hear the teasing affection in his voice, and Steve can't help but smile.

"Don't come crying to me when there's a hole in your wall. Can you patch drywall? Because I can't right now," the guy, probably Eddie's dad the way they're bickering, snaps.

Eddie ignores the question from his dad.

"C'mon, this way," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder at Steve, as Steve lingers on the step.

Well, no. That's not. You don't go in stranger's houses. It's, like, rule one. And just good common sense. Which apparently Steve has none of, because he does follow Eddie into the house.

Robin will kill him, if this Eddie dude doesn't kill him first.

Steve puts the bags down on the counter, and heads back out to make another trip, Eddie following, "That's my uncle. He's just crotchety that he had to have his broken hip replaced, and now he's dependent on me for the near future."

Steve laughs, "Well, maybe don't bang the door and he won't be crotchety."

"You heard me. It's my door," Eddie says, smiling wide. He's pretty, very pretty. Long, dark hair tied up on top of his head, and heavy tattoos all along his arms, creeping up onto his neck.

He's honestly gorgeous.

Steve wonders if he's famous. He doesn't look familiar, but he looks like he could be famous. And his house is pretty fucking nice. This is L.A. Everybody is somehow famous in L.A. Except for Steve and Robin. They are definitely not famous.

Unless he's a tech bro? But he doesn't really look the type.

Either way, famous or not, Steve smiles back, can't not, not when he looks like that, then asks, teasing him, "Well do you know how to patch drywall?"

"Fuck no. But I could hire someone to fix it if the door knob somehow gets through the stopper."

"Well, at least you have a plan," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"He just hates the city. Hates my house. Hates everything. Except me. He loves me," Eddie says, as he grabs a case of Gatorade in one hand and the case of pork and beans in the other.

That's a lot of beans.

"That's a lot of beans," Steve says aloud, even if he doesn't mean to, even if he knows better than to comment on other people's groceries.

But Eddie laughs. "Tell me about it. Man likes what he likes, though. There's no changing him now."

Steve nods, grabbing another handful himself. It's nice that Eddie is taking care of his uncle.

"I'm not usually home much, hence all the groceries being ordered at once. Sorry about that. The cabinets were pretty bare, and I just didn't want to leave him home alone. He's still a fall risk, even if he keeps insisting he's not."

"That's okay, I understand. Big orders are more common than you'd think," Steve says, stepping back into the house that he's probably not going to get murdered in, thankfully.

Big orders are common, he's not lying about that, and more often than not, the tips offered for shopping hundreds of items, are less than you'd think. So, this order wasn't even out of the ordinary. Not really. That's why Steve took it. Some pay was better than none, especially today, that's for sure.

"Still. I'm grateful. You saved my ass today, man," Eddie answers.

"Well, it's my job," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

They finish bringing everything in, and Steve nods at Eddie, "Okay. I think that does it."

"Here," Eddie says, and plucks an envelope off the counter, "I always worry that your tips in the app will get eaten up by the corporate assholes taking their cut off the top. So. Cash is king."

Steve takes the envelope. A tip he doesn't have to report? Why thank you, Eddie.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this, or help bring it in, you know? But I appreciate both."

Eddie smiles, "Thank you for getting all that shit for us. We both appreciate it. Don't we Wayne?"

Wayne grumbles, but Steve's pretty sure he doesn't appreciate anything right now. He knows he wouldn't either, if he had broken his hip.

They say their goodbyes, and that's that. Steve will never see Eddie with the pretty eyes ever again.

At the next red light, Steve opens the envelope, expecting an extra ten or twenty bucks, maybe, but is shocked to see that there are three, insanely crisp one hundred dollar bills inside.

Holy shit.

That's way more than he usually makes in a single day. Two days, even. Just by delivering one order that he didn't think was gonna pay well at all.

And he got to look at a hot dude for a minute or two.

It's enough to cover what they were short on the rent, even. It might not have felt like a lot of money to Eddie, if he handed it over so readily, but it feels life-changing to Steve, right now. He remembers when three hundred bucks wasn't anything to him either, back when he had access to all his parents' money and all their unhappiness.

Now, it's different.

Robin's gonna shit.

Hot damn.

Thank you, Eddie.

"Booyah," Steve says, slapping the envelope on the counter.

Robin picks it up, and thumbs through it. It has Eddie's tip, and the few extra bucks he picked up during the rest of the day.

"Oh my god, no way! Where did you get this much cash, dingus? Are you turning tricks on the side now?" Robin asks, and Steve laughs.

"Yes. I thought I'd see what I could get for this ass," Steve says, turning and pushing his ass outwards in her direction.

She doesn't even look, but says, "Honestly, you might be worth more than this, as much as I hate to admit it," she comments dryly, and he smiles.

"No, some rich dude that ordered a bunch of heavy shit gave me a big tip," Steve explains.

"That's what she said," Robin teases, and her eyes are still wide as she looks at the bills in her hand, "Seriously, though. Thank you, rich, old dude," Robin says.

"Rich, but not old. I think he might have been famous in some way. YouTuber? Musician? I don't know. Nice house."

"Well. Describe him. Let's Google him," Robin says, wiggling her fingers in the air like she's stretching before this big task she's about to undertake.

Steve isn't sure searching for him is gonna work, but he lets her try, "Eddie. Probably a little older than us. Lots of tattoos."

"Was it Eddie Vedder? Please tell me you know who Eddie Vedder is, dingus?"

He knows who Eddie Vedder is, Jesus.

He gives her a look, "Not that old. And he was heavily tattooed. Is Eddie Vedder tattooed? Plus, this guy had dark eyes. Really dark. And no flannel."

She keeps looking on her phone, showing him options, "Him?"

No.

"Him?"

No.

"Him?"

"No. Not him." None of them are. Nobody she shows him is the same guy. So, he thinks of all the famous Eddies he knows of.

"Was it Eddie Van Halen?" Steve asks.

"Since he's dead, probably not," Robin says.

"Oh," Steve says. He didn't remember that. And he'd be too old, anyway. "We're looking for someone that looks kinda like young Eddie Van Halen. But with tattoos."

"You're obsessed with the tattoos. Was it Ed Sheeran? He has lots of tattoos," Robin asks, and he rolls his eyes.

"Robin. I think I know what Ed Sheeran looks like. This man was not ginger. Dark hair, dark eyes. And he was American. Maybe this guy is just rich? Not famous at all. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again, anyway. We'll just thank him from afar for saving our asses today."

Robin sighs heavily, and puts her phone down, "If you'd got yourself a rich boyfriend we'd have it made all the time."

"Well, I'll work on that," he says sarcastically.

At least for now, they can pay another month's rent. That's a big win. Huge.

Maybe they can keep their heads above water, now.

And they do, by some sort of miracle. It was only three hundred bucks, but that was enough of a windfall to get them back in the black. And somehow they've stayed ahead since, for nearly two whole months. They haven't been this stable financially since they arrived in town.

Today, Steve flips through the different apps he drives for, trying to decide what order to take, when he sees a huge pizza order. The order is absurdly big, but the tip is decent, and picking up a stack of pizzas is infinitely easier than shopping a whole-ass grocery list. Steve's just seriously questioning if it'll all fit in his car.

He's gonna risk it.

Luckily, it does, but there are pizza boxes piled high in every seat and the rear. He definitely doesn't have hot bags for all of them. Hopefully he doesn't get caught in traffic.

The area seems familiar, but when Steve pulls up in front of the house, he knows why. Eddie. Only, the last time it was groceries, not food, that he delivered here.

There are vehicles everywhere. Clearly some sort of party, Steve thinks, to require this amount of pizza. And as soon as Steve steps out of the car, Eddie is out of the house, being trailed by three other, mostly leather-clad, guys. It'd look threatening, if Eddie wasn't smiling so big.

"Steve! When I saw Steve was my driver, I was like, maybe? But Steve's a common name, and there was no picture, so I didn't get my hopes up, but hey! It is you!" Eddie shouts, moving to the back of the car, "Watch your head this time, sweetheart," Eddie adds, and Steve is sure he's blushing.

He just stands there kind of dumbly, watching as Eddie commandeers his order right out of Steve's vehicle. Eddie's definitely unusual.

Eddie hands stack after stack of pizzas to the waiting guys, making them carry the bulk of it. And Steve watches as they ferry them off towards the house, Steve not having to even lift a finger this time.

Now, it's just him and Eddie standing on the curb.

Eddie holds out an envelope, and Steve looks at it.

"Man, thank you, but you tipped so well last time, you really don't have to again."

"I want to. You provide a service, I want to pay for that service," Eddie says, shaking the envelope, and Steve reluctantly takes it. Whatever is inside, will really help him and Robin stay ahead. It did last time. He's not really in a position to say no, even as well as they are doing at the moment.

"Thank you, truly," Steve says, tucking it into his pocket, "How's your Uncle Wayne's hip?"

Eddie smiles, so fucking wide, "You remembered! He's good. Great. Headed home soon, which I'm certain he's thrilled about. He's definitely never coming here again. I'll have to go home when I want to see him."

Steve laughs, "Glad to hear he's better, if annoyed."

"Do you want to stay?" Eddie asks, "We're having a little going away party for him. The more the merrier. Or, is your shift not over? You could come back?"

Steve doesn't have a shift, he can clock in and out to take orders as he pleases, and right now he'd really like to accept Eddie's offer. Even if it's probably just Eddie being polite. A pity ask, if you will.

"You don't have to invite your delivery driver into your house, you know? I could be a murderer."

"Unlikely," Eddie says, "and I'm not inviting my delivery driver. I'm inviting you, Steve."

Steve thinks over the options, and then nods. He can go in for a bit. If he's uncomfortable, he can get right back on the clock, no harm, no foul.

"Okay, let me park," Steve says, and he does just that. Putting the envelope of cash into the glove box without opening it. He doesn't want Eddie to see him scrounging through it. That feels tacky.

The pizza boxes are already open on every available flat surface in the kitchen and living room, and Eddie shoves a paper plate into Steve's hands, "Eat. Drink. Be merry."

Steve nods, and grabs a slice from the nearest box. He's not picky.

The house is full of people, and a lot of them seem vaguely famous. Like this is an industry thing, instead of a going away party for an old man with a newly not-broken hip.

Steve's worked enough of these events. They tried the catering thing for a while, and it was fine, for Steve anyway. Robin was just a little too clumsy to carry trays of dainty hors d'oeuvres around rooms filled with beautiful women in expensive dresses.

This isn't any of that though. This is cases of beer being chilled in kiddie pools, and dozens of pizzas. Fancy house, but not a fancy party. Steve spots Eddie's uncle sitting by himself on a couch, a beer resting on his knee and a paper plate of pizza on the arm rest.

Nobody else is sitting by him, so Steve goes over, "Can I sit?"

Wayne grumbles something that could be yes, could be no, Steve's not wholly sure, but he chooses to go ahead and sit down beside him.

"How's your hip?" Steve asks.

"Who are you?" Wayne asks, looking at him, suspicious.

"Steve. Uh, a delivery driver? I've brought a couple orders to you guys now. And Eddie invited me to stay."

Wayne nods, and goes back to his plate, "Hip's fine. Ready to go home."

"Where's home?" Steve asks, and he's not sure why. Clearly this man has no interest in making small talk with him.

"Indiana," Wayne says.

"Hey! For me, too. Small world."

"What're you doing in California, then?" Wayne asks. "Trying to get into show biz?"

"No. No way," Steve laughs, "Not for me. Uh, my best friend? Robin? She wanted to move out here. Wanted an adventure. And I wanted her to be happy. So. Here we are."

Wayne nods.

"Did you break your hip in Indiana and Eddie dragged you all the way out here?" Steve asks.

"No," Wayne answers, "I came to visit him and broke my hip before I got out of the airport. This is why I don't take vacations."

Steve smiles, "That's bad luck. Sorry."

Wayne nods his head, and Steve assumes that's the end of this conversation, and they sit in silence for a few moments.

"You're Steve? The one that brought the groceries a few weeks ago?" Wayne asks.

"That's me," Steve confirms.

"He's been talking about you non-stop. I was like, just order more groceries. So, he tried. It was never you. Now we have more food than he'll ever eat. Probably need to take it to the food pantry."

Steve grins, looking down at his plate. He isn't sure what Eddie would want to see him for. They definitely aren't on the same level.

Eddie is across the room, talking wildly with his hands.

"He's a good kid," Wayne says, quietly, "All this? Not him. Not all of him, anyway."

Steve looks back at Wayne, "What do you mean?"

"All this fancy shit. I'm proud of him that their music has done so well. But he's a good kid. And he just wants to be happy."

"Don't we all," Steve says.

"People take advantage. If you're here for the money, for the fame. Just. Move on. Eddie would give it to you. But he wants something more. Needs it, I think."

Steve thinks he could be something more. But he doesn't really have anything to offer Eddie in return, and maybe heeding Wayne's warning wouldn't be such a bad idea. What business does he have getting involved with a famous musician? None.

"Got it," Steve says. "Well, I'm glad your hip healed."

Wayne grumbles at that, and it makes Steve smile.

Steve puts his trash in the can, and looks around. The hallways are lined with platinum records, news articles, and he leans close to read the name. Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin. He's never heard of them. He'll have to look them up on Spotify.

He doesn't belong here.

He takes one last look at Eddie.

Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin.

He tries to memorize his name, his band, so he can tell Robin later, solving their little mystery.

And then he ducks out of the front door, walking down the long driveway towards his car.

"Hey, Steve! Wait!" Eddie yells from behind him, and Steve slows.

"Hey, man. Thanks for having me," Steve says, turning to look at him.

"You're leaving already?"

Steve nods, "Work, you know."

Eddie nods, "Okay. Well. Come back. Anytime."

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, because he's pretty sure Eddie means that, "Enjoy your party. I'm glad Wayne's hip is good as new."

Steve turns to keep walking.

"Steve. Uh," Eddie says, and Steve considers pretending he didn't hear him. It'd be easy. The music is loud, probably pissing off the neighbors, but Eddie keeps talking. "Listen. I like you. Yeah, I know. I barely know you. But. We got good vibes, man. Can you not feel that?" Eddie asks, and when Steve turns to look back at him, he sees that Eddie's hands are shoved deep into his pockets.

He looks nervous.

He's famous, clearly rich, and beautiful. He could have anyone he wants. But he looks nervous talking to Steve. Who delivered the pizza. Make it make sense. Goddamn.

"Eddie," Steve says.

"Do you not feel it? If you don't, I'll leave you alone. I swear. But if you do…"

Steve nods, "I do. But I'm a delivery driver. I live in a tiny apartment that I share with my best friend. We barely make ends meet. You could have anyone. Why would you want me?"

"Because I like you," Eddie says, "and I want to get to know you. I didn't grow up with anything either. I'm not old money. I'm new money. Brand new. So. I'm not that out of touch yet."

Steve smiles. He's old money, he just doesn't have access to it anymore. Eddie's new money, and doesn't know how to handle it. They'd be quite the pair.

Eddie keeps talking, trying to wheedle a date out of him, "Just. Let me take you out. Just us. Let's see if there's anything here," he says, motioning his hand between the two of them.

Steve wants to, he really does.

"Okay," Steve finally says, "nothing fancy. A normal date."

"We can definitely do that," Eddie says, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Let me give you my number."

Steve rattles off his number, Eddie texts him, and it buzzes against Steve's thigh. Already coming through, showing he's serious.

"Dinner? Movie? Bar? You name it," Eddie offers, eyes never leaving Steve's.

"Dinner's good. Nowhere fancy, though," Steve warns.

"Do I look like I like fancy places?" Eddie asks, looking down at his own clothes.

And Steve's eyes cut back to the gorgeous house.

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But I don't."

"Can you go out in public? Or are you too famous?" Steve asks. "I'm not familiar with your band, sorry."

Eddie laughs, "I think I like that you aren't, sweetheart. That means that maybe you like me, just for me. And I can go out. Nobody cares about me all that much."

Steve nods. Alright. They can go on one date, and see how it goes.

Well. That's how it goes.

Very, very well.

So well, that Steve's now satisfied and loose in Eddie's bed, when Eddie laughs, rolling into Steve's shoulder, face pressed to his skin. Lips kissing his shoulder, biting at him gently. Playing with him.

"What?" Steve asks, smiling as Eddie slides his hand into his, squeezing. "What's so funny."

"I tipped my driver," Eddie chokes out, laughing around each word, pressing his crotch into Steve's thigh.

Steve laughs, looking down at this ridiculous man clinging to him, "That you did. And damn well."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

#a stranger summer #week fifteen #prompt: modern au #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #wayne munson #stranger things fic #robin buckley #stranger things 4 #steddie #platonic stobin #steve x eddie #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer

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cosmicbucky · 1 year ago

Text

daisies and dances lead to heartfelt romances

summary: you offer to take bucky out a few times so he can practice what it's like to date in the modern world. unbeknownst to each other, both your offer and his acceptance have an ulterior motive

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3845

part: one

warnings: minor swearing, fluff, tony is a dick with a hidden agenda, some angst, soft/shy/grumpy bucky, pet names/nicknames, unknown but mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, sad bucky, mentions of bucky's struggles

a/n: this is planned to be at least two parts, maybe three.

big thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for encouraging and supporting me with this!!

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The compound was quiet, softly lit to guide your way to the kitchen. It was late in the night, but not too late that everyone was asleep. Your socked feet were silent on the cold floor, and as you made your way to the fridge you heard laughter coming from the main entertainment room. You smiled to yourself as you went to grab a bottle of juice, focusing in on the conversation being held.

"Come on man! You can't be serious," you heard Sam say, laughter clear in his voice.

"Just drop it, Sam," Bucky replied, warning clear in his voice.

The smile slipped from your face as you closed the fridge with a sigh. You knew that tone. It wasn't Bucky's patented 'my god these people are so annoying' tone. It was his 'the next person who says something is getting thrown into a wall' tone. Which meant he was actually upset over whatever the conversation was about. It was rare for him to really get worked up beyond his usual moody demeanor, and you couldn't help the worry that surged through you.

"Oh, no. No, no this is way too good to drop, Barnes," Tony chimed in with a laugh. You could just picture the smirk on his face, and your feet moved quickly to carry yourself towards the conversation.

Bucky noticed you approach from where he sat, and he sent you a pleading look. Please help me, his eyes screamed.

"Don't tell me you guys are picking on Bucky again," you said, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the wall.

"You mean grumpy mcgee over here? You bet your ass we are," Tony replied happily.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him. "Why now?"

"This dude can't date to save his life!" Sam spoke up, overly amused about it.

Bucky sank further into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he zoned out to somewhere far away, and you felt a pang in your heart at the sight- how can such a large man manage to look so small; so defeated?

"You guys are roasting him because he hasn't been on a date yet?" you asked, your annoyance about it clear in your voice.

It may be a little strange, but you had always felt protective over Bucky. The team often ganged up on him, and besides Steve, you were his closest friend - the two of you took a little while to warm up to each other, but once the ice thawed the two of you were rarely seen without the other. Now, it's not to say you never joined in on teasing him - because you did, quite often - but you knew when to stop. Perhaps it was because he would open up to you about some of the things he felt insecure about during your moonlit talks, the two of you tucked safely under blankets or hidden away somewhere in the compound as you spoke what neither of you could say in the light of day. Or, maybe it was because you just knew him well enough to know whether a topic would upset him or not. Whatever the reason may be for it, you always knew what was okay to say and what wasn't. Bucky would never be able to say how much he appreciated you for that.

"Tinman's been on dates, didn't you know?" Tony asked, grinning at you mischievously. "He just blew them all."

You tried not to let the hurt show on your face. He's been on dates? God, of course he has, look at him.

"Okay, and? You've never had bad dates before?" you asked, letting the anger start to shine through. "Just leave him alone."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Awe, look at that. Mommy dearest to the rescue once again, huh, Barnes?"

You stood up straight as rage surged through you, opening your mouth to tell him where to go. Before you could, Bucky's voice rang out: "Watch your fucking mouth, Stark. Or I'll shut you up myself," he warned, voice eerily calm as he glared at Tony.

Bucky was never really one to speak up when others came at him, more or less just taking it with an eye roll, clenched jaw, or tight smile as they all had their fun. However, once the comments turned towards you, as they always seemed to if you were around (and let's be honest, how often were you not around?), he was quick on his feet to stop them in their tracks, making the room feel so tense that no one else said anything for fear the air around them would actually suffocate them if they opened their mouth.

"Here we go again," you heard Sam mutter to himself. "Alright, I'm out of here. See you guys later," he added, walking out of the room with his hands up in a display of surrender.

He gave you a knowing look as he walked out, ignoring your questioning gaze and instead giving you a loving pat on the shoulder as he passed by. With him now out of sight, you turn your attention back to Tony, waiting for what was to come next.

"Look, all I'm saying-" Tony started, waving his glass around emphatically - amber liquid on the verge of splashing everywhere.

"No one cares what you're saying, Tony," you interrupted, already exasperated from the interaction.

He held up his hand, pointing a finger at you. "Come on, princess. You really gonna take away my fun? Under my own roof?"

"Yes, I am. Can't you take a day off from being a complete dick to him? Just once? We've all seen this show before, Tony, and it always ends the same way," you said, walking further into the room to snatch the glass from his hand, glaring at him as you did so. "And don't call me princess," you seethed, slamming the glass down on the side table behind you.

You didn't want to hate Tony, in all honesty you truly did love him. At the end of the day he was your family, and family wasn't perfect. However, you couldn't keep down the small bubbles of hatred that boiled inside you whenever he started to target Bucky. You didn't see him as family when he waved his disdain for the soldier around like a kite in the wind; you just saw him as a rich douchebag picking on someone beneath him. You hated the way he treated Bucky, and you absolutely loathed the way he made Bucky's voice tremble ever so slightly with self doubt when he lays in your arms in the dead of night, recounting the things Tony said to him that keep him awake, that make old wounds reopen. You loved Tony, but his hatred for Bucky also made you hate him.

"No? Do you only like it when RoboCop calls you that?" Tony asked calmly, a malicious glint shining in his eyes, his smirk growing wider when he saw your expression.

You felt the blood rush to your face, recounting a few of the times that the name had slipped through Bucky's lips; though it was from the haze of sleep and moments of vulnerability, there were few memories you cherished more. "Go to sleep now, princess. I'll be here when you wake up." "Thank you for staying with me, princess." "You're safe now, princess."

"Yeah, I hear a lot of things around here that I probably shouldn't. Now, why don't you lighten up and let me say my piece, princess?" Tony continued with a grin, and it took everything in you to not smack it off his face.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Bucky suddenly spat, making you jump slightly - he had fallen so silent you half forgot he was even there. The menace that dripped from his words sent a chill down your spine, and you sent one last glare at Tony before you glanced over your shoulder.

One look over at Bucky as he jumped from the couch told you he had never been more serious. His jaw was tight as his lips pressed together in a fine line, his fists clenched so tightly that the mechanisms in his left arm started to whir and the veins in his right arm shone prominently, his whole body tense as his chest heaved. He took two quick steps forward, but the second you raised your hand to his chest he stopped.

"Buck, it's alright," you said calmly. You knew it wasn't - you were angry, hurt, embarrassed, and a million other things; but you couldn't let Bucky in on that. You had to brush it all off so you could be the calm that Bucky needed in order to tame the never ending storm raging furiously inside him.

Bucky looked down at you with narrowed eyes, as if he didn't understand a word you said. "I'm supposed to just let him talk to you like that?"

If it weren't for the seriousness of the moment, you would have blushed from his words. Instead, you huffed and lightly shoved him away. "Yes, because you're feeding into exactly what he wants, Bucky. You know all he wants is to mess with you."

"Not true," Tony chimed in from behind you. "I want lots of things, pumpkin. In fact, one of those things is Pepper, so I'll be going now. And hey, when you and soldier boy here finally get married, just remember - I'm ordained."

You spared a glance in his direction just in time to see his shit-eating grin before he turned and sauntered happily out of the room.

"Can you two ever give me a fucking break?" you scolded, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Aw don't you start now, too," Bucky whined, tossing his head back slightly as he sighed, making his way back to the couch.

You sighed as well, following in his wake to plop down beside him. You didn't need to say anything, he took one look at you and knew the question that was already dancing on your tongue: what was it about this time?

"Look, it doesn't matter," he huffed out, slumping his shoulders as he looked down at his hands resting on his lap, wringing his fingers together.

“Come on, when have I ever let it go that easily?” you asked, nudging his shoulder.

He let out a humourless chuckle, the corners of his mouth flicking upwards for the briefest of moments as the memories of the countless times you two have been in this situation flashed through his mind.

You could see the turmoil on his face, and you knew he was trying to find a way to express what was going on, so you sat patiently and waited for him to find the proper words.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he finally settled on, the words coming out in a rushed breath.

Before you could question him, he carried on with a frown, his brows knit together. “It was so much easier back then, you know? Flash a smile, go to the fair, wear the uniform, whatever. I never had to think about it, but now there’s- there’s just so much…. so much expectation. You bring flowers and you care too much, you don’t bring flowers and you don’t care enough. I-it’s like everything that I do, I should have done the opposite. I can’t get anything right.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words bouncing around in your head. Each syllable he spoke fractured your heart until it was shattered into bits; but all you cared about as you looked at the broken man in front of you was putting him back together, hoping that your words and your comfort and your care would be enough to put together the delicate pieces of him - the pieces that broke off every time he doubted himself, every time he remembered his past, every time he did something wrong on a mission - the pieces that you picked up and kept safe inside of yourself until you had the chance to give them back to him, gluing them on with whispers of affirmation and promises that everything would be okay in time.

“You never mentioned any of this before,” you said tentatively, the unspoken words why did you keep this from me? hanging in the air. “Is this what they were teasing you about? Your struggle to figure out how to date again?”

He let out a huff of air as he slung his head back to rest against the back of the couch, shaking it lightly as he stared up at the ceiling, his jaw flexing with contemplation. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal, but then Jackass 1 and Jackass 2 found out and ran with it.”

“Okay, well.. walk me through it. Is there someone you want to take out on a date right now? Maybe I can give you some ideas,” you offered softly, the words tasting bitter in your mouth as you spoke them.

He groaned, running his hands over his face before smacking them back down on his legs, his palms dragging across the fabric covering his thighs for a few seconds; a habit, you noticed, that he often did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “No,” he said flatly, biting down on his tongue to keep the words yes, my delicate little flower, I want to take you out on a date from tumbling out of his mouth.

“No?” you echoed, surprised by the response.

He nodded his head in confirmation. “No,” he repeated, looking at you. Taking in your expression, he carried on. “Like, no there isn’t anyone. I don’t- I didn’t even want to go on those dates, but… I couldn’t- I mean, I kinda just…. felt like I needed to."

There was so much he left unsaid at this moment. So much he wanted to say, needed to say - not only just to get it off his chest, but because he believed that you deserved to know. Every time he looked at you he had the burning desire to bare his soul to you, to tell you all the things he kept buried away in the deep recesses of his mind, locked away in a vault only you could open. He wanted to tell you that he still feels so out of place, that most days when he was out in this new world he suddenly resembled a child who was lost amongst a crowd of scary and unfamiliar things - desperately searching for something he recognized that he could cling to. He wanted to tell you that you were the familiar thing he found to cling to, that he carried you in his head and in his heart every time he was out; that when things got too overwhelming he closed his eyes and recalled the encouraging words you always told him, that when that wasn't enough he called you with some lame excuse just so he could ground himself with your voice - "Hey, doll. What was the name of that bakery you took me to the other week? I'm thinking of getting more of those cookies we liked." He had saved the bakery's location to his phone (something he knew how to do thanks to you) the second he saw how your eyes sparkled when you got there, just to make sure he could always find it and pick things up for you. "Hey, so, I just got yelled at because I walked by and ruined someone's… what the fuck was it? It has to do with a clock or something? Does that sound like something you know? Please tell me what the hell that is because I feel like I'm going insane." He knew what it was. He had downloaded the app after he witnessed how much it made you laugh, and he had an endless amount of saved videos that he thought you would like, but for some reason wasn't brave enough to show you. "Okay, I’m out shopping - and don't laugh because this is a serious question - do you think I would look good in pink?" He vividly remembered your words from a few months ago, when he was burritoed in your fuzzy pink blanket during movie night, and you told him so casually that he should start wearing pink because it complimented his eyes. He wanted to tell you that you were the only thing in this universe that could still the incessant maelstrom that was his mind. That when he was out on those dates the storm raged on more intensely than ever, but one look or word from you and everything was quiet; not even a trace of rain.

He wanted to tell you. But he didn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Oh, but he needed to-

"You wanted to try to fit in," your gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts, his head snapping to look at you. To see your eyes, full of understanding. To see your lips, pulled into a sad smile - but not one of pity, one that said all you wanted was to help him through yet another battle he was fighting with himself.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah. I guess I just figured.. well, I don't know. Everyone kept saying how I needed to get out there. That dating was the next best step I could take to try and….. to- to understand how to live in this world better. I just wanted things to make sense again, but now I'm even more lost and confused than before I even went on those god damn dates."

You tried to keep your face even, to not let him see how sad it made you to hear the way his voice wavered when he told you what was going on. To not let him know that you sensed how small he was feeling, how even though his broad frame still shadowed you as you both sat there, he had never seemed so small.

"Well…. take me on a date," you suggested, not taking the time to even think about it.

Bucky swore the whole room started to spin. His mouth ran dry and his heart hammered so heavily in his chest that he was convinced you could hear it. He knew he heard you wrong, he wasn't lucky enough to have a girl like you. The world was cruel, and he knew that the one sliver of hope that he had for a truly blissful life would never be fully his. That one day it would leave him, just like everything else throughout the years, as you found yourself in the arms of someone else. He would never have you the way he wanted you, the way he needed you. He knew that. So he had to have misheard you. "Come again?"

Your whole face lit up when he asked this, and Bucky could feel himself coming undone. Your hands on his arm when you grabbed him in excitement suddenly felt so different than in the past. It used to feel warm, comforting, calming; but for some reason this time it sent a jolt of fire and electricity through him, and he never wanted to lose that feeling. He wanted to feel it again, feel it always, feel it forever.

“Yeah! Oh, it would be great, Buck! We can go on a few dates, and I can help you find your footing with it all before you get back out there,” you said excitedly. You purposely overinflated your smile so he wouldn’t see the way your lips faltered with the struggle of getting out the last part, diverting your gaze for the smallest of moments so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes dimmed with the thought of him being with someone else.

Bucky shifted where he sat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as his mind went into overdrive trying to think of a response. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to say yes, but then there was a small piece of him that knew it wouldn’t end well - the piece that knew how he truly felt about you, the piece that knew it would easily be tricked into thinking these dates actually meant something to you; because lord knows they would mean the world and more to him. Bucky wanted to say yes, but he knew he had to say no. He had to say no because it wouldn’t be fair to you - you were offering to help him and he would be taking advantage of your kindness, using it to get to see you in a light he’d never be able to otherwise. He had to say no because saying yes could ruin everything. He may not be able to go back to the way it was before these dates, too addicted to ever quit you. He had to say no, for your sake, because it was a selfless offer. Bucky, however, was selfish when it came to you.

“You know, doll… that may not be the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he had said, giving you a lopsided smile. Your eyes lit up once more as you grinned at him, and no matter how hard he tried to keep his composure he couldn’t help but mirror your expression, feeling as giddy as he did the first time he was allowed to stay up late as a kid.

“Excellent choice, Barnes,” you said playfully. “I swear you won’t regret it, it’ll be really fun. Just you and me, no expectations.”

Bucky nodded, shifting his head to scratch his jaw so you wouldn’t see the light frown that danced across his lips for a moment. “No expectations,” he repeated, careful to keep his voice level. “I can work with that.”

“Good,” you said softly, nodding a little. “I’ll give you some time to think about it and plan something, and you can just let me know whenever you wanna go on date number one.”

He was silent for a minute, taking the time to carefully churn the words over in his mind before answering. He didn’t want to make it obvious, but he knew immediately what he wanted to do. How could he not? All he ever did was look for new things he thinks you’d like, find himself dreaming of where he’d take you if he ever got the chance. Sure, you guys have done lots of things together before - brunches, lunches, dinners, movie nights, events, parties; you name it. Though there was never any meaning with any of those, it was always just friends spending time together. How were either of you supposed to know you each wished they meant something more? Heaven forbid you two would actually say how you felt.

"No need," Bucky said, rising from the couch with a small chuckle, looking down at you with the smile he reserved only for you. The one that skillfully said everything and nothing all at once. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”

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scourgeofmyownbrain · 4 days ago

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Only one guy on here has two eyes, and even then, they're fake eyes. It's big-tits-McGee, Mr. logic man extraordinaire, Geneva Suggestion Believer himself: Shockwave! Yep, all 12 of him, a reasonable amount of alternates to have, unlike some people... Shockwave Height Chart, everyone, fuckin wee.

Edit: I didn't like the old scaling I had so I changed it. The old chart is at the end of this post.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Here are links to my Bumblebee Chart, my Optimus Chart, my Megatron Chart, and my Soundwave Chart. Please go gawk at how many Optimus designs there are, sweet fuck, there are so many. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag.

Explanations and Sources below the cut.

Unicron Trilogy Energon - ~14 feet 3 inches (No actual source, and Energon doesn't have any listed heights anywhere. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. This is the design used in Energon (S2) though he only shows up in Energon. I was able to compare him to Optimus, and using Cybertron's listed heights, I got this number. I am in physical pain, it does not get better from here. Hilarious side note, his Japanese name is Laserwave, which contains the missing "wave" of Shockwave in this iteration's name.)

Earth Spark - ~15 feet (No actual source for ES, but using a barn door to get Bumblebee's height, then Optimus's, then Megatron's height, I was able to make a guess at Shockwave's. Shockwave comes up to about Megatron's chin; I lost the screenshot I used. It's so convoluted, I know, but it's all I have, also, tiny universe, everyone is so small)

TFA Longarm/V1 - 15 feet 2 inches (Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Gen 1 - ~18 feet (TFWiki, uuuuh I've got nothing to add)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 feet (I have no source for this, other than assuming that because this design is identical to Gen 1, they are the same height. That's it, really)

Knight/Capel-Verse - ~18 feet (No source, and he never stands next to anyone I can measure him against, but because the TFOne director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, I am assuming the height I figured out for TFOne applies to this universe as well. Until proven otherwise. Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

One - ~18 feet (No source, I got this number by comparing him to Optimus. Now, I am aware of the TFO heights listed on the wiki, but I reject those numbers on principal. A: Those numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, so I have elected to use the few given heights we have from KCV and worked from there. My Optimus post has slightly more context if you want it)

Cyberverse - 20 feet (This comes from a screenshot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screenshot is iffy.)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC/TFP - 26 feet 2 inches (This number comes from Fandom and I completely believe it, even if they don't list their source, because the entirety of this universe is freakishly tall. Go look at my other charts, all the ALC designs are monstrous compared to the others)

TFA V2 - 29 feet 11 inches (Once again, phoenix-inanis did a fuck ton of work, go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Bayverse - ~30 feet (Ok, so I don't have a source for this one. There used to be one, BV Shockwave used to be listed as 40 feet tall bc of an article done to promote the movie, but that is no longer listed for reasons not known to me, and making some comparisons to Optimus, I have found them to be kinda close in height. It's very hard to actually validate any of this. Shockwave never stands normally next to anything I can use as a ruler at any point in the movie. He's always at a dramatic angle or partially covered by something in the shot. It's so violently frustrating. I am confident he is around this height though, I just can't figure out how much taller than Optimus he is)

And that's it. I didn't have to leave any designs out, all of them are included here (hopefully). It was so nice to work with a character where I wasn't drowning in 20+ designs across every goddamn universe.

Edit: Here are the different layers separated.

vvv Old scale vvv

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yeoldenews · 11 months ago

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For all my fellow name nerds out there, I am very pleased to present the second annual "Gloyd Roberson Memorial List of Actual Human Children Who Wrote Letters to Santa in 1920s/30s Oklahoma".

These aren’t all necessarily “weirder than Gloyd” but fall into three rough categories which I’ve dubbed: “that’s got a nice ring to it”, “if I used this in a novel it would be considered too unrealistic” and “you’ve got 5 seconds to name a character that lives in 1920s Oklahoma, GO!”:

Selvyn Atteberry

Dyer Banfield

Bert Baxter

Hilda Bender

Imogene Berry

Heloise Blakely

Burl Boyer

Clyda Pearl Boyington

Okal Brooks

Vada Jo Bricker

Deverett Brumley

Lee Roy Buck

Vivian May Burdue

Donnie Buster

Elmarie Button

Junior Buzzard

Melchor Caldex

Tycene Calhoun

Tiny Bell Callison

Dapalene Caywood

Edney Clopton

Buster Combs

Georgia Countryman

Vantruba Crockett

Alto Day

Buddie DeWayne

Violet Divine

Elwanda Downing

Cletys Durham

Thurlo Epps

Apple Fields

Floyd Fleetwood

Metherine Franklin

Ula Fay French

Wanda Jo Fronterhouse

Irline Fuller

Jack Gritzmaker

J. D. Grizzle

Billie Jean Gulley

Joline Hardcastle

Kaloolah Herrill

Thelias Hatfield

Elva Heavins

Coleman Hewlett

Helen Hillhouse

Virgil Holderby

Katymae Houston

Myree Huffstutlar

Estelline Hurrypack

Blondie Huhm

Lila Lou Jackson

Denver Jones

Vernell Lambert

Sonny Boy Lockart

Dinkey Long (autocorrect really wanted this to be Donkey Kong)

Bamma Lynn

Rep Madden

Standford Mann

Jack Mattingly

Goldia McGee

Madge Messinger

Mauzell Mullins

Jeffie Wayne Muskrat

Archibald Neighbors

Hazel Nickerson

Eulah Oakley

Lyle Oyler

Milburn Partain

Jackson Payne

Montana Phillips

Bobbie Dean Phoenix

Toots Putman

Madonna Mae Rickey

Cyprine Robertson

Juanelle Schneeberger

Billie Jean Sparks

Texanna Smith

Pansy Stetson

Patsy Ruth Stubblefield

Eldon Sweezy

Hoy Trotter

Pearl Vandorien

Leland Weems

Joe Bob West

Wayness Whitely

Buster Wyatt

John Ira Youngblood

Domby Zinn

#feel free to use for any western themed dnd campaigns #or dust bowl romance novels you may be writing #names #oklahoma #1920s #1930s #dnd #long post

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kdogreads · 1 year ago

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Ooh I thought of one tony flirting with ny not knowing she's married to or dateing Gibbs.

SUCH A GOOD IDEA!! I hope you enjoy! :)

Check my masterlist for more indulgent Gibbs fics and follow #kdogreads to keep up on my newest posts! 💕

———

Are You Done?

Jethro Gibbs x f!reader

Warnings: just some flirty, jealous-ish fluff

“Ziva, Tony, McGee,” The honey-smoked voice you’d grown to love boomed across the bullpen, “On your feet — Someone for you to meet.”

The team gathered near where you stood alongside Jethro. All three sent reluctant smiles your way until Gibbs began to speak again. He introduced you formally with your first and last name, and the uninspiring title of “The new HR rep.”

Great, you thought, they’re gonna hate me already.

“Ha-alright,” Tony stuck his hand out to shake yours energetically, “It’s good to have another pretty face to share all my work problems with. Hey, you know, that new guy in legal is really getting under my skin; he’s so—“

“DiNozzo,” Jethro cut in, “Let her settle in before you start bellyaching, huh?”

You all let out a chuckle and the team retreated back to their desks. Jethro shot you a quick grin and nodded towards a nearby hallway before escorting you to your new office.

The next few hours went along as well as they could for the first day at a new job. You met your new coworkers, started to learn your way around the office, and took note of where the handsome Special Agent Gibbs spent most of his time.

——

As the evening wound down, you made your way back to where your day began to check in with investigative team — they had been the most welcoming to you all day, so you decided to make it a point to get to know them all better.

You weren’t surprised to see the whole crew still hard at work. Ziva was on and off the phone consistently, speaking a different language each time she started a new conversation. McGee seemed too engrossed in his screen and keyboard to notice the outside world. Tony was leaned back in his chair, slouched in a leisurely pose, going through some files that were overflowing with papers spilling out onto his lap.

Then there was Jethro. He looked stoic as ever with a few papers spread out over his desk, his gaze shifting from the neatly stacked documents to his computer screen and back again. His hand drifted over to his ever-full cup of coffee without taking his eyes away from his work. It was only when he placed the cup back into its spot in the corner of his desk that he noticed you entering their shared workspace.

The way he announced your name in greeting caused a smile to creep involuntarily across your face.

A simple, “Hi,” is all you could muster as you tried to gain your composure back.

“Ready to quit yet?” He quipped with that shit-eating grin you love so much spreading across his face.

You simply scoffed in response as he pulled up an extra chair for you to sit next to his desk and decompress. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was nearly lulling you to sleep until Tony made his way over and stopped in front of you, one arm leaning on a shelf and looking your way.

“Hey HR, how was your first day?” He asked you honestly, but you could see the wheels of flirtation spinning in his mind.

“It’s been,” You took a deep breath in and motioned to the stack of files spilling out of your bag, “A lot to take in.”

Tony chuckled and took a step closer to you, leaning in to pat you gently on the shoulder affectionately.

“A smart, beautiful woman like you?” He exhaled quickly like there was something hot in his mouth, “You can handle that and more, I’m sure of it.”

You smiled and shot him an, “Oh, thanks.” Jethro had warned you about Tony, and you just couldn’t wait to see how far he would let it go on before his protectiveness kicked into high gear. You swore you could almost feel the heat Jethro was giving off as jealousy crept up into his chest.

Tony went on picking your brain, polite as ever, but with a hint of playfulness that you knew had to be driving your boyfriend crazy.

“So,” Tony began after laughing about your shared love of coffee creamer more so than coffee, “What does your boyfriend do for a living?”

You hadn’t disclosed that you were in a relationship, but it was his age-old way of prying to see how much further he could take his flirting.

“He’s actually a federal agent, too, kinda like you,” You let your lips curl in a smirk and raised your eyebrows at him, taunting him to keep asking more questions.

“Oohh, so you like ‘em a little rough around the edges, huh?” The two of you laughed before he kept poking for more information, “So what is he? FBI? CIA? Don’t tell me it’s Secret Service?”

“Mmhmm, something like that,” You teased, leaning forward to grab a sip of your coffee, “Can’t spill all my secrets just yet, Tony.”

You heard Jethro let out a scoff, his finger tapping rapidly on his pen as the impatience invaded his senses more and more. He fidgeted a bit with a file before abruptly standing up, sending his chair flying back into the divider wall behind him, and took off somewhere around the corner.

“Jeez,” Tony grumbled, “He’s always in a bad mood.”

You exhaled sharply and grinned, “I’m sure he isn’t always be in a bad mood.”

Tony flashed his charming, pearly smile and shook his head endearingly, “You don’t know Gibbs like I do, sweetheart.”

You returned a salacious smile while Tony adjusts his stance to lean his relaxed frame closer to you. Your eyes lifted to meet his, a spirited glint in your eye as you see a handsome figure appear in the very corner of your peripheral.

“So, HR, I know a great Thai food place just down the road, whatcha say I take you there, show you some of our NCIS hospitality?” He grins confidently awaiting your answer, which he just knows will be a resounding “yes.”

Tony straightens up quickly as a sharp whap hits him in the back of the head. Your eyes widen in surprise, but crinkle into a laugh as soon as the realization hits you.

“DiNozzo,” The booming voice you’d come to know growled from behind Tony’s terrified face, “Are you done?”

“Ow! Sorry boss! Just talking, ah. Done with what again, sir?” He rubbed the back of his head and tried to shake off the embarrassment of being scolded by the boss in front of a woman he was trying to impress. He slinked back a step, allowing Jethro’s strong frame to come all the way into your view. His body language oozing with possessiveness and nerve.

“Done flirting with my woman,” He growled, his intensity stirring a fire deep within your belly.

You wished you’d had a camera in your hand to capture the look of sheer terror on Tony’s face. A laugh spilled out of your lips as he stuttered out something akin to an apology, an explanation, anything to keep Jethro from kicking him right in the ass.

You stood up to grant Jethro a quick peck on his rough lips before tucking into his shoulder, his hand placed firmly on your lower back.

“I’m sorry I let you keep going, Tony,” You apologized with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, “I just couldn’t help myself.” A deep, grumbling scoff vibrated out of Jethro’s chest as he shook his head, fighting desperately to keep a smirk from creeping onto his lips.

It was only now you thought to look around, realizing with a blush that everyone in the room was staring at you, eyes glued to this unfortunate and hilarious confrontation. You felt embarrassed for only a moment before Tony cleared his throat, his face still beet red and wide-eyed.

“It won’t happen again, boss and, uh, ma’am — boss ma’am, Mrs. boss, uh—“ Tony was back to his stumbling apology. You couldn’t help but let another laugh dance from your lips.

“Tony, you can still call by my name,” You smiled placing a reassuring pat on his shoulder, “Right, Jethro?” You shot him a look with a raised eyebrow, signaling him to cut Tony a break.

Jethro only hummed a soft “mmmhhmm” before clapping his hand softly to your back, pressing gently to guide you toward the elevator. You gratefully leaned into his touch and waved goodbye to the still-staring team.

“All of you, back to work, now,” Jethro demanded with force, and you had to stifle back the giggle threatening to escape. Everyone hurriedly opened their files and picked up their phones, not daring to piss Gibbs off any more.

The act dropped the second you stepped into the elevator. That deliciously snarky smile you love snaked onto Jethro’s face as he yanked you into a steamy kiss, laughing into your parted lips.

“Brat,” He growled into your ear, his hot breathe sending a shiver down your spine.

“You love it,” You tease back.

He tucks you into him for another quick embrace as the elevator comes to a stop just outside the parking garage. His lips brush quickly over your temple before sliding his hand down to intertwine while the elevator doors start to creak open.

“Yes, ma’am, I do”

#leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #ncis fic #ncis gibbs #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #gibbs x reader #kdogreads #fluff #reader insert

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wrightingdungeon · 5 months ago

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Caught on Replay

Harvey x Reader oneshot I LIED PT2 Awe Shit PT3 How many more parts?

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, NSFW, There is Smut in here i promise, gotta read im not lying, that good good za, P in V, Cheating

Ending his week at the Stardrop Saloon was nice, but it became even better with the addition of his friends Elliott and Shane. The three of them often gathered to hang out and talk about life, finding solace in each other's company as the three oldest eligible bachelors in Pelican Town. It seemed inevitable that they would drift together. Tonight's conversation had unexpectedly veered into reminiscing about their college days. "Nah, hooking up is easier when you're like twenty," Shane groaned, slouching over his beer. "I think they've gotten better since I've gotten older," Elliott retorted with a smirk, teasing Shane lightly. "Ooooh, Fancy-pants Rich McGee over here…" Harvey chuckled, enjoying the banter between Shane and Elliott.

“And what about you, Harvey?” Elliott's question directed at him made him shrug, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I kind of dove into my studies,” he admitted with a wistful sigh, his gaze drifting momentarily into the past. “It's hard to hook up when you have test after test and a mountain of textbooks.” He couldn't help but reminisce about the days when he swore he was going to go bald from all the studying.

“I’m calling bullshit. You've had a hookup,” Shane interjected bluntly, his eyes narrowing at Harvey skeptically. “You know too much,” Shane said in a playful tone, taking a slow sip of his beer. “I guess in undergrad…” Harvey began tentatively, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. “Ooooh, do tell, Harvey. A name, a hookup, something,” Elliott teased, leaning forward with exaggerated interest, enjoying Harvey's discomfort.

"Honestly, I haven't seen them in years though; we lost contact with each other, Their name is Farmer," he said, sighing softly. "You reflect on the younger years, don't you?" Elliott asked, his romance-loving heart recognizing the wistful expression on Harvey's face. "It's like a melody that plays in the background of our memories, isn't it? Each note is a reminder of those moments we held dear." Harvey nodded in agreement, a faint smile touching his lips as he reminisced about days gone by.

Harvey often did find himself reflecting on his younger years, particularly the time when he was on the brink of starting medical school. Back then, he had just completed his undergraduate studies and was living in an apartment with his roommate Jack. It was a time filled with the vibrant energy of college life, late-night study sessions, and weekend parties that seemed to stretch on forever.

Farmer, Jack’s partner at the time, was a constant presence in their apartment. With their bright energy and good vibes, they brought a blend of happiness and liveliness that had captivated Harvey. The both of them often engaged in deep conversations that spanned from medical ethics to the complexities of literature, moments he now cherished as time marched on.

Harvey remembered how he would invite Jack to gatherings and parties with their circle of friends and you seemed to always tag along. There were always lively affairs, filled with music, laughter, and animated discussions that lasted well into the early morning hours. He especially enjoyed watching you in these social settings, your quick wit and magnetic charm drawing everyone's attention.

Navigating the dynamics between himself, you, and his roommate had been complex. While he deeply respected his friendship with Jack and was conscious of maintaining boundaries, Harvey couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry he felt with you. Both your interactions were charged with a mix of intellectual banter and subtle flirtation, adding an exciting and sometimes tense undercurrent to the friendship.

"Hey, have you seen Farmer?" Harvey called out over the pounding music, passing the joint along in the hazy rotation. "Nah, they mentioned needing some fresh air," His roommate groaned, rolling their eyes in a gesture that spoke volumes about the tension brewing between the both of you. The rough patch you were going through seemed to be deepening at the moment. "You should go check on them, Jack." Harvey urged, his tone tinged with concern as he watched his friend, silently urging them to take action. "Fuck that, and miss the rotation? You go check on them if you're so worried," Jack retorted dismissively, the words laced with frustration and defensiveness. Letting out a sigh through his nose, Harvey pushed up from his seat, growing increasingly annoyed by Jack’s stubbornness. "Fine, I will, Jackass," Harvey shot back, his voice edged with irritation as he slipped away into the bustling party crowd.

Harvey checked around the house party, but couldn't find you upstairs or inside. He decided to poke his head outside. As he looked around, he finally spotted you sitting at the side of the house, seated on the ground and leaning against the wall. "Hey," he called out softly, watching you turn to look at him. "Hey…" you responded quietly. He walked over and sat down next to you, both of you gazing up at the night sky. "What's up?" he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "I don't know… just…" You sighed deeply, curling up a bit more into yourself, your thoughts seemingly distant. Harvey leaned closer, concerned.

"I don't know, man… I kinda just want to go home," you expressed with frustration. His expression softened, noting your lack of enjoyment. "Jack said we'd just chill at home, then he dragged me here…" Confusion flickered across his face; he had always assumed you enjoyed going out to parties. "I thought you wanted to come, Farmer?" Harvey asked, scooting nearer to hear you over the music. "No, Jack keeps dragging me out…" you replied with a slight stomp of your foot. "I just want to hang out at your place…. All of this was a mistake… I feel like a mistake"

Harvey glanced at you, concern crossing his face as he nodded, comprehending just how foolish Jack was behaving. "I don't think you are. Come on, I'll take you home," he offered, standing up and extending his hand towards you. "What? But weren't you the one who wanted to come here in the first place?" you asked, gazing up at him with a confused expression. "Not if someone isn't enjoying themselves. I've got to make sure everyone is taken care of. Isn't that what doctors do, right?" He chuckled lightly, poking fun at himself, and gestured once more for you to take his hand. “You are a weird one.” He smiled holding your hand firm and helping pull you up. “I'll be a good one.” He retorted with a smirk of confidence.

The walk to your dorm was pleasant, the air cool and the streets peaceful, with only the murmur of your conversation filling the quiet space between you. Harvey was about to bid you goodbye at your door and head back to the party, going to talk with Jack and subtly remind him of how fortunate he was to have you. "Want to come in for a bit?" you asked, holding the door open for him. ‘I shouldn't,’ Harvey thought, aware that stepping inside might be a mistake, blurring the boundaries of your relationship. Despite his reservations, he found himself saying, "Sure," unable to resist your inviting smile as he followed you through the doorway. After all, a little more conversation couldn't hurt, could it?

A little more conversation quickly turned into Harvey pinning you to the couch, the wet, slick, slapping sounds filling the dorm. “Say that again…” He growled, teasing you, eager to erase those words from your mind. “I-I… I’m… a mista~ Fuck!” You gasped, interrupted as he chuckled, looking down as your eyes rolled up when he bottomed out, feeling your hips against his. “A what?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin beneath your ear.

“A mistake!” He groaned, noticing you weren't going to back down. He shifted your legs, pressing your knees into your chest. “If you're a mistake, you're a damn good one,” he retorted, the irony of the mistake of bedding his roommate's partner momentarily lost on him. Pulling out, he gently teased the tip at your weeping entrance. “Harvey…” You whimpered, but he shook his head, looking at you. “Say at least that,” he urged, rubbing his thumbs into your thighs. “What?” You chuckled in confusion. “At least say you're a good mistake, and I'll keep fucking you.”

Hearing your breath catch at his request, seeing you bite your lip. He chuckled softly seeing the inner turmoil of your mind. “I… I’m a good mistake…” Finally getting somewhere Harvey smiled and pushed back in. “Good job.” He teased as your bodies clapped together. “You are good, you feel so good.” Harvey moaned out as he pressed you further down. “You look so pretty like this…” He bit his lip, hands moving gripping your hips, and began to piston in and out of you. “Fuck… you feel so good.” He groaned out as your walls milked his length. Harvey gritted his teeth at the pleasure, sensations overloading him.

His hips rutted, fucking into you with the fervent speed of a man dying for release. “I think I’m going to cum,” he warned as he stared into your eyes, hoping for a sign of permission. He wanted to make sure. “M-Me too, please, Harvey.” Your pleas made him feel like the verge of losing his mind was close. “Fuck,” he moaned out, his pace slowing down, getting hard, and deep. His head leaned back, and his eyes screwed shut as his cock throbbed. “Farmer,” he growled pulling out, just before he came, coating your stomach and chest with his hot, thick load. He leaned in, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. “Fuck,”

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath again, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you. "Harvey," your voice rang out melodiously, and he couldn't help but smile even wider. "Guess we made a bit of a mess?" he quipped, surveying the living room around them.

"Just a bit—" The conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of the home phone. "I got it," Harvey watching as you got up and answered the phone. As you spoke into the receiver, the weight of reality returned. He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the flashback. The memory of what had followed was too raw, too cringe-inducing for him to want to recall while he was out with his friends.

Harvey had pulled himself back just as Shane spoke up. ‘Oh hey, isn't that the new Farmer?" He turned around, following Shane's pointed finger, toward where you were engaged in conversation with Gus. Harvey caught sight of you—a familiar face in this unexpected place—and his stomach lurched with surprise. "Harvey?" Elliott's voice interrupted, carrying a hint of amusement. Harvey turned back to them, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, that's the new Farmer…" he replied, his tone tinged with surprise as he tried to process the scene unfolding before him. He could see Shane and Elliott exchanging a knowing glance, their amusement palpable. "Have you already met them, hmm?" Elliott purred, his lips curling into a smirk. "Quick physical exam?" Shane added, gently jabbing Harvey with his fist. "No, nothing like that," Harvey scoffed, pushing Shane away. "Harvey?" Your voice cut through the air, calling out to him. It was no longer a song caught on replay in his mind; now, it was live and present.

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picturejasper20 · 23 days ago

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Danny Phantom needed better arcs (or why The Ghost and Molly Mcgee did it better)

I have been reading some old posts from Monotype on phantom, mainly those that talk about continuity and how Danny Phantom should have had better written arcs, with having plot threads and characters arcs being left open and often with no proper closure. In these posts Danny Phantom gets compared to series like Steven Universe and Gravity Falls in terms of how these shows use pacing and development to tell their stories.

So i was thinking since i usually talk about parallels between Danny Phantom and The Ghost and Molly Mcgee, why not compare the two? And you would think ¨why are you comparing an action superhero show to a more comedy slice of life show?¨ And let me tell you, considering what The Ghost and Molly Mcgee was able to pull off, i think it is more than fair to do this comparison.

I assume that most of my followers know what Danny Phantom is so i won't dive into what the series is about. In The Ghost and Molly Mcgee's case, for those who don't know, it is a series about Molly McGee and her family moving to an old house where a ghost named Scratch lives is in. Molly and Scratch become best friends over the course of the series, something that brings them issues along the way. While the series is more comedy slice of life, it has arcs that get explored through the show and there is a constant change in the characters and the world itself.

Having explained that, lets move to the comparison between these shows: I think it would be good to start with Danny Phantom trio development (Danny, Sam, Tucker) vs The Ghost and Molly Mcgee ¨Comet trio¨ (Molly, Scratch and Libby) development in the first season of each show.

So Danny as main character gets plenty of episodes about him. Some good examples of these are "Attack of the Killer Garage Sale", "What You Want", "Bitter Reunions", "My Brother's Keeper" and "Teacher of the Year". He gets an overall arc in the firsy season and the series as a whole. We can agree that in that way he is a well developed character.

But what about Sam and Tucker? Sam has "Parental Bonding", "Control Freaks" and maybe "Fanning the Flames". Tucker has "What You Want" and some in "Teacher of the Year" They also have some B plots that explore their characters in some episodes too...

However, they don't really feel that well developed? They don't even seem like to have a proper arc in contrast to Danny this season. Just some good scenes here and there.

In contrast The Ghost and Molly Mcgee has the three characters from the Comet Trio developing and changing through the season. -Molly has different episodes about learning to respect other people's boundaries better ("Mazel Tov, Libby!", "Ready, Set, Snow!") or how being positive all the time isn't always a good thing ( "All Systems No") -Libby has a whole arc about learning to overcome some of her anxieties and insecurities until she grows to be more confident of herself ( "Mazel Tov, Libby!" and "Talent Show") and she has episodes that explore other sides of her character. ( "Monumental Disaster", "Festival of Lights") -And Scratch- i could write a lot about him but he has some character growth every other episode and the changes he goes through Season 1 alone are very noticeable. He is a characters who just develops a lot in the series.

Overall, i think it is fair to say that the Comet Trio from The Ghost and Molly Mcgee is more developed and has better arcs when compared to the Phantom trio from Danny Phantom

Another example of this is how Valerie Gray and Ollie Chen character arcs get handled in both respective series. Both start as semi antagonists that are ghosthunters who fall in love with the main teenager character and hate ghosts but gradually change their views about it through the show.

The main difference is how Ollie Chen has more of a complete character arc while Valerie Gray doesn't.

Valerie was going through some good development around Season 1 and Season 2 with her motivations being explored and her relationship with Danny changing over time. She gets some good episodes on Season 1 and a few in the first half of Season 2. The problem is that after the "Flirting with Disaster" the show seemed to forget about Valerie for around half of its run until the penultimate episode of the series "D-Stabilized". And even then she never gets a proper conclusion to her learning about Danny being Phantom nor able to regret her past actions from previous episodes. She doesn't get to have speaking lines in the series finale ¨Phantom Planet¨ neither.

Comparing Valerie to Ollie Chen, it doesn't take too long for Ollie to learn that Molly has been hiding she has a ghost (Scratch) as her best friend. He learns about this near the end of the episode ¨I Wanna Dance with Some-Ollie¨.

This leaves him emotionally crushed and that gets explored in later episodes with him learning that all ghosts aren't evil and he changes his views about them. ("Frightmares on Main Street", "The Unhaunting of Brighton Video") He later has episodes that he confronts his family about these views they have too like "Welcome to NecroComic-Con".

I do have my issues with Ollie as character but one thing i can give him is that he has a completed character arc by the end of Season 2. He learns to overcome his hatred of ghosts and reflect on his past actions, trying to be better over time.

I think one factor is that The Ghost and Molly Mcgee had less issues with changing the status quo than Danny Phantom did. What happens in one episode can have an impact on later episodes and the characters change in these. This is because these shows came during different times but also that Tgamm had its characters arcs and development better planned from the start. Danny Phantom episodes were just written as the production went along and a lot of times the team didn't have a clear plan in mind of where things should go.

That doesn't mean that The Ghost and Molly Mcgee isn't without its flaws. Season 2 is kind of a mess in how it handles its arcs and some things should have been better paced. In spite of that, i think the series in a lot of ways did a better job at using continuity and arcs than what Danny Phantom did. There are more examples i could cite but these ones are the closest that come to mind to do this comparison.

#danny phantom #the ghost and molly mcgee #Tgamm #danny fenton #valerie gray #tucker foley #sam manson #molly mcgee #ollie chen #scratch mcgee #libby stein torres

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allthingsfangirl101 · 6 days ago

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Not-So Good Cop – Timothy McGee

Trigger Warning: violence, mention of rape

"Grab your gear," Gibbs said as he walked into the squad room. "We got a Navy Lieutenant who was attacked in her home."

"Dead?" McGee asked.

"Worse," Gibbs sighed.

"What's worse than dead?" DiNozzo asked.

"Raped."

The three drove to the crime scene in silence. They didn't usually, but things were done differently when it was a case like this. They didn't make jokes. They didn't act childish. They were gentle and respectful.

"Wait. . ." McGee mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing," McGee stuttered. "It's just. . . Y/N lives in this building."

"Ohhhh," DiNozzo said singsongy. "Lieutenant McGirlfriend lives here. Maybe we'll run into her."

They headed to the Navy Lieutenant's apartment and McGee froze when they reached the door.

"It can't be," he whispered.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"Y/N lives here." Without saying anything else, McGee walked into the apartment. Gibbs and DiNozzo shared a look before quickly following McGee.

The second McGee walked into his girlfriend's room, his stomach plummeted. She was sitting on her bed, tears streaming down her face, tightly holding onto her robe which was wrapped around her body, as she talked to a female police officer.

"I'm sorry, sir," another officer stopped him in the doorway. "This is an active crime scene. I can't let you in."

"He's NCIS," Gibbs said, appearing behind McGee. "And she is. . ."

"Tim?"

Everyone turned when Y/N shakily said McGee's name. She let out a small sob as she stood up and ran over to him. She jumped in his arms and he instantly caught her.

"I'm here, baby," he whispered.

"It was horrible!" She sobbed. McGee tightened his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest.

"She's a Navy Lieutenant and he's an NCIS agent," Gibbs finished explaining to the officer. "Not to mention that they've been dating for over a year."

"Oh," the officer said, his eyes still on Y/N shaking in McGee's arms.

"We can handle it from here," Gibbs said. "Thank you."

"Y/N," McGee whispered. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She looked up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you asking as my boyfriend or an NCIS agent?"

"Both?" McGee shrugged.

"No offense, Tim," Y/N sighed as she tucked back into his chest, "but I think I'd rather have NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee right now."

"How about NCIS Special Agent Boyfriend?"

"Okay," Y/N chuckled weakly.

McGee grabbed her hand and led her out of the room. He looked around when he saw all the people in her apartment. They sat down on the couch and Y/N instantly tucked into his chest. McGee looked up at Gibbs and sent him a pleading look before glancing down at Y/N.

"DiNozzo, clear the room," Gibbs whispered.

"On it, boss," DiNozzo said. He started to walk away but stopped. He looked over at Y/N in McGee's arms and his heart sank. When he saw how tightly McGee was holding onto Y/N, he gently added, "Let's find this son of a bitch."

"Y/N," McGee whispered, "what happened tonight, baby?"

"I was getting ready for bed," she started to explain shakily. "All of a sudden, there was this loud bang. I still don't know what it was."

"The door was kicked in," McGee explained gently.

"Oh," she said, her voice breaking. "He came out of nowhere. He hit me so hard it knocked me out. I woke up to him. . . on top of me."

"I tried to get him off of me," she started to explain quickly as she quickly pulled out of McGee's hug. "I fought and I fought. But he kept hitting me. He put his hands around my neck at one point, Tim. I was scared. . . I thought he'd. . . I couldn't breathe."

When Y/N started sobbing, McGee pulled her back into his chest. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to find this guy and hurt him.

"I'm sorry," McGee heard through Y/N's sob. He pulled out of the hug and turned Y/N toward him.

"What on earth are you sorry for, baby?" He asked as he reached up and caught a tear with his thumb. "Y/N, this was not your fault. Nothing you did caused this. You're the victim here. And I am going to find this son of a bitch and make him pay for hurting you."

"Tim. . . He. . . You know what he did to me," she barely got out.

"I know," McGee said. His eyes softened when he realized what Y/N was so worried about. "Baby, this doesn't change anything."

"But. . ."

"It doesn't change anything between us," he gently cut her off. "Y/N, nothing some coward does is going to change how I feel about you."

"You still love me?" She asked, her voice breaking. McGee leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers. He broke the kiss and smiled at her, keeping his face inches from hers.

"Nothing would ever make me stop loving you."

* * * * *

Ever since she was attacked, Y/N's been staying at McGee's place and McGee hasn't left her side. He wanted to go in and stay at NCIS until he found this son of a bitch, but he didn't want to leave Y/N alone. And Y/N didn't want him to leave her.

McGee woke up after a rough night of Y/N barely sleeping. He looked over to see her finally getting some rest. He jumped when his phone started ringing. He quickly answered it to turn off the ring but didn't say anything.

McGee quietly left his room and slightly closed the door to keep from waking Y/N up as he answered the phone.

"McGee!" DiNozzo yelled the second McGee answered the phone. "We got a lead on the bastard that attacked Y/N."

"Really?"

"He tried to attack another Navy Lieutenant last night. They caught him on a neighbor's ring camera. Abby's running facial recognition on the creep now." DiNozzo paused before adding, "I thought you and Y/N would want to know. How is she?"

"She's. . . better," McGee sighed.

"She still not sleeping through the night?"

"No," McGee said as he sat on his couch. "It takes a long time for her to fall asleep and then when she is asleep, she wakes up to the slightest noise. It seems like everything scares her now. I can't even leave the room without her getting scared."

DiNozzo was silent for a while before saying gently, "Stay with her. I'll call you if we get a hit on the BOLO."

After McGee hung up with DiNozzo, he leaned his head on the back of his couch and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, he stood up and went back to his room. When he walked in, he was surprised to see Y/N awake. She was sitting against the headboard, clutching a pillow to her chest.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said gently as he walked over and sat next to her. The second he was by her side, she turned and cuddled into his chest. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little," Y/N mumbled. McGee heard her take a few breaths that soon turned into soft sobs. "I can't stop thinking about it, Tim."

"I'm so sorry, baby," McGee whispered. "I wish, more than anything, that I could change what happened. What I can tell you is that it'll go away."

"When?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I wish I did, but I don't. There is some good news though. The team got a lead."

"They what?" She stuttered as she slightly pulled out of his arms.

"Tony just called me," he explained. "He said that there was a guy who tried to attack another woman in the Navy last night. They caught him on the security camera. Abby is trying to identify him from the recording."

"That's. . . Good, right?"

"It is," McGee said quickly. "It's really good, baby. My team is the best group of NCIS agents we have. Especially when it comes to family."

"I'm not family," she blushed. "At least not yet."

McGee leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. He broke the kiss and smiled at her. "My team loves you. I love you. We'll find this son of a bitch. For you."

* * * * *

It took a couple of days, but eventually, McGee's team found the man who attacked Y/N.

McGee slowly hung up his phone and looked up to see Y/N making lunch. She didn't notice when he walked into the kitchen. She turned around with two plates in her hands and stopped when she finally noticed him.

"Hey, you," she said softly. "Who called you?"

"Tony," McGee answered her as he walked over to her. She was about to put down the two plates but froze when he said, "They got him, baby."

"They what?" She stuttered. McGee took the plates out of her hands and gently put them on the counter.

"My team caught him, Y/N. DiNozzo called me to tell me that they found him and were bringing him back to NCIS."

"So," she said slowly after thinking about it for a second, "it's over?"

"Almost, gorgeous," he whispered.

"Almost?" She stuttered.

McGee hesitated before explaining, "I need to take you to NCIS so you can ID the man they caught as the man who attacked you."

"You want me to. . . I don't know, Tim. I don't think I can. . . I can't face him."

When McGee noticed Y/N slowly start to go into a panic attack, he gently grabbed her arms.

"I am not putting you in a room with that monster," he reassured her. "I promise, baby. All you have to do is stand in the observation room and tell us if he was the one who attacked you. He won't even know you're there."

"Promise?" She asked, her voice soft.

"I promise." McGee could see that something was bothering her. "Is there something else on your mind?"

Y/N hesitated before finally asking McGee, "Do I have to do this alone?"

"Of course not," McGee said quickly. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "I will be by your side the entire time."

McGee kept his promise. He held her hand the entire drive to NCIS. He kept his arm wrapped around her the entire elevator ride up. He led her through the squad room and into the observation room. When they walked in, McGee's team looked at the two.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Gibbs asked gently.

"I'm okay," she shrugged as she stepped closer to McGee.

Gibbs walked over and lowered his voice. "It's almost over, Y/N. All we need you to do is tell us if the guy we have in the other room is the same one who attacked you. Once you do that, you can go home and we will take it from there."

Y/N looked at McGee and nodded. McGee kept his arm wrapped around Y/N's waist as DiNozzo switched on the light in the interview room.

"Lieutenant," Gibbs said gently, "is this the man that attacked you three nights ago?"

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she tightly grabbed onto McGee. She tried to form words but they got stuck in her throat. All she could do was picture everything that happened that night.

"Just nod, baby," McGee whispered. She covered her mouth to try and stifle the sob. The tension in the observation room thickened when Y/N nodded her head.

Y/N jumped when Gibbs knocked on the window. She tucked into McGee's chest before she finally let her sob out. McGee caught her when her legs gave out.

"Get her out of here," Gibbs whispered. "She doesn't need to be here anymore. We can handle the rest."

With his arms still wrapped tightly around her, McGee led her out of the observation room. They left the room and were walking down the hallway when Abby came running toward them.

"Y/N!"

McGee smiled when Abby pulled Y/N from him and wrapped her in her arms. They pulled out of the hug and started talking. McGee didn't bother to interrupt. This was the first time since Y/N was attacked that she smiled and acted a little like herself.

"McGee."

He turned around to see Gibbs walking out of the room. "I want you to interview him."

"Are you sure?" McGee asked. "What about Rule number 10?"

"It goes out the window when the bastard attacks the woman you love," Gibbs said simply. He patted McGee on the back as he added, "Go get him, McGee. I'll be in the observation room if you need me."

McGee looked over his shoulder to see Y/N talking to Abby. He slowly turned back to Gibbs and tried to control his anger.

"I won't be the one who needs help."

* * * * *

Abby took care of Y/N while McGee interviewed the man who attacked the woman he loves. His name was Louis Jackson. Apparently, he was kicked out of the Marine training camp for coming onto his female superior. Because of that, he's been going around to Navy bars and attacking women. Y/N was the first woman he followed home.

And McGee couldn't wait to ask what made Jackson follow Y/N home.

With the file clenched in his hand, McGee walked into the interrogation room. DiNozzo and Gibbs shared a look as McGee sat across from Jackson.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" DiNozzo asked. "McGee is gonna kill him."

"Wouldn't you if the woman you loved was attacked by this slime ball?"

"Exactly," DiNozzo chuckled. "McGee loves Y/N more than he's ever loved a girl. I saw the way he held her as she cried in her apartment the other day. While he was holding her, I saw the anger in his eyes. And I've never seen that kind of anger in Tim."

Gibbs was slightly taken back when DiNozzo called McGee by his first name.

"We are about to see a different side to him, boss," DiNozzo said gently. "To be honest, I'm worried about him."

"Then go."

"What?"

"Go in there with him," Gibbs clarified. "Not to take over the interrogation, but to have his back."

DiNozzo nodded before leaving the observation room and walking into the interrogation room. McGee didn't say anything as DiNozzo walked in. DiNozzo sent McGee a nod as he positioned himself behind him.

"Where were you two nights ago?" McGee asked, already struggling to keep his anger under control.

"Hanging with my buddies, watching a football game," Jackson said a little too quickly.

"What football game?" McGee asked. He didn't bother to hide his smirk when Jackson opened and closed his mouth.

"I don't know," Jackson said slowly. "We were a little focused on the drinking part."

"You got that part right," DiNozzo mumbled. Jackson looked over McGee's shoulder and glared.

"Where were you three nights ago?" McGee asked, his jaw clenched.

"I don't remember," Jackson said as he leaned back in the chair.

"What kind of bars do you like to attend?" McGee tried to bait him.

"You can cut the act," Jackson sighed. "I know what game you're playing. You, the good cop, are laying out everything you know before the other guy comes in and bashes my head in."

"Are you saying I'm the good cop?" McGee chuckled, instantly making DiNozzo nervous.

McGee grabbed Jackson's arm and pulled him forward. He used his other hand to force Jackson onto the table.

"What the hell?!" Jackson yelled. "Get this guy off of me!"

DiNozzo looked between McGee and Jackson and put his hands up in defense. "Hell no," he laughed. "I ain't getting in between you and Agent McRocky. Plus, I wasn't the one who attacked Lieutenant Y/L/N."

"This is about that little tease?"

McGee twisted his arm, cutting him off and making him yell out in pain.

"I wouldn't talk about his girl like that," DiNozzo chuckled.

"I am far from the good cop," McGee sneered into the guy's ear. "You attacked the woman I love. The only reason I haven't killed you is because she needs me."

McGee twisted his arm a little more before finally letting him go.

"You have no proof," Jackson tried to scoff but both McGee and DiNozzo could tell he was bluffing.

"We have a ring camera video of you and we have multiple witness statements. Every single one of the women you've attacked has given us police sketches that look just like you. You have even been identified."

"That little skank IDed me, didn't she?" Jackson asked through his teeth.

McGee went to grab him but DiNozzo stopped him before continuing, "We have all the evidence we need to lock you up for a looooonnnng time, Jackson. We don't even need your confession."

"Then why did you drag me in here?" He asked through his teeth.

"You can call it a professional courtesy," McGee said through his clenched jaw.

"In other words," DiNozzo gently corrected, "we're giving you one chance to come clean and maybe, maybe, we can talk to the judge."

The two agents stared at Jackson and waited for him to confess. He glared right back at them as he tried to cover the pain. McGee and DiNozzo shared a look. McGee closed the file and stood up. The two loudly talked as they left.

"Too bad," DiNozzo sighed. "I was sure he was gonna take the plea deal and only go to prison for the last two attacks."

"I know," McGee said, almost choking on the words. "Now he's looking at twenty-five years instead of ten, maybe eight with good behavior."

McGee's hand was on the doorknob when Jackson spoke up. "Wait!" McGee and DiNozzo shared another look before slowly turning around, acting like they didn't set this up.

"Did you have something you wanted to say?" DiNozzo asked overly nice.

"Talk more about this plea deal."

* * * * *

After finalizing the details, McGee felt like a giant weight was lifted off his shoulders. He and DiNozzo walked out of the interrogation room the same time that Gibbs walked out of the observation room.

Gibbs looked at McGee with an unreadable expression on his face. "How are you feeling?" He asked McGee.

"I'm fine," McGee sighed.

"You're tired," Gibbs said with a soft chuckle. "Why don't you find Y/N and take her home? DiNozzo can finish Jackson's paperwork."

"You're okay with that?" McGee asked, turning toward DiNozzo.

"Not really. . ." DiNozzo started to say but Gibbs cut him off with a slap to the back of his head. "I mean, absolutely. I am one hundred percent okay with it, McGee. Take your girl home."

"Thanks," McGee said with a small chuckle. He patted DiNozzo's shoulder as he handed him the file and turned on his heel, heading toward Abby's lab.

He was just outside Abby's lab when he heard the two girls laughing. Instead of interrupting them, McGee leaned against the doorway and watched them interact. Whatever story Y/N was telling had the both of them in tears.

"Tim!" Y/N gasped when she noticed him watching them. He laughed as she hopped off the stool and ran toward him. She jumped into McGee's arms, almost knocking them both down. She pulled out of their embrace and looked up at him. "Is. . . Is everything okay? I mean. . . Is it over?"

McGee reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His heart sank when he saw the hope in her eyes that was hiding behind the fear.

"It's over, baby."

#timothy mcgee imagines #timothy mcgee fanfic #timothy mcgee imagine #timothy mcgee x reader #timothy mcgee #NCIS #NCIS fanfic #NCIS imagine

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slutforsilverfoxes · 2 years ago

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McGirlfriend

[A/N: in my defense, I did say I was becoming a DiNozzo simp 🙃]

—————

Ziva wadded up an old draft of a report that she was about to shred, opting instead to beam it at Tony’s forehead to gain his attention. The grin on his face melted away as his eyes narrowed in her direction, and he barked out a playful, “What?”

“What is it that you are smiling at over there?”

“A text.”

“From?”

“A friend.”

“Not just a friend,” Abby chimed in from her spot at McGee’s desk, propping her chin on her hands as she batted her eyelashes in Tony’s direction.

“Oh?” That piqued Tim’s interest, and he pulled his attention away from the screen where he was testing a new program to optimize one of Abby’s many search parameters. “Are you seeing someone, Tony?”

“Yeah, McProbie,” the senior agent grinned, brewing up a facetious response. “Your sister.”

Rolling his eyes, McGee shot back, “You wish. She’s too smart for you.”

“Children!” Gibbs barked as he rounded the corner. The three agents scrambled to appear busy, shuffling papers around and clamoring over one another with updates on their supposed productivity this morning. Silencing them all with a mere glance, Gibbs continued, “If you’re done dishing about your social lives, we’ve got a dead Marine in Rock Creek Park.”

—————————

“I do not believe that you have a girlfriend,” Ziva stated matter-of-factly, pulling open the van doors to gather the crime scene kit.

“Well, believe it, Zi-va,” Tony retorted, the two syllables popping off his tongue in that infuriating way only he could do, “because it’s true. Here, watch my eyeballs when I say it: I have a girlfriend. What does your Mossad training tell you about that statement, huh?”

“That you are telling the truth,” she huffed back, eyes narrowed. “But if that is the case then how are you not gloating about your sex escapes all the time?”

“Sexcapades,” DiNozzo corrected automatically.

“Whatever. Why not?”

Tony shrugged, trying to control the blush threatening to creep across his cheeks. “Because.”

McGee unzipped the camera bag and slung the device around his neck as he caught the senior field agent’s eye with a teasing grin. “Because he really likes her! Tony’s in love.”

“Shut it, McGoob,” Tony growled out, slamming the van doors shut and stalking off to find Gibbs at the primary crime scene.

“Look at that, Ziva,” Tim sighed dramatically as they watched their colleague walk away, “our boy’s all grown up.”

—————————

“How was your day today, babe?” You flipped back to the diagram on venous circulation in your anatomy textbook, wiggling your fingers in an invitation for your boyfriend to join you on his bed. He heaved a dramatic sigh before stretching out across the comforter, laying his head against your thigh. “Don’t ask.”

Your fingers automatically went to brush through his short hair, freshly wet from his post-work shower. “Tough case?”

“What’d I just say?” he teased, reaching up to tweak your nose and eliciting a sheepish giggle from you. “It’s not the case, it’s my colleagues. They found out about you today and now they’re probing for more.”

“So tell them,” you offered easily. “My friends at school know about you.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice grew a touch huskier and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah,” you whispered. “I tell them all about your big, thick d…ura mater. For that big ol’ brain of yours.”

He groaned your name in frustration and you laughed, pleased with yourself, until his eyes shot open and you saw that green had faded to black. You held your book up in defense and tried to quell your now racing heart. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I have to study! I swear- don’t you even-”

He shut you up with a gentle kiss that quickly turned more desperate. Taking the textbook from your hands, he set it on the bedside table and tugged your shirt off before molding his lips back to yours, mumbling, “You need to study anatomy? Let’s get you some hands on experience.”

—————————

Tony strutted into the bullpen the next morning, greeting his teammate with an uncharacteristic smile given the fact that the sun had yet to rise. “McProbius. How was your night?”

Tim’s face twisted into one of confusion as he answered, “Uh, fine. Uneventful. How was yours?”

“Why, thank you for asking,” Tony grinned despite intentionally prompting the exchange. “My night was absolutely incredible.”

Ziva dropped her coat on the back of her chair and smirked knowingly at DiNozzo. Crossing her arms, she stated, “You had sex. Good sex, I am guessing, from the way you are gloating right now.”

“Not just good,” Tony clarified. “Amazing. Mind blowing. Since you two are so interested, my girlfriend’s a med student-”

“Hey, so is my little sister!” McGee cut in excitedly. “At Georgetown?”

“Yes, now hush. Anyway, when I tell you that she knows her way around male anatomy which is truly a testament to just how hard she studies. So diligent. Doctors are amazing, and we should appreciate them more.”

Tim and Ziva exchanged curious looks, then turned to see the reason behind the sudden shift in conversation standing behind them. A chorus of greetings- slightly too loud- poured from the three agents’ mouths as they all but ran to their desks to continue working on their current case.

—————————

“His desk is right over there,” the security guard gestured in the general vicinity, and you thanked her with a smile before making your way through the bullpen bustling with midday activity.

An older man in a tan suit approached as you neared the section the guard had pointed out, a soft smile on his face despite the gruffness in his voice. “Can I help you?”

“She’s here for me,” two voices in unison confidently rang out, and you peeked around the man you assumed to be Gibbs to find the source of the sound.

“Easy, McGeek,” Tony chuckled as he rose from his desk. “Unless she’s the suspect you’ve been theorizing about all day, I’ll take it from here.”

“Uh, I think you should take it easy considering you have a girlfriend, Tony,” Tim shot back, brows furrowed. “She’s my sister.”

“But that’s- she’s-” Tony stumbled over his words while Ziva leaned back in her chair, laughing to herself as she connected the dots with a giddily mumbled, “This is the best day ever.”

Both men pointed accusatory fingers at you, fighting to be heard.

“You said you were studying last night!” “Your last name isn’t McGee!”

“Woah,” you held up your hands in defense, trying to calm the situation. “I was studying last night,” you directed the response to your older brother, then turned to your boyfriend, “and we have two different dads. How come you two have never mentioned each other?”

“He is Probie,” Tony clarified, as Tim mumbled, “He’s DoucheNozzle.”

“Hey!” you and Tony cried out.

“Hey!” Gibbs mocked you all, jingling a set of car keys in the middle of your heated circle. “Boyfriend and brother, go pick up our suspect. Figure this out when I have my killer behind bars.”

Sufficiently chastened, they each pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks while glowering over your head at the other man. As they made their way over to the elevator- clearly bickering from the looks of it- Ziva approached you gleefully. “They will either bond over their love for you in that car, or you will end up single and an only child. Also, hi, Ziva David.”

“Y/N,” you supplied in kind, taking her proffered hand.

“What inspired this visit, anyway?”

“Oh,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I came to tell them I passed my anatomy exam with flying colors.”

#anthony dinozzo #anthony dinozzo x reader #tony dinozzo #tony dinozzo x reader #timothy mcgee #Timothy McGee x sister!reader #tim mcgee #tim McGee x sister!reader #established relationship #ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #tony dinozzo imagine #anthony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo x you #tony dinozzo x y/n #anthony dinozzo x you #anthony dinozzo x y/n

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beethebisblog · 1 year ago

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Episode 9: You’re Dropping Out of RYDELL.

We finally got a Shy Guy name drop!!! Edward! I love him. I am so glad they talked it out and Cynthia apologized.

Someone said what if he’s gay, and honestly I can see it. We love to see wlw mlm solidarity. (Someone said wlw mlm hostility last week and I cried laughing because #accurate)

Nancy’s plot line this whole episode.. girl I have been the one trying to keep friendships together, I am so glad it was mostly successful for you. I’m glad she didn’t go back to her old friends because she already has three best friends. “I’m in love with our friendship” me too

Now she and Potato need to actually have a conversation, but I have a feeling they will resolve things amongst themselves.

SOMEONE ARREST THAT CRAZY, PERVERT AND GET HIM AWAY FROM MY 16 YEAR OLD CHILD PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Jane and McGee 🫶 girl power fr

Cynthia and Gil: I’m having feelings I don’t want them. Have a beer. 😭😂

Buddy acknowledging that none of this would have happened if he had JUST BEEN HONEST

SOMEONE ARREST THAT CRAZY, PERVERT AND GET HIM AWAY FROM MY 16 YEAR OLD CHILD PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Go Hazel, always having the right words for Buddy.

Glad Buddy stood up for Susan. The moment in the home ec room was really sweet.

Cynthia and Jane and Nancy made up good!!

THE SONG THEY ALL SANG TOGETHER WAS SO GOOD I MISSED THEM ALL SINGING TOGETHER

Olivia, girl, if you have to ask yourself if you are just afraid of being lonely, the answer is probably yes, just TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS

We got like halfway through the episode without a song and I was so confused lol.

Nancy’s vision thingy in the Frosty Palace was very much an homage to Frenchy’s, and I loved it.

The girls comforting Jane at the end 😭🫶

Jane’s sad puppy dog eyes at Olivia in her house, I know what you are.

For the finale, here’s what I think will happen: they are going to try to disrupt the wedding process, someone is going to get richie, Nicholson is going to decide that Buddy and richie should stay at RYDELL in some work around “I’m so smart” way, Lydia and Cynthia are going to talk!!!, Hazel and Buddy are going to have/ talk about their little moments? (I want someone to acknowledge them because I want to like them, but at the same time, it’s Buddy), Susan and Olivia convo???

I can’t believe there’s only ONE more episode

There was a criminal amount of Richie this episode. (But that’s better than the creepy CGI superimposed one from 1.08)

#grease rise of the pink ladies #pink ladies #jane facciano #cynthia zdunowski #nancy nakagawa #t birds #olivia valdovinos #buddy aldridge #lesbians #gil rizzo #richie valdovinos #shy guy edward #potato continues to rock

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justforbooks · 1 month ago

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Kris Kristofferson

Songwriter, singer and actor known for such classic hits as For the Good Times and Me and Bobby McGee

‘Songwriter” might be the first term that springs to mind to describe Kris Kristofferson, who has died aged 88, but he could also lay claim to being a singer, film star, soldier and academic. Highly cerebral yet also a rugged man of action, Kristofferson was from the same fine tradition of robust American individualists as his friends Johnny Cash and Sam Peckinpah.

Kristofferson’s greatest successes as a singer-songwriter came during the 1970s, especially with the albums The Silver Tongued Devil and I (1971), Border Lord (1972) and Jesus Was a Capricorn (1972), all big country hits that also crossed over to the pop album charts. However, before he achieved recognition as a performer, Kristofferson was already renowned as a supplier of hit songs to other artists.

His first to chart was Vietnam Blues, recorded by Dave Dudley in 1966, but the ball really started rolling when Roger Miller recorded three Kristofferson songs for his album Roger Miller (1969). One of them was Me and Bobby McGee, the bittersweet story of a pair of lovers and their life on the road, and Miller took it into the country music Top 20. Partly inspired by the Federico Fellini film La Strada (1954), it would become one of Kristofferson’s most covered songs.

Then Ray Stevens charted with Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down, the desolate alcoholic’s lament that would be a hit for Cash the following year, Faron Young took Your Time’s Comin’ into the country Top 5, and Jerry Lee Lewis followed suit with Once More With Feeling.

The Kristofferson magic also worked for Ray Price, who took For the Good Times to a country No 1 and the pop Top 20 in 1970, while Sammi Smith scored a pop Top 10 hit with Help Me Make It Through the Night. By the time Janis Joplin’s cover of Me and Bobby McGee topped the pop charts in March 1971, several months after Joplin’s death, Kristofferson (who had had a brief affair with the troubled singer) had become one of the hottest songwriting names in Nashville.

His debut album, Kristofferson, had gone nowhere following its April 1970 release, even though it contained songs being made into hits by other singers, and despite Kristofferson’s appearance at the vast Isle of Wight festival that year. But after he turned the corner commercially with Silver Tongued Devil, the first album was reissued as Me and Bobby McGee – and earned him a gold record. In 1972, several of his songs were nominated for Grammys, and he won Best Country Song for Help Me Make It Through the Night.

By the time Jesus Was a Capricorn had topped the country charts in 1973, boosted by the crossover hit single Why Me, Kristofferson’s attention had turned towards acting. He had already appeared in Dennis Hopper’s chaotic The Last Movie (1971) and played a down-and-out musician in Cisco Pike (1972), and now it was his connection with Peckinpah that pushed his movie career into high gear.

Peckinpah cast him as Billy the Kid in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973), in which Bob Dylan had an acting role and supplied songs for the soundtrack, and he worked with Peckinpah again on Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974) and Convoy (1978).

In 1973 Kristofferson married the singer Rita Coolidge (his second wife) and the couple scored a big pop and country hit with their first duet album, Full Moon, which delivered a batch of hit singles including the Grammy-winning From the Bottle to the Bottom. They enjoyed further success with the albums Breakaway (1974) and Natural Act (1978).

Meanwhile, Kristofferson had starred in Martin Scorsese’s first Hollywood studio production, the romantic comedy Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974), with Ellen Burstyn. Two years later he soared into blockbuster heaven when paired with Barbra Streisand in the remake of A Star Is Born (their on-screen relationship continued off-screen). It was bludgeoned by critics but earned $150m at the box office, and brought Kristofferson a Golden Globe for best actor.

Coolidge and Kristofferson divorced in 1980. Coolidge commented acidly: “I can’t say enough about what a great man he was. It’s just that he was a shitty husband ... He was a very toxic human being with all his drinking and his womanising.”

Kristofferson, discussing how he had idolised the country singer Hank Williams, commented that “most of the heroes in that vein have been pretty self-destructive, and I was myself for a while. I used to drink a lot just to get up on the stage. I did not have a lot of confidence at the beginning.” He stopped drinking alcohol in 1980, after his doctor warned him that he was killing himself.

His leading role as Jim Averill in Heaven’s Gate (1980) ought to have been a crowning triumph for Kristofferson, but Michael Cimino’s portentous western became a byword for wastefulness and excess, and bankrupted United Artists studios. He enjoyed only modest success with Flashpoint (1984) and co-starred the same year with Willie Nelson in Songwriter, for which he wrote several songs, winning an Academy Award nomination for original music score. He and Nelson released the successful duo album Music from Songwriter.

During the 90s he experienced a revival after appearing as a corrupt sheriff in John Sayles’s Lone Star (1996). This led to parts in a string of successful big-budget films including Payback (1999), Planet of the Apes (2001) and the Blade trilogy (1998, 2002 and 2004).

Kristofferson was born in the city of Brownsville, Texas. He was the eldest of three children of Mary Ann Ashbrook and Lars Kristofferson, an air force pilot who rose to the rank of major general. The military life took the family to California, where Kris graduated from San Mateo high school in 1954, then studied creative writing at Pomona College.

He won first prize in a short story competition sponsored by the literary magazine the Atlantic Monthly, and was also recognised by Sports Illustrated for his many achievements in football and athletics during his time as a student.

Later, he was awarded a Rhodes scholarship to Merton College, Oxford University, and it was in the UK that he began performing his own songs. He fell into the orbit of the “beat svengali” Larry Parnes, who secured him some recording sessions (under the name Kris Carson) with Top Rank records and the producer Tony Hatch.

Fortunately, perhaps, Parnes failed to turn him into the next Tommy Steele, and after receiving his master’s degree in English literature in 1960 – he also won a boxing blue while at Oxford – Kristofferson returned to the US.

It was not long before he was back in Europe. Having married Fran Beer in 1960, he joined the US army, became a helicopter pilot and was assigned to West Germany. He continued to write and perform music, forming a band with some fellow servicemen. One of his comrades was a cousin of the Nashville songwriter Marijohn Wilkin, who gave Kristofferson’s work a favourable report when he sent her some of his songs. After completing his tour of duty in 1965 with the rank of captain, he was offered a post at West Point military academy as an English instructor.

However, he took a trip to the city of Nashville to visit Wilkin, which persuaded him to quit the army and devote his efforts to becoming a country music songwriter. He earned a small stipend from a deal with Wilkin’s music publishing company, Buckhorn Music, and worked at various jobs, including flying helicopters to oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico and taking on a job as a studio janitor.

He was working at Columbia Records’ Nashville studios when Dylan came to town to record his album Blonde on Blonde (1966), and it was here that Kristofferson first met Cash, who would become a staunch friend and supporter.

“John would tell everybody in town that Mickey Newbury and I were the best songwriters around,” Kristofferson remembered. “For me, to be endorsed by someone like Cash was really something, like being endorsed by Dylan.”

Kristofferson’s increasingly left-leaning political sympathies were expressed in his album Repossessed (1987), which gave him a hit single with They Killed Him (a tribute to Gandhi, Christ and Martin Luther King), and he appeared in the television miniseries Amerika (1987), which portrayed a US under communist domination. Another politically slanted album, Third World Warrior (1990), failed to chart.

In 1985, Kristofferson and Nelson banded together with Cash and Waylon Jennings to record Highwayman, and both the album and title song were popular country chart-toppers. This gathering of charismatic and much loved country greats became known as the Highwaymen, and enjoyed further success both as a touring act and with the albums Highwaymen 2 (1990) and The Road Goes on Forever (1995).

Kristofferson completed a hat-trick of albums with the producer Don Was, This Old Road (2006), Closer to the Bone (2009) and Feeling Mortal (2013). His final studio album was The Cedar Creek Sessions (2016), which was nominated for a Grammy award for best Americana album.

After several years of suffering from memory loss that doctors believed was caused by Alzheimer’s disease, in February 2016 Kristofferson at last received a diagnosis of Lyme disease. Following appropriate treatment, his condition improved markedly. “It’s like Lazarus coming out of the grave and being born again,” commented his friend the Nashville singer-songwriter Chris Gantry.

In November 2018, he performed Joni Mitchell’s A Case of You at Both Sides Now – Joni 75: A Birthday Celebration, which marked Mitchell’s 75th birthday. He gave his final full-scale live performance at the Sunrise theatre in the city of Fort Pierce, Florida, in 2020.

Having previously been inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame (1977) and the Songwriters Hall of Fame (1985), he was embraced by the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2004, and in 2006 won the Johnny Mercer award from the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

He once said that he wanted the first three lines of Leonard Cohen’s Bird on the Wire on his tombstone:

Like a bird on the wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free

He is survived by his third wife, Lisa Meyers, whom he married in 1983, and their daughter, Kelly Marie, and sons, Jesse, Jody, Johnny and Blake; by a daughter, Casey, from his second marriage; and by a daughter, Tracy, and a son, Kris, from his first marriage, which ended in divorce.

🔔 Kristoffer Kristofferson, songwriter, singer and actor, born 22 June 1936; died 28 September 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Kris Kristofferson #in memoriam

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probably-a-human-being · 13 hours ago

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Fuck it. Maddie, yes? Red head mcgee. She considers herself to be a good cop, that much is obvious from her first scene. Yet in the last scene of episode three, she is one of the first people who pounded her chest along with the Noxians, who supported the idea of a full on invasion and attack on zaun, and she did it with a smile. This indicates that there is no such thing as a "good cop", that the existence of an institution such as the police will always be fixated on violence against minorities, and that the good cops either A) don't bat an eye, like Maddie, or B) leave, like the other guy who's name I forgot. There is no such thing as a good cop. And all of this was done with a character who has exactly one scene where she actually talks. God I love this show so much.

#Arcane #arcane spoilers #Analysis #Character analysis

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owmylasagna-blog · 10 months ago

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Ed is Thicker Than Mud

Warning: Character development arc may take a couple years to take full effect.

Some random musings on post-BPS Eddy growing pains.

You can also read it over on AO3.

Each mechanical tick of the outdated relic of a wall clock reverberating through the office makes his skin crawl. Wriggling uncomfortably, the naugahyde of the chair releases a series of unnatural whines of protest beneath the restless teen. Don’t they know precious moments of his youth are slipping away with every infuriatingly useless second spent shedding dead skin cells in this room? It doesn’t help that his jeans are still damp. He’s pretty sure his new sneakers are wrecked too.

If being detained wasn't bad enough, they’re probably on the phone with his mom right now, and he isn’t exactly looking forward to his folks tearing him a new one over tonight's chicken francaise. Just as he imagines the yelling match his mom and pop are gonna inevitably start the loose doorknob rattles behind him.

“Here we go,” Eddy grumbles into the collar of his long sleeve polo. He slumps down into the armchair.

The door groans on its hinges, open and then shut. Footsteps click in time as the middle aged man slowly makes his way around the office furniture and sits. All the while Eddy keeps his eyes planted on the linoleum tiles between the desk and his feet. He feigns disinterest as a manila folder and a few slips of paper are shuffled.

“So. Edward McGee…”

Eddy squints, not exactly appreciative of the pause for dramatic effect, nor the emphasis put on his last name.

“Would you care to explain why you're in my office, young man?”

“No.”

“No ‘you don’t care’? Or no ‘you can’t explain’?”

In response, Eddy crosses his arms and slouches even further into the depths of the worn leatherette, the heels of his sneakers squeaking as they skid forward. The principal sighs.

“The silent treatment won't get you very far-”

“You know what I did.”

Boy was this interrogation a bunch of bologna.

“Yes, I certainly do. I’m well aware of the damage to school property you’ve caused, not to mention the cost required to repair it. What I want to know is why.”

“Principal Howard, I didn’t-”

“We’ve already heard your excuses. This is your last chance to plead your case as to why you felt it necessary to tamper with-”

“I didn’t tamper nothin’!”

Eddy shoots to his feet, looking the principal in the face for the first time. His heart thrashes against his ribcage.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Yep. Totally pointless.

The teen and the man exchange steely glares before the elder shifts his gaze behind the younger.

“Please sit, Edward.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddy parks his keister back down, resuming his previous slouch. He watches as Principal Howard leafs through the papers on his desk. Most are a familiar shade of detention slip blue, some more faded than others. It’s a suspiciously sizable stack considering he’s only been in high school for three months. Sure, his track record hasn’t been… great. He’s never been the morning type. Missing homeroom three out of five days in a week will do that. As does skipping out on a detention here and there. Compared to junior high, though, Eddy considers himself a freakin’ angel so far. Barring today of course… just his luck.

But the slips have Eddy curious enough to raise a brow at, sitting up a bit straighter in an attempt to sneak a peek. He’s caught off guard when the name written on the top edge isn’t his own. Well, not entirely. Eddy’s muscles flex with immediate recognition, flashing a fierce look up to find the intent gaze of the older man peering down his sizable nose through his glasses.

No ‘effin way.

“You remind me of your brother.”

Eddy sputters, feeling the air rush out of his lungs. It makes it hard to speak. His brain fills with static. It makes it hard to think.

“Wha- you- you can’t-”

How’s he allowed to say that?

“Before I became principal I taught at this school for many years. Don’t think I could forget a kid like that so easily. Bright, creative, one might say underchallenged, but misguided, difficult, trouble prone. Unfortunate really. I didn’t have much control of the situation then nor the authority. But things have changed, except for the fact that I’m tasked with ensuring another McGee boy doesn’t slip through the cracks.”

“Cool headed” is an accolade foreign to Eddy. It takes every fiber of his being to bite his tongue, stopping himself from spewing expletives that will land him right back in the hot seat for the umpteenth time. More than anything he holds back to prove that he isn’t anything at all like…

“Which is why I’m requiring that you join an extracurricular student activity effective immediately.”

“WHAT!? WHY?!” Eddy finally blows his top. It’s a relief to scream.

“You need discipline, structure, responsibility, teamwork - whatever it takes to preoccupy your idle hours.”

“Believe me, Teach, the mathletes don’t need me screwin’ up their squared roots or whatever.”

“Then choose something else that interests you. D’you like sports?”

Eddy shrugs. Lately, nothing really interests him. Let alone anything school related. Not even marathons of The Ed Sullivan Show or wearing out the grooves in A-tom-ic Jones can seem to pull him out of this slump. And he sure wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get towel-whipped by the meatheads, that's for sure. The thought of the foot smell that wafts from the locker room like a thick miasma alone makes him shudder.

Eighth grade graduation, the start of high school, and the abysmal summer between them had been a strange fog. Beyond his two best friends, Eddy avoided the other cul-de-sac kids like a plague. Oh yeah, this was cruel ironing as Double Dee put it. All that time vying to get their attention? Ever since they got front row seats to his bro’s assholery on full display, they’d been acting real nice. Too nice.

The remainder of seventh grade, after the groundings ended, was filled with an unprecedented number of invitations to movie nights, birthday parties, and sleepovers. Even though he’d sworn off the scams it somehow felt like he still needed to perform every time he made an appearance. Suddenly, everybody wanted to get to know him more. And that scared Eddy: what if there wasn’t more? He felt he hardly knew himself these days.

“You have until the end of the week to decide, so start asking around. And when you do find a team or club, I will personally speak to the coach or teacher running it to ensure that you are immediately enrolled and actively participating. Do you understand?”

The principal receives a noncommittal grunt as a response. He’s more stern the second time.

“Do you understand, Edward?”

Eddy finally gives a reluctant reply, hoping that this is the end of the conversation and he’ll be off the hook.

“Yeah. Capeech.”

“Good. Because this sort rebellious behavior will not be to-”

“And it’s Eddy.”

The balding man blinks a few times, brows twitching.

“Well, Eddy, another stunt like today and I bring your parents in. Capeech?”

Having his own phrasing thrown back at him makes Eddy feel even more patronized than he already is. Which is saying something, considering this whole freakin’ ordeal feels like it was designed by the universe or some malevolent god to humiliate him to no end.

“Yeah…”

Double doors fly open when the compact teen barrels through. He’s moving fast, on a mission, so focused on getting as much distance between himself and this stupid school that he hardly notices the two figures sitting side by side on the stone stairs anxiously awaiting his release. The leaner of the two jumps to his feet, calling out through the bothersome crack his voice has acquired thanks to puberty.

“Eddy!”

He whips around, jabbing a finger square between Double Dee’s eyes. The taller boy flinches back at the accusatory appendage.

“I aint talkin’ to you, snitch! Let’s go, Ed.”

The eldest of the bunch complies to the command, joining Eddy by his side. Edd huffs, shaking his fists, and with an indignant stomp of his sneakered foot is hot on the trail of his two friends. Seeing as there is a nasty storm cloud over Eddy’s head Ed opts to not ask too many questions. Instead he shares the exciting news:

“Double Dee and me saw two squirrels fighting over a nut while you were gone.”

“Sad story,” replies Eddy, inflection flat as a sheet of paper.

Meanwhile, the speed walking boy approaching from the rear isn’t so quick to change the subject.

“Come now! You can’t seriously think my intention was to smear your academic reputation!”

Eddy keeps stomping the pavement, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, and rolls his eyes in disbelief. The balls on this guy…

“Eddy, please,” Edd pleads, finally gaining, “The entire first floor was flooded. Given my proximity I responded in a manner that anyone in their right mind would. Honestly, are you suggesting I had a plethora of options?”

“Bull! Ya coulda kept your big. Mouth. Shut.” Eddy snarls through gritted teeth, shoulders tensing up to his ears.

“And be a complicit bystander? I think not,” replies Edd with a pout.

“Why do you make it out like I wanted that to happen!?” Eddy spits back, keeping his sights focused on the cracked cement.

“Who says I’m blaming you? It’s causality. You flushed an entire cafeteria tray and its contents down the toilet.”

“Ain’t my fault the lunch sucked mega balls! And why’s the school got plumbing from the Dark Ages? You saw that casserole.” He throws up two skeptical air quotes, “Would have been better off eatin’ rubber cement.”

“I think I saw it move,” Ed adds excitedly, grinning ear to ear.

Ed had eaten his serving of casserole with much relish, though, not before dunking it into his trusty thermos o’ gravy. It’s too bad that Eddy turned down the offer. The mental image of the subpar cafeteria slop alone makes both Edd and Eddy’s stomachs churn, let alone the gusto with which Ed manages to devour it.

“Yes. Well. I must say I was glad to have packed a garbanzo salad sandwich today based on the looks of things,” the teen in the beanie admits, punctuated with a nervous chuckle.

Eddy can’t help but look his friend in the face despite the stubborn front he’s working so hard to put up. Edd’s got a small smile but otherwise he looks ill at the recollection of the foul lunch offerings, his tongue peeking out through the gap as it presses against the back of his teeth. The husky boy cracks his own smile and stifles snort at his pal’s pathetic expression.

“Food so bad, even the crapper couldn’t stomach it,” Eddy throws in just for a kick.

It works - at least he and Ed chuckle over that and Edd shakes his head incredulously - burning off some of the uncomfortable tension that has been growing since the afternoon. The trio continue walking a few yards in the direction of home, lulling their arguing for just a moment to the sound of gravely footsteps, rustling leaves, and the jingle of Eddy’s wallet chain thumping against his thigh.

Sidewalks aren’t exactly wide enough to walk together in a line so it's unavoidable that every now and then, if they don’t split off into a triangle formation, that they bump shoulders. Eddy feels his shoulder nudge into Double Dee’s arm, then awkwardly clears his throat and sniffles against the chill fall air.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” heckles Double Dee with a pretentious sideways smirk.

Before he knows it, Eddy feels the back of his neck burning. For that alone he gives the wiry and historically uncoordinated teen a solid shove, causing him to stumble over his own two feet and step squarely into a soggy pile of street gutter leaves. The feeling of cold damp permeating through his shoe upper and soaking into his sock makes the boy yelp and shudder in disgust, a shiver running up his spine.

“Wet!” Edd wails. He shakes his sodden sneaker like a cat that's stepped in water and skips to catch up.

Of course Eddy laughs at Edd’s theatrics, very openly, which just sets Ed off to join him. Reveling in his buddy’s harmless misfortune, Ed throws an arm over Eddy’s shoulder which the shorter teen roughly shrugs off.

“Very good. I’ve received my comeuppance.” Edd sighs, wincing as his sock squelches with every other step.

A few tsks of disapproval are made by Ed seemingly out of the blue. Edd and Eddy are surprised to see their happy-go-lucky Lump looking uncharacteristically forlorn.

“How sad it must be to be a squirrel without a nut. What cruel, hostile world we must live in where there are not enough nuts to go around.” Ed punctuates the thought with a heavy sigh.

“I’m lookin’ at a nut right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Ed perks up, head whipping violently in search of it as though he can rectify the injustice he’d witnessed.

“Yeah, TWO of ‘em!“

Just as he says it, Eddy’s fist finds its way to the tall redhead’s vulnerable groin with an empty punch.

“DOH!”

Edd puts a bit of space between himself and Eddy.

“Fear not, Ed. Every squirrel has their day.”

“Good for them,” Eddy growls, his earlier gloating soured by envying, of all things, a fuzzy rat.

Seeing as his vapid positivity hasn’t exactly resonated with Eddy, Edd decides to take a more direct approach.

“So, what punishment has befallen you? Another detention.”

Eddy’s brows drop down over his eyes with a snarl. He sees a pebble a few steps ahead and when he reaches it gives it a good solid kick. It skitters wildly into the street.

“No.”

“Suspension.”

“No.”

“Disintegration?” Ed chimes in.

“I wish.”

“You’d make a fine puddle, you would.”

“Thanks, Ed,” Eddy rolls his eyes, shoving his chin down into the collar of his jacket.

He nearly jumps at the shriek-like sound of Edd’s gasp. It looks as though he’s doing a decent impression of that weird painting of the screaming guy.

“Good lord, please don’t tell me you’ve been… expelled!?” Edd can hardly say the word.

“No! Worse! I gotta join some bogus extracaricature.”

Double Dee’s hand flies, grabbing Eddy’s bicep. The sudden physical contact makes Eddy reflexively flinch.

“What a relief! You had me worried for a second.” An offended look on Eddy’s face does worry Edd and he realizes it’s because of the grasp he has on his arm. He swiftly releases it, putting his hand in his jacket pocket.

“Ah- A generously lenient outcome considering the extent of property damage. Participation in a peer activity? Hmm… Why, you could always join me on the junior debate team. What you lack in research skills you certainly make up for with your argumentative temperament.”

“Kill me already.”

Eddy sags under the weight of such a nerdy proposition.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Craning his neck, Ed peers down curiously.

“Join me! We could always use a uh-” Ed pauses, counting on his fingers, “a third member on the team. You could even go by Mr. AV-Eddy.”

With a rough tug, Ed’s head snaps down to match his short-statured friend’s eye level, Eddy’s fist full of the pilling and frayed green jacket collar.

“Call me that at school and I’ll shove an 8 millimeter where the sun don’t shine.”

“Norway?”

“NO way. Don’t even try it.” Eddy threatens before letting go of Ed.

“You got it, Mr. Cool Guy I’d Never Ever Call AV-Eddy, uh, sir!”

To show his deference, Ed removes his monobrow and swears it over his heart.

They keep walking. It’s about a half hour trudge back to the cul-de-sac, but it sure beats the torment of the public school buses. Bottom of the food chain means getting the crappiest seats, or worse even, becoming completely separated. Much better to brave the biting wind for now: Eddy’s ears and nose are already ruddy. Come winter they might reassess.

It’s hard not to think he might be cursed: born with the dark mark. Maybe somewhere down his family line there was some cardinal sin committed that’s the root to all this. If he has to place bets it was probably those damn pilgrims that sold Peach Creek to the Kankers, the lot of inbred nitwits. Eddy sorta gets why his brother is the way he is. He knows deep down his parents treated him different from the jump. That he’s had it better, at least in some ways. Despite his bad luck he’s technically the lucky one. But there is still so much he doesn’t know. Stuff that when he brings it up mom just starts blubbering. He won’t even bring it up with dad. So teachers thought he was smart?

Over the last year, Double Dee has fretted over Eddy’s drawn out silences. Just like the one now. He can’t help but read far too deeply into whatever might preoccupy Eddy’s mind so much to leave him speechless. A more contemplative and reflective streak could be good for Eddy. Except Double Dee knows from personal experience how quickly things can go south inside the echo chamber of one’s own thoughts. He chews his lip as the worry gnaws away at him.

“Eddy? Was there… anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Eddy sniffs his running nose again, scowling. He shrugs.

“S’nothing. Everyone at this school’s got it out for me.”

The feeling of a gentle hand between his shoulder blades makes the back of his eyes burn. Dammit. He blinks hard, sniffing even harder.

“Not everyone.” Double Dee earnestly assures. Ed wraps another arm around him in a lax half hug and this time Eddy doesn’t shrug him off. Instead, he leans in.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Almost everyone.”

And that’s good enough for him.

#eene #ed edd n eddy #lasagnawords

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