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chimchimsauce · 4 years

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The Hills

The Hills have eyes

A commission for darling @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Thank you for your patience! Commissions are open

A steady stream of sweat sticks YN’s thin T-shirt to her back and her hair to her forehead as she struggles under the weight of one of her moving boxes. It’s not all that heavy, but it's incredibly large and awkward to hold against her as she makes her way up the stairs. Finally, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel (or rather hallway) and steps foot into her brand new apartment, setting the box down immediately.

“Is there anything else you need, ma’am?” One of the burly movers YN hired asks her, sweat heavy upon his brow.

She’d brought the last box up herself, wanting to have the personal honor of finishing moving herself in.

“No,” she shakes her head, breathless from her own hard work, “That’s everything. Thank you, guys.”

She tips the men generously, knowing that it must have been extra difficult to move all of her furniture up the many flights of stairs in her new apartment building.

Now, all alone, YN can finally take a good look at it. ‘Apartment’ doesn’t quite seem to fit this new place. It’s massive - room after room with tons of space to put any and everything she could ever need inside of it. A small smile graces her face.

She’s done it. This is all her. Working every single day for the past eight years and dumping all of her time and energy into her startup has truly paid off. She may have missed out on so-called rites of passages and her relationships have certainly suffered, but she’s done it!

That little startup that began in her childhood bedroom when she was in eleventh-grade grew to something so massive that investors sniffed around in record time. Soon enough, someone gave her a number bigger than she would have ever imagined and the decision to sell was easy. YN had given her company the very best she had, but now it’s time to move onto something new.

But before she decided to dedicate her life once again to a passion project, YN makes the choice to step away for a bit and enjoy her newfound wealth by moving to the richest neighborhood in Seoul - Hannam the Hill. The security ensures that she doesn’t have to worry about anything and the location offers her proximity to everything she’d ever want to do.

And speaking of location, YN drags her exhausted body to one of the many massive windows in her apartment, looking out and seeing the evening Seoul skyline. Buildings taller than anything she’s ever seen stand tall and proud like soldiers, their lights bright like her future. The businesswoman goes to bed with a grin on her face, her dreams full of lights that shine like stars.

Within a week of moving in, YN is more or less unpacked. All of her meager wardrobe has been placed in her massive closet and her dishes all unpacked, barely filling a single cabinet in the kitchen.

“Well that won’t do,” she says to herself, looking at her mostly empty-looking apartment.

In the past she spent the vast majority of her time at the office working, so her house was of little consequence She never even hung anything up on her walls. But now, now she finally has the chance to relax, to indulge and fill her life with color.

Grabbing her keys off of the hook by her door, YN decides that now’s as good a time as any to blow some money. She shrugs on a light jacket and heads out. Excitement drums through her veins and pep is in her step. For a moment, she’s in her own world, completely oblivious to everything around her.

That obliviousness leads her to run smack into a small, thin figure, nearly knocking the person off of their feet.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” she says, continuing on her way without questioning the person’s masked face too much.

She knows the Hill’s security is top-notch, so they’re certainly someone who lives here or otherwise has permission to be here.

Annoyed and exhausted, Yoongi glares at the retreating figure, trying to figure out if he’s seen that rude person before. Her face doesn’t seem the slightest bit familiar, so he guesses she must be the new neighbor who moved in a few days ago. Shoving his hands deep in his pocket he finds his keys and heads inside, not even making it to his bed before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, YN steps foot into the parking garage. Her car is fresh off the lot, that new car smell still clinging to her seats. She sets her GPS for the nearest furniture store and pulls away.

YN stays away from leather and white. Those were all her life had been - empty white walls and uncomfortable chairs and couches. She moves through the store slowly, analyzing each and every piece of furniture before settling on a bright yellow couch. It’s loud and undeniably eye catching, something she never would have even thought about buying before.

But now . . . the black card is burning in her pocket.

An hour or two later something of every color under the sun has been charged onto her card, destined to be delivered and put together in her home in just a few days.

And boy oh boy, does it feel good!

YN could swear the world is brighter when she leaves, walking through the streets of Seoul, boutique shops and fancy cafes lining her on each side. She comes to a stop when she sees an especially fascinating looking store and raises her hand to pull open the handle but stops when she hears a small whimper.

For a moment, YN thinks she’s making something up, but the sound comes once more. She pulls away from the storefront and peeks into the alley next door, carefully making her way down the near-empty valley. The whimper comes again and YN crouches down to open a sad looking box.

There, inside, a small shivering puppy is balled up into himself, not even looking at YN. She feels her heart break. Gently, she lifts the small animal up, clutching it close to her chest and rushing towards her car, looking for the nearest vet.

Yoongi isn’t sure when the last time he left his house was. He’s been working nonstop, constantly leaning over his computer to write and compose. His work was easy initially, but Yoongi has been stuck on this bridge for only God knows how long now.

He sighs, pushing away from his desk to stand and stretch, ignoring the way his body screams out in pain and his bones creak. Chip bags and crushed beer cans litter the ground, Yoongi shuffling through the mess without bothering to pick any of them up.

Sunlight nearly blinds him when he steps into his living room. He tosses his arm over his eyes as spots swarm his vision, nausea bubbling up inside of him quickly.

Damn. He’d forgotten to close them last time he’d been out here.

Once he can finally look ahead without his vision looping he shuffles into his kitchen, plugging in his coffee maker and impatiently waiting for it to brew. The window his counter is pressed against to looks out over a park. Bored, he actually glances out for once, people in the distance not aware of the multimillionaire looking at them.

At first, he doesn’t see anything of interest, just the usual stiff-necked people wearing the absolute wrong thing to the park. But then, faster than light, a small creature dashes across the massive green space, a woman chasing after it. Yoongi thinks that maybe someone’s dog has run away, but it soon becomes evident that it’s some sort of game, as the dog starts to yip happily when the woman catches up with him.

A small smile makes its way onto Yoongi’s face as he watches them but it falls soon after. When was the last time he’d done something as simple as enjoyed a day at the park with his dog?

The coffee machine whirs to a stop but Yoongi doesn’t grab it, too lost in his own thoughts. It’s been how long since he broke up with his band mates and gone solo? Three years? Four? He honestly doesn't know. While at first, Yoongi had been all to happy to leave his twenties behind and move forward with his career as a producer and occasional soloist, it soon set in how terribly lonely such a decision made him.

He’s much too well known to simply stroll about how he could when he was a teenager, just another face in an endless stream of people with dreams. But once he reached that dream - once the words “Min Suga” were on every tongue across the globe, he realized that it wasn’t what he wanted at all.

He loved music and success but he hated always being in the limelight without a shred of privacy and under the constant creative censorship of millions of people. So when it once again became time to resign their contracts, Yoongi took a step back even though the others begged him to stay.

Yoongi remembers that day vividly. The look of shock and betrayal as Yoongi said that he wished he’d never even joined BTS, never even pursued the path to idoldom. It was all lies but he’d been feeling so overwhelmed that he just wanted everything to stop for once. Stop the cameras and stop the screaming fans each time he stepped foot out into public.

And so seven became six . . .

But it didn’t last long. Less than six months later the three youngest members decided to leave for military service together and they just never came back. Their sudden departure caused a media uproar and several lawsuits, but the boys had made more than enough money to sweep them under the rug. And then there were three. That didn’t last much longer at all.

Within a year of Min Yoongi leaving BTS, the entire group disbanded.

Yoongi sighs, reaching for his cup and tearing his eyes from the window. He doesn’t deserve such joy, not after he destroyed the only real familial bond he’d ever had. He hasn’t talked to the other members (Ex-members, he reminds himself) since he walked out on him.

Usually, Yoongi is able to create beats with very little inspiration, but lately, that same tiredness from before has sprung up inside of him, leaving him with nothing but pure garbage and terrible posture.

He desperately needs a new muse, but at this rate, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find one.

Pitying himself, Yoongi drags his feet all the way into his office, once more shutting the world out.

Within two months of living in her new apartment, YN can confidently say that her life has never been better. She’s never been so stress-free and relaxed. All this free time has her diving into new hobbies every chance she gets. While most of them don’t stick for more than a few days (Is it really a surprise that sewing isn’t her thing?) she has fallen head over heels in love with baking.

For most of her teenage and early adult years, YN lived purely off of takeout food, never once lifting an arm to cook something for herself or bake a treat. Really, it wasn’t her fault. She was always in and out of meetings, drafting new business ideas, and making trips. She just didn’t have the time! And while she is absolutely awful at most of her new hobbies, YN’d taken to baking like a fish to water.

She enjoyed it so much that she’d quickly overbaked for herself, somehow coming to be surrounded by dozens of cupcakes, muffins, pies, and every other sweet thing imaginable. So, freshly made treats in hand, YN began to introduce herself to her neighbors.

While she is phenomenal at meeting people in a business setting, going over to her incredibly rich and sophisticated neighbors’ homes had been a bit anxiety-inducing. YN has never been great at making friends, but she was pleasantly surprised how kind the other people of the hills have been. Multi millionaires tend to be portrayed as stuck up, but YN now has a few friends she meets up with for weekly coffee gossip sessions. While she doesn’t really have much to add to their conversations, it’s nice just to be included.

At this point she’s met pretty much everyone on her floor, everyone except . . .

YN has never seen her next door neighbor leave their apartment. Whoever they are, they never make so much as a peep. It’s almost as if the apartment is completely empty. YN even asked her new friends about it, but they claim that someone has lived there for over three years now.

That once buried anxiety flares up once more as YN finds herself standing in front of his door, apartment number 613. She lifts her hand up to knock politely, hip supporting a large basket of muffins. She hadn’t made this many for her other neighbors, but something about the mystery of this one had her tossing in a few extra for good measure.

No one answers.

YN tries one more time and again there is not a single sound.

Just as she’s about to turn around with her hypothetical tail tucked between her legs the door creaks open ever so slightly. She can’t even see who is behind the door.

“Oh! Hello!” YN says, a little shocked, “I”m YN. I moved in next door about two months ago.”

Silence.

“I . . . um . . . I made muffins,” YN says, thrusting the basket towards the door.

Once again, the person doesn’t say anything. Unsure if she’s creeped out, embarrassed, or some awful combination of both, YN begins her retreat.

“Ah, well, I’ll just leave these here!” She manages to say, setting the basket down and hastily making it back to her own apartment, nearly slamming the door shut behind her.

What was that? What had just happened?

Just a few yards away, Yoongi stands in his own home, looking at the muffins his neighbor left outside his door. He never opens his door all the way, fearful that some old sasaeng would have found him out. But when he saw that it was her - the woman he’s been watching at the park almost every day, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt a jolt of something running through his veins. She always looks so happy and full of life that Yoongi can’t help but feel intrigued by her. Hesitantly, Yoongi peeks out and plucks the basket up, bringing it inside.

His kitchen is bare of anything but empty wrappers, so the basket of freshly baked goods looks incredibly out of place.

Yoongi’s stomach growls, so he picks up one of the muffins, pleasantly surprised to find that it’s still warm. Before he knows it, he’s eaten six muffins, all of them delicious. When he retreats to his studio once more, a soft, sweet melody is in his brain.

He composes a song for the first time in months.

The next day, as YN prepares to go on her daily walk with her puppy Sugar, a small piece of paper slips under her door. Sugar is eager to check it out, sniffing it with abandon. YN, laughing at Sugar’s adorable antics, struggles to get the paper away from him without ruining it.

YN,

I apologize for my odd behavior. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and thus acted rudely. The muffins you made were delicious and made me feel leaps and bounds better. If you feel up to it, would you like to go to dinner with me? I’d love to make it up to you.

Thanks again,

MYG

MYG? Is that her neighbor’s name? YN recalls her friends saying that the person next door is a near complete recluse. Dinner? Should she go?

YN clicks Sugar’s leash to his collar, throwing a look over her shoulder as she leaves her apartment to head to the park, unaware of the man peeping through his door.

Sure. Do you have any restaurant recommendations? There are still plenty of places I haven’t gone to. Here’s my number XXXXXXXXX

Yoongi is more than shocked by the letter under his door when he emerges from his studio after cleaning up his latest song. That adrenaline rush he’d gotten from YN’s treats has worn off somewhat and inspiration has fallen quickly. He finished the first song in a breeze, but he began to struggle again with the second.

SO why not get to know her better? Best case scenario, YN provides more inspiration. Worst case, she’s a psychopath.

He doesn’t think the second one is very likely, but he’s still hesitant, choosing to go to a restaurant he’d been a regular in for quite some time. Yoongi books out a room in the back and texts YN the details, setting their meeting for the weekend.

When the day finally rolls around, Yoongi is more nervous than he has been in a long time. What if she recognizes him? Or worse, what is she stands him up altogether?

His fears are squashed when he sees her standing on the sidewalk, dressed too simply for the restaurant he booked.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how nervous he is, “You’re YN right? I’m Min Yoongi, your neighbor.”

“Oh!” she says, brightening up and sticking her hand out to greet him, “It’s nice to meet you!”

He takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently and pretending not to notice the shivers that shoot through him.

“This is the place right?” she asks, taking her hand back and brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Actually,” Yoongi says, noticing the odd looks YN is getting based on her everyday outfit, “I was just going to pick food up here and then head to the park, if that’s okay. It has a really clear view this time of night.”

“That sounds great!” YN says.

Yoongi, slightly frantic with his new lie, heads up to the reservation counter and asks to speak to the manager, a close friend of his. A couple of hushed whispers later, Yoongi is given a bag of freshly cooked food, the producer not feeling even the slightest bit bad about taking someone else’s order.

“So . . . how have you been enjoying the Hills?” Yoongi asks as they stroll side by side to the park she always frequents.

They’re standing too far apart to be more than anything but acquaintances. Yoongi finds himself wishing she was closer so their arms would brush.

“It’s been really nice!” YN says enthusiastically, “Everyone has been so kind and it’s been so amazing to finally have time for myself.”

“Finally?”

“Oh!” YN remarks, “Yeah, I had a startup that just recently got sold. I decided to take a few months off before I began another business venture. What about you?”

The curiosity in her eyes tells Yoongi that YN truly has no idea who he is. He finds himself relaxing even more.

“I’m a producer, mainly. Sometimes I write songs as well,” he says shyly, stopping next to one of the picnic tables that sporadically dot the large park.

He sets the food down and sits opposite to her, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Really? That sounds so cool! I’d love to hear something you made one day.”

Her tone is nothing but polite but dread forms in Yoongi’s stomach. He hasn’t worked on many new projects at all and he doesn't think he has anything good enough to show this incredibly bright woman.

Yoongi’s face must betray his apprehension because YN backs off right away.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to share! When I was younger one of my cousins was really into art but she never showed anyone what she made. I get it, it can be really personal.”

“No!” Yoongi says a little too loudly, “I’d love to show you something. I was just surprised you asked.”

YN smiles and everything is right again. The rest of the night passes much too quickly for Yoongi’s tastes, but he leaves feeling more inspired than ever. For once, he actually cleans his entire apartment, preparing it for YN to come over. Bags and bags of trash are tossed away and candles are lit to rid the space of any lingering odors He takes extra care in preparing his studio, hiding all the evidence of months of frustration in drawers and sitting down with a melody stuck in his brain.

She visits a week later. YN is more than surprised how clean Yoongi’s apartment is. She has learned quite a lot about him through all the texts they’ve exchanged and he never rubbed her as a clean freak. Methodical? Sure. Not the best at expressing emotions? Definitely. But the cleanest person she’s ever met? That’s a new one.

Yoongi is a little dressed up when he answers the door. His smile is wide and almost childlike, adorable in a way that has YN smiling as well.

They make small talk over the treats she brought over (cookies this time) before Yoongi leads her to a large room in the back of the house.

It’s breathtaking. Expensive devices line every open surface of the studio, all gleaming under the overhead lights. The studio walls are lined with records even she can tell are rare, each encased in a glass frame. A large couch is pushed against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, tastefully decorated with magazines and small plants.

“This is amazing, Yoongi,” YN says, half breathless.

Yoongi can hear his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears at the way stars seem to have shifted into YN’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “Would you like to hear what I’ve been working on?”

He needs to work up the courage now before he comes up with an excuse to never show YN the song he’s been working on so diligently day in and day out.

“Of course!”

Yoongi had pulled an extra chair in front of his computer in advance and she takes a seat, waiting eagerly for Yoongi to pull up his masterpiece. His fingers shake ever so slightly as he pulls it up and presses play.

He doesn’t think he takes a breath during the entire three and a half minute long song. How could he? It’s not every day you show the love song to the woman you’ve been watching for almost two months.

“Yoongi,” YN says when it finishes.

He feels his heart clench.

“That was beautiful! Who’s it about?”

“Who?”

“It’s a love song right? Are you in love with someone?”

Her question is innocent but it sends Yoongi into a panic.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, looking at anyone but her, “You.”

For a moment everything is silent. Neither of them breathe.

“Oh,” YN says.

Yoongi never knew two letters could crush him.

“I’m flattered but . . . I don’t really see you as anything more than a friend . . .”

YN trails off, not exactly sure what to say. She’s never been the romantic type. She always figured she’d fall in love when it was time but that time certainly isn’t now. She’s just barely figuring out who she is herself. She doesn’t have space in her heart for anyone else.

“Ah . . . I wasn’t expecting you to . . . um . . .”

Yoongi stutters out words at random trying desperately hard to not make things any worse than they already are.

“Maybe I should go . . .” YN says.

She doesn’t wait for his answer, simply standing up and leaving, casting one more glance at the hunched over man behind her. Her red heels click against the floor, fading when she leaves the home.

For the next two weeks, Yoongi texts her constantly. YN can barely go ten minutes without her phone buzzing with an apology or an offer for lunch. If she felt bad about rejecting him at first, YN is glad she did now. He’s behaving obsessively and it’s beginning to creep her out. Finally, she’s had it altogether, sending him a curt message demanding he never talks to her ever again and blocking his number straight away.

For a time, everything seems okay. Min Yoongi leaves her life just as swiftly as he had entered it. She’s almost forgotten about it altogether, until she’s stuck in traffic one evening. YN is listening to the radio, head bopping mindlessly along to the beat of a song she doesn’t know. But then the chorus starts and the hair on her arm stands on end.

Really, is it strange to fall in love? Really, is it odd that I want more? You flew in just like a turtle dove, pure and sweet, I only wanted your love. Maybe I should have locked you away? Maybe I should have clipped your wings? Then at least I know you’d stay? Stay, forever here with me.

Normally, YN wouldn’t have paid it any attention, but something about the song is so eerie that she begins to get creeped out.

Another male voice joins the singer.

Sweet like cinnamon, bright as the sun, soft, so soft, I needed you to melt into me. Salvation came in a wicker basket and left in bright red heels. Maybe I should have had something better to say, maybe then, you wouldn’t have rushed away.

Ignorance is bliss, but baby you’re all I think about. I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, if I wanted to. Ignorance is bliss, baby, but euphoria lives next door.

The song fades and the host’s voice floats out afterward.

“That song was ‘Red Heels and Cinnamon’ by Dave Kim and Min Yoongi. This song has been the most popular song on the charts for weeks! The famed producer and songwriter hasn’t given the press much background on the story, simply commenting that it’s something close to his heart and that more songs with this new vibe will be releasing soon.”

Release they did. Hit song after Hit song comes out, each creepier than the one before. If YN was able to convince herself that the songs weren’t about her, they became impossible to ignore. Yoongi next released a song about a woman with aspirations and no room for love, followed by one about a man following the woman he loved to make sure she was okay. That song detailed the entire events of her day.

And finally, Yoongi released a song giving out YN’s phone number.

Having had more than enough of this nonsense, YN knocks on Yoongi’s door, leaving her blaring phone behind.

He cracks the door open again before swinging it wide, looking much too pleased to see her.

“YN? I thought you never wanted to see me again. What are you doing here?”

“I know what you’re doing. Cut it out,” she hisses at him.

“Cut what out?”

“All of the songs! And the stalking! I know you’re following me!”

YN clenches her sweater closer to her body, trying to comfort herself. Yoongi looks down at it.

“You should have gotten the red one. It suits you better.”

Chill crawls down YN’s back and her limbs go stiff.

“What do you want from me,” she whispers, unable to look him in the eye.

“I feel something different when I’m around you. I feel alive - more motivated than I’ve ever been. All I want is for you to feel that same way.”

“And if I don’t?” YN asks, daring to look at him.

He’s silent for a moment. Yoongi’s expression darkens.

“That new firm that hired you as a consultant? The CEO’s daughter is a long time fan of mine. He’d do anything to keep her happy. Even replacing you . . .”

“But I can -” YN objects.

“Get a new job? Oh, sure. But I don’t think anyone would want to hire you if they knew what you did on May sixteenth.”

YN’s blood turns to ice. There are only a few things YN isn’t proud of and getting kicked out of a bar and then arrested after starting a fight is on the very top of that list. Thankfully, she had some connections to get her out of any charges and had swept the entire thing under the rug. But if it gets out . . .

“It’s up to you. Why don’t you come inside and see what I’m working on?”

Yoongi leaves the door wide open and retreats inside.

Hesitantly, YN follows after him.

#network bangtan #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere yoongi #yandere au #bts yandere au

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thunderbird-one-ai · 3 years

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Compromised Chapter 3

Finally another chapter done after MONTHS of just starring at it. I’m hoping that Christmas will mean I can type a little more since I’ll be taking a break from university. This chapter ends on another cliff hanger and I’m not sorry :P I’d like to say now. Kayo is not my wrong point POV wise so I apologise in advance if I’ve portrayed her so poorly.

Chapter 1 - Here

Part 1: Kayo

Kayo made no comment when John said those heart-stopping words to the team. ‘Thunderbird One is missing’. She shook her head, that couldn’t be true, this was Scott just cooling off. She’s known him for so long, getting away from his brothers for some time alone was rare for Scott, and with the argument, she overheard him have with Jeff meant he was probably just cooling off. She forced herself to believe that because the other alternative would be so much worse. But she was a practical woman. She knew that if Scott was distracted even for a second, he would have been jumped on. She thought of many scenarios in her head. Scott wasn’t a pushover; he could handle himself very well in a one on one fight. She hardly needed to teach him many moves since he had got the basics in the military long before they started training together. So the likely hood of Scott being overpowered by one prisoner was unlikely. John had also mentioned that three inmates were not accounted for still. Three verses one isn’t an easy challenge, but Scott’s training meant he might have been able to handle them. This still didn’t answer how Thunderbird One disappeared off Johns scans and hers for that matter.

“Thunderbird Shadow to Thunderbird Two,” Kayo said. “Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Shadow, did you find anything?” Virgil replied. Kayo heard the worried tone in Virgil’s voice. She would no doubt hear it in every brother's voice, even Johns in this situation. He was remaining calm but Kayo wondered how long that calm deminer would last for. Virgil may not be as hot-headed as Scott, but his passion to protect his family burns just as brightly as Scott’s. She looked outside her cockpit noticing a small GDF post in the middle of nowhere. Probably just to make sure no stragglers got away. It would definitely be a place that Scott would land near. “Nothing yet, I’ve flown over the entire area with no sign of Scott or Thunderbird One. I see a small GDF post out here so I’m going to ask them some questions,” Kayo said through her comms. “FAB, keep up informed. I’ve gotta go tell dad,” Virgil said before Kayo heard him cut communications. That wasn’t going to be easy. Jeff had only been back six months and now one of his sons was already missing on a mission. A mission that coincidently included the possible break out of kayo’s uncle. The mention of The Hood made Kayo’s blood boil, another thought crossed her mind that John still hadn’t told them whether one of the inmates missing was The Hood or not. If this was true, she needed to be even more on guard. Kayo got Thunderbird Shadow to land nearby the GDF truck and jumped down on the ground below her. She walked up to the Guards not trusting a single one of them. “What does International Rescue want now? We’ve already said to the other one that we have this place secure,” One of the guards promptly said, causing Kayo to become concerned. “The other one?” Kayo replied. “Yeah, the tall one with the fast jet. Just waltz right up here with three guys. One passed out mind you. Said he was a high priority prisoner and took that one back to the prison whilst we hold the others for the appropriate transport to arrive,” Kayo took in every piece of information. Well, that was wrong, Thunderbird One had not returned to the prison otherwise she would have seen the silver bird fly straight past her. She kept her poker face shown, knowing if the GDF found out about a missing Thunderbird, they’d never hear the end of it. She walked back to Thunderbird Shadow, arm moving up to start a comm link with the others before something caught her eye. Kayo found herself running back and sliding under her jet, gliding her hands over charred patches of Earth. Thunderbird One was here. The distinct pattern in the ground matched Thunderbird One’s VTOL engines. Scott was right here along with his bird. The GDF said that he just left with one member but the other two were still here. Kayo found herself running again back to the GDF truck, ignoring the protests from the members, Kayo got in the back, looking to the two prisoners. Neither of them was The Hood and that only made her more concerned. “What did he promise you? Freedom?” Kayo said, looking at both of them, waiting for a reaction. She got one. “Funny, that’s what the other one said,” The smaller male replied, smiling. Kayo wished right there and then she could live up to her name and punch this guy into next week, but her mind was racing. They knew who she was talking about. She jumped out of the van and found herself once again running back to Thunderbird Shadow, ignoring the shouts from the GDF members behind her. She had to get to the others, her brother was in serious trouble. “Thunderbird Two, The Hood has Scott,”

Part 2: Jeff Jeff tapped his foot against the varnished floor impatiently. This wasn’t the first mission he’d been leading where Scott had been less than helpful in cooperating with. He was very much surprised at that his eldest son would answer back as much as he did. That never happened when International Rescue first started out, heck even when they were both military personnel, Scott would always follow what Jeff said. But that was over eight years ago. Eight years ago Scott never would have thought his own father would be lost in space. Jeff couldn’t begin to imagine what his eldest had gone through. Losing their mother was a hard blow to the family, then Jeff himself was blown into space. His eldest had to take on everything. As much as he saw the future in his boys he never thought International rescue would become like this. They all exceeded what Jeff thought possible but should have he expected any less. “I never thought that after all this, I would see my boy look so lost in his own chair,” Jeff jumped in his own seat and looked up to see a familiar face. “Mum, you got back here early. I thought you were with Lady Penelope all day,” “I was but I was informed that not all was well here on the island,” Sally said smiling softly, sitting down on the sofa obviously waiting for Jeff to finally speak up. Jeff gave a small smile back, of course, Lady Penelope would say something, no doubt she had Parker overhearing the entire conversation between Scott and himself. He also shouldn’t have been surprised that his mother would want to fly back after hearing that the family was in slight disarray. So far he had re-bonded with almost all his sons, Scott was the exception which Jeff was surprised about. They had argued a lot recently, not even his other sons knew about those arguments he doubted his mother did either. “I’ve become closer with all of them mum…all of them except Scott. I still feel like I’m millions of miles away in space when it comes to approaching him. I couldn’t be more proud of him for his achievements, for what he’s done in the years I was gone,” Jeff finally said, breaking the silence between them. “He took on everything Jeffery, almost got too much for him,” she let out a small huffed breath. “But he’s your eldest son, you taught him everything he needed to know about your company and International Rescue.” “But that doesn’t explain…this,” “For years I saw that boy struggle with many things. The most prominent one was that he felt he could have done better. Scott worked himself to exhaustion. We’re all grateful Virgil became the main paramedic to deal with your eldest because he took on so much. Took the pain, the sadness, the guilt from everyone else and hoarded it himself. Reminds me of a certain Tracy I knew when they were younger,” Jeff looked back over to his mother, who had a kind, warm smile waiting for him. Of course, Scott would take everything on his shoulders, even at his young age. But the guilt was something that took Jeff a little off guard. He felt like he should have the guilt. The guilt of leaving his family. The guilt of leaving his eldest son with five younger siblings. The guilt of never telling him Kayo’s origins. There was so much more Jeff should have told or shown to not only Scott but the rest of his sons. He was so overwhelmed by his own guilt he didn’t even consider Scott had his own. He remembered that dreaded day so clearly, it haunted his mind constantly even when asleep. The last day he spent on the planet before disappearing for eight years. He remembers telling his sons he’d be home for dinner. He remembered Scott following him to the hanger, stating his worry about the mission. Jeff remembers considering letting Scott join him as the backup pilot in case the place was too much to handle for Jeff alone. But that was out of the question. Jeff vowed to not let the Hood get close to his family, especially Scott not after what happened. Jeff sighed quickly. He’d already broken that vow. The Hood had done so much damage to the family, almost ripping it apart. But not anymore, Jeff was certain on that. He would need to talk with Scott properly after this mission was over and safely back home. Maybe even talk about some old demons they both shared. “Jeffery, Virgil’s trying to contact you,” Jeff looked over to the wall that mounted his sons' portraits, Virgil’s lit up, sending a projection of him onto the table. Jeff noticed straight away something was wrong. “Virgil? What’s happened?”

Part 3: Scott To say Scott hated The Hood was an understatement. That man, that monster, made Scott's blood boil with rage. But The Hood was also one of the very few people who could instil a rare horrible emotion as well, fear. The fear that The Hood could take everything away from him in a single second. He knew this fear, he’s already experienced it once before a little over ten years ago. Memories of betrayal and threats surfaced suddenly, catching Scott off guard, melting his poker face stance away. “Remembering old times Scott? I’m rather offended you forgot them. They were, of course, the most defining moments of your life,” The Hood looked down to him grinning. “Young and ambitious wanting to be better than your father,” No, Scott didn’t want to remember those times, those memories were locked away for a reason. He had to focus on the now not then. Focus on making sure The Hood never got to the jet he was asking about. Scott knew what The Hood wanted now. “The jet’s destroyed Hood. It’s gone,” Scott said quickly, not latching onto the words he had said previously. The Hood just burst into a sarcastic laugh. “Oh? You’re being serious? Don’t take me for a fool Scott. I know she’s still in one piece. After all, you wouldn’t have destroyed your precious first jet. She was too good to be destroyed. The perfect machine that couldn’t be matched in either Earth’s atmosphere or space. The speed and weaponry that couldn’t be countered. I would build it again myself if the parts weren’t so rare,” The Hood continued to smile. “You didn’t build it you ruined it!” Scott shouted before swallowing thickly, realising he’d just been baited, again. “Come now, Scott. Even you admitted to it being a beautiful machine, you were in your element whilst flying it. How you were so focused on proving your father wrong, proving him you were better. I wanted to prove that too, prove to the world that Scott Tracy could become so much more than Jeff Tracy,” “You manipulated me,” “I was trying to show you your true potential Scott and you threw it all away when you betrayed me,” “You betrayed us! My father trusted you. Worked with you and you…you tried to kill him,” The hood smacked his hands down on to the metal table, leaning over Scott. Scott looked up to him about to continue his sentence before noticing The Hoods expression. He tensed; Scott knew that look. It was a look he hadn’t seen in ten years. It was the look The Hood gave him all those years ago when he declared Scott had betrayed him and vowed that Scott would pay. There was that emotion again, fear. It seeped through his body relentlessly. He wouldn’t be overwhelmed again; he was stronger this time. “If you won’t tell me then I suppose I’ll have to find another Tracy to tell me the location,” “They don’t know anything about it!” Scott saw The Hoods expression change from angry to delight as he saw the realisation dawn on the criminals face. “You never told them, did you?” The Hood laughed. “You never told your brothers you worked with me,”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #hurt scott #scott whump #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #tanusha kayo

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itsmattsunshinehere · 4 years

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So here goes nothing....😅😅😅 I have thought of a scenario where a student is studying marketing and has offered herself to promote karasuno's volleyball team. And as she is working with them she makes friendships and developed crushes and love and all that good stuff. With a lot of fluff please.♥️😋♥️ If u can't that's just fine still will love everything you put out your so talented and I love you♥️♥️♥️♥️

Okay so first IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG PLEASE DONT HATE ME 😫😫

I had some difficulties writing it because I didn’t know if you wanted reader to come from Uni or simply Karasuno. You also talked about developing crushes and Im a fool for Daichi so yeah it turned out as a Daichi x reader lol But feel free to ask for another one if you don’t like it!! Thanks for your request, you’re so kind and honestly I think there are people here on Tumblr more talented than me but omg thank you I love you please let me know what you think!! 💘💘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Sweet lovin’.

Sawamura Daichi x reader.

synopsis: just Daichi helping you open a letter from your University.

word count: 1.6 K

tags: fluff

~~~

"C’mon Y/N, open it!" the boy on your right encourages you.

You're a little anxious, your hands are shaking slightly while you carefully unlock your phone. You can't calm down: you know how important is that email, you've been waiting for two weeks now. You open the inbox, but immediately lock the screen, not feeling brave enough.

You knew that getting into the university you were aiming to wouldn't be that easy, so you immediately took as many courses you could to prepare for the various entrance tests you’d have to do. Even so, when you found out you had to bring a completely new and original project, (the promotion of a product completed with data and graphs concerning sales), you were quite surprised not expecting it and soon you started panicking as you saw the million challenges you’d have to face, not to mention all the pressure you felt: after all it was the task you would have to submit if you wanted to be admitted to the marketing courses in what could be your future University (if you made it).

You are resolute and organised, you’ve been making plans for your future since you were really young, thinking about what your job would be when you grow up. You've always liked to read and recommend books to your friends or parents, so you decided to work for a publisher and evaluate which manuscripts to publish and which to discard. But it is clear that to do such a job you also need to know how to sell a product: it is therefore essential for you a degree in Marketing and Communication. You had calculated everything, down to the smallest detail, and yet in front of that email just over two months ago you had trembled, finding yourself deadly worried. On the other hand you had never done anything like this, starting from scratch, without anyone’s help and that’s what was most likely to have determined your admission.

For days you were scrambled to come up with an idea that could represent you 100%, and then you found yourself one day in the school gym in front of the entire men's volleyball team, on the orange flyer in your hands it was written in capital letters "LOOKING FOR HELP FOR OUR MANAGERS."

"Help us grow! If you are interested, come look for us: Sawamura Daichi (3rd year, section 4); Shimizu Kiyoko (3rd year, section 2)."

You immediately saw the opportunity behind that simple piece of paper. You had found your "product" to advertise, it was the opportunity you were looking for and you could not let it got; that's why you let instinct take over you and you headed straight to the gym; you hadn't given it too much thought, knowing too well that if only you'd stopped for one more moment to reflect, you'd only come out with more doubts.

You were presented to your "project" and they had welcomed you with open arms, especially Nishinoya and Tanaka, happy to have more people in their big family and that could lighten the load of work for Kiyoko and Hitoka. Although at first you had no intention of becoming a manager of Karasuno, day by day you had bonded more and more with those guys, finding yourself one day crying in front of everyone because of how boded you were when Hinata gave you with a beaming smile the team uniform. You had learned to appreciate each one of them, everyone with their own special personality, trying to help them as best you could during their training: several times you happened to assist Kageyama and Hinata till late and help them improving their spikes, or healing the wounds and bruises that Noya got, not to mention all the afternoons spent trying to comfort Asahi, in an attempt to raise his self-esteem a little. Then along with Hitoka and Kiyoko you draw posters and opened a fund for the team, you created a page on Facebook by posting constant updates, just as you had created a Twitter profile where only the three of you, Daichi, Suga and Professor Takeda had the access (coach Ukai refused to take part in something that complicated). You saw how slowly your crows got up again attracting more and more attention, just as you had seen your project take shape and come true.

After about a month of joining the team, you had taken the train to Tokyo along with the three third year and Kiyoko, who had decided to come with you to bring all the necessary documents for the application and the eventual registration. Careless as you are, you would surely have got lost, that's why Suga asked you if he could join you and after hearing him, the others had also offered to keep you company along the way.

Finally, another email had arrived on your phone: for three days you did not even look at your inbox, too scared to find out that you had been refused. Not to mention that of all the possible days Suga, being aware of your crush on the captain, had decided that today was the best day to give his contribution and leave you alone with Daichi to tidy the gym putting the last things in place, hoping that you will muster up courage to take the first step and confess. It’s obvious saying that his hopes are unfortunately misplaced.

Daichi, being the kind person he is, seeing you more nervous than usual asks you if you had heard from the University and suddenly you turn pale, telling him all your concerns.

"Good heavens Daichi, I can't do it, please look instead!" you beg the boy by your side. You have the feeling that, if it’s him the one who's telling you you've failed, it's going to hurt less than reading it with your own eyes. The captain picks up your phone with one hand and yours with other, making you blush instantly.

You don't know how or when you started having feelings for him, you only know that at some point you started paying a lot more attention to what he told you and noticing all the details of his face: how he purse his lips when he scores a point, how he snaps his tongue with frustration when during training he fails to serve or receiving Asahi’s services. Of course, you immediately tried to hide it all, choosing to focus on the first years and prevent Tsukishima and Kageyama from biting each other’s face off.

"You have to tell me the passcode, Y/N." he replies with a chuckle, trying to calm you down by caressing your hand in circular movements, causing the opposite effect.

You feel your heart beating wildly, you're not used to having so much skinship between you two, neither being so close with him. Of course, it had happened other times that accidentally in removing the net he touched your hand, but you always tried to pretend as if nothing happened, obviously failing: Tsukishima and Sugawara immediately understood that you had feelings for him, as well as Kiyoko, who immediately encouraged you along with the setter.

You give him the password and watch him carefully swipe his fingers across the screen, opening the inbox and reading the email carefully. After what seems like centuries, he rolls his eyes towards you and with a smile he turns your phone towards you. You rip it out of his hands and read until you find the magic word: ACCEPTED.

"You made it Y/N, you got accepted." He congratulates you and, in a moment of pure euphoria, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him as tightly as you can as he bursts out laughing and hugs you back.

You feel so comfortable in his muscular arms, you feel warm, feeling almost as if you were home. You would never want to move away, but after a few seconds you two separate, you redder than ever, while he looks at you, smiling, holding once again your hand with his and you look down on the ground regretting being so careless.

"Sorry, I didn't want to jump on-" You interrupt as soon as Daichi raises your chin and brings your face close to his, looking into your eyes, his lips brushing yours, softly, delicately, kindly, almost as if he's afraid of breaking you.

When you separate you look at him surprised, with your mouth agape, unable to say anything, because DAICHI JUST KISSED YOU. You are speechless, trying to understand that what just happened is not a mere dream. The boy meanwhile waits for your reaction, but seeing that you are still silent he lets out a laugh, rather embarrassed by all that courage he showed you just now.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I don't know what’s gotten into me. I'm sorry I should have told you first, but you know I like you so much that seeing you-" he tries to explain you, but you interrupt him right away.

"You what?!" you ask him, your eyes wide open, as he looks at you even more nervous than before, he just wants to sink and disappear sucked into the ground.

“Yes, I've liked you for a while, I thought I'd tell you one of these days. I thought it was pretty obvious..." He tells you, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. You suddenly take the other hand.

“I like you too!" you say with a smile. You remind him so much of a little girl who just got the gift she wanted for her birthday. He can't help bursting out laughing again seeing your happy eyes, wrapping you again with those arms you love so much.

“That’s good, you know? I was dying of shame." He whispers sweetly in your ear, while you smile, letting yourself sink in the warmth of his embrace, chuckling back.

#anime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haiky?!!#daichi x reader #hq daichi #daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi sawamura x reader #karasuno x reader #karasuno #karasuno daichi

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escapingreality1992 · 4 years

Text

Broken Hearts Get Mended

Stephen Strange x OC - Jade Benson and Stephen Strange were in love and were dating. When Stephen ends things, she’s heart broken and Tony is left to pick up the pieces. When put in a position where they share Jade’s bed, things come out when she finds herself coiled around her former lover. He only wanted to protect her from drowning with him in his work. A surprise and sweet ending is in store for Jade and Stephen.

How did I end up in this situation? As I stood in the room with my best friend Tony Stark and him, my mind wandered to another moment; a heartbreaking moment.

‘I don’t want you,’ he told me. My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding against my rib cage. Please, don’t let it be what I thought I heard.

‘What?’

‘I can’t believe I have to repeat myself. I said I. Don’t. Want. You,’ This time I flinched as my world starts to crash down. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, what was coming from his mouth. My mind ran a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out what I might’ve said, might’ve done. What could I have possibly done to deserve this? Has he found someone else? I thought.

The only thing that happened before those awful words poured from his lips was, I had walked into the building and kissed my boyfriend on the cheek.

‘I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something? I only kissed you on the cheek,’ I said. I reached out to take his hand. He slapped it away, the sting of it causing tears to prick my eyes. This can’t be happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening. If this action wasn’t enough, the next thing he said made things much worse.

‘You don’t belong in my world. You never have,’ he answers.

‘What do you mean I don’t belong in…I’m an Avenger. I’m as much a part of your world as you are,’ He laughs; it slithered down my spine, making me shiver. My heart continues to race, still refusing to believe he was trying to break up with me.

‘No. I don’t mean that. I mean among the magic and horror my life contains. Get out. Leave, Jade,’

“Hello? Jade? Did you hear what I said?” Tony asked. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. I blinked at him, confusion most likely registering on my features.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid my mind was somewhere else. Could you repeat what you said?” I replied. Tony sighed.

“I asked you if you minded Strange staying here for a few days?” My gaze shifted to the sorcerer standing by the doorway. He lifted his eyes to mine, making me turn back to focus on Tony.

“No, I don’t mind. Is there a spare room available?” I asked. Tony winced and I knew what the next request would be. My stomach protested, doing circus acts as I realized what it was that he might want.

“No. They’re not quite ready yet. You know, with all the renovations going on. Funny, how both the headquarters and the Sanctum are getting work done in the same week. Also, everyone else is here and that means no one will be willing to give up a room. I thought maybe-,”

“It’s alright, Tony. I can stay at a hotel,” Stephen interrupted. He’d seen my fear and figured it wasn’t possible to stay with us.

“It’d be easier if you stayed here in case Wong needs you. In case something happens that’s related to your work,” Tony said.

“It’s cleat there’s no-,”

“It’s fine. He can stay with me,” I interjected. In some ways Tony was right. Stephen needed to be close by in case of an emergency. Both men stared at me; Stephen in shock and Tony looked more concerned than anything. Stephen’s lips had also parted, drawing my attention. I still couldn’t look at him for long, turning away to wander to the kitchen for a drink.

“Thanks, Jade,” Tony stated. I stopped mid-step, stiffening my body at the comment. Nodding, I continued on my way, trying to hold back tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

“I’ll gather my things. Be back in a half hour,” I heard Stephen say, the door shutting behind him when he left.

If you’re wondering who the mysterious person was in the heartbreaking moment, it’s really not hard to guess. Stephen Strange and I used to date. That moment took place three months ago; 1 month after our one-year anniversary. I thought we were happy. At least, I had been. Unknown to me, Stephen hadn’t been. All I wanted to do on that infamous day was to cuddle with him, maybe make-out a little. On my day off.

The day before had been a fun one as well. We’d gone to the movies, had a little dinner, some wine, and had sex. Not the kind of sex that was quick and you move on to something else; the kind of sex you spend hours making foreplay leading up to bodies melding into one. He had been all smiles, all love; then something changed in one night.

He was never cruel. He always shared what happened to be on his mind. He’d been hateful that day. Secretive. Stiff. He never even looked at me. Just threw me out. My heart shattering into a million pieces as the doors to the Sanctum shut in my face.

When I returned to headquarters, I refused to talk to anyone; well, except for Tony. He held me all night as I cried, joined by Pepper later. I cried myself to sleep, and in the morning, he was still there, ready to cheer me up. Tony is the best friend anyone could ask for, dropping everything if someone needed his help.

Tony was my best friend, apart from Pepper and Wanda. We met at an Avengers conference; my ability to help increase others’ strengths impressed him and he recruited me to be a part of the team. This ability also helped to wind someone down if they were restless and the rest of the team benefited well from it; Tony, especially. The next few years of saving the world flew by in a flash and before we knew it, another conference was held. It was there I met Stephen.

Tony introduced me to him during cocktail hour. He knew I liked older guys; 16 years didn’t mean much to me. Stephen was 42, already contrasting to my age at 26. We were adults and somehow, I felt older than I looked. My hobbies of reading and scrapbooking didn’t help either. We shared a few drinks, hitting it off straight away. Eight months later, we started seeing each other to everyone’s delight.

“Hey. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Tony said. He placed a hand on my shoulder, making me jump at the sudden contact. Taking a deep breath, stalling the raging river of my tears once more, I turned to face him.

“Yeah. It’s fine. No worries,” I responded. I put on the best fake smile I could, but Tony saw right through the façade.

“Jade…Look, it’s not too late to tell him to find a hotel. You won’t have to see him. I know he hurt you and it would be okay for him to not be here while you’re still healing,”

“No. Don’t do that. I’ll be okay. Really. If it gets to be too much, I’ll sleep on the couch or worst case, I’ll go to a hotel,”

Tony’s brows furrowed, then softened as he took notice of something.

“You still love him, don’t you? After he crushed your heart, you still yearn for him,” he stated. I meant to answer when the door opened, Stephen walking inside with a couple of bags.

“I’m going to put my things away and then grab a bite to eat. Care to join me Tony? Jade?” he said.

“I already ate. My room is-,”

“Down the hall. The last one on the right. I remember,” he said, smiling. His lips curled downward and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a twinge of sadness blending in with those bright blue eyes of his. I couldn’t meet those eyes, the painful memory still replaying itself in my head. All I could do was nod and wait for his footsteps to fade. I was on the brink of tears, Tony taking note of it at once.

“Yes, I still love him. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop loving him. Too bad there’s nothing to get him to love me back,” I whispered. Tony sighed and pulled me to his room; first one on the hallway.

“Listen to me. Let it go. Right now. Release you tears. Because if you don’t, you’re going to have a hard time holding back later. I won’t have him thinking you’re upset. If you want him back, erase this memory. Put on a brave face and relax into what’s about to happen in the next few days. Don’t let him see you cry,” he said, holding my shoulders.

The bridge snapped and I couldn’t hide my emotions anymore. Tears poured from my eyes and I clutched Tony close to me. My sobs wracked my body and his. The best thing about Tony is that he wouldn’t let go of a hug until you were ready.

“It’s alright. Let yourself cry as long as you need to. I’m here,” he told me.

Somehow, we had moved to his bed, the sobs fading away; a calmness swept over me while I rested my head on Tony’s chest. Glancing up, I noticed the worry and concern etched on his face. My guess is he blamed himself for what happened between Stephen and me. He was the one that introduced us after all. He wanted to set us up because he thought we fit well together well. Stephen’s arrogance and narcissism mixed with my sarcasm and compassion. Tony thought I could bring out the vulnerable side to Stephen people rarely saw.

I happened to do just that. The more time we spent together, the more he opened up. Stephen spent a lot of time pushing his friends away because he hadn’t wanted them to see him as a broken man. He’d been afraid to let them in; to care for him as friends do. He though all they wanted was the brilliant neurosurgeon and he couldn’t be that anymore. Stephen was used to being liked because before he could work miracles, the fame and money filling his ego, almost no one able to compel him to love. Christine Palmer had been close, so had I. I thought I’d be endgame but, obviously I wasn’t.

The insecurity of his scars was something I hadn’t expected. He would move his hands away if dared to come to close to them, to cradle them in my own. He saw them as terrifying and I admired them. Eventually, he took pleasure in the feather light touches of my fingers on his, the delicate way I held them in mine; he loved to interlace them over and over again.

“I’m sorry. If I had known your relationship would have ended horribly, I wouldn’t have set you two up,” Tony stated.

“You couldn’t have known. He even shocked me. I thought he was happy. Obviously, there was something underneath all those smile that he wasn’t showing. I’m glad you set us up. He was…is the greatest love I’ve ever known. Except for you, but you’re more like a brother to me,” He nudged me, making me laugh.

“You two appeared so much in love with each other. Did he ever say why he didn’t want you?” A knock at the door sounded. “Come in,” he said. Steve Rogers poked his head in, frowning when he saw me.

“Everything alright? You look like you’ve been crying,” he greeted me.

“Everything’s fine. What’s up?” I said. “We’re setting up for movie night if you want to join. It’s horror themed. I know you both love that kind of thing. But, uh, Jade. I’m sorry. The only seat left apart from Tony’s is next to Strange. I would be willing to switch with you if you want,” Steve responded.

“I’ll sit next to him if you don’t mind. I’ve got to get used to him being here for the next few days. I can’t avoid Stephen forever, now can I?” I said. I appreciated what Steve was trying to do but decided to muster up enough courage to be near my former lover. Steve smiled and we followed him out to the living to join the others.

Sitting next to Stephen wasn’t the problem, exactly. Being super close to him in the dark during movie night was. I tried not to inhale his scent, his cologne. A muskiness mixed in with the smell of old parchment and kindling from a fire. Tried not to notice the feel of our thighs pressed together; the soft material of his sweats rubbing against my skin each time he moved. It brought back pleasant memories and immediately I shoved them from my mind.

I wanted to focus on the film, not on his light blue eyes which glistened a scene of the movie was bright enough to see them. Longed not to scan over his beard and hair wondering what it’d be like to run my fingers through them again. My gaze continued to drift over to him; a mistake because it distracted me from the film. When I forced myself to stop staring at Stephen, the next scene made me jump with the planned jump scare.

I involuntarily grasped his leg; more accurately his upper thigh, too close to his cock. His muscles flexed against my palm and I heard a soft intake of breath from him. The motion had him glancing down at me from the corner of his eye. His gaze burned through me and I released him, lacing my hands together tight. I didn’t want it to occur again.

“Are you okay? I didn’t think that scene was terrifying?” he whispered. He leaned down low enough as to not disturb the others. His breath passed over my ear – hot and minty – sending goosebumps over my arms. I nodded and continued to watch the rest of the film. Thankfully, I didn’t grab onto him again as the lights turned on once it was over. People yawned and we split up, venturing off to our separate rooms; all except Stephen and me of course.

The walk to my room was silent. No spoken words were exchanged, no comment about what happened earlier, nothing. I opened the door and turned on the light to find the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the left side. I remember you liked the right, so you can have it until you can return to the Sanctum,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Alright,” Stephen climbed in on the right side, me on the left. I leaned across him to switch off the light, ignoring the way I brushed over his chest. Shifting down in the covers, I turned away from him muttering ‘good night’ before drifting off to sleep.

During the middle of the night, I awoke from a dream involving an impossibility. In it, Stephen and I had gotten back together. He said he loved me. When I was awoke, I was astonished not to find tears running down my cheeks. I was startled, however, to find myself coiled around Stephen. One arm was across his waist, the other clinging to his arm. Both legs were tangled around both of his and worst of all, he held onto me, like old times.

In my haste, to get off him, I pushed my body so hard I fell to the floor with a loud THUD. The noise caused Stephen to bolt straight up, peering down at me.

“Jade? What happened? Did you fall off the bed?”

“Yeah, trying to get untangled from you,”

“You…wait, were we cuddling?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that. More like I was coiled around you. Like-,” I stopped myself from saying anything else.

“Old times. Does it bother you that much for us to cuddle? I’ve never minded. Even if it was platonic,” he finished. He smiled; I think he meant to flirt – the first in three months – and it made my blood boil at the sight of it.

“Don’t. Don’t flirt with me,” I growled, standing up. He flinched, looking away from me.

“Why? You love it when I flirt,”

“Loved. Why, you ask? Because you’re the one who ended things between us. You’re the one who ripped my heart in two. Because it hurts too much to see you. To still not know why you didn’t want me,” I said. My voice cracked at the end of my sentence.

“Jade, I…”

“No. You don’t get to do that. Flirt. You don’t get to come back in my life and make me feel more love than I already do for you. Like you still love me. Because I know you don’t. You made it clear that day. And it makes it worse when I’m still in love with you,” I continued. Tears sprung from my eyes as I confessed this to him. He wrenched his body from the bed, walking over to me. Startled, I backed up as he continued forward until my back hit a wall. He slammed his hands against it, on either side of my head, his head hanging down.

“Who said anything about me not loving you?” he asked.

“You did. By-,”

“I never said I didn’t love you. Only I didn’t want you. You want to know why I said those awful things to you? Why I ended our relationship? It’s because I do love you. My world was getting darker and I thought if I pushed you away, you’d be safe. From the very world trying to drown me. I know you’re and Avenger, but this power I have, it’s dangerous. Full of demons and entities that wish to hurt those I care about most. I didn’t want to lose you to them,”

“I thought I could endure this life alone. Without you. But, I can’t. I still want you. I always have. Just like I’ve always been in love with you,” he said. His eyes flashed up at me and I watched as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry if I allowed you to think I didn’t love you or that I didn’t want you,”

“Stephen…I wish you had told me. I don’t care if your work is dangerous. I’d go down fighting with you if I could. I love you and no demon or entity will stop me from doing that,” I told him. His eyes flitted back and forth before he pulled me hard against him, his lips latching onto mine. All the passion we shared flooded in; my fingers tangled in his hair as he lifted my hips to wrap around his waist. He carried us back to the bed, sitting down. I straddled his hips as we kissed. Pressing him down, I nibbled his bottom lip for entrance. I slipped in my tongue as his lips parted, entwining his own with mine; it only deepened our kiss, my hands now cradling his face. I moved my lips to his neck, Stephen moaning as I sucked on a sweet spot. Moving down, I lifted his shirt, Stephen sitting up to get it off him.

I made quick work of removing his pants, stripping down myself, leaning back down to devour him. I rocked my soaked pussy against him, causing him to groan at the feel of it. Reaching down, I pumped his cock a few times, before sliding my entrance down onto it. We both let out a moan as I moved my hips, kissing him, our lips melding against each other. Our names rolled of each other’s tongues, our hands linking together. Passion exploded through our bodies, Stephen reaching his climax first, flipping me onto my back.

He kept going until I reached my orgasm, rolling off me, and pulling my body into his arms.

“I love you, Stephen,” I told him. He gazed into my eyes searching for something to say.

“Marry me,” he said. I propped myself on my elbows, his hands moving to stroke my back.

“Did you just ask me to marry you? After we had sex?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. He nodded.

“Marry me, because I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be parted from you ever. Marry me, because I love you,” he proposed again. I leaned down, kissing him, one hand pressed against his chest.

“Okay. I’ll marry you Stephen Strange. I love you too much not to,” I accepted. We shared a final kiss and I snuggled against him, falling asleep; We dreamed of the future we’d have together.

#stephenstrange #stephen strange #doctor strange #doctorstephenstrange #doctor stephen strange #dr strange #dr stephen strange #drstrange #drstephenstrange #love #avengers #tony stark #steve rogers #smut #iron man #captain america #marvel

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illumynare · 7 years

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Red vs Blue Fic: Paranoid, Ex-Military

Summary: The problem with taking in a murderous ex-Freelancer is that. Well. Then you have a murderous ex-Freelancer.

Leading your team.

Parings: None. Warnings: Canon-typical language, ridiculous fluff.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Written for Day 4 of @rvbplatonicweek: “Hugs/Cuddling.”

This fic was inspired by a conversation with @zalia and @comefeedtherainn, so thanks to them for letting me use their ideas. <3 Also, thanks to @a-taller-tale for the beta.

The problem with taking in a murderous ex-Freelancer is that. Well. Then you have a murderous ex-Freelancer.

Leading your team.

Tucker is so fucking dead.

He thinks that often, during the first few days after Sidewinder: I am so fucking dead.

It had seemed like a pretty good idea, fresh off the high of defeating the Meta. Wash had helped them out, so they kinda owed him. Caboose wouldn't stop whining about wanting to keep him. Two for one.

Then they make it to an abandoned simulation base, and Tucker is so tired he doesn't care about anything, just walks straight to the nearest bunk in Blue Base, shedding pieces of armor as he goes. Flops down. Lights out.

He dreams about Church.

They're on top of Blue Base together, just standing around and talking like always—except Tucker can't understand anything Church says. First his voice is staticky and garbled, like there's a problem in their helmet radios. Tucker fiddles with the settings, and then Church's voice comes through loud and clear, but he's just saying, "One one zero zero one zero one one zero zero one—"

"Hey, man, use English," says Tucker.

But Church has turned into a ghost, pale and translucent. Then he's gone.

Tucker wakes up and remembers his best friend is dead.

Again.

And this time, he probably isn't coming back. Tucker remembers how the memory unit looked lying in the snow on Sidewinder, all of the lights gone out, and fuck, it's way too early in the morning to think about this.

He crawls out of bed and goes to start the coffeemaker. Except it's already chugging, and Wash is standing next to it, bolt upright, arms crossed.

His helmet is off. It's the first time Tucker's gotten a good look his face. Wash has rumpled, pale hair, dark shadows under his eyes, and chubby cheeks that would make him look huggable if he wasn't a deadly ex-Freelancer who murdered Donut.

Church too. Kind of.

And right now? Wash looks pissed.

Tucker stares at him and thinks, I am so fucking dead.

But if he's going to die, he's going to do it in style. So he leans casually against the doorframe and says, "Sooo. Guess we haven't had a chance to get to know each other. Ever made it with blonde twins in a waterbed?"

Wash stares murderously back at him.

So. Fucking. Dead.

That's how it goes for the first three days. Tucker says normal human things, and Wash stares at him like he's a really disgusting bug under a microscope. Tucker would complain about it, except he's trying to stay alive.

Caboose chatters happily at Wash and calls him "Church," and gets exactly the same murder stare, except he's too dumb to know it. Somehow, he doesn't get killed either.

Aside from the moments of oh shit he's gonna kill me twice a day, Blue Team 2.0 is pretty damn boring, honestly. Wash won't talk to Tucker, and Tucker's nowhere near desperate enough to talk to Caboose. So Tucker spends a lot of time at Red Base, because Grif is actually not that bad.

Unfortunately that means spending more time around Sarge and Simmons, who suck even more than Tucker remembered. Especially Simmons, who's somehow acquired even more anxiety. He won't get more than five feet from Grif, and he won't shut up about how dangerous Agent Washington is.

"I can't believe you guys decided to adopt him," Simmons mutters, pacing back and forth behind the couch where Grif and Tucker are kicking back with a six-pack of shitty beer. "He's a lunatic and he's going to murder us all in our sleep."

Tucker thinks that Simmons is probably right, but hell if he's going to admit it. "Eh, you're just jealous that Red Team still doesn't have a Freelancer."

"Damn the International Dibs Protocol," Sarge says feelingly from the corner, where he's constructing something out of an old radio and a blender. "Grif, this is all your fault. If you had called dibs as soon as we took down the Meta—"

"I WAS HANGING OFF A CLIFF," says Grif.

"No excuse for laziness!"

Grif slurps loudly from his beer. "Whatever."

On the fourth day, Tucker gets up, and yep, Wash is lurking by the coffeemaker again. He's got the top half of his armor off today, but he's still glaring at Tucker like he's planning to carve his heart out with a spoon.

Home sweet home.

But not even death can keep Tucker away from the sweet, sweet caffeine, so he approaches. Says, "Hey, you're still around," and shoves an elbow into Wash's side to get him out of the way.

Wash wheezes and doubles over.

"Oh shit don't kill me," Tucker says automatically, but Wash is still slumped over, gasping for breath, and without really thinking about it, Tucker asks, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Wash gasps, and then straightens up. "Ready for action."

They stare at each other for a moment.

"Dude," says Tucker, "the only action I'm interested in is with some hot blonde chicks."

"What?" says Wash, like sex is totally a foreign concept to him.

And then the penny drops. Tucker remembers Doc saying something about Wash being nearly dead—he'd been gasping while they packed him into Church's armor—

Ever since they got to this base, he's been moving like he had a stick up his ass.

"Are you still hurting?" asks Tucker.

"I have a healing unit," says Wash, looking suspicious.

"Yeah. But does that have, like . . . painkillers?"

Wash stares at him like he's started speaking Spanish. "I'm just fine, Private Tucker."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Do you need morphine?" Tucker demands.

Wash stiffens, his chest puffing out—then he instantly cringes back, like the motion hurt him. "Freelancers train to function in the field without—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP," says Tucker, and goes to raid the medicine cabinet.

He doesn't want to feel sorry for anyone who killed Donut and Church. But seriously, what is wrong with Project Freelancer?

Wash doesn't want to take the morphine, but Tucker says, "Okay, this is part of the job for Blue Team Leader," and that seems to subdue him a little. He swallows the pills, glares at Tucker, and limps back to his quarters.

That afternoon, Tucker and Grif discover that they've drunk all the beer at Red Base. Simmons helpfully says, "Well, logically Blue Base would also have beer," and then blue-screens when he remembers that Blue Base also has Agent Washington.

"Dude, he's still fucked up from the Meta," says Tucker. "And now he's drugged up too. I gave him some morphine this morning."

"Maybe he's faking! Maybe Project Freelancer gave him experimental super-soldier treatments that cause him to have an uncontrollable psychotic reaction to common painkillers—"

"Oh my god," says Grif, "he's kind of badass but he's not fucking Master Chief. Have you been reading those SPARTAN conspiracy theory message boards again?"

"Fine, I'll go get some beer and bring it back over here," Tucker grumbles, and marches back to Blue Base.

He can't help feeling a little nervous, though, as he walks in the door. Simmons is a nerd and fucking stupid, but what if he's right? What if the reason Project Freelancer trained their operatives to function without painkillers is that—

And that's when Tucker sees Caboose and Wash sitting on the couch.

Snuggling.

There's no other way to describe it. Tucker feels like he has to be hallucinating. Caboose is sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on his tablet, and Wash is cuddled up against him, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"What," Tucker says with great feeling, "the actual fuck."

Wash looks up and gives Tucker this goofy grin that make him look like he's practically a kid, despite the bits of gray in his blond hair.

Then—lagging behind as always—Caboose looks up too. "Oh! Tucker! You are back! That is good, because I have to go to the bathroom."

"Uhh—" Tucker starts, but doesn't get any farther because Caboose rockets off the couch, grabs Tucker by the arm, and shoves him down.

The moment Tucker's ass hits the cushions, Wash attaches to him like a leech—as Caboose vanishes, the traitor.

"You're really soft," Wash mutters into Tucker's shoulder.

"Dude, don't say it like that," says Tucker. The only reason he's not leaping off the couch right now and punching Wash in the face is that he still has that urge not to die.

Wash hums, a warm puff of air through Tucker's t-shirt. He's heavy, leaning his whole weight into Tucker—and fuck, he's not about to kill him. In fact, Tucker suspects that right now, the murderous ex-Freelancer is completely helpless.

This is so wrong, and not just because Tucker has a totally manly reputation to maintain.

"You're really high, aren't you?" he says.

"Nope," says Wash. "I'm fine. Ready for duty. Kick ass and take names. Is the floor supposed to be moving like that?"

Right.

So apparently, just a little morphine is all it takes to turn Agent Paranoid Washington into a totally high, completely relaxed cuddle-slut. That explains why Project Freelancer trained him to function without painkillers.

"This is so fucked up," Tucker mutters.

Church is supposed to be here. Church, who's an asshole and who would never hug Tucker in a million years, and who's also a ghost. AI. Whatever. Tucker's best friend is supposed to be here, not Wash.

Everything is so fucked up. Right from when Tucker joined the army, hoping for a way out of Detroit and a cool scar to impress the ladies. And, okay, hoping to defend the Earth or some shit.

Instead, he got used as target practice in a bizarre paramilitary conspiracy, travelled to the future (maybe), got pregnant (definitely), spent several months as an ambassador to the aliens, and now he's on the run from the UNSC, in the company of an ex-con who, oh yeah, killed a bunch of Tucker's friends.

An ex-con who's also an ex-Freelancer.

And sure, Grif had said something about Wash trying to bring down Freelancer. But he was part of it first. He was one of those fuckers who promised them a part in the war and then used them as target practice. Who created the Meta. Who did . . . whatever they did to Church before Blood Gulch, Tucker's still not totally clear on that. But he knows it was bad.

So Tucker shouldn't be letting Wash lean on him.

But—

Freelancers train to function in the field without painkillers.

Tucker's nowhere near to forgiving Wash, but he's starting to think he and his friends aren't the only ones who got chewed up and spat out by Project Freelancer.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he sighs, but he doesn't move.

"The ducklings are gonna save us," Wash agrees.

And he's not Church and this doesn't make any sense, but Tucker is—honestly, starting to relax a bit.

It's kind of nice, thinking that Wash isn't going to kill him. That Blue Team is going to be okay.

At least, it's nice until Red Team bursts in to save him from the murderous Freelancer.

#rvb #rvb platonic week #rvb fic #agent washington #lavernius tucker #my fic #red vs blue

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hasansonsuzceliktas · 4 years

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Building a Temple...

Love = God The Anatolian Jam is over. Things are rocking, but nothing's happening. It's such a mess in my head that I just want to hide. I saw photos on Facebook. Some people built something called Topak in Cappadocia, and it's maybe the most beautiful settlement I've ever seen. It's like a mother's womb, and the people there, who smile pleasantly and look beautiful, are called the Obaruhu (the spirit of nomads). Then my life changed. I encountered a beautiful yet tough life after love. I had no energy left for anything else. But the Obaruhu then decided to come near us and help us. Bilge was also coming over, my dearest friend from senior high. Whenever Bilge is there, I laugh. I'm relaxed, and I can be as I am. I see, and I am seen. What's more, Bilge was going to see me in my new life, in my new home and my natural habitat. We were going to play with both the Obaruhu and Bilge, but it didn't happen. I had to leave, so we couldn't play. A year passed before I saw it on Facebook, and Bilge pushed me too. The Obaruhu had decided to build a temple for Topak. It was the most amazing production combination possible in this country. Melodi was coming as well, another darling from high school with the most incredible brain. She's the answer to the question of whether aliens exists, because they do, and Melodi is proof of it. Melodi cannot help but goof around, but I don't mind because of her positive attitude (which is every alien being's right) and her wonderful heart. Çağım might also come over. If Çağım is there, I will feel great, safe, and supported. I feel understood. In my opinion, Çağım is a cross between a squirrel and a mountain.

I was bedridden for a year, and every part of me ached from the immobility. I was creating new records for laziness and fixity. I longed to play with the Obaruhu, Bilge, Melodi, and Çağım, and this weighed on me more than anything else, so I enrolled weeks in advance. I went to Badem Han, where we would build the temple, the day before just so I could chat with my friends. We were reunited. We then sat with Burcu and did not shut up for at least five hours. If it were up to me, I would have talked for five million hours. On the day of the meeting, all the marvelous colors began to pour in. It was just as I had dreamed it: a parade of beautiful people, all unique to themselves and completing each other. We sat in a circle to introduce ourselves, and everyone first expressed their wishes before making small drawings with the colors and elements they wanted. I said the building was merely a vehicle. I was there to play, and I would endeavor to see the beauty in everyone rather than their flaws. I intended to share everything that I had learned, saw, and become. When I said I didn't like to work much, it triggered a few giggles. I drew my volcano, naturally in red where the fiery magma was, and sat back down. I wanted to say much nicer things, but I was so excited that this was all I could manage. Following the circle, we retrieved Bilge's tent, which the strong wind had blown away, and Melodi, Bilge, and I squeezed in it, compensating for the lost time with laughter. In the middle of the night, the only wish that I and Züriye held came true: Çağım, who everybody thought wouldn't be able to make it, joined us. Many people woke up and ran towards Çağım half-sleeping, some fell down as they ran and some hugged him, me among them. Every wise being loves Çağım immensely. It was like a festival itself in the middle of the night. I said to myself, “Okay, now we can truly build a temple of love and unity. You're going to work your ass off, Baraniko.” We woke up at six, Ernie's favorite number and a time I’m more used to going to bed at rather than waking up. Why? We were to play the earth game. The weather is so cold, and my ass felt like it would freeze off. We went to a cemetery shivering, and they covered our eyes. We began to walk in silence, holding on to the person before us. We walked barefoot among pine needles and pebbles on the ground. With the cold things stabbing at my feet, I decided to raise my arms and shout, “Dad! Why did you leave me?” but stopped myself rather than ruin the game. My disdain for being a spoilsport surpassed my urge to schmooze, and once this sweet agony had passed, they placed some earth in our palms. We said one word and put it in the bucket for later use when building the temple. When Burcu said, “Unity,” I leisurely said, “Let there be love.” Maybe you're a bit tired of hearing this, but I have no other issues. Let there be love, and the rest will be easy.

The first day was a warm up, and the building process went very slow. The next day we were flying, though. People were sieving soil, wheeling sand and earth in barrows, and mixing them with water. Others passed mixture-filled buckets from hand to hand in a human chain. Some emptied buckets into bags, while others took measurements or ferried water. A few even just shared their music. It was just like the movie Fight Club. The next day, we went to the shore to play the water game. We first listened to our story from the voice of beauties before heading into the sea and making a circle. We began to play our game of singing songs, all among the surprised but sweet looks of the dear inhabitants of Keşan. Lots of kids were in the sea laughing, playing, and singing. I don't know how to swim, so I wouldn't normally go in the cold sea. What kind of magicians were these Obaruhu? Yet I found myself laughing hysterically, splashing water, repeatedly jumping into the middle of the circle, and singing at the top of my voice. Scorpio–Cancer Baraniko seemed to be slowly finding his self. We continued raising our temple, helping each other out, listening to the stories, tolerating flaws, and sharing our food, drink, and tobacco. We worked in four shifts every day: before breakfast, after breakfast, under the midday sun, and until the sun went down. After lunch, people would offer gifts. Melodi explained sacred geometry one day, for instance. She's been telling me this stuff constantly for 15 years, and I always loved it, although I never really understood it. Until this workshop, I thought my primitive two-dimensional brain was to blame. But then I saw how Merve and Burcu also listened to her with eager eyes and open mouths. At one point, she was talking about something like rombotiko, and we lost a few people to brain hemorrhages. I thought, “Okay, it's not just me. Us mere mortals can only understand about a half of what our dear friend is saying.” One evening, we played the fire game. We first paired up and filled each other's plates with food. Without talking, we then fed each other in turn. Çağım and I, two hairy guys, fed each other in such elegance. My inner voice at first said, “We are so tired. Screw this stupid idea,” but I loved how it all flowed, and we laughed our heads off about it. They then lit the fire, and we all played around it for a while. Then, Aslı, a wonderful and genuine person who had spent a lot of time at Badem Han, began to play with fire and dance. Every time I watched the fire, I wanted to become the fire. As the temple rose up, we began to benefit from its shadow during the daytime, and we used it for shelter at night. Volkan also organized ceremonies inside at night, with many of us smirking in our sleeping bags. Of course, I wasn't active in any of the bedtime stories. I slept approximately three hours throughout the whole workshop. Finally, we played the air game, which involved closing your eyes and letting go of your body in one piece. The main objective was to learn to trust that the people around you would catch you. This was difficult for me. I bent my knees and so on, but I couldn't entirely let go of my body. Then Mukund, a boy from Bombay with a beautiful gaze, saw this Anatolian boy. Organizing the entire group into one circle, he then placed me in the middle. At first I thought, “Shit! I’m so exposed.” Then I said, “Screw it!” and completely let go of myself. To the left and right, to the front and back, I didn't bend any part of my body even a morsel. I didn't hesitate whatsoever. They caught me every time, no matter how many times I did it.

This is how we built the temple. We placed the hexagonal hood and the glass on the roof as well. We couldn't get enough hugs as we parted. We said farewell to everyone, but alas, the final coating was not complete yet. We stayed one more night as the Obaruhu and our high school threesome completed most of the coating. We embraced each and every one of Badem Han staff, especially Aykut, for feeding us, welcoming us as their guests, opening up their hearts to us, and even working alongside us. They finished the remainder of the coating after we left. Bless them. Our temple has two triangular doors, one symbolizing the female and the other the male. Each one of us came through those doors and transformed into something beautiful. From earth, sand, and water, we built something great, but we also built actual temples in each other's hearts, falling, laughing, playing, and crying in unity and in love. Let there be Love. And there is Love. Thank goodness. (For Obaruhu visit: www.obaruhu.org) Read the full article

#anatolia #experiences #goddess #sacred #soul

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ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

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The Great Mall adventure -Bruce Wayne/Batfamily x Reader

Love the mall idea :-), and because I thought it might be redundant to write another story about shopping things, I joined two requests together, the mall thing, and @dannysanime‘s request. Again, I feel like it’s “meh”, like I could write better...it’s really one of those months you know, Hope you guys will still like it :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

-Dick, I swear to the gods, if you do not make up your mind right now, we’re leaving you here. You’ll have to sleep in beds from Ikea, and rely on people’s charity to eat every day. We’ll come visit you sometimes though.

Your husband laughed at your words, but immediately glared at some paparazzi taking pictures from a corner. Those people always thought they were so damn sneaky, while flashing you right in the face with their cameras. Idiots. Under the famous “bat-glare” (or “Wayne-glare” for that matter), the two paparazzis slowly backed away, but Bruce knew they’d come back.

-But moooom ! How can I choose so fast ? I don’t know if I like the blue suit or the black suit, or the white and black, or the...

-So fast ? We’ve been here for three hours Dick !

-Mom, buying a suit is serious business, you can’t expect me to choose one in less than...five hours !

-Let’s just buy them all then ! So we’re finally done with it. I’m hungry. You know I get mean when I’m hungry boy. Especially in my current condition !!

Bruce smiled at you, and wrapped an arm around your waist, his free hand resting lightly on your swollen belly, and laid a kiss on your forehead. You calmed down a bit, but your other sons looked at Dick, a slight panic in their eyes. You were kinda mean when hungry normally, but now that you were pregnant and had to eat for two...they weren’t up for your constant sarcasms right now. Your oldest kid got the message, taking all of the suits he pre-selected in his arms. He stopped in front of his father, and Bruce slipped his debit card in his mouth (since his arms were full you know).

-Heeeere we go, now come on every body, let’s go let’s go let’s go !

***********************

Whenever Bruce had a (rare) day off, you’d always make sure to get the entire family together, and do something, an activity of any sort. Spent the day with each other. Last time you went to the fair and had a blast. But today, you all needed new clothes for an important gala coming up, the children needed some supplies for school, and you decided that a day at the mall didn’t sound that bad. You usually had a fun time, dodging paparazzis, eating junk food, buying things you didn’t really need and would donate later on...It was just a fun and useful time together.

Besides, you were now six months pregnant and you guys needed to buy everything for that new baby coming, as you never had one home...It was scary and exciting at the same time. But you and Bruce, and your children as a matter of fact, were ready to welcome this baby boy (yup, another boy...) into this world.

So here you were, in the mall, and just as Alfred let you guys out of the car, the first flash from cameras happened. You got pretty good at ignoring them, so you just walked past the photographers as if they weren’t there. You had to stop Jason from flipping them off, but you were pretty sure you saw Bruce do it...He hated paparazzis with a passion.

-Ok so, let’s start by buying the suits, if I know you guys well, it’s the thing that’ll take the longest.

By “you guys”, you really meant “Dick”, as he was the slowest one. Damn he could be so annoying when shopping for clothes...

*********************

And sure enough, he took his damn time. When you saw him and almost thirty suits, you knew it was going to be long.

You found your dress pretty fast, knowing what you wanted. It was one of those fancy clothes for pregnant woman, (your favorite color), and even with a swollen belly, you looked absolutely fantastic. Quite sexy. At least, that’s what Bruce thought. He bent down to whisper it in your hear and you couldn’t help but smile. His own smile was so bright and beautiful that you had to kiss him, and so you did.

It always grossed your sons, but you and Bruce were so in love with each other that you could rarely keep your hands away from the other. You always had to touch in someway, and sometimes, you’d completely forgot that people were around you, and that you probably shouldn’t just make-out on the spot.

Like right now. Tim and Damian nudging you in the ribs brought you back to reality. Jason and Dick were shielding you guys from paparazzis, and, a bit embarrassed, you both let go of each others. Or almost, as he kept your hand in his.

Jason found an absolutely wonderful dark blue suit that made his eyes pop out. You thought he looked handsome, and wondered where the years went...it seemed only yesterday that this young nine year old boy came home with Bruce, and now, he was already nineteen. How the Hell did that happen ?

Tim wanted to stay classic, and found a black tuxedo that fitted him perfectly. He looked like a young James Bond, and you were sure that he was going to break some hearts one day. One day because, he was too young to date. Come on, fifteen. No. When he was twenty maybe ?

Damian opted for a very cute dark red three pieced suit. Oh my your baby looked so good in that ! “Baby”...You decided that, even when the actual baby would be born, you wouldn’t stop calling him that. They would all be forever your babies...No matter how much they hated the nickname.

And Dick. Oh Dick. Bless that boy. He left with six different suits that he was able to narrow down from his thirty first choices...

Bruce found a black tuxedo too, understanding Tim and his “let’s stay classic and classy” idea. He looked as handsome as usual. That man could wear a burlap sack and still look good. And you knew you weren’t biased on that because he was the man you loved, everyone always thought he was damn good looking. Which never annoyed you, because you were the one with the ring.

You looked at your husband for a minute, and just let out a contended sigh. Never in a million years would you have ever thought you’d be so happy one day. And yet, here you were, in front of the love of your life, with four wonderful children, and another one on the road...Perfect. Or almost perfect, you were getting hungry.

With a kiss to your Bruce while the children paid for the clothes, you went to the nearest fast food available.

*********************

-No but for real Bruce, I love you, but you’re a freak.

He sighed, again with that...Why did you thought it so weird that he ate his burgers with a knife and fork ?

-Really ? We’ve been married for over ten years, and you’re still not use to it ?

-I’ll never get used to it dear. For real. Ne-ver. I still think it’s quite sexy though...

You winked at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

-Oh yeah ?

-Yes, but then again, you could do anything and I’d find you sexy.

-That’s funny, you know why ?

He scooted his chair closer to you, and one of his hand went to hover behind your neck, while the other took one of your hand and entwined his fingers with yours. You held your breath.

-Why ?

-You could do anything and I’d want to make l...

-WOW WOW WOW TIME OUT, TIME OUT ! You guys. Every time. Every single time.

You turned to your youngest son, Damian, a bit surprised. Again, you guys were just so in love that sometimes, you forgot your surroundings...

-You need help parents, really.

-I kinda agree with Dam’s, it gets old this lovey dovey behavior...

-Yeaaah, I agree with Damian and Jason, sometimes, it’s a bit over the top you know ? You guys should try to get a bit less in love when in public.

-I don’t agree with them. You bought me a cream colored suit. Nothing can be wrong with people who let me buy a cream colored suit.

For some reason, Dick’s words made you burst out laughing. Damn those boys, they always made you so happy. When your fit of laughter (that spread to all your family members) finally subsided, you managed to say :

-Oh man, I love you guys, I love you so much.

-We love you too mom.

-Yup, love you from the Earth to the Moon, and back.

-Love you like a hobbit loves his second breakfast !

-...Wait wait wait, I wasn’t ready, I don’t have...Hum...Oh well, no need for fancy words, I love you mothe...mommy.

Did they really have to melt your heart like that ? ...You hugged them, and you all finished your food. When you started to go, Bruce grabbed you by the waist, letting the boys take a bit of advance on you guys.

-I’m a bit jealous sweetheart.

-Good.

-That’s not nice.

-I’m not a nice person.

-That’s not true, you’re the best.

-Cheesy fucker.

-Only because of you.

-I love you.

-I love you too (Y/N).

But before you could resume one of your heated kiss in front of people (because you know, the forgetting your surroundings thing), a flash blinded you, and Bruce turned around with the speed of a cheetah, to glare at the paparazzis from earlier. With a sigh, you took his hand in yours, and left for the baby section of the mall.

********************

-Alright boys, you have the next few hours free, and your dad’s gold card. Don’t go too crazy, buy things you need and stuffs. No weird things, I’m talking to you Timothy Drake Wayne, do NOT buy another poisonous toad please.

A bit pouty, Tim follows his brothers, and you hope to god that you won’t be called by mall security because they did something that got them in trouble...With a sign of your head to Dick, you signify to him to be the responsible adult he should be, and he nods with a smile. ...You hoped more than ever that they’ll behave.

And it’s time. Time for the baby shopping. A bit excited, a bit scared, your hand in Bruce’s, fingers intwined, you enter the baby shop.

Bruce looks around awkwardly, unsure of what to do, and you squeeze his hand. He turns to look at you :

-Hum where...where do you want to start ?

-I don’t know...I...I’m not sure...Furnitures ? Crib ?

-Maybe we can ask someone ?

-I think we should.

And on that note, you approach an employe of the shop, and she...screech. Very loudly. Bruce grimace, and you can’t help but put your hands on your ears.

-Oh my god oh my god, O.M.G !!!!! I can’t believe it ! You’re the Waynes !! We were talking with my colleague about how lit it would be for you to come in our store for your future baby and...here you are !!

You force a smile on your face, and Bruce decides to take advantage of his famousness, something he rarely did. He could see the two paparazzi that have been following all day in the corner of his eyes, and so he asked :

-Yes, here we are. Do you think that, by any chance, we could...privatize the shop ?

He points at the paparazzi, and the girl understands. She nods and goes to close the shop’s doors.

-The shop is all yours Mr. and Mrs. Wayne.

Bruce gives her a charming smile, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself. Oh that man. The girl blushes a bit, and starts to help you navigate the shop.

You buy an amazing crib and smile at the mere thought of your future son in it, you feel Bruce’s arm wrap around your waist, and bring you next to him. He kissed your forehead, and you were pretty sure you heard the employee trying to muffle her “aaaawwwww”, which makes you smile at her too. She blushes once again, and your husband chuckle. It always worked for both of you. You were just very attractive and charming people.

You get some furniture to put the babies’ stuffs away. You buy cute lights to put in his room, and so many things...it’s overwhelming. You find the cutest teddy bear you ever seen.

As you turn to Bruce during the shopping, all smiling and things, he can’t help but kiss you. He looks at you fondly, falling in love with you all over again. He can’t believe that in three short months, you’d give birth to his son, a child he’ll be able to see grow up. A child he could raised from the beginning. It made his heart beat wildly.

You went to the clothe section, and a special item caught your eyes. You showed it to Bruce, who smiled. Of course you would.

It was a cute onesie with the bat-symbol, and written “Batman to the rescue” on it. There was also a Nightwing one, and a Robin one. Hell there was even a Red Hood and Red Robin one ! Good, so that your sons won’t be jealous. You took one of each. And bought some other really beautiful clothes. There was a pyjama that looked like a suit, and you thought it was so funny that you bought it.

You packed on pacifiers and other baby bottles, just to be sure...You pretty much bought everything in the store, afraid you’d forget something your baby will need. The girl thought you and Bruce were so damn cute, all worried about getting the right stuffs, and clearly super in love (as you sometimes just kissed each other in front of her, as if you forgot her presence). She was kinda completely jealous of you to be honest...

*********************

You finished your baby shopping, asking the employee of the shop to ship everything you bought to Wayne Mansion. A few days later, an gigantic truck would arrive at your house, and you’d think about how you might have been a bit overboard with your shoppings...

You met with the boys, who were so proud that hey only bought essentials. School supplies and...a shit tons of video games, DVDs, and candies. Of course. They warned their father that they also bought stuffs for some kids that were in it the stores that just sounded like they needed it, and their parents couldn’t afford the things. Nice boys.

You went home with all your shoppings, joking on the way home, telling Alfred the story of your day at the mall.

The next day, all the newspaper in Gotham read the headline : “The Waynes out on a great shopping mall adventures !” and you couldn’t help but cringe at those stupid articles titles.

The pictures were great though. Hilarious even. In all of them, Bruce was glaring at the photographers, while the rest of you ignored them, and it was just the funniest thing ever.

-For real dad, you should be used to it by now haha !

-Look hahahaha look at his face hahaha he’s like...Ebenezer Scrooge or something haha...

-Or the Grinch. “I’m never happy, I’m gonna be broody forever” hahaha.

-I don’t sound like that !

-Oh but honey, you kinda do haha. Good one Dick.

-Oh my god look at his face now haha, he’s soooo pissed.

It went on for hours, you and your sons teasing Bruce.

The only pictures where he didn’t look grumpy were the one where he kissed you...oops, never mind, even on one of those he had his eyes open and looked at the paparazzi taking the picture angrily.

Ooooh Bruce.

**********************

Three months later, the first pictures of Thomas Clark Wayne appeared in the paper, and this time, Bruce couldn’t look grumpy in any of the photos.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #Batmom x Bruce Wayne #Batmom x batkids #batmom x batman #batman imagine #batfam imagine #Batfamily #Batfamily x reader #Batmom x Batfamily #Tim Drake x Reader #Richard Grayson x Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader #Jason Todd x reader

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keywestlou · 5 years

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MORNING STEW #22

A lot of material this morning. Too much to organize. I will lay things out as they come up in my notes.

Enjoy!

Haircut yesterday with Lori. I have not seen her in a month. She was sick when my last haircut was scheduled. In the meantime, I began growing a beard. The last time I had one was about 12 years ago.

The beard is entering its fifth week. Coming in well. I have trimmed it twice. Past the wild stage. Chin and moustache gaining body. Sides of face still not much. Apparently grows slower.

Lori and I had a conference. Should I try letting my hair grow. I have kept my head bald for at least 15 years. Half my head is naturally bald.

We decided to try. She cleaned my head up a bit. Very minimally.

Whether to grow hair is one of the heavy decisions one has to make at my age. So it should be!

Watched Syracuse/North Carolina State football last night. Not going to be a good season for Syracuse. We lost 16-10.

North Carolina played well. As the game progressed, I thought they were really going to kill us. They have a freshman quarterback. Seasoned already.

Syracuse’s De Vito is a redshirted sophomore. He needs seasoning. A lot to learn. He spiked the ball 3 times for example. Even once would have been too much.

This is De Vito’s year to learn. Means Syracuse will not shine till next year. Hopefully!

Caught pieces of Trump’s Minneapolis rally during the night when I woke and could not get back to sleep.

Typical Trump.

People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. I occasionally use swear words in the blog to describe my feelings or what I think about another person. Fortunately, I do not use profanity or less than acceptable language as much as Trump.

Last night, he said Biden was only good while he was Vice President because he would “kiss Obama’s ass.”

Made me think. The guy most certainly is not a role model for the youth of America. Not just because of “ass.” He has used rougher language in the past. In fact, frequently.

Kids deserve better.

Clinton was not much of a role model either. His was sex. The children understood. Someone someday will write a book re the impact Clinton had on the children of America.

The news before the rally was Trump was in a war with Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey. Over money.

It cost Minneapolis $530,000 for extra police protection services, etc. The Mayor said the President should pay. Trump said no way, he never pays. Which is true. Everywhere he has had a rally, he has left the city holding the bag.

Trump believes it is a city’s legal obligation to pay. He claims the Constitution guarantees freedom of speech. He as President is speaking. He should not have to pay.

No question Trump is el cheapo. He took in $125 million the first quarter this year to help with the campaign. A rally is part and parcel of a campaign. The President should pay. Especially since he is rolling in campaign money. Recall he is paying Facebook $1.6 million a week for political advertising. Most of which is going towards negative Biden ads which are coming up as lies.

The GM/UAW strike is in its 25th day. No resolution in sight as yet.

One of the biggest issues, if not the biggest, is the union’s demand that GM move work back from plants in Mexico to plants in the U.S. GM had announced pre strike that it was closing 4 U.S. plants. Three of the 4 have already halted production.

A difficult issue to resolve. Labor costs much cheaper in Mexico. Makes cost of the car to the consumer cheaper, also.

A huge chasm to cross in resolving the issue.

Woe the web we weave when first we seek to deceive. This Ukraine thing is growing. More persons being drawn into it. I suspect it will be the problem that brings Trump down in the final analysis.

The U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York arrested 2 former Ukrainians who are now U.S. citizens. They make money for themselves and others by doing deals that may be less than proper involving the Ukraine.

The 2 were arrested at Dulles Airport wednesday as they were getting on a plane to fly to Venice. One way tickets. The two charged with campaign-finance law violations.

The 2 are “clients” of Rudy Giuliani.

A photo appeared in the newspapers yesterday showing the 2 at lunch with a third man and Donald Trump Jr.

It is claimed Trump has 119 business interests in the Ukraine.

Recall Trump’s cries that he was going to clean the swamp that Washington had become. His performance leaves much to be desired. In fact, the swamp has gotten swampier.

The U.S. has been at war in Afghanistan for 18 years. The U.S. has reached the point where many of the U.S. military serving in Afghanistan are 18 years old. Fifteen thousand three hundred sixty four.

Afghanistan is the place we should get out of. Not the Ukraine as Trump has done.

Interestingly, the U.S. is not the first nation/group that spent years in the Afghanistan region without success. The following failed: Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, the British Empire, and Russia.

A study was recently released listing the “most miserable” cities in the U.S. Gary, Indiana was #1.

Gary used to be a hub for manufacturing. Its jobs have gone elsewhere. When jobs go, the people do also. Of those remaining, only 50 percent are employed, 36 percent live under the poverty line.

Even “crimes” have left.

Gary used to be the murder capital of the U.S. Hardly anyone left to kill. Gary also used to be the drug capital of the U.S. No more. For drugs you need money. There is no money. There are not sufficient jobs nor things to steal.

Key West still in hurricane season. Till November 31.

Key West has had its share of hurricanes. Part of the Key West living experience.

There was the Great Hurricane of 1846. High winds and a 7 foot surge. All buildings damaged or destroyed. The hurricane considered the “most severe” till that time. Difficult to be certain. Fewer formal records kept. Those that were kept did not survive the hurricane.

Then there was the October 10, 1909 hurricane. A category 3. Winds over 100 mph. Twelve inches of rain in 5 hours.

Most of Key West destroyed. Leveled. KONK E-Blast ran a pic of the Ruy Lopez Cigar Factory. A huge 2 story building. Long. Ninety percent leveled. Not a pleasant sight.

This weekend the ROAR. Loud it will be. The 46th annual Florida Keys Poker Run. A fundraiser for charities and non-profits.

Hundreds of motorcycles will roar down U.S. 1 today to party in Key West through sunday. Then roar out with the same noise level. None of the bikes seem to have mufflers.

They drive U.S. 1 30-40 at a time in group formation.

The drivers and riders look like bad people. Black leather, Nazi type helmets, etc. Many with their women riding behind them. Similarly attired. All with tight blouses and shorts/jeans.

Men and women alike look like bums and dangerous people. Actually, not. They are doctors, lawyers, accountants, etc. with their wives and girl friends. Coming to Key West for a fun filled weekend.

The merchants will be happy. The restaurants and bars will do a big business. The bikers spend money! The bikes cost as much as a good car. Beautiful vehicles.

The bikers come from all over the U.S. Unless Florida residents, they have their bikes shipped to Miami. Pick them up there and then ride U.S. 1 to Key West.

A few years ago, some biker groups joined the event. Not good guys. Bad ones. Came to start fights, etc. Key West wanted the event no more. The problem was resolved and last year the doctors, lawyers, accountants, etc. were the only ones partying in Key West.

Enjoy your day!

MORNING STEW #22 was originally published on Key West Lou

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msbrightside85 · 7 years

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Old birthdays and new friends

A few people have been asking me how i spent my birthday and Chinaversary (my birthday was also the date i’d been in China a month) so here it is!

Those of you who know me know how ‘crazy’ I can get (just a bit) about birthdays and by crazy it’s more a case that to me, birthdays are special. They’re special because they’re an individual celebration and I think that should be celebrated (even if the person whose birthday it is doesn’t!) So some people may rightly assume I was nervous about spending my birthday away in a new country but I really wasn’t. I’d achieved the one thing that had taken months and months of preparation, worry and stress (and support from you guys - you all definitely walked that road with me!) and that was CHINA. So because I was finally here I didn’t feel worried or stressed about how I would spend the day or what I would do.

But let’s not place the value of a birthday on the things you do or how you spend your time. We all know that your birthday is about the people you choose to spend it with and on that front I did have reason to be (a little) apprehensive. I’d moved to the other side of the world and everyone who I wanted to celebrate my birthday with was millions of miles away. So while this post is about my birthday, it is also about the two people who MADE my birthday :)

Lizzie and Candy (i’ll speak to you both later about disclaimers and alias’ if necessary haha) have totally changed my China experience for the better. I genuinely believe I wouldn’t feel as settled or happy without them and it all started on the EF annual trip, one week after i arrived.

Lizzie and I had been told we were sharing a room for the hotel stay and even though she worked at the same school as me we hadn’t really spoken before. So when I walked into the hotel room and saw the glass bathroom (all see through!!!) I was a little like oh okayyy (in reality more like OH MYYY GOODDDDDDD). But let’s not be dramatic, I must relay the facts as they were and tell you about the modesty curtain which was a (very useless) sheer piece of material in front of the glass wall separating the bathroom and bedroom but (and even with my eyes) you could totally see through it.

So when Lizzie walked in a little later (she’d been on a different coach) our first conversation was obviously the bathroom arrangement, but thankfully we were able to laugh about it, although nervously, and then swear an oath not to look when one of us was in the bathroom?! What was more amusing and that we hadn’t realised was that the wall (the one with no curtain) was next to the room door, so as you can imagine I was a little startled when there was a knock at the door just as I was getting out of the shower! I froze. If Lizzie answered the door she would see me (NAKED) and so would the person at the door! Thankfully Lizzie had realised this at the same time as me and hung back slightly as I flung my towel around myself to answer the door. Funnily enough the same thing happened when Lizzie was getting out of the shower … what can I say we were a popular room haha.

After the trauma of shower gate (which we didn’t stop laughing about and haven’t really stopped laughing about since) we started talking and she quickly won me over with her supply of snacks (dried mango and pistachios #winning) and put me at ease with her minor but hilarious clumsiness (we will not tell the hotel about the spilt coffee your secret is safe with us). We had a few other people from school join us later for a million games of Heads Up (it’s a phone app game - definitely recommend especially if you’re playing with people whose first language isn’t English) and I haven’t been able to get rid of her since. (hahaha totally the other way around!!!)

As for Candy, our friendship was set over our mutual dislike for exercise, which i believe are how some of the most solid friendships are formed. On day two of the trip we went to DaMing mountain and were given the option to WALK up the mountain (yes you read it right) or go up in the cable car. You know which line I was in! So I was stood in the queue with Lizzie and Candy (Candy I had been introduced to briefly at lunch the day before) but at the last minute Lizzie was lured by the (I have no idea what) of climbing the mountain instead and defected to the other side! So me and Candy got talking and in no time had found our common interests of photography and craft beer, which as you all know are pretty high on my list of likes! So I’m walking around this mountain thinking wow this girl is really cool and then we get to a bridge … ‘no wayyyyyys am I crossing that bridge!’ she said. Why? She proceeds to tell me she HATES spiders and the sign on the bridge says do not cross if you have arachnophobia …

Thankfully i checked the sign and it actually said do not cross the bridge if you have agoraphobia which it turned out Candy did not have and so we proceeded across the bridge (me stifling laughter the whole way - I will not let her forget this!! haha)

We also later realised that people with agoraphobia would be unlikely to be halfway up a mountain and attempting to cross a bridge anyway but I have already mentioned about the crazy signage here so we will put it down to that haha.

Since then we have been (she has taken me) to Pinjiang Road, the Lotus Wetland Park and so many restaurants and bars I cannot remember them all, so when she she suggested a pool party for my birthday I was very much in :)

So I spent my birthday swimming, sitting by the pool, drinking Tsing Tao (pronounced Ching Dao - yes there is an embarrassing story about this) and eating pizza in great company. If things didn’t quite go smoothly we just laughed …

Peggy - Lizzie’s cat needs her own blog entry she was like a thing possessed that day making the freakiest sounds when we walked in but i think she’s getting used to me now . She put her nose on my arm the other night before running back off to the bedroom

The swimming bands - so we’re getting into the pool and the ‘lifeguard’ comes over and says (in Chinese) that we need swimming bands to swim. Cut to us standing in our bathing suits at the complex reception with sad faces trying to convince the receptionist to give us three swimming bands even though we only have one room key. We succeeded ;)

Tom Thunder and the swimming caps - to swim here you have to wear a swimming cap professional swimmer style. Lizzie had to buy a new one from the ‘lifeguard’ (we will refer to him as the ‘LG’ from now on) which was bright blue and she resembled one of the characters we use during classes at school called Tom Thunder … hahahaha

Tipple tails or forward rolls - this challenge meant the purchasing of more equipment from the ‘LG’ (i swear he was making a killing that day) and attempting tipple tails and sitting on the bottom of the pool etc. This made me love my birthday even more because as you all know when I go swimming there is very little actual swimming involved!

The ‘LG’ - a pretty boy who spent more time on his phone then he did checking the pool for drowning kids. Although I do wonder what he was saying to his friend about the three foreigners who were the only people in his pool on a Tuesday afternoon having tipple tail and sitting on the bottom of the pool competitions!!

It was a little strange not having cards and gifts to open on my birthday but all in all it was a fantastic day and definitely one i’ll remember. This year has probably had the biggest extension with cards and gifts still arriving weeks after my birthday so thank you to everyone who took the time to send something they’ve all been very well received :) :)

As for these ladies? Thank you for celebrating with me and making turning 32 not bad at all :)

TTFN. RM.

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skeletonwoman · 7 years

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Honesty (Bucky)

i titled this honesty because i honestly have no idea what i’ve just written. it might just be the strangest mish mash ever and probably should have been 2 diff fics instead of one

enjoy

Buckys hand cupped your ass, squeezing it every so often. You had to stifle your laughter each time.

“Please stop fondling her.” Wanda begged softly, her final attempt before you knew she’d leave the conversation you were having entirely. Bucky frowned at her in playfully innocent confusion, releasing your flesh for a moment before he scoffs loudly.

“I let her go for three seconds and this joker’s eyeing her like a piece of meat.” He snarls quietly, taking a step toward the crowd, only for you to capture him by the belt and pull him back.

“Walk away and someone’ll approach me.” You warn him and he grumbles softly, tugging you against him bodily and Wanda sighs in resignation. Without conscious thought, you melt against him, smiling up at him with heart eyes. When you look back, Wanda is gone.

“Every time.” Steve snipes incredulously and you frown at him, until you realise he’s talking about Bucky, who is watching the surrounding area like a hawk. Patting his chest gently, you slip from his grip and head into the crowd and toward the second balcony. It’s well in view of the party but nearly inaccessible for people without residence clearance. Something pushes at your mind and you relax enough to feel Wandas exasperating over a short of Bucky following after you like a puppy. You can’t help but beam at the sight of all the girls ogling him, and his gaze glued to you.

That’s not what I intended. Wanda whispers through your thoughts sourly and you snicker, sidling out the door and into the cool night air. Below, the city shouts and rumbles.

You sigh softly, your eyes switching from the bright lights to Bucky as he steps past you to lean back against the railing. His eyes trace you and you can’t help standing a little straighter, your chin lifting with a tilt that you can’t help. He says it’s your tell, for when you’re about to make the first move or flirt someones pants off. He’s right.

“What’re you thinking?” He asks softly, his voice a low rumble that barely manages to compete with the sounds of the city below and the music within.

“I’m thinking about…” You begin, ready to lie with some little strange titbit, before you shake your head and meet his eyes solidly. “How you’re wasting your youth.”

He startles at the words, frowning and tilting his head a little, as if gesturing you to go on.

“You’ve just exited cryo freeze. It’s been a year since you did so, and six months since you returned with Steve and the rest to the Avengers here. In the last six months, you met the three new recruits and brought your own, bringing the team up to large enough numbers to part into two full size crews.” You explain, frowning at the darkness above him so you won’t get distracted by whatever you read on his face. “That means we all get more breaks, and less chances at dying. What does an Avenger do with all this spare time? Clint kicks back with his family, since retirement doesn’t suit him he’s able to step in on say, every tenth high profile mission. And Natasha, she volunteers at those ten different youth shelters. Even Steve has taken up the cause of working with the Smithsonian to provide accurate renditions of his time as the Cap.”

You shiver a little, the cold getting to you.

“But you aren’t doing anything.”

“I’m doing you?” He chuckles and you can hear the smirk in his voice. Dirty old bastard.

“I know and I’m wondering if that’s the right thing for you.” You mumble and he goes silent. Hesitantly, you move your gaze to his face, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he’s icy, blank.

“Are you breaking us up?” He whispers, his voice utterly bland and monotone. You can’t help flinching at the words. Biting your lip, you shake your head a little, indecision in the movement and he see’s it. “Then what’re you saying?”

“Bucky, look.” You sigh, pointing across to the other balcony where three girls dance together, their grins wide and their laughter a melody floating just above the music. They’re entrancing.

“What about them?” He sighs tiredly, stepping away from the banister to stand by your side. You’re grateful for the movement as his body radiates heat.

“They’re alive, they’re normal. And I bet they’re amazing in bed.” You explain, still watching the girls. One of them meets your eyes across the distance, curiosity in her gaze as her eyes move between you and Bucky before she’s once again distracted by her friends- or perhaps lovers. “Don’t you ever consider the experiences you’re missing out on? Tinder, sexting, sex in public places? Hell, even grocery shopping with someone you’re in love with?”

“We haven’t been sexting?” He asks, his voice sounding funny and you can’t help the smirk that tips up your lips as you meet his eyes.

“No, darling, that wasn’t sexting.” You tease and he swallows hard, his eyes darkening. For a moment, you’re lost in his gaze, before you remember what you’re talking about and click your fingers in his face. “Focus. Don’t you want those things?”

“Do I want to spend time with a girl I don’t know, who doesn’t know me, and do banal things like sex in public places and grocery shopping?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours with a sharp tension and your shoulders slump.

“I just want… I don’t want you to miss anything. Especially if it means one day you’ll hate me for it, or regret this thing between us.” You sigh, and he sighs with you.

“Y/N.” He groans, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you gently against his chest. You feel the weight of his metal arm as it wraps around you, and you can’t help hugging him back, pressing your face into his shirt. “I ever tell you about the time I made Steve ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”

“Nine. Million. Times.” You scoff, pulling your face from his chest to rest your chin against it and stare up at him. He smirks down at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I like you at this angle.” He flirts and you snort, earning a disgusted scowl.

“Get on with it old man, us delicate women folk prefer to be in bed before ten.” You prod and he rolls his eyes, his palm sliding down your arm until he catches your hand in his and interlaces your fingers.

“I could’ve killed him that day.” He says softly, his voice like a warm fire, and you barely notice the words as he rocks the two of you side to side. Completely out of time with the music, you can’t help but beam at him. “But I didn’t, luckily. It was one of the few memories I had left of that time after I fled Hydra. It’s one of my best memories, even if he was ill the entire time.”

“What’s the moral?”

“That I don’t regret putting my best friends life in danger, and I’d never regret the fun I had that day. Just like I’ll never regret any of the time spent between us. What I would regret would be letting you slip from my grasp because you’re a huge chicken.” He explains and you make a sharp noise of indignation, pursing your lips furiously.

“I’m no chicken.” You growl and he laughs, glancing away like the joke is all too much. Jerk. “Oh, whatever. You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, that’s a joke.” He scoffs, and you shrug, feigning at being cool. “Examples, doll. Give me examples.”

“You can’t even dance with a girl.” You say instantly, the words coming out sharp and excited when you’d meant them to be calm and utterly above it all. He laughs, raising his eyebrows and glancing pointedly at your interlaced hands. “No, you weak creature. I mean that.”

You point toward the three girls, who’ve slowed down, but are still moving together.

“You want to do that?” He asks curiously, the words without any sort of lust like you’d imagined they would hold.

“No, I want you to do that. Go join in, they’d let you.” You command and he stares at you. “I promise they’ll let you, if they ask you about me, just point over here. Go, do it.”

He hesitates, still holding on to you and his eyes dart to the girls almost nervously before he straightens his shoulders.

“If it means I’m not a chicken, and if it gets rid of this doubt, I’ll dance with them.” He says, the words like a declaration before he dives into battle and you stifle your giggle.

The three girls eye him with barely concealed disdain as he approaches them and you can’t help grinning. Girls are something special, really.

Bucky points to you, across the divide and they all glance over. Waving, you smirk at them and nod once. You watch him regain their attention, waving his hand at you a couple times more as he likely explains the situation. The guy has no game. Honestly.

Two of the three grab him, pulling him with an arm each into the centre of their triangle and you can’t help passing your gaze over those around them. Dozens of men, half likely having been ignored when they tried to speak with them, the other half likely too intimidated, eye him jealously. Bucky catches your gaze and shoots you an awkward smile, letting the girls guide him through the dance while his gaze stays locked on you. After a song, you can’t help rolling your eyes and grinning. It’s too painful to watch. Holding up a palm, to tell him not to move, you slip back through the doors and into the crowd.

“Hey.” An unrecognizable male voice says, but you pretend not to hear it. The music is loud enough that you could probably get away with it.

Emerging onto the giant balcony, you slip through the crowds to arrive behind the three girls. Buckys gaze scans the crowd before they lock on you and he slides from their grasp. You watch them pout after him, before they spot you and brighten.

“Hi!” They chirp and you grin, waving at them as Bucky descends on you, his arms capturing you in a tight hold.

“Please never make me do that again. Please rub yourself all over me, too, all I can smell is their sweat and perfume.” He groans in your ear, his palms running over the curves and lines of your body.

“You dork.” You laugh softly, sliding your hands across the smooth material of his shoulders.

“Who’s that guy?” He growls, suddenly going tense and you grumble at him.

“Seriously?” You groan, turning to see where he’s looking, and spotting a man half a foot behind you.

“Hey.” He says and you recognize the voice from earlier, but you’ve never met this man before.

“I wouldn’t.” You warn, meeting his eyes seriously. “He’s crazy.”

Bucky chuckles, nipping at your neck and you know he’s purposely taken his eyes off the man and touched you all at once. Damned posturing. Sure, he can back it up, but does it have to happen at all?

“Girl.” The guy says, more forcefully and you turn around fully, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around your waist. This guy is being weird. Weird like the Terminator.

“What?” You snap, glancing aside to see the three girls have moved closer and are watching the moment with a keen eye. Your eyes return to the man, his bearing lumbering to put it mildly.

“Watch your back with those ones.” He warns, eyeing the three girls critically before he backs back into the crowd and you glance at the girls before returning your eyes to where the man had stood.

“You wanna get out of here?” You wince, wrapping your fingers around Buckys metal wrist tightly and he squeezes you with it once before he’s guiding you through the crowd.

“What the hell!” You scream, gaping at the three girls from earlier in the night. Bucky jolts awake, his arm instantly thrown in front of you as he holds up a gun with the other. “Lights, FRIDAY.”

The lights fill the room, and they’re still there.

“That man was totally right.” You whisper, eyes glued to the three as they stand as still as wax statues.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Bucky mumbles and you snatch your phone from the bedside table. One of the girls twitches at the movement, but is stilled by a minute gesture from the middle girl.

Unlocking the device, you quickly type out the ambiguously innocent looking warning message, the one that sets off the alarms as soon as it’s typed, and you can’t help relaxing as the call starts to echo through the floor. As the alarm starts two of the girls leap forward, both of them diving for Bucky, whose guard is down as he shoves you away.

Furious, you can’t help sending a blast of pale purple energy at them, the shot hitting one of the girls directly in the chest and slamming her against the wall.

“You are being reclaimed.” The third girl whispers in your ear as her arm slides around your throat, capturing you in a choke hold.

Grunting, you buck wildly, before giving in and holding her flesh tight and blasting her arm with point blank burning energy. She screams like a banshee, but doesn’t let go, and you’re unsure how much longer you can stay conscious. As black edges your vision, the door slams open and Steve and Sam pour in, the blonde man helping his friend while Sam tackles the woman holding you. Her wrist is torn from the rest of her arm, half of her forearm and hand falling in to your lap and you can’t help but scream.

“Ew!” You shriek, leaping to your feet and tripping sideways as it flies off your lap. Even as you fall, you can’t help keeping your gaze locked on the limb and shrieking again. “Ew!”

“No!” Yowls the leader and you try not to vomit, tearing your eyes from the dismembered piece to Buckys stricken face. On the other side of the bed, Steve holds the other girl tight, the third lying dead against the wall with a charred indent in her chest. Bucky leaps across the bed, slamming against the leader and stilling her in Sams grip before he turns and launches himself toward you. You whimper as he slides to his knees, pulling you tight to his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He whispers frantically, but you shake your head, your gasping breaths slowing.

“What the hell happened?” Tony asks from the doorway and you glance toward him from the shelter of Buckys embrace, noting Natasha as she slips from his side and backhands the woman held in Steves grip.

“Woah.” Steve warns but she shoots him a deadly glare. Rapid fire Russian bursts from her lips and the girl cringes backwards into Steve, who uncomfortably holds her forward and away from him.

“This will not happen again.” Natasha hisses, her eyes completely passing over the leader and you see the previously cocky girl shrink. “I promise.”

Without another word, she stalks from the room, calling after Steve and Sam sharply, who jump, dragging their prisoners with them. Tony eyes the dead body against the wall with distaste before sighing.

“I’ll get someone to pack up your things tomorrow, we’ll set you up in a new bedroom tonight and have your personals delivered before lunch.” He mumbles, jerking his head toward the door and you stumble to your feet. Bucky holds you tight to himself, clinging to you while his eyes dart around every corner and into every shadow. Finally, Tony gestures the two of you into a room, issuing a short bark of commands to FRIDAY before excusing himself.

“She wanted to take me back.” You whisper hoarsely and Bucky sighs, holding you a little tighter. “She wanted to take me from all I have left.”

so weird, amirite????

i didn’t edit this and wrote it between 11.30pm and the current 1.40am sooo yeah

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #avengers #i'm so sleepy so tags will suffer

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jessicakehoe · 4 years

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ICYMI: These Were the Highlights From the Stronger Together Concert

The largest single-show broadcast in Canadian history, Stronger Together, Tous Ensemble brought together the biggest names in the country, from actors and athletes to musicians, authors, activists and more. The special event honouring healthcare workers and raising money for Food Banks Canada featured musical performances, messages of hope and solidarity, and also told the stories of frontline workers and COVID-19 survivors. Now, we’re reliving some of the highlights from the show.

Canadian rocker Sam Roberts kicked off the show with an uplifting acoustic rendition of his 2014 single “We’re All In This Together,” with his three children accompanying him on music. Celine Dion addressed viewers in French and English, praising the “heroes out there around the world who are going to work every single day.” Other celebrities who made an appearance include author Margaret Atwood; dance troupe Cirque du Soleil’s Kevin, Andi and Gasya Atherton; actors Mike Myers, Will Arnett (with a special appearance by Amy Poehler) and Kiefer Sutherland; and the entire cast of Schitt’s Creek.

The goal of Stronger Together, Tous Ensemble was to raise money for Food Banks Canada’s $150 million campaign to provide immediate support to food banks across the nation during the pandemic, and over the course of the 90-minute event, so many Canadians sent in donations that they broke the internet. “Canada, you’re amazing,” organizers of the event tweeted. “The @foodbankscanada website has crashed under the weight of your generosity.” For those who still wish to donate, there’s plenty of time. Text COVID to 30333, call 1 (877) 535-0958, or head to Foodbankscanada.ca to make whatever contribution you can afford.

In case you missed it last night, check out some Stronger Together highlights below:

Alessia Cara

Before performing Randy Newman’s “You’ve Got a Friend In Me” with her band, Grammy-winning Brampton native Alessia Cara shared a personal message to viewers about the importance of human connection and friendship, especially in the most trying of times.

“I want to play you guys a song that I really loved growing up, that I feel is pretty important and fitting in this crazy, weird, difficult time we’re going through right now,” she said. “And I think if there’s anything we can learn from it, it’s that there’s nothing we can’t get through together. In fact, everything’s always a little bit easier when we have each other. So hopefully this gives you a little bit of hope or joy.”

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Shania Twain

From her home in British Columbia, Shania Twain shared a special message for Canadian frontline workers—healthcare workers, drivers transporting food and health supplies, cleaners and first responders. “Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for putting yourself out there, putting yourself at risk,” she said, tearing up. “We couldn’t do this without you, we would be in a much bigger mess without you.”

She then went on to perform—with her labrador Melody by her side—a couple of verses of the title track “Up!” from her 2002 album, providing a slight coronavirus twist to the lyrics.

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Barenaked Ladies, Michael Bublé and Sofia Reyes

Michael Bublé and Barenaked Ladies performed a song titled “Gotta Be Patient” with Mexican singer-songwriter Sofia Reyes, tweaking the lyrics with coronavirus references. “I just want to see my friends / I want to walk the street again / But I gotta be patient / So let’s enjoy this confination,” began the song, leading into: “I just wanna feel your love / Coz Instagram is not enough for me / So I gotta be patient / Let’s enjoy this confination.”

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Ryan Reynolds and Eric McCormack

The two actors provided some moments of levity, with Ryan Reynolds quipping that the day marked “the 10-year anniversary of the quarantine we’ve been on for the last six weeks.” Eric McCormack spoke of how Canadians can get through anything, sharing an anecdote from his youth, before going on to introduce Sarah McLachlan as “one of Canada’s most precious natural resources.”

“I spent my 20s in theatres from Vancouver to New Brunswick,” he said. “And let me tell you, if Canadians can brave a three-hour production of Henry IV Part Two in the dead of the Winnipeg winter, they can do anything.”

Thank you @EricMcCormack for the message of love ❤️. #StrongerTogether #TousEnsemble pic.twitter.com/qyt3BpiotI

— Stay At Home TV (@GlobalTV) April 26, 2020

A tribute to Nova Scotia

Canadian singer Anne Murray took a moment to speak about the tragic shooting that took place in Portapique, Nova Scotia, last week.

“A week ago, the unthinkable happened, right here in my beloved Nova Scotia,” she said. “To the families, friends and communities of those affected, we want you to know that we are grieving with you and we send prayers for courage and strength as you try to make sense of this horrific tragedy.”

She went on to say, as she thanked healthcare workers across the country: “We as a nation are being put to the test right now as we face the unknown, but we’re facing it together and that’s the way we want to remember this. Here’s a song that’s become an anthem for times like this and one that I’ve actually sung a few times. Here are Voices Rock Medicine, a choir made up entirely of women physicians.”

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A message from Canadian athletes

Some of the top performing athletes in the country (and the world) joined forces to share a message of team spirit, unity and perseverance, including tennis player Bianca Andreescu, swimmer Penny Oleksiak, Toronto Raptors Serge Ibaka and Pascal Siakam, soccer player Christine Sinclair, sprinter Andre de Grasse, former hockey player Hayley Wickenheiser and ice skater Tessa Virtue.

“With a focus on physical and mental health, let’s remember to stay in touch, stay strong, stay brave, and stay united,” said Virtue. “Thirty-seven-million strong, this is the most important Team Canada I have ever played on,” said Wickenheiser.

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Lean On Me

Canadian singers Tyler Shaw and Fefe Dobson, founders of an initiative called ArtistsCAN, brought some of the country’s biggest musicians together for a moving collaborative performance of the late Bill Withers’ “Lean On Me.” Justin Bieber, Michael Bublé, Avril Lavigne, Bryan Adams, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Jann Arden, Sarah McLachlan and others performed the special ensemble piece, proceeds from which will go directly to Red Cross Canada’s COVID-19 relief efforts. Canadians can contribute to the initiative by simply streaming the song, viewing the official music video, or downloading the single.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau closed out the video with a message to the nation, saying: “We’re going to get through this together, by leaning on each other and protecting our frontline workers. Stay home, stay safe.”

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Drake

In a move that raised a lot of eyebrows on Twitter, Drake closed out the show, getting the last word after Prime Minister Trudeau. His three-minute-long closing message thanked the artists who had performed for a good cause that evening, the frontline workers and first responders, and those who have to leave their families everyday and go to work amidst this crisis. “They’re the glue holding all this together so thank you very much for that,” he said. He also addressed the mental health challenges that people across the world are facing right now, whether they have been directly affected by coronavirus or not.

“I want to urge everybody that’s in their own space to find the silver lining in the times that we’re living in right now,” he said. “If you have a craft that can be worked on from home, it’s an amazing thing to continue working, keep your mind stimulated, get better at that thing that you’re passionate about. Better yourself mentally, physically, if you can stay active, if you can make a change you’ve always wanted to make in your life, right now is the time. Nurture your personal relationships… or decide which personal connections aren’t for you. Now is a time of self-reflection.”

“I hope we all emerge better people, more unified people, and I hope we are able to show each other the same amount of love we’re showing now.”

https://twitter.com/etalkCTV/status/1254561506504646656?s=20

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bountyofbeads · 4 years

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https://thedispatch.com/p/justin-amash-has-a-decision-to-make

This @declanpgarvey piece on @justinamash is well worth your time. A lot of good stuff. My favorite part though... https://t.co/Ziv3jTSshH

FreedomWorks, one of the country's most potent libertarian political groups, is distancing itself from Justin Amash. And this stat really tells a whole story. https://t.co/6idpEbEyoq

Justin Amash Has a Decision to Make

'Is there any better time to have a president who might be not from either party?'

By Declan Garvey | Published January 15, 2020 | The Dispatch | Posted January 15, 2020 |

Three weeks from the first votes of the 2020 election, the presidential race seems—finally—to be taking shape. Republicans, having blocked any serious attempts at a primary challenge, will field a candidate who brings passionate support from the hard-core GOP base, grudging acceptance from other Republicans, and intense opposition from everyone else. Democrats will likely field either a flawed candidate from the center—more accurately, the center-left—or an avowed leftist, maybe even an avowed socialist.

There are millions of moments, and billions of decisions, that will ultimately determine the next president and the next four years of the American experiment. But few will be as consequential as the decision now looming before a reserved, quirky, classical liberal from south central Michigan.

The 2016 presidential race between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump was decided by 77,744 votes, split between three states: Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. Rep. Justin Amash received nearly three times as many that year (203,545) running to continue on as the representative of Michigan’s 3rd Congressional District. After winning re-election in 2018, however, Amash’s frustration with the GOP and its current leader led him to leave the party he’d called home for more than a decade. And with his new independence came calls for him to make good on his criticism of both political parties with a third-party run for president.

Amash hasn’t committed to a run. But he hasn’t ruled one out, either. And with the incredible volatility in American politics over the past two decades, marked by the record-low faith in Washington and the institutions of the federal government, taking such a leap seems less crazy today than it might have just a few years ago.

As Amash himself put it last week: “Is there any better time to have a president who might be not from either party?”

CEMENTING AN INDEPENDENT STREAK

The 39-year-old congressman had always had a bit (or more) of an independent streak. But since he emphatically left the GOP last summer, he’s truly been able to be himself.

“When you're in the Republican Party, like I was, there is a constant pressure to step carefully, to use your words more cautiously, when you are describing Republicans,” he said. “So, if you go onto TV and you're doing an interview, you don't necessarily want to throw the Republican leadership under the bus at every opportunity. Maybe you throw them under the bus, criticize them one time out of three times that you should. And most members of Congress will do it zero times out of three times. If there's three times they should, they'll do it zero times. Someone like me, I might do it once or twice, but really I'd like to do it three out of three.”

“As much as I would talk, and people thought, ‘Oh boy, Amash is so independent and he is really standing his ground, and he's making people on the left and the right upset about different things’ or whatever, I was actually holding my fire a lot on various things. And I did not like that.”

Few accused him of holding his fire then. No one does now.

Amash announced his newfound political independence in a Washington Post op-ed on, fittingly, the Fourth of July. “The two-party system has evolved into an existential threat to American principles and institutions,” he wrote. “Today, I am declaring my independence and leaving the Republican Party. No matter your circumstance, I’m asking you to join me in rejecting the partisan loyalties and rhetoric that divide and dehumanize us. I’m asking you to believe that we can do better than this two-party system—and to work toward it. If we continue to take America for granted, we will lose it.”

Allies will tell you Amash’s partisan metamorphosis was long in the making.

“I interviewed him in, what was it, 2018 maybe?” Matt Welch, editor at large of the libertarian Reason magazine, told us. “And said, ‘okay, so, you know, you're a libertarian-leaning Republican.’ He's like, ‘no, just libertarian is fine, please.’”

But he also hoped to send a signal. “I spoke to Congressman Amash in Las Vegas in July, after his leaving the Republican Party,” Dan Fishman, executive director of the Libertarian party said. “And he had a very deliberate statement where he said, ‘The important thing is that I have left the Republican Party. And if I do anything else right now, that message is lost.’”

Amash’s message was not lost.

“Great news for the Republican Party,” President Trump, the man who perhaps had the most to do with Amash’s switch, announced on his favorite communications platform. “One of the dumbest & most disloyal men in Congress is ‘quitting’ the Party.”

Amash is not dumb—far from it. The son of two immigrants, he graduated high school valedictorian of his class and earned his bachelor’s degree in economics from the University of Michigan, sticking around Ann Arbor long enough to nab a law degree as well.

But he is disloyal—at least in the Trumpian sense of the word. Amash has voted in line with Trump’s position just 63 percent of the time according to FiveThirtyEight, a lower “Trump score” than any Republican save Walter Jones, who passed away last February, and Jeff Van Drew, who was a Democrat until about four weeks ago. Amash spent his final few months in the GOP calling for the president to be impeached, much to the joy of Democrats and some of his constituents, but much to the chagrin of everyone in his own party.

THE FALL OF THE FREEDOM CAUCUS

Amash isn’t any less libertarian now than he was when he rode the Tea Party wave to D.C. in 2010, just two years after being elected to the Michigan House of Representatives. He’d contend it’s those around him who’ve changed.

On January 26, 2015, Amash and a group of eight other Republican congressmen (all men) formed the House Freedom Caucus (HFC) to stand up to a House leadership—then helmed by Speaker John Boehner—that they believed wasn’t conservative enough. Amash wrote the mission statement.

“The House Freedom Caucus gives a voice to countless Americans who feel that Washington does not represent them. We support open, accountable and limited government, the Constitution and the rule of law, and policies that promote the liberty, safety, and prosperity of all Americans.”

On May 20, 2019, the bloc, now boasting more than 30 members, unanimously condemned their co-founder when Amash determined—after the release of the Mueller Report—that President Trump had “engaged in impeachable conduct.” Three-and-a-half weeks later, Amash quit the group of limited-government stalwarts he helped create.

They “sanctioned him for coming out in favor of impeachment in the same week that like, they increased the debt by another trillion dollars or something,” Welch said, referring to a two-year budget deal that was floated at the time, but ultimately never came to fruition. “It's like, what is the use of this group?”

“As soon as you had a Republican president, and especially one who is fairly charismatic and entertaining and can rally a lot of people,” Amash said, choosing his words very carefully, “Republicans totally mailed it in. They said, ‘Look, we're just going to go with this guy on everything.’ And when I started to see even my House Freedom Caucus colleagues do that, it was really disheartening.”

“This is a group that had formed,” he continued, “for the purpose of standing on principle, standing up for the American people, doing what was right, ensuring that all voices were heard. And now, the group had moved more toward Trump cheerleading and that's not why the group was formed. And that was really tough.”

Not everyone in Washington would agree with Amash’s assessment of the caucus, which, once it grew large enough, wielded its influence to hold Republican leaders hostage and otherwise wreak havoc on the legislative process.

“Previously, groups of members on the right flank of the House Republican Conference operated under a version of the ‘Buckley Rule’: they fought for the most conservative legislation that could pass,” said Michael Steel, former aide to Speaker John Boehner. “The self-described ‘Freedom Caucus’ often seemed more about the fight than the result, and—when they chose not to get to ‘yes’ on must-pass bills—the House Republican leadership had to go to Democrats for votes, leading to worse policies and higher spending.”

When Trump was first elected, many wondered if the House Freedom Caucus would even continue to serve a purpose. After all, the GOP center of gravity no longer revolved around the speaker of the House. But the HFC made its presence known early on in 2017, scuttling the White House’s first attempt to overhaul the Affordable Care Act.

“The Freedom Caucus will hurt the entire Republican agenda if they don’t get on the team, & fast,” Trump wrote at the time. “We must fight them, & Dems, in 2018!”

Now? One of the caucus’s founding members, Mick Mulvaney, serves as Trump’s chief of staff. Another, Mark Meadows, is one of the president’s most enthusiastic advocates, and is rumored to be Mulvaney’s replacement in waiting.

Amash believes the co-opting of the Freedom Caucus was no accident. “I think that was intentional,” he said. “Whether it was the president's calculation or someone else's, to try to take some of the House Freedom Caucus members and bring them into the fold … I think this was a concerted effort by leadership and perhaps White House officials to pick off House Freedom Caucus members, to bring them in, to make them a part of the Republican team, in some sense, and then get them to stop battling Republicans.”

While his old Freedom Caucus buddies may have finally stopped battling Republicans under Trump, Amash was just getting started. But he claims his newfound independence has actually improved his connections on the Hill.

“I have better relationships with Republicans and with Democrats. When you're a Republican and you break from the Republicans on a piece of legislation or you disagree with the president or whatever it might be, they tend to come down hard on you because it's like you're a family member who has betrayed the family,” he said. “Since becoming an independent, my colleagues are more trusting. They are friendlier, on both sides of the aisle, and it's certainly been an improvement on the Republican side.”

Efforts to talk to his peers about this bore little fruit. A spokeswoman for the House Freedom Caucus declined to comment for the story, and no individual members contacted responded to emails from The Dispatch.

PAVED PARADISE

“I think John Boehner is the best speaker that we've had since I've been here,” said Amash. “And I say that as someone who tried to oust him from the speakership!”

This sentiment doesn’t represent a newfound appreciation for the Republican establishment or hint at new moderation from Amash. Instead, it’s a reflection of his belief in having big, messy debates—not avoiding them.

“If I were to create, like, an ideal speaker in my imagination, it would not be John Boehner,” Amash said. But in retrospect, “his successors are not better than him.”

“Boehner would swear at me, he would curse me, he would criticize me in public,” Amash recounted with a grin, almost fondly. “But he also, in some sense, would listen. He didn't dismiss you totally. You could engage with him. You could have some back and forth. He might swear at you, but then also allow you to have an amendment vote.”

Amendment votes might just be—aside from his family, the Detroit Pistons, and Friedrich Hayek—Amash’s favorite thing. He grew notorious in his first few years in Congress for his attempts to attach riders to larger bills aimed at curtailing what he calls “the surveillance state,” prioritizing the deficit, and limiting the executive branch’s war powers. Most of them failed to gain majority support, but several passed. In the Michigan legislature, Amash once noticed a missing comma in a piece of legislation; he introduced an amendment to remedy the crisis. That one passed, too.

Sitting in his office in January 2019, Amash said he didn’t realize how good he had had it under Boehner, who, through a spokesman, declined to comment for this story. Paul Ryan—who finally gave in and took the speaker’s gavel from Boehner after weeks of telling colleagues he didn’t want it—“told us he was going to open up the process and then totally closed it down,” per Amash. “I was hopeful that the next speaker would be better. It looked like that might happen. But instead it's gone the other way.”

Ryan, he claimed, “was the worst in every respect. Worst on process. Worst on substance.” The typically understated Amash was growing more animated. “He didn't even like the president, disagreed with him on a whole bunch of things, but never stood up to him!”

Just a few minutes into our conversation, it was becoming clear: The seeds for Amash’s eventual GOP departure were planted in the fall of 2015, not with Trump’s victory one year later.

“When you get to Congress, your hope is not to enter Congress and then leave the party that you've been a part of your whole life. You try to change the party, and you try to improve it. And I tried that for a long time and I actually thought we did make progress in the first few years,” Amash said. “After a while you say, ‘Well, this is not the right approach.’ Trying to work within the party, and change the party, is not the right way to handle it. And I need to go out and change hearts and minds and change the way people look at representation altogether.”

THE END OF PARTISANSHIP

Since he became the House’s only independent member last July, Amash has thought a lot about the role of political parties.

“People aren't allowed to break,” he lamented. “Like, you literally have to stick with the party.”

Amash said he wasn’t surprised that none of his former House colleagues split from the president to vote for impeachment.

“Early on I thought someone would break, I thought maybe a few of them would break,” he said. “I thought the White House strategy and Republican leadership strategy was kind of effective, which was to mock and shame anyone who had a difference of opinion. In other words, just ridicule. And if they ridicule enough, it makes it very hard for anyone to step out of line.”

(Some Democrats have floated Amash’s name as a potential impeachment manager when the trial begins in the Senate: “I'm happy to discuss that with the speaker, but it's not something I've discussed with her, and not something I’d take a position on unless I had a discussion with her.”)

But Amash thinks the intense, partisan moment we’re in is a product of Washington, not America at large.

“Members of Congress have miscalculated,” he said. “I think they are making assumptions about how partisan their constituents are that are not correct. It is true that a small percentage of the population is very politically active and you know, will be either cheerleading for the president or opposed to the president on everything. But most people are pretty moderate.”

“If they could see themselves from my perspective,” Amash said, “as someone who's independent, and who has sort of had the ire of both sides at times and also the praise from both sides at times … they would see that there are actually a lot of similarities that they don't recognize.”

It’s unclear that polling and research bears that out. In October, Pew Research Center released a report finding “the level of [partisan] division and animosity … has only deepened”: 79 percent of Democrats and 83 percent of Republicans gave members of the opposite party a “cold rating” on Pew’s “feeling thermometer.” Also,63 percent of Republicans said Democrats are more unpatriotic than other Americans, and 75 percent of Democrats said Republicans were more close-minded. Supporters of President Trump have attended his rallies wearing shirts that say they’d “rather be a Russian than a Democrat.” Democrats and progressives held massive protests the day Trump was inaugurated.

But Amash may have a point when he says “people care more about the character issues than they do about the particular positions or ideology of the representative.” And while Donald Trump’s character issues are something that would’ve given many Republicans pause in years past, his willingness to pick fights, and to mock and ridicule his opponents relentlessly, played a key role in his election. Trump won the Republican primary in 2016 campaigning on trade protectionism, friendlier relations with Russia, leaving entitlements alone, and withdrawing from global engagement. It remains an open question whether these positions were ever truly popular with the GOP base, but voters’ policy views can prove remarkably malleable to conform with the worldview of a charismatic leader.

Asked if he prefers to think of ideology as four-dimensional rather than two—with policy running along the horizontal axis and tone and temperament along the vertical—Amash nearly leapt out of his chair: “Yes, that’s right!”

AMASH HAS A DECISION TO MAKE

All of this makes Justin Amash one of the most interesting elected officials in the country. Does it make him a presidential candidate?

Since his personal Declaration of Independence, Republicans and Democrats alike have watched Amash carefully for signs he’d run for president. They’re unmistakable.

“I'll say what I've said before, I haven't ruled it out,” Amash said, the closest he came to sounding like a traditional politician. “But I'm running for Congress as an independent in my district. I'm very excited about that. I feel very good about that.”

He wants to be clear that he’s not abandoning his re-election bid—yet. “Just to be clear, I am running for office as an independent for, you know, my congressional seat. And I've filed for that, and you know, we're, we're doing what it takes to, to win that race.”

One more time. He begins to speak more cautiously.

“At some point you'll be at, we'll be at the point where I have to rule out, you know, running for president. And I'm not at that point yet. But, you know, we're probably getting closer to that point now. If you're going to run a campaign for president, you need enough time to run a strong campaign and you need enough time to win the campaign. I'm not running for president unless I believe I can win.”

If Amash doesn’t like the questions, he has no one but himself to blame. He’s long played coy with the idea, repeatedly, as he mentioned, refusing to rule out the possibility. When asked to describe the ideal Libertarian party presidential candidate at Students for Liberty’s LibertyCon last spring, he said that candidate would be wearing Air Jordans—coincidentally the shoes he had on at the time.

The current crop of candidates for the Libertarian crown shouldn’t instill any fear if Amash does want to run. Kim Ruff, who, according to Dan Fishman, “was certainly seen as a frontrunner,” dropped out last weekend. Lincoln Chafee—the former Republican senator, independent governor, and Democratic presidential candidate—is trying on a fourth party affiliation for size. Jacob Hornberger—founder of the Future of Freedom Foundation—and Adam Kokesh—an Iraq war veteran who has called for an “orderly dissolution of the federal government”—have thrown their hats in the ring. Fan favorites Vermin Supreme—the guy who wears a boot on his head—and John McAfee—the anti-virus software guy who wants to have sex with whales—are back for more.

“I think he would get the Libertarian party nomination,” Welch said. “He's very revered in the Libertarian world generally. If you had to name one person who people within the party would want to see run for that office, I think the name is Justin Amash.”

That’s not all. “[The Libertarians] have this great prize, right?” Welch said. “They're going to be on 50 ballots probably, and nobody else is going to come close to that. And all you have to do is win a majority of delegates of a thousand votes in Austin, Texas in May, and you get to be on 50 ballots. Who wouldn't want that?”

The Libertarian party oversees state conventions and primaries to select delegates for the national convention, but anything can happen at that point. Austin—with its “Keep Austin Weird” mantra—should prove an apt host this year. “No delegates are ever bound,” Fishman explains. “So, every delegate that comes to Austin has the opportunity to vote their conscience or vote the way they feel like the people who elected them as delegate would like them to vote. It's entirely up to them to interpret how they would like to do that.”

“Technically speaking,” he continues when asked specifically about Amash, “you don’t have to win any of the state primaries. But it’s a good idea for candidates to go to the state primaries and at least talk to the delegates that are being elected.”

Fishman didn’t explicitly comment on the quality of any one candidate over another, but when he told us that Ruff—one of the race’s front runners—had dropped out, he knowingly added: “Maybe that’s an opportunity for some other candidate who is thinking of jumping in.”

Welch isn’t sure Amash will go through with it. “Justin's a very competitive dude,” he said. “Running for something at the prospect of getting 3 percent of the vote doesn't seem like a thing that really excites him.”

“He's got this crazy challenge at home,” Welch continued, referring to the prospect of re-winning his Congressional seat as an independent. “He loves to prove people wrong about how to win elections in his congressional district … if he's able to win as an incumbent independent then that's an incredible thing to show and to prove people.”

In the race that he has filed for, Amash has plenty of competition, including businessman Joel Langlois, Michigan state Rep. Lynn Afendoulis, and Peter Meijer, an Iraq war veteran and member of the Meijer Grocery family. Larry Sabato’s Crystal Ball considers the race a toss-up. The Cook Political Report rating for the district recently changed from toss up to lean Republican, news Amash previously would have welcomed but these days does not.

“Amash is now his own island,” election analyst David Wasserman wrote. “It's doubtful there's a sufficient market for a pro-life/pro-impeachment independent in the district to allow him a path to a sixth term.”

If that’s true—and Wasserman is as smart an election analyst as there is—why not go bigger?

Amash has clearly entertained the idea of a presidential bid, and he makes the case without hesitation. “I'd say that most Americans probably do not feel very closely aligned to any of the candidates right now,” he said. “Any of the leading candidates on the Republican or Democratic side.”

“I definitely think that a strong candidate in the Libertarian party today can get more votes than any previous candidate,” Amash adds, building up steam before catching himself. “The best case right now for a Libertarian, no matter who it is, is that both of these parties have been disasters and have not really represented the American people well. Is there any better time to have a president who might be not from either party?”

The Gary Johnson and Bill Weld Libertarian ticket in 2016 received nearly 4.5 million votes, 3.27 percent of the popular vote. But veteran Republican political strategist Karl Rove doesn’t think that’s repeatable.

In 2016, Rove said over the phone, “one out of every six Americans, roughly, thought neither person was qualified to be president, neither Clinton nor Trump. So, there was a fertile field for third parties to fish in … I don’t think we’ll see anything close to the 18 percent who say both candidates are unqualified.”

But that doesn’t mean a Libertarian party candidate couldn’t play spoiler. “These things matter in close states,” Rove said. Ask Democrats what cost Al Gore the 2000 presidential race against Rove’s candidate, George W. Bush, and many will point to Ralph Nader’s near 100,000 votes in Florida —a state Bush won by 537 votes, delivering him the presidency.

A limited-government option might fare better in western states where “the vote for the Libertarian candidate in presidential election years traditionally is larger than the national average,” Rove said. “It's unclear whether or not Amash will specifically split the anti-Trump vote or whether he will have the ability to draw away people who might otherwise be inclined to vote for Trump. I think it's more likely that he would split the anti-Trump vote.”

Fishman, who himself ran for Congress in 2012 as a Libertarian, referenced his campaign’s internal polling in telling us that, depending who the nominees were, the split would likely be closer to 50-50. “We tend to pull evenly [from Republicans and Democrats],” he said. “But the other thing about it is that we find that we do a better job of activating the people who haven’t voted a lot … The apathetic voter is almost always the largest group.”

Trump campaign officials declined to comment on how they are thinking through third-party campaigns.

Rove is obviously a Republican through and through. But he doesn’t see a logical constituency for an Amash Libertarian Party candidacy. “What's his argument? Vote for me: I'm the guy who has no chance of getting elected, but I hate Trump? People are going to have a much better opportunity to vote for somebody who's anti-Trump than just Justin.”

Amash describes a “hypothetical” Libertarian campaign message as much more expansive than mere disdain for the president. America is “fundamentally within the classical liberal realm,” he said. “And you might call that constitutionally conservative or libertarian.”

But he thinks Libertarians are campaigning on their ideas in the wrong way. “This is a common mistake that a lot of Libertarian or Libertarian-leaning politicians make, in that they're under the impression that they have to persuade people of something that is a wholesale change to them,” Amash said, obviously having put some thought into the topic. “And that's not the case. When people ask me, ‘when has libertarianism ever been tried?’ I would say in the United States of America, this is the most libertarian country that has ever been known … Compared to countries throughout the world and throughout history, this is a very libertarian experiment, and most people are pretty comfortable with it.”

“I think most Americans are already there,” he adds. “It's not a matter of persuading them of the principles. It's persuading them that you are applying the principles they already believe in.”

ON AN ISLAND

Whichever path Amash chooses, he won’t be able to rely on many of the deep-pocketed political organizations that have buoyed his various candidacies over the past decade. “He has access to national Libertarian network money that a lot of people don't,” Welch told us, “and he still will get some money within his district, but it's a real struggle.”

Were he to run for president, Amash could tap into a substantial network of Libertarians and disaffected Republicans. Fishman said “there are a lot of members who want to see the Libertarian party succeed,” adding that “the potential is there to raise more than what Gary [Johnson] and Bill [Weld, the Party’s presidential and vice presidential nominees in 2016] raised. It would have to be the right candidate. They would have to come in with a professional staff. But, the thing that Johnson/Weld showed is that the message does resonate and you can do a good job of fundraising among people who are concerned about the country.”

And there is little doubt that Amash, as an outspoken Trump critic and former Republican, would benefit from what campaign veterans call “earned media” coverage in the mainstream press.

But on the congressional side, the powerful Michigan DeVos family pulled the plug on their support for Amash after he called for Trump’s impeachment.

A spokeswoman for Americans for Prosperity—the Koch political network—said they “have nothing to announce at this time” regarding support for Amash.

The Dispatch reached a spokesman for the Club for Growth—a fiscally conservative advocacy group which itself spent millions in an attempt to defeat Donald Trump in the 2016 Republican primary—and asked if the group would be supporting Amash, who in 2018 was one of only three congressmen to receive a perfect 100 percent voting score from the organization. The response? An indignant “no.”

Welch had guessed in our conversation that Americans for Prosperity and Club for Growth would abandon ship, but believed that a third limited-government advocacy organization would stand by their man. “FreedomWorks, I think, will probably be with him,” he said. And there was good reason to reach this conclusion. Amash has been given the FreedomWorks “Freedom Fighter” award every year he’s been in Congress. The group named him “FreedomWorks Member of the Month” as recently as June 2018, writing, “We recognize his remarkable consistency on all issues and admire his dedication to his job and his constituents. We hope he continues to be a steadfast voice for liberty in and out of Congress and that his unassailable principles will serve as an example to all aspiring future members of Congress.”

Visiting his office earlier this month, we noticed Amash proudly displayed his “Freedom Fighter” award prominently on his desk, alongside a Champion of the Merit Shop plaque, Small Business Champion certificate, a book called The ABCs of School Choice, and a three-foot tall Darth Vader figurine. (We probably should have asked about that last one.)

Reached on the phone, Peter Vicenzi, a spokesman for FreedomWorks, told us that he knew the group had supported Amash in the past, and that he has a very high FreedomWorks score, but that he was not sure if the group would be backing the congressman again in 2020.

A few minutes later, we got an email. “Amash has a very high score with us, but we don't have any plans to get involved in MI-03 at this time, seeing as we're focused on some other key races to help regain the GOP's House majority.” The spokesman said the group’s main initiative, “Dirty Thirty,” is aimed at “flipping the 30 or so districts that went for Trump in 2016, but blue in 2018.”

“So, you are only putting money behind Republican challengers in those 30 districts?” we asked. “Or are you supporting some incumbent Republicans financially as well?”

His response: “We're going to support some incumbents as well, mainly HFC members.”

In his near-decade of congressional service, Amash has voted against FreedomWorks’ wishes only three times, earning a 99 percent lifetime score. The first was on a budget resolution in 2017.

The other two?

“Agreeing to Article I of the Articles of Impeachment” and “Agreeing to Article II of the Articles of Impeachment.”

______

Photograph of Justin Amash by Bill Pugliano/Getty Images.

*********

#trump impeachment #trump is impeached #us politics #politics #politics and government #republican politics #republican party #republican congress #republicans #trump cult #trump corruption #trump crime syndicate #trump crime family #trump cabinet

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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As angry fans chant ‘F*** VAR!’, we take you inside drab bunker

It is afternoon in Stockley Park and there is still much. Cyclists hum along, some relax enough, not even to bother the wheel. A few children squeezed fist seeds into the ducks in one of the many ponds that are sprinkled over this vast, tree-lined industrial park.

Joggers also join in and get the best out of the afternoon sun, while shuttle buses trundle when picking up and dropping off on their way to Hayes & Harlington station or Heathrow airport, two and a little miles to the south.

A golfer places his tee-shot just below the green on an equal foot 3 on the adjacent course, parts of which crawl between openings in office buildings in which the strange weekend worker walks in and out.

You refer to Chief Mike Riley at Stockley Park. the home of the video assistant referee

Riley changes quickly and leaves 20 minutes after arriving in Stockley Park

In half an hour the whistle blows 140 miles away on Carrow Road and here in a small time room without windows, hidden between 1.8 million square meters of office space spread over more than 25 buildings, the men are accused of sucking the soul out of football. This is the home of VAR.

Those who are willing to give VAR a chance will point to the right decisions, five incorrect goals excluded in the first two weeks, and the fact that we are only learning three weeks in and Still. The Professional Game Match Officials Limited (PGMOL) have been preparing for the introduction of VAR for more than two years and this is already the 15th incarnation of the system. Expect that number to grow.

Those who insist on killing the pleasure of sport will not have changed their opinion even after Saturday.

Four controversial VAR calls in Chelsea's defeat of Norwich saw Peter Crouch and Joe Cole slamming into BT Studios what they thought they were & # 39; clear and obvious & # 39; errors, while England and Leicester full-back Ben Chilwell stated on Twitter: & # 39; Don & # 39; t understand VAR & # 39; complete with a shrug of the emoji

Brighton fans sang & # 39; F *** VAR & # 39; after Lewis Dunk's goal – rightly – was excluded. They still sang it during the rest.

Angry and jeers tinkled around Anfield when VAR took two minutes to check if David Luiz should have received a red card for an off-the-ball incident with Mo Salah during the Arsenal v Liverpool match Saturday.

Nobody knew what was going on. The hymns and the emojis say more about the confused way in which VAR is delivered to the public, both on the couch and more importantly in the gallery than the technology itself.

It is still not a good advertisement, especially when PGMOL has put so much effort into inviting players, managers, journalists, broadcasters and experts to explain it all and try it out for themselves. In the opening weekend, Johann Berg Gudmundsson scored for Burnley in their 3-0 win over Southampton, just to be checked for a build-up error before the goal was finally awarded.

& # 39; It's weird, & # 39; he said. "Also for the public. Some players may not be celebrating while waiting for the decision. & # 39;

VAR is located on the top floor of the open glass fronted IMG Studios, home to Premier League Productions. The two companies have been working together for 15 years and produce all of the Premier League's international programs, including all 380 games, in nearly 200 countries around the world and the Solomon Islands.

VAR is here. It is where all live feeds come from. Although IMG also puts its finger on representing soccer players and the most cynical of conspiracy theorists might question the legitimacy of them and then help them to officiate, it is the perfect place for that. Not that you would know it was here.

Riley leaves Stockley Park headquarters to run before the VAR session begins

For all the cruelty in the mouth of the Premier League – the noise, the emotion, the spotlight – this is as far away as you can imagine. The calmness of waterfalls and running water is only interrupted by the sporadic hammer and drill of builders in fluorescent jackets. You can see why Apple and Marks & Spencer have an office here.

Mike Riley, head of Premier League References, arrived an hour earlier. He gave himself ample time for a quick change of clothes, a piece and a jog around the block to prepare for his day spent buzzing from station to station in the heart of the VAR room.

That too, it contrasts with its light, peaceful environment. If it wasn't on the top floor, you could call it a bunker. It's tucked away, on windows, only floor-to-ceiling photos of referees in action. Michael Oliver looks much sweeter on the walls than he did when he turned up in his brand tracksuit on Saturday morning.

The room looks like an esports arena or a Currys shop floor with the best part of 75 screens over every table and wall. You would not be surprised to see gamers in headsets instead of referrals and video operators.

Wooden slats separate each position loosely, with at least three pairs of eyes awarding each game. The VAR, his assistant and the Hawkeye guy.

The large screen shows that the VAR has destroyed a goal from Brighton & # 39; s Lewis

Each has its own two screens. Two buttons are for the VAR, one green and one red.

The green is meant to mark clips, the red is to make contact with the referee on the field. It's that simple. The video operator uses his touchscreen to bring the relevant clips forward, speed them up, slow them down, rewind and draw on those absolute, 100% accurate-down outdoor game lines from Raheem Sterling & # 39; s armpit hair. There is a small open space in the center of the arch of cabins. This allows the older observers, such as Mike Riley, to snoop around and keep an eye on everything after the run. A former referee called it a & # 39; concentrated sound & # 39 ;. On Saturday there were at least 20 people in the room. They have to stay focused. There must be no distractions.

Everyone must hand over their phone before entering the room. No food is allowed there either, so VARs must ensure that they are well-fed before they start. No scoops of chips in your mouth between reviews. And if you need the toilet, you wait for the rest.

That is the extent to which the referral body will go to ensure that VAR and those who implement it as effectively as possible.

Yet their decisions so far are still deafening. There is still a long way to go for Riley and Co to make VAR work as peacefully as its environment.

Michael Oliver's VAR for Leicester & # 39; s victory over Sheffield United

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zipgrowth · 5 years

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Much Ado About MOOCs: Where Are We in the Evolution of Online Courses?

A lot has changed since 2012 or, the year the New York Times dubbed the "Year of the MOOC." The premise back then was that classes would make high-quality online education accessible for all—and for free. Today, many MOOC providers now charge a fee. They’ve rolled out bundles of courses called ‘Specializations’ or ‘Nanodegrees.’ And popular providers like Coursera and edX are increasingly partnering with colleges and universities to offer MOOC-based degrees online.

So, seven years after the “Year of the MOOC,” we’re wondering: Where are these courses and companies today? And how are universities responding?

EdSurge recently hosted a meetup where we invited a group of experts to weigh in on those questions, and they offered some fascinating insights. The speakers included Dhawal Shah, founder of Class Central, Amy Ahearn, associate director at Acumen+, Kapeesh Saraf, head of growth and consumer products at Coursera, and Kristin Palmer, director of online learning at University of Virginia.

This week, we’re bringing the event to you—via the podcast of course. Listen to the discussion on this week’s EdSurge On Air podcast. You can follow the podcast on the Apple Podcast app, Spotify, Stitcher, Google Play Music or wherever you listen. Or read a portion of the interview below, lightly edited for clarity.

EdSurge: Dhawal, can you give us a brief recap on what the MOOC landscape looked like in 2018?

Shah: Last year, the number of learners who had taken at least one MOOC crossed 100 million, but the number of learners added was just 20 million, which was less than 23 million for the last two years. So the rate at which new users are coming into the MOOC space is decreasing.

The number of courses has been growing steadily at the same rate now. We have more than 11,000 courses from 900 universities. As for the MOOC providers, Coursera is the biggest one—with the most revenue and the most number of users, and also the most number of employees. Udacity ended 2017 with 500 employees, but they had layoffs, and ended 2018 with 330 employees.

This week's podcast sponsor is AWS Educate: With a mission to provide students and educators with tools needed to accelerate cloud learning, AWS Educate will soon announce its newest offering for educators. Take a look at AWS Educate's evolution and hear about what is next.

There's no real infrastructure available to train that many people.

Kapeesh Saraf, Coursera

This is how the micro-credential landscape looks like: EdX and Coursera both have multiple micro-credentials, each with their own branding. Overall, 630 micro-credentials existed at the end of 2018, but most of the new credentials came from just two credentials, Coursera specialization, and edX professional certificate.

But the big change in 2018 was MOOC-based degrees. We ended 2017, with seven universities announcing 15 degrees, and in 2018 30 more universities joined in, and launched more than 45 degrees. I think we'll see more of this in this 2019 too.

Kapeesh, why is Coursera pursuing this shift towards MOOC based degrees, and monetizing some of these programs, from a business and revenue perspective?

Saraf: We've been pursuing MOOC-based degrees and different types of micro-credentials for the last couple of years, and we're doing this for two main reasons. The first one is the advent of AI and digital transformation. And so, a lot of people are gonna be needing to learn new skills. We see this really big need out there for people to learn new skills, and earn credentials, which they can show to employers vouching for those skills.

And then the second trend is this demographic shift. If you look at a country like India, over the next 10 to 20 years, there will be more than 300 million people that will enter the workforce. And there's no real infrastructure available to train that many people, and there's no real assurance, a way for all these people to get the skills that they'll need in this new world. When you look at these two trends, we think there's a huge opportunity and a gap for people to be trained and get credentials, and then connect it to employers.

At Coursera, we don't really see ourselves as a MOOC provider, we look at ourselves as a three-sided platform that's connecting learners, educators and employers. And so, we're in this unique position to help universities and partners such as University of Virginia create credentials and programs that they can use to satisfy the needs of learners, based on these two trends. And so that's why we've been innovating quite a bit in MOOC-based credentials and MOOC-based degrees because that's where we see the big needle with the next few years.

Kristen, you work at UVa, which is one of the universities that partners with Coursera. What do you think about the direction that Coursera and other providers like edX are going in with more and more MOOC based degrees?

Palmer: This is a tricky one. We ended up signing up with Coursera, and we have three specializations and 43 courses.

Even providers are confused because they have so much variation within their own micro-credentials, so it makes it harder for a student or an employer to convey that information.

Dhawal Shah, Class Central

I want to quickly touch on your earlier question about monetization because I think there is attention in higher education about the fact that we're actually a business. And especially as a public university, with a land grant to help the Commonwealth and the citizens of the Commonwealth and to try to fill jobs and to educate the citizens. But, at the end of the day, there's a sustainability issue. And for all the people that are thinking about startups in the audience, there needs to be a business plan.

We still do free content. But as a university partner, from the beginning, we're a 200-year-old institution. And it's very difficult for us to understand how our value proposition as a partner, and a content provider on Coursera, like what our roles and responsibilities are, compared to Coursera as they continue to move in a degree direction? I think, it would be valuable for our university, and many other university partners, of just being clearer, and more transparent around, “This is how we're gonna work together,” because there are a whole countries, and domains, and jobs, that are opening that we're not agile enough as a university to serve, that we can serve in partnership with a vendor like Coursera. But maybe we're not so great at that communication yet.

Where does the progression towards MOOC-based degrees leave micro-credentials? Are these going to be a thing of the past?

Shah: Micro-credentials are generally a grouping of courses, and I think packaging [online courses] as micro-credentials increases the chances of learners [completing]. And I think for that reason alone, they will linger along for a while. But I'm not sure if they're doing the job of being a job-=ready credential. And the big reason for this is, there's too much confusion in the market, and everybody's trying to own the next big credential.

There's a general understanding of what traditional degrees mean, and I think the understanding what micro-credentials mean is not clear. I think even providers are confused because they have so much variation within their own micro-credentials, so it makes it harder for a student or an employer to convey that information.

Amy, you wrote a piece about completion rates not too long ago. Can you tell us general themes around MOOC completion rates, and other thoughts that you have about this?

It's always a great aspiration as an instructional designer to keep thinking about ways that you can help people persist in the learning experience

Amy Ahearn, +Acumen

Ahearn: I design online courses every day, and I've been doing so for about five years. And probably the most frequently asked question I get is, “What is the completion rate for your online courses?” And to be perfectly transparent, for our MOOCs, it averages around 5 to 10 percent, which is the industry benchmark, if you look as a whole. And people say, “Oh my gosh, you have 2,000 to 17,000 people signing up for these, and you're only getting 10 percent to complete. Isn't that a failure?” And in some ways, I think it's always a great aspiration as an instructional designer to keep thinking about ways that you can help people persist in the learning experience, but I also think we're setting an incredibly high bar for what is often free content on the internet.

And if you compared it to other types of digital content, whether that's watching a video, or reading a medium post, or doing anything online, you often see that if you were to do the equivalent of a MOOC experience, which is often signing up for a 12-week experience, doing quite difficult things, whether it's some exercise, some new learning experience, I actually think it's amazing sometimes to see who ends up at the other side of that funnel.

Just to give you a sense, our most popular course is a human centered design course that we run with IDEO.org, and we have deliberately kept it quite hard. We require people to form a team, we require them to go out and talk to real people, to interview them about their needs. They have to submit pictures back on the platform. They have to prototype something, and test it in the real world. They have to upload the assignment. What we found is that if you get those 5 to 10 percent of people who finish it, they're really amazing individuals. And that is the equivalent of the selection rate at some of the most competitive universities.

How have Coursera's views on completion rates have evolved over the years?

Saraf: I spent two out of the four and a half years of my time at Coursera being the guy who was focused on and responsible for our completion rates, so I have some experience in this matter. I think our views have evolved quite a bit, just as we've learned about online learning and what MOOCs are and what they aren't.

It's true that completion rates are really low, but it's also because there's just a lot of people actually just trying out courses, and when you have 100,000 people enrolled in a class, they're exploring, and not all of them intend to learn. What we see is, if people who have skin in the game have a much higher completion rate, and if you focus on those, as an example, people that are paying to earn a certificate, or enrolling to earn a certificate, you see that completion rates shoot up to north of 50 or 60 percent.

And as you go up that commitment curve, you see much higher completion rates. So, we focus a lot more now, on people that have some commitment or skin in the game, as opposed to everyone that's just trying. We still wanted to make the platform more engaging, so that even the very casual person who's just checking it out still gets engaged in the course, and ends up completing, but that's not the focus.

I'd love to open it up to questions from the audience. It looks like we have one right here.

There will be people being paid to think, and innovate, and bump ideas off of each other. It's just, a lot of those ideas are now gonna be between people in different parts of the world.

Kristin Palmer, University of Virginia

Audience member: My name is Nicole, I'm with the State Department. What does the future hold for our professors, our content creators, the experts the subject matter experts? Is it a plight? Is it all opportunity? Are they the taxi drivers in this ride sharing economy? What does the future hold for them?

Palmer: I suspect everybody that's interested in education has had that one teacher, or that one moment, in that one place, where your world was opened up, or opportunities were put in front of you, or challenges were created. And that is still something we need in space. We need to figure out how do we scale that, so that there are more people that can provide that type of experience to more people.

But I'm also highly controversial at UVa because I feel like executive education is done. We have set our faculty up to be consultants. We encourage them to consult, and stay savvy in the marketplace. And why Coursera is not hitting every executive education client, and saying, “Hey, Professor Alex come and be a consultant and do a high-touch thing in San Francisco for weekend.” There's a little bit of a gig economy, I think, that will come up in that space, and it will not be every faculty member. It will be those that are savvy in that space, and have good relationships.

Ahearn: I think we have some real strategic questions around where we start to put paywalls, and I see that not a lot of people end up not wanting to pay for the content, or the curriculum. You can get that for free. It's accessible in many different places. I spend a lot of time writing courses, and developing that, so that's painful for me to say, but I think it's true. I think what we are seeing people willing to pay for, though, is the instruction, the personal feedback, the structure, the rigor—essentially, the teaching.

Audience member: I run a private school, and we're accredited. If my pass rate was 5 percent, I would be shut down. Do you ever run into issues like this?

Palmer: I do think as far as there's a business plan, and there needs to be sustainability, and there needs to be alumni giving money for endowments. There will be people being paid to think, and innovate, and bump ideas off of each other. It's just, a lot of those ideas are now gonna be between people in different parts of the world. They're not necessarily going to be in one building at the University of Virginia. It's why we still have Latin classes, and we have other things that are not high money making careers, but we still offer them as content. And that will continue to be the case.

As far as accreditation, I don't think there's any degree programs anywhere online that has 5 percent completion rates. That would get yanked. Ours are certainly closer to 100 percent, and this is where that skin in the game goes. But 5 percent, that’s just [referring to the completion rates] for a free MOOC, or I'm gonna pay $49 and maybe post it to LinkedIn if I finish it.

Much Ado About MOOCs: Where Are We in the Evolution of Online Courses? published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness

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mediatechpress24-blog · 7 years

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A background marked by the Amiga, section 10: The ruin of Commodore The Amiga was a machine relatively revolutionary, however Commodore was in trouble.

As the 1990s started, Commodore ought to have been flying high. The hotly anticipated new Amiga models with better illustrations, the A1200 and A4000, were at last discharged in 1992. Deals reacted by expanding 17 percent over the earlier year. The Video Toaster had built up a specialty in desktop video altering that no other PC stage could coordinate, and the new Toaster 4000 guaranteed to be shockingly better than some time recently. After a rough begin, the Amiga appeared to hit its walk.

Tragically, this achievement wouldn't last. In 1993, deals fell by 20 percent, and Commodore lost $366 million. In the primary quarter of 1994, the organization reported lost $8.2 million—much superior to anything the past four quarters, yet at the same time insufficient to turn a benefit. Commodore had keep running into budgetary troubles some time recently, especially in the mid-'80s, yet this time the injuries were too profound. Offers of the admired Commodore 64 had at last broke down, and the Amiga couldn't fill the hole rapidly enough. The organization issued an announcement cautioning financial specialists of its issues, and the stock dove. On April 29, 1994, Commodore International Limited reported that it was beginning the underlying period of deliberate liquidation of the majority of its advantages and petitioning for chapter 11 security. Commodore, once the friend in need of the Amiga, had neglected to spare itself.What turned out badly

Why did this happen? Is it safe to say that it was inescapable, or could the organization have settled on various options and kept both itself and the Amiga stage alive and solid?

There are the individuals who might contend the previous. Registering stages tend to begin with a wide range of contenders and after that gradually wane down to maybe a couple survivors. IBM so ruled the centralized server industry in the 1960s that it was alluded to as "Snow White," with more piece of the overall industry than the "Seven Dwarves" joined. Those seven ended up noticeably five and after that basically one after mergers and acquisitions. There were more than 100 PC stages in the mid '80s, yet by 1994 just two remained that sufficiently sold to be quantifiable: PC compatibles at 91 percent share and Macintoshes at 9 percent. All the more as of late, we've seen a various market of cell phone stages whittled down to leave only two: Android at 88 percent and iPhones at 12 percent.

Be that as it may, is the survival of more than two processing stages an ironclad law of innovation or only a fortuitous event? There are special cases—amusement reassures experienced two separate eras with three practical contenders: Nintendo, Sega, and Sony in the 1990s, and Nintendo, Microsoft, and Sony from the 2000s until present-day. Furthermore, a declining piece of the overall industry is not irreversible. The Macintosh, subsequent to hitting a low of under two percent in 2003, has since bounced back to a sound 7.5 percent. Could a trio of PCs, Macintoshes, and Amigas have existed together in a substitute universe?

I suspect as much. Sparing the Amiga wouldn't have been simple, however it unquestionably was conceivable. At last, the disappointment rests with Commodore administration, who not just neglected to adjust to an evolving commercial center, however as a rule were effectively threatening to their own organization. To comprehend what they did and why they did it, we need to bounce far back in time—to the production of Commodore itself.

Jack Tramiel offers his spirit

Jack Tramiel established Commodore in 1955, utilizing his encounters repairing typewriters after the war to develop a little stable of office items, including calculators. Jack was a Holocaust survivor, and his forceful, adopt no-detainees strategy to business some of the time got him in a bad position. In 1965, he was included in an outrage when the Alliance Acceptance Corporation, a Canadian monetary organization, abruptly given way. Tramiel had close binds to Alliance, and despite the fact that he was not prosecuted, the outrage destroyed Commodore. To survive, Tramiel was compelled to pitch an extensive share of his organization to Irving Gould, a Canadian agent. Gould now held the tote strings.Irving Gould was a fly setting man who didn't care to invest a ton of energy dealing with the organization, leaning toward rather to give Tramiel a chance to deal with the everyday operations while he dealt with the accounts. For some time, this methodology functioned admirably. The buy of MOS Technologies (the organization that made the unbelievable 6502 CPU that fueled most 8-bit PCs), the arrival of the PET, and the accomplishment of the VIC-20 and Commodore 64 all occurred amid this time.

Be that as it may, Gould became progressively bigoted of Tramiel's small time administration style. Tramiel likewise said that he needed to issue more stock to pay off Commodore's huge obligations, yet Gould can't, contending that it would debilitate his hang on the organization. What Gould didn't state was that quite a bit of Commodore's obligation was to different organizations that Gould additionally controlled.

Their contradictions reached a crucial stage when Tramiel scrutinized Gould for utilizing Commodore's advantages, (for example, the organization fly) for individual reasons. Jack stated: "You can't do this while I'm president," to which Gould reacted, "Farewell."

Gould then orchestrated to compel Tramiel out of his own organization while shaping a progression of progressively feeble reasons: first that despite the fact that Jack had conveyed the organization to its initial billion in deals, he wasn't the one to get them to ten billion. At that point, he trusted that Jack was attempting to position his children to assume control over the organization.

Regardless, Gould figured out how to get Tramiel to all of a sudden leave from the organization he established in 1984. Without Jack, Commodore had lost its spirit, much as Apple had when Steve Jobs was kicked out. Gould then continued to hand-pick a progression of CEOs with almost no involvement in the individualized computing industry. A few, similar to Marshall Smith, were repulsive, while others, similar to Thomas Rattigan, figured out how to take the organization back to gainfulness. One thing was predictable, be that as it may: Commodore CEOs, similar to hockey mentors, were employed to be let go.

Gould was out of his component, so in 1986 he swung to what numerous clumsy and urgent directors use: an administration counseling organization. The organization he employed, Dillon-Read, sent over an overseeing chief named Mehdi Ali. Ali spent numerous years and a large number of dollars to think of the proposal that Gould ought to contract Mehdi Ali to be the new CEO of Commodore International, which Gould at last did in 1989. This was the correct minute when Commodore fixed its fate.

Mehdi's missteps

Ali's rule at Commodore can be described by three primary viewpoints: exorbitant key mistakes, cutting basic innovative work (R&D), and expanding the CEO's remuneration. The last was no little thing. In 1989, Ali got $1.38 million in pay. In 1990, that figure rose to $2 million (excluding rewards), and Irving Gould scored a 40 percent salary increase to $1.75 million. By examination, the CEO of IBM, John Akers, got $713,000 around the same time.

Mehdi missed or flubbed a few key open doors amid this time. A standout amongst the most grievous was executing an arrangement with Sun Microsystems, which needed to permit both Amiga Unix (AMIX) and Amiga equipment for their low-end workstations. Ali undermined the arrangement twice by requesting progressively absurd authorizing expenses.

Ali sat back and looked as new organizations became quicker and speedier by filling in the holes in Amiga equipment that Commodore declined to give, for example, hard drives and CPU redesigns. The biggest of these, GVP, wound up being worth over a large portion of the estimation of Commodore itself, which was incredible for a fringe organization. Those were all dollars that could have gone specifically into Commodore's pocket.

Mehdi was additionally in charge of delivering the most exceedingly bad Amiga at any point made—the Amiga 600. Expected to be a cost-lessened 500, it was discharged with less elements than its cousin at a higher cost. Ali multiplied down on this disappointment by ensuring that stores were overflowed with A600s that no one needed while neglecting to produce enough A500s and A1200s that individuals really did.But the best mischief that Ali perpetrated on Commodore was offering its future. Throughout the years, he kept on gutting R&D financing until there was nothing cleared out.

At its declaration in 1985, the Amiga was years relatively revolutionary. It had highlights like preemptive multitasking, a shading GUI, and equipment illustrations and sound quickening that would not progress toward becoming standard on PCs until over 10 years after the fact. Nonetheless, the group that made the Amiga was distinctly mindful that it ought to be ceaselessly made strides. Jay Miner, the creator of the Amiga's chipset, had about finished a refreshed variant of the chips codenamed "Officer" that expanded speed, determination, and shading support. Strangely, Commodore never dispatched these advances, rather selecting an a great deal less intense spec knock on the Amiga 500 and 2000 (the Enhanced Chip Set, or ECS). However, the organization started deal with a tremendous redo of the Amiga chipset in 1988 called the Advanced Amiga Architecture, or AAA.

AAA was an intense stride forward for the Amiga, yet it didn't passage well in the hands of Ali's cost-cutting. When Commodore collapsed in 1994, there was just a solitary specialist chipping away at it, and it was as yet not prepared for discharge. Meanwhile, a stopgap arrangement called Advanced Graphics Architecture (AGA) must be raced into creation, and like most things raced into generation, it was additionally late. Commodore administration aggravated things even by crossing out Dave Haynie's A3000+ with AGA extend in mid 1991 for the A4000, which wound up being a sub-par outline. Lamentably, AGA was feeling the loss of a key component that was beginning to transform the once-modest PC into a gaming powerhouse.

The coming DOOM

The PC turned into a gaming contender with the arrival of another three-letter illustrations standard: VGA. VGA didn't have any favor speeding up, however it had a standard mode called 13h, which conveyed 320x200 determination .

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