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mayfieldss · 17 days

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Messy - Anthony Bridgerton

Synopsis: What was supposed to go as a smooth business meeting ends rather the opposite, thanks to Anthony's great distraction; you.

Content Warnings: written at 1am and not proofread. Proceed at your own risk.

Anthony was trying his best to be a gentleman. He prided himself on just that, after all, and would be mortified to be seen as anything else. That is why, when things got particularly disastrous, Anthony could not stop the apologies spilling from his lips.

The day had begun simple enough. The sky was the perfect shade of blue, matching the theme of the Bridgerton household without fail, and the sun peeked through thin clouds enough to cast its warmth in a comfortable manner. Your family had been set to meet with the Bridgerton's at noon, a business deal that would hopefully provide wealth and further status to both families alike. And when you'd arrived, carriage and horses pulling to a stop on the gravel, nothing had been amiss. In fact, everyone involved had been more than confident in the speed at which the deal could be made. There was much to discuss, yes, but without interruption, time would pass quickly, and you'd be home before you knew it. And yet, that wasn't the way things occurred.

Anthony takes the blame himself, for if he had kept focused perhaps nothing would have gone awry. But when his eyes landed on you, stepping down from the carriage with the help of your older brother's hand, he was stuck. It was as though his gaze was caught on you, like a thread hooked upon a nail, and he couldn't cut himself loose.

"Lord Bridgerton," your greeting was lost, as were everyone else's as his ears roared with shame. He was flustered, it seemed, and you had done nothing yet to cause it.

He sent you a smile, welcomed you, and your family, to the estate, trying wholeheartedly to snap himself from this trance. And for a while he thought to have succeeded.

Inside his home, everyone sat in the living room, and across from Anthony sat your oldest brother, in the place of your father who Anthony could only assume would not be joining you. Perhaps the man had passed like his own parent, or maybe some other reason was behind it. But Anthony had no troubles with a man closer to his age, and he was more than ready to converse in the gentlemanly manner he had trained himself to default to. You sat near Anthony's mother, discussing the rose gardens and other rather lady-like things, but there was something about your posture that told Anthony you could not care less about the flowers outside the large windows.

You held a pleasing smile, and to any passer by you might appear interested in such a topic, but to Anthony you were anything but convincing. Your eyes were distant from the conversation, and your hands were occupied fiddling with the folds of your dress. You were nodding along, with nothing much to say other than compliments toward his mothers gardeners. He was an actor himself at times, in fact this business deal required an almost theatre like performance to sell, and he could see his own tactics as well as some his siblings strategies coming through in you.

"Lord Bridgerton," This time, his title did not come from you, but rather your brother, whom Anthony had been unknowingly ignoring in favour of examining your actions.

Anthony clears his throat, and he can feel the heat rising up his neck underneath his collar. "Yes, sorry, go on." He doesn't have a clue what the man before him had been saying previously, and even as the conversation continues he is hardly listening. He's scolding himself internally, trying to keep it together.

He's able to hold focus on the matters at hand for awhile after that, and everything seemed to be running smooth enough—until the tea arrived.

Mrs Wilson had meant no harm when she entered the room, and in truth, none of the following events had been her fault. She was simply a housekeeper, and Anthony should have been paying more attention. He was attentive to some things, the way you moved included. The smile you sent Mrs Wilson when she offered you tea, and the way strands of your hair fell forward into your vision at the nod of your head made him want to get up and cross the room to you. It made him want to brush them back and touch the skin that he could see. He wanted to speak with you then, he realized, and had he held any sense, he would have pushed the idea back into the depths of his mind. In a pause of conversation between you brother, Anthony decides to stand and cross the room, to where you and his mother reside. Your own mother sits beside you, bewildered at his sudden approach, and yet it doesn't occur to him that this could go wrong.

"Let me, Mrs Wilson." Anthony doesn't know why he takes the teapot from the housekeeper, nor does he understand why he finds himself pouring tea for the set of women before him. But the way your eyes run over him, the upturn of your lips to his actions makes it all worth it. Of course, until it all goes wrong. Again.

"Anthony, the tea!" his mothers voice rings in his ears, and when he looks back toward the teacups his eyes widen. He's overfilling the cup you hold as she speaks, and the hot liquid spills onto your hands. You yelp in surprise, seemingly not having noticed his mistake until you felt the burn, and drop your cup abruptly. The sound of it shattering is sharp, echoing along with Anthony's embarrassment.

"My apologies Miss L/N, I did not intend to—are you okay?" he watches as you scramble to your feet, trying your best to avoid the other splashes of the hot tea, and the shards of the cup upon the floor.

"No, I am sorry Lord Bridgerton," Your eyes move quickly between the broken teacup and your dress, now stained. He can see embarrassment in your own movements, and can feel it in his.

"I was the one at fault, Miss. Please allow me to apologize," Anthony had not realized how close he had come to you until this moment, his eyes scanning over your figure trying to find any way he could help. But it struck him suddenly to know that he had taken your hands in his own. He had been checking for burns from the tea, but now the feeling of your skin on his brought heat to his cheeks.

He drops your hands abruptly, casting his gaze to your brother, who stands disapprovingly to his left. "I am sorry again," Anthony takes a step back, though now your eyes have met with his, and he can see something in him that suggests he might not be the only one flustered by the encounter. "Are you harmed at all? Did you need assistance, perhaps by one of the maids, or a doctor?" he can still feel the weight of your fingers held in his own, even now as space lies between you.

"I am okay, my Lord, though I am rather embarrassed." the way your eyes sparkle seems just for him, and when you shift your gaze towards the maids, now cleaning up the mess from moments before, he watches the small and bashful smile you once held fall.

"My apologies, I should have been more careful." You say to the maids and all others in the room, though Anthony is shaking his head before the full sentence can even dare to leave you.

"It was me who was careless. You are not at fault." he places a hand over his heart, once again ignoring all other surroundings in favor of absorbing you. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, and given the chance, I would love to provide funds for a new dress to replace the one my incautious behavior has ruined." his words cause a small, almost inaudible gasp from his mother, though he can see her expression in his peripheral. He will not hear the end of this for a while, he thinks. Once word got out amongst his siblings that he had found a soft spot for a woman he hardly knew, enough to pay for new garments, he would be endlessly teased. And yet he didn't care. Because the look on your face, one of shock, and fascination made him feel important.

That however, was the moment where your brother cleared his throat. Breaking through whatever connection Anthony had made with you.

"Are we to continue with business, Bridgerton?" He sounds irritated, and it's clear he can see exactly how the viscount is feeling. It's not hard to notice by now that Anthony's gaze is hardly able to break from you for a second.

"Yes, of course." Anthony is still looking at you when he says it, and only when a hand is placed on his arm, his mother's, pushing him back toward his seat, does he break free of the spell you so effortlessly place.

A few weeks later and the carpet has been cleaned, no stain has been left from the tea, and the teacup broken has long been replaced. The Bridgerton estate is bustling with noise, its latest ball bringing the entire ton and more to the premises. As Anthony's eyes scan the room, cautious of making any wrong moves, as usual, his heart wanders, leaving him behind. You stand with a drink delicately in hand, ivory gloved fingers with a gentle grasp upon the glass. Anthony, once again, can not look away.

When you finally meet his eyes, he is unable to stop himself, moving through the ballroom swiftly, even as many others try to stop him for conversation. The other women of the ton pause their own movements in the hopes the viscount may be coming to speak with them, and with each lady is passes, disappointment, and envy fill the room.

"Miss L/N." He greets you with a smile, partly because he can't help himself at the sight of you.

"Lord Bridgerton." you attempt a short bow, one that is barely there at all, but he doesn't mind. Somehow he knows you're teasing him. Testing him perhaps, in the way you smirk.

"I am pleased to see you again. You look wonderful tonight." his usual flattery makes you scoff, partly in shock, though there is humor there too. It is not at all lady-like, nor what your mother trained of you, but Anthony finds a thrill in the behavior, as inappropriate as it may be.

"Do you not believe me?" he asks, watching as you take a sip of your drink. You do it almost to fill the gap between his speech, and it seems practiced. As if you have done the same to pause conversation between many men before him.

"No, I do believe you my lord. I am aware of my appearance. Though I should thank you, for this dress is the one you paid for."

"It seems to me that it was money well spent." Anthony is a gentleman, though he can picture himself with his hands tangled in the dress you wear tonight. Knowing that he was the one to gift it to you somehow makes his feelings grow stronger.

"It does seem so." There's a quiet between you after your words, partly because he can not think of anything more to say, and you laugh in the space of the silence. A gentle sound, not loud enough for many other than him to hear, but the grin that accompanies it is what makes Anthony's stomach flip. It's something he had never predicted occurring within himself, and yet, now he can feel it.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks, and somehow he knows you'll say yes, if only to continue the tension between you. You nod at first, handing off your glass to a passing waiter, before taking his hand.

"I would love to."

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avecra · 2 years

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Not My Babe

summary: After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

pairing: biker!bucky x reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of toxic relationship, violence, alcohol, smoking, biker!bucky is also protective!bucky

a/n - the title and some dialogue is partly based on #icanteven by The Neighbourhood and French Montana, let me know if you guys want a part 2 :)

The smell of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey burned your nostrils all while you kept your hand encased with your best friend’s, following her into the packed bar. Rock music echoed against the walls, lyrics of Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith filled the air. You passed by a few people, before settling down at the far end of the bar.

You felt wildly out of place, glancing between the leather clad patrons and the grey sweater that sat over your shoulder. Nervously fiddling with your fingers, you saw Natasha plop herself on a stool next to you and place a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Relax, would you?” Her green eyes and soft smile seemed to relax you, but there was still an inkling feeling in the back of your head. “You are not together anymore, if he wants to make a big deal of you going out then he can talk to me.”

“Him being the horrid boyfriend, I presume?” You looked up at the sudden voice and smiled, seeing Sam Wilson behind the bar.

“Ex-boyfriend, actually,” Natasha cut in, a knowing smile, but you couldn’t even muster yourself to lift up the corner of your mouth.

Nearly two years was wasted, and you spent it chasing a man for affection that didn’t even care about you in the first place. A relationship that had started so beautifully, that had been filled with joy and happiness that had now developed into something that filled your days with misery.

Quentin Beck never showed you affection unless you were the one to initiate it, he never showed up on dates and when he did, he was always either staring down at his phone or up at a television set, watching whatever sports was on at the moment.

It didn’t just stop at that, though.

Continuous nights of coming home when it was nearing one or two in the morning, the stench of stale beer and the hint of floral perfume tearing you from your sleep as he slithered into bed. The times you questioned him about it, he brushed you off and told you in an annoyed voice, “Would you relax and stop being so dramatic? You were probably having another one of those dreams.”

Looking back, you put up a lot for a long time with him and his flaws. Always having to clean the apartment, do the dishes, the laundry, everything. Natasha had begged, practically pleaded you to leave and break up with him, but you always opposed that. He, unfortunately besides Natasha, was all you had. You had no one else.

Conversations about your relationship swirled between you and your best friend for months, until finally, you saw him kiss another woman’s neck in the small restaurant you had about to order from, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from how he gently held her waist and caressed her face when he moved to cup her cheek.

It physically hurt you.

Not the fact that your boyfriend was kissing another woman in a bar, but the fact that in the past year of your relationship, he ever showed you an ounce of the love and affection he showed her.

You finally decided that was the final straw and broke up with him the day after. Natasha and a few of her friends volunteered themselves to help move you out of his apartment and in with Natasha.

To say it had been a stressful past few weeks would be an understatement, dealing with moving and adjusting to a life without him, Natasha instead that the two of you meet up with her friends, to let yourself loose.

And now, you found yourself sitting in a bar surrounded by people who you had only met on a few occasions, but Natasha had told them enough to get a good read off of you.

“And I presume that’s a good thing?” Sam’s voice tore you out of your thoughts. Natasha nodded her head a little too enthusiastically and you moved your gaze to his and nodded. “Well, good riddance to his ass. What’s your drink, sugar?”

“I guess a vodka cranberry,” you replied, unsure if you really wanted it.

In all truth, Beck always seemed to discourage you whenever you ordered yourself anything remotely alcohol, he would advise you to take it easy and to order something else in a bitter tone. But Natasha knew you better than anyone else.

“No, give her a whiskey sour. I think she’ll like that,” She slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned her temple against yours. “I know it feels like everything is falling apart, but I’m really glad you’re here with me tonight. I missed my best friend.”

The familiar sting of tears pricked at the back of your throat and you leaned into her embrace. Sam placed your drink on the napkin in front of you, handing Natasha a beer.

“I missed you, too, Nat.” you said back, taking your drink and clinked it against her bottle. You took a sip of your drink, and you looked at Sam with a gleam in your eyes. “Oh, I like that.”

“See? Don’t I know my friends?” The redhead smirked as she took a sip from her bottle, eyes glinting with excitement when she heard the deep familiar voice of the owner.

“Probably knows us all better than we know ourselves.”

You turned your head to see James, or Bucky as he liked to be called, walk up to the bar, several bottles of alcohol in hand as he began to stock the bar. Striking blue eyes met yours and he sent you a smile.

“The shipment just came in,” Bucky spoke to Sam. “Just stock it up in the freezer and Nat and Steve will go over the inventory tomorrow morning.”

Sam nodded and looked to Natasha, nudging his head to the back, where the inventory was waiting to be put away. Then, she turned to you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“You gonna be okay if I help Sam out?” she asked and you nodded, pushing out a smile for her. She squeezed your arm and murmured how she wouldn’t be long. You watched her until she disappeared into the back before returning your gaze to your drink.

From behind the bar, Bucky watched as you trailed a finger up the side of your glass, catching the condensation before it touched the bartop. He lifted up your drink and placed a napkin below and leaned his elbows against the counter.

Bucky had been one of the first to know of your messy breakup with Beck. Afterall, he and Sam were both sitting with Natasha in the near empty bar when you called her, crying and almost hyperventilating after a two hour screaming match with him.

He had driven his truck to the apartment you shared with Beck and watched as Natasha dashed out of the backseat to you, pulling you into her arms. A shared look with Sam and Natasha was leading you to the truck, helping you inside before rushing inside to pack you a bag of essentials, some things to hold you over until you could properly move out.

The tissues that sat unopened in his glove box were offered to you, and your glossy eyes met the soft hues of his blue ones and more tears filled your eyes. The night was a blur to you, but you could distinctly remember him getting out of the driver's seat to comfort you until Natasha returned.

It was the simple acts of kindness, like when he placed a hand on your trembling back, rubbing soothing circles across your tense shoulders. Or when he helped pack and move your belongings from Beck’s apartment to Natasha’s.

You had only known him for a few months, but he had shown you more care than Beck had in the two years together.

“How are you?” Bucky asked as you took another sip. You shrugged and propped your head up on the palm of your hand.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “One day I’m fine, the next day I just want to cry my eyes out for a guy who treated me like shit, now that I realize.” It never dawned on you how horribly he had treated you during your relationship. How he never liked you going out with Nat, or just going out in general unless it was with him. He could go out with his friends, but you had to stay home. He despised when you came home from work late, and would often pressure you into cooking even though you were exhausted. “I’m so stupid for staying with him for so long.”

You quickly downed the rest of your drink and winced at the sour taste before running the back of your hand over your forehead. The urge to cry tore its way through you, but you fought the desire.

Bucky placed a cup of water in front of you and brushed his fingers lightly over your knuckles. “Please don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not stupid, don’t think that you are.”

His voice was soft, and though he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt with tattoos lining his arms, he was always gentle when he spoke to you. You had seen him get rousey and excited during football games shown at the bar, but even then, he still remained a gentle person.

Parts of you wished Beck could have been more like Bucky… or that Beck was Bucky. If Beck had been more like him, maybe you wouldn’t have been in a bar drinking your pain away, but you couldn’t change the past, though you desperately wish you could.

“You have such a beautiful personality, don’t let that asshole take that from you again. Don’t let him hurt you even more.” Blue eyes held so much intensity as they gazed into yours and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said, mustering up a small smile. He winked at you and took your empty glass off the bartop and you asked, “can I have another?”

But Bucky was already a step ahead of you, placing a freshly made whisky sour in front of you. He watched you with a smile as you took a sip, sighing in content as the lemony alcohol satisfied the pain. “The guys and I have really enjoyed your company. We really like it when Nat invites you to the bar.”

You let out a hearty huff and smiled at him. “I like hanging out with you. I feel like I can… I can just finally be me.”

“It’s a good look on you,” Bucky said with a cheeky smile and he leaned forward. “But seriously, it doesn’t matter how long you stayed with him, or how poorly treated you. What matters is that you are away from him.” Tears gathered at your waterline. “Besides, you’re way too beautiful for him anyways. It’s his loss.”

You were at a loss for words, you couldn’t help the bashful smile and the heat that spread across your face like a wildfire. The way he spoke to you made your stomach flutter, the calm ocean blue of his eyes brought you to a safe place, away from all the toxicity you had faced.

“Thank you, James.” you whispered, blinking away the tears, though one escaped down your cheek. Before you could wipe it away, Bucky beat you to it, catching your tear with the pad of his thumb. He dropped his hand and brushed his fingers over the back of your hand and over your fingers.

As he was about to say something, a few patrons down the bar flagged for his attention. He nodded to them and turned back to you, pushing himself up from the bar. You watched him in content as he gave you a small smile and and you reached out and placed a hand over his tattooed wrist.

“I’ll be okay. Go help your customers,” you gently told him.

“I’ll only be a minute, doll,” He nodded and gave you one last smile before making his way down the bar. Your stomach fluttered at the nickname and you kept your eyes on his back until he was down at the other end of the bar, pouring whiskey into glasses and pulling out beer bottles from the cooler. You forced yourself to pull your gaze away from him, opting to swirl the straw around your drink.

Absorbing yourself in the atmosphere, you looked around, seeing how some patted each other’s back and laughed, some cheered to who knows what, and others placed bets on who would win in a game of pool.

Everyone knew each other around here, and the thought made your heart warm. The music wasn’t too bad either, as the jukebox played mostly classic rock, you still enjoyed it. The atmosphere in general you enjoyed.

You silently thanked Natasha in your head for dragging you tonight, though you had no interest originally, but being around Bucky and talking to him lifted your spirits. The thoughts of Beck and being with him instantly flew out of your mind.

Until you felt an all too familiar presence behind you, followed by the same nauseating stench of his cologne.

You turned around with wide eyes as you came face to face with your ex-boyfriend. Quentin Beck looked at you with an annoyed, malicious smirk. You couldn’t help but scoot closer to the bartop as his eyes raked over your form.

“What are you doing here?” You were the first one to speak, though your voice wavered. Your last encounter with him had been a two hour screaming match that left you sobbing and trembling.

Beck let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/n? Who the hell brings you to a place like this? I know we had our ups and downs, but really, a biker bar?”

Ups and downs? You swallowed thickly and stared back at him, biting your lip to ground yourself.

“Quentin, you cheated on me. With another woman. All the downs came from you, not me. We did not have ups and downs, you did,” you retorted, trying to hide the tremble in your hands. Your heart beated rapidly against your ribcage. “You can’t control where I go and who I go with anymore. You threw that away when you cheated.”

“For the love of-”

“Did it make you feel bad when you cheated on me? Did I even cross your mind for a second? Did those years mean nothing to you?” you spewed, and he stood with wide eyes that began to fill with anger. “You’re gonna say I’m overreacting even though you know I am right.”

Brown eyes flared with anger and he reached out and grasped your bicep tightly, pulling you up from your seat. You quickly pushed him a few feet away and looked for Bucky down at the end of the bar, but dread sank in your stomach as you found the space vacant. Beck grabbed you again, this time with a much firmer grip on your wrist.

“You keeping talking like that and I swear to god Y/n, I’ll-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Beck was ripped away and the tight grip on your wrist was released. Wide eyes focused on Bucky’s back as he stood himself in front of you, acting as a shield from Beck.

Patrons paid Bucky no attention, merely moving out of the way to give him more area. Beck, who had landed on his rear, pushed himself up to his feet and stood up to meet Bucky, unprepared for the height advantage Bucky had on him.

“Oh please, Quentin, I beg you to finish that sentence. ‘Cause that’ll give me just about another reason to beat the living shit out of you,” Bucky announced to him, piercing blue eyes narrowed on him.

Your shaking hand touched Bucky’s black shirt, and he immediately snuck a hand behind his back and you quickly latched onto his hand. Beck noticed, it only made him angrier.

“You talk about me cheating, bitch? Yet here you are, giving yourself to a biker nonetheless, whore.” You trembled at his venom laced words.

Bucky’s hand was ripped out of yours and you looked up to see Bucky punch Beck right in the nose. You clasped your hands over your mouth as patrons around the three of you cheered and applauded.

Natasha and Sam came running out to see Bucky leaning over Beck, who was nursing a bloody nose. Natasha made her way over to you, placing an arm on your shoulder as she looked to see if you were okay.

Though Sam did nothing but watch with a gleeful smirk as Bucky grabbed Beck by the collar of his jacket and whispered in his ear, “You come near her again or call her anything other than her name, and I swear to god I’ll make your life a living hell. If she so much as sheds a single tear, it’s over for you, Beck. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

You couldn’t hear what Bucky said, but you watched and took your hand away with surprised eyes as Bucky released beck and stood up, wringing his hand out. It was only then did you notice the irritated skin of his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” You tore your gaze from Bucky to Natasha, her hands smoothing over your sweater and your bruising wrist.

“I’m okay, Nat,” you mumbled, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. You were expecting a night with your best friend but instead saw the one person you dreaded seeing. Bucky made his way over to you, looking to see if you were okay, but you caught his hand in your grasp. “You’re bleeding, Bucky.”

He didn’t feel the stinging of the minor knicks on his knuckles, but he took a glance at the bruising skin of your wrist. “And you’re bruisin’ up, doll. Let me put some ice on that.”

You nodded and allowed him to lead you away from the busy bar to the back office, not before scooping some ice into a cup. He led you to sit on the small couch he kept in the office, and as he sat down next to you, he rolled up your sleeve and pressed the ice against your skin.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked quietly, and you sighed, blinking away the tears that formed at your waterline. You didn’t feel okay, but with Bucky next to you, in the moment, you felt more than okay.

Nodding your head, you fully expected him to get up and return to the bar, but he stood himself still in his seat next to you. “Thank you for what you did.”

Bucky shook himself and caught your gaze. “You don’t have to thank me, doll. I didn’t like how he was holding onto you. I’m sorry about my temper, but once he called you all those horrible things, I couldn’t help myself. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

He wiped away the tears that leaked out of your eyes and you grasped his forearm in appreciation. “Thank you, Bucky.”

The two of you sat while he continued to hold the ice to your wrist. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your arm, goosebumps littered your arms and you felt yourself leaning into his embrace.

“Do you think that maybe, whenever you find yourself ready again, I could maybe take you out on a date?” Bucky asked a moment later.

A heat spread across your face as you looked at him. Cerulean eyes stared back at you and a soft smile lit up your face. After a nasty breakup with Beck, you hadn’t even considered anyone else.

But spending the evening talking to Bucky, feeling the fluttering butterflies in your stomach from someone who genuinely made you smile, made you feel something, it was hard to not have some sort of attraction to him.

So, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yeah, I would really like that.”

It would be okay, you decided as Bucky pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Maybe a little rocky to start, but eventually everything would be okay.

Afterall, you had a tattooed biker at the end of the tunnel, waiting for you.

Yeah, everything is gonna be okay.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #biker!bucky

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 8 months

Note

Hi girlie!! Firstly, your works are Amazing!!!

Do you think you could do wilson and the reader having sex in his office after the poker charity event. Maybe she was using like a sexy dress, and Wilson was turned on by it so he couldn't keep his hands away all night?🩷

Have a good day!💞

So sorry for the long wait but this is my first time writing smut and I wasnt really confident in it but you deserved a fic so here it is!!

A Game of Luck

James Wilson x reader

description - James is very distracted.

word count - 1k

warnings - smut, 18+

a/n - watched an ep of House last night to get me back in my Wilson mood! Also first time writing smut so I'm not too confident in it! Hope its good!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

Y/n walked down the corridor in search of her boyfriend who’d seemed to have left the poker game in quite a rush. It was the hospitals annual charity fundraiser, this year in the form of a poker tournament. She knew her James loved poker but she also knew that his skills were rather lacking, especially compared to his friend, House.

Y/n searched for a while until she happened upon him in his own office. To be fair she really should have checked there first, but hindsight is a great thing isn’t it.

He’d shed his blazer which now haphazardly lay on his couch. His braces were on full view and she bit her lip looking at how he wore his suit. He looked so refined and her thighs clenched when she observed him strutting about his office with ease. She knocked on the open door to announce her presence.

He turned round and lit up with a smile. “Darling, there you are.”

“I was about to say that to you.” She giggled. “Where did you scamper off to.” She approached him and threw her arms around his neck to bring them together in a more intimate embrace.

“House business.” He drawled out.

“Say no more.” She whispered and punctuated it with a gentle kiss to his lips. Eventually they both relented to deepen the kiss and their mouths moved in sync. Tongues battled for dominance as their lips began to bruise. Y/n was the first to pull away.

“Congratulations by the way.” She grinned up at him. “Big spender.” She gripped her lip between her teeth as she whispered out the title.

“Why thank you, but I would have been hopeless without my lucky charm.” As he spoke his fingers absentmindedly stroked the silky material which hugged her waist.

“Always glad to be of service.” Both of them spoke in near whisper as if cherishing this moment for the two of them. His fingers began to tighten on her waist, and she felt the grip through her dress. It wasn’t painful, it was possessive.

“However, my love, most of the time you proved to be,” His hands slid down and came to rest on her ass. She deliciously flinched at his actions; a little gasp escaped her lips. “Quite the distraction.” He found solace in her neck and as he sunk in deeper he littered little bites and kisses over the expanse of that skin. She gasped once he hit that special nerve and she gripped his forearms tighter. Her pelvis flushed against his trying to prolong their contact. She bucked into him so much that he had to still her hips as he pulled away so he could look down upon her with hunger.

Without breaking eye contact, he used his frame to push her towards the expanse of his desk. Her hips hit the wood and she stumbled in time with the rattle of his possessions. His hands dragged further down until they rested on her rear, and she gasped as he lifted her effortlessly and dropped her on the surface of his desk. He resumed his attack of her neck. In response to his sweet kisses, she ran her hands up his neck and gripped his chocolate locks and the other held his shoulder tight; anything to ground her from the pleasure of her nerves alight.

Both of their clothes became too restricting, and James responded by ripping down the straps of her dress, offering up more skin for consumption. She in turn ripped open his shirts so the buttons went flying into a mess which would be dealt with later. He littered kisses across her chest and she threw her head back as each nerve alighted.

His hands fumbled with his trousers which had tightened. But his hands were replaced with her own soft ones which undid the belt and the zipper with unbearable cautiousness. He panted at her slow movements which were aimed at torturing his desperate form.

Eventually she took pity and deftly undid the rest and pulled out his throbbing dick.

She curled her free hand around his back and felt the defined muscles contract under his soft skin. She used her nails to scratch down his back and drag him towards her desperate frame. Their lips were inches apart and their pants mingled into the heated air. She threw her body forward to meet his lips but was stopped by his hand which gripped her chin with firmness.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl and be very quiet for me.” He whispered and his words landed on his sweaty cheek. She nodded at breakneck speed and whimpered at the excruciating pause in their activities.

Without any warning he slammed into her. She gasped at the unexpected intrusion but slowly moaned at the satisfying fullness. He began to thrust into her at a speed of a starved man. His head was buried in her neck, and she placed a multitude of kisses on his own. Her hips bucked up to meet each thrust so that they were always linked. Her hands gripped around his back in desperate ferocity.

Their moans mingled in the thick air which pulsed and throbbed around their sweaty bodies.

His hands were tightly clasped around her arse and relished in digging his fingers into her plush flesh. As the speed picked up and both were getting closer to release, y/n dropped her back down onto his desk making James drop down, halted by his elbows, so he covered her like a predator ready to devour its prey.

With one final thrust, they reached their climaxes together, halting all previous movement. James gazed down at her flushed out face, lovingly. He stroked down her cheek, pushing away damp strands of hair. He carefully leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

There was a loud knock at the door.

“Fuck off, House.” James mumbled as he helped Y/n to sit up properly.

“You need to see this!” House protested.

“FUCK OFF, HOUSE.” James and Y/n both shouted.

#dr james wilson #dr james wilson x reader #house md #james wilson #dr james wilson x peds!reader #house x wilson #dr house #dr house x reader #house x reader #james wilson x peds!reader #robert sean leonard imagine #robert sean leonard

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insanityclause · 24 days

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Tom Hiddleston Says Revisiting Loki Was ‘An Honor,’ Thanks Co-Stars for ‘Chemistry and Inspiration’

Ahead of accepting Variety’s Virtuoso Award at the Miami Film Festival, Hiddleston reflects on previous roles and impactful creative collaboration.

By Jenelle Riley

Tom Hiddleston knows “Miami.” That is, all the words to the Will Smith song titled after the famous city — a video of him reciting the lyrics once broke the Internet (not an unusual occurrence for the actor.) That was in 2012 when he was doing press for “The Avengers,” the movie that would change his life and career. It was also the same tour that last brought him to the city — but that was a whirlwind two days of press. “I do recall promoting ‘Avengers’ in Spanish and the city had a great, unique energy,” he says. “I’m really excited to be back as an explorer.”

The British actor will be returning on April 9 to the Miami Film Festival to accept Variety’s Virtuoso Award for his career achievements and will participate in a Q&A at the Adrienne Arsht Center – Knight Concert Hall. Tickets are available here.

And while Miami is known for its food and culture, the actor has one thing on his mind. “What will the weather be like?” he queries of the town’s famously balmy temperatures. “Because I’m coming from the wettest February on record in London’s history.”

Hiddleston admits it’s somewhat ironic to be receiving the Virtuoso Award there, because “when somebody says ‘virtuoso,’ I think of a dazzling soloist in an orchestra, and I feel about as far from that image as it’s possible to imagine.”

He continues: “I am the opposite of a soloist, actually. I always feel like I’m at my strongest in a team. What we do is a collective creative act and the joy of it is in the shared imagination.”

This might explain why his resume is filled with standout ensemble pieces in every genre. Hiddleston’s worked on stage — he earned a Tony nomination for his 2019 Broadway debut in “Betrayal” — the SAG Award-nominated ensemble of “Midnight in Paris,” up through his most current turn as the God of Mischief in Season 2 of the Disney+ series “Loki.”

The second season’s finale, “Glorious Purpose,” remains the highest-rated episode ever in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and brought a conclusion to an epic character arc that has spanned 14 years of Hiddleston’s life. The actor, who also served as producer on both seasons, says it would have been impossible without his “deep bench” of castmates, which includes Owen Wilson, Sophia Di Martino and Season 2 addition Ke Huy Quan, Oscar-winner for “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”

“I don’t know who said it, but there’s the phrase: ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together,’” he notes. “And it’s never been truer than for this show.”

Community and collaboration are perhaps his favorite aspects of the work. “I truly find the most interesting work I have discovered happens between people. You show up and ready and prepared, but you take that preparation onto the dance floor and see what there is between you. If I’ve done anything of value, it’s because of that chemistry and inspiration I receive from another actor.”

Hiddleston says that team spirit extends to his next project, “The Life of Chuck,” a big-screen adaptation of the Stephen King novella that also stars Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill and Chewitel Ejiofor. “I’m a lifelong tennis fan and I feel like being on set is like playing tennis,” Hiddleston notes. “It’s all about who you’re playing opposite and the energy back and forth between you. And I have some great partners on ‘The Life of Chuck.'”

As for continuing Loki’s story in a third season, it’s a question Hiddleston is asked pretty much every day — several times. “I truthfully don’t know,” he says. “I am so proud of where we landed in Season 2. To go from this lost, broken soul in Asgaard, and be given a second chance and learn so much about life that he actually gives himself to protect other people, has been such an honor.” For tickets to the conversation and Variety Virtuoso Award Presentation to Tom Hiddleston, visit here.

#tom hiddleston #miami film festival #virtuoso award

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happi-tree · 2 months

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heart, liver, and other matters of the body

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees.

Other times, Link glances over the wide eyes done up in borrowed eyeliner, the jawline that seems too square, too sharp today, frets at the broad slope of shoulders, the indelicate scarred brow and callused hands and battered, ashy knees, tries to sculpt the features there into something more feminine with willpower alone.

Or: Lincoln tries on a dress for the first time and comes out to her boyfriend.

ao3

Here's my Swiftli Week fic for Day 6: Secrets! 🤫 I did some research for this one, and it was lots of fun. Hope you enjoy!

(P.S. A little context for the title: xīn’gān - Mandarin term of affection which literally translates to “heart and liver” but is equivalent to “heart and soul” or “my everything” in English. Implies that, like a heart or liver, this partner is something one cannot live without.)

Lincoln Li-Wilson is buzzing with nervous energy all throughout their shopping date.

Link’s boyfriend, Taylor, can clearly tell that something’s off (he’s let his emotions show more plainly over the past few months, but he’s always been observant, always cared, and that makes Link smile fondly).

Lincoln runs a hand along the racks of clothes, distracting anxious nerves through the textures and colors, and graciously, Taylor doesn’t ask.

Not yet , a voice in Lincoln’s head says, only to be batted away by Taylor’s hand brushing against his own as they sift through the clothes together.

The mall doesn’t see a lot of traffic, these days - hasn’t seen a lot of traffic since their parents were teenagers, to be honest - so it almost feels like they have the place to themselves.

It’s nice, Link thinks while thumbing through the hangers, stopping on a flash of buttercup yellow.

It feels soft against the skin, weighty enough to be substantial but not stifling, and the silhouette…

Lincoln takes the garment off the rack, adds it to the others.

Today, today, I’m gonna tell him today, Link repeats like a mantra, disguising nervous, shaking hands by flapping them a little.

“All good, qīn?” Taylor asks, meeting eyes over the rack, and Lincoln’s heart flutters a little at the affectionate name.

After learning how much Link enjoys terms of endearment, Taylor’s insisted on using Mandarin pet names, citing that they still keep up his “cool and slick” reputation in public. Lincoln frankly thinks it’s pretty silly, since anyone with eyes can tell how sappy Taylor is when it comes to…

“Mm,” Link nods. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t exactly the truth either. “Gonna try these on.”

“Awesome, man!” Taylor replies, and Lincoln doesn’t even flinch. “Want me to, uh, join you in there?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The offer is very tempting, Link won’t lie, and definitely something they’ve done before - though the trying-on-clothes part historically has the tendency to be abandoned in favor of making out.

“Not today, shǎguā,” Lincoln tells him, voice kept purposefully light and teasing. “You’re gonna have to wait this time.”

“Boo. Have it your way, but I’m definitely sitting on one of those little benches so you can model for me! Plus, my legs could use the break.”

Satisfied, Link leads them through the maze of racks, tries not to dwell on things as they enter the changing rooms marked MEN.

True to his word, Taylor takes up his post on one of the cushioned benches in one of the alcoves, taking out his phone to scroll once he clocks which room Lincoln’s picked.

Link steps in, closes the door, breathes out, and comes face-to-face with the figure in the mirror.

Lincoln’s hair has grown out in the last year or so - rather than being buzzed at the sides, the curls now end around jawline length, depending on how they’re styled.

Taylor visits Hell more frequently, now that things have calmed a little, and Link’s gone with him, asked Terry a bunch of questions about upkeep and styling and braiding that were probably a little too much all at once but were met with enthusiasm and more in-depth answers than what YouTube had to offer.

Link brushes back a few stray twists, meticulously dotted with colored beads and gold cuffs, complemented by the gold flowers dangling from each earlobe and the gold eyeshadow at the inner corners of each eye.

Satisfied, Lincoln begins trying things on, breezing through a graphic Garfield sweatshirt (comfy, but not big enough), a pair of joggers (right size, but the fabric feels a little weird), and an oversized tee shirt (soft and just roomy enough, definitely something to buy).

There’s just one last thing to try.

Carefully, Link takes off the shirt, hangs it back up, pulls on the last article of clothing, shimmies out of the gym shorts from underneath it.

Lincoln fumbles with the side zipper for a little, worried for the briefest moment that it wouldn’t fit around the torso, but manages to get the hang of it, clasps the hook and eye at the top edge awkwardly into place.

Link smooths down the fabric at the hips with nervous hands, then finally allows for a glance upward.

Lincoln stares. And stares.

Someone unfamiliar stares back. But it’s a good unfamiliar, a right unfamiliar.

Link has practiced saying the words in the mirror before, has felt how the shapes of them formed on the tongue, has spoken them into being in whispered, low tones. Link has treated it the same way as practicing his facial expressions, a daily ritual, trying to figure out how to show the right emotions, making sure they look and feel correct on the face as well as in the heart.

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees.

On those days, like this morning, Lincoln tries out the words again, mouths them out once more in the present.

She. Her.

And they feel real, feel as true as if she had just taken a whiff of that blue power from the FBI.

Sometimes, they don’t fit, just like he and him don’t feel right, sometimes, like a shirt with the wrong texture, a bite of food that’s a little too mushy.

But sometimes, like right now, they fit Lincoln like a glove.

They fit her like this dress.

The bodice hugs Link’s torso, and though it’s painfully obvious that her upper body is all boxes and angles and no curves, she finds that she doesn’t mind too much.

Straps, about the width of two fingers, tie off in elegant bows that rest at the midpoint between her neck and shoulders, drawing emphasis to her collarbones in a way that makes them look almost delicate. Link frowns a bit at the way the neckline makes her shoulders look so wide.

The light yellow fabric goes phenomenally well with her complexion in a way that makes her dark, freckled skin nearly glow, and the texture is a little stiffer than she’s used to, but it has a nice thickness to it and doesn’t chafe against her skin, with enough give that she instinctively knows wouldn’t hinder her range of motion.

The skirt is full, gathered fabric flaring out around her hips and stopping a few inches above her knees, though she thinks it was probably meant to be a longer dress on someone with shorter legs.

She twists around in it, trying to catch a glimpse of different angles, and the way the hemline flutters around her thighs is completely alien to her, but she thinks she likes it.

She feels feminine. Girly. Is girly.

Lincoln feels like a girl. She is one.

“Link, you okay?” Taylor’s voice is muffled through the door, and there’s a small shadow beneath it, followed by a half-hearted little knock.

Shit.

“You’ve been in there awhile.”

Fuck, has she? Maybe she got a little too carried away staring and lost track of time.

Link wracks her brain for a proper response, a yeah, I’m okay or yes, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute , but they get stopped up in her throat as she realizes that she’s still wearing the dress and she hasn’t come out to him yet like she planned to.

“Is it okay if I come in? No funny business, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Taylor wears dresses and skirts all the time, it’ll be fine, he won’t be weirded out by it, Lincoln attempts to rationalize. It doesn’t really work, so she tries to speak again.

“‘M fine,” is all that comes out, high-pitched but not in a pretty way.

“You don’t sound fine,” Taylor argues, voice softened out at the edges so that it doesn’t sound accusatory. “Can I please come in?”

Link squints her eyes shut against it all and nods minutely, then realizes that Taylor can’t see her and manages a shaky “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, and Link hears the door creak open, then shut, hears Taylor’s quiet footfalls.

“So, can I -? Woah .”

Cautiously, Link opens her eyes to see Taylor shaking off an expression of… bewilderment? Confusion? Curiosity?

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, “I’m just - I wasn’t expecting - you look really pretty, dude.”

Feeling a little too overexposed, too raw, too much, Link can’t help the way she flinches.

“Oh, baby,” Taylor says, sadness evident in his voice, and Link hates the sound of it, hates that she made him that way. “Can I touch you?”

Not trusting her voice, Link nods, and her boyfriend steps closer, winds an arm around her back, and she melts into his hold, crumbles into his familiar warmth.

“You’re crying,” he observes quietly, reaching with his other hand to thumb away a tear, and Lincoln hadn’t even registered the wetness spilling down her cheeks until he mentioned it.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Link’s voice sounds a little too deep to her own ears, discordant with the girl in the mirror, and another tear slips out anyway. “Just… overwhelmed?”

“Okay,” Taylor says, “We can work with that, xīn’gān.”

Xīn’gān , Lincoln thinks, heart and liver, my everything . Taylor only uses that when he’s serious.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks.

“It’s silly,” Link starts, then continues before Taylor can refute it. “I just… it’s hard, and I’ve been meaning to tell you, I promise, I just… couldn’t figure out when or how.”

She laughs a little, then, high-strung and nervous.

Lincoln pulls away, glances at their reflections, and Taylor’s eyes follow hers.

“You’re not, uh, breaking up with me in this dressing room, right?”

“No,” she says, a little too loud. “No,” she repeats, forcing her voice softer, higher. “This is a good thing, I swear, it’s just…” “Hard?” Taylor asks.

“Mm.”

Lincoln inhales shakily, reaches for Taylor’s hand, and Taylor latches them together, gives them a light squeeze.

God, she’s so lucky to have him.

Her free hand fists in the fabric of the dress, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I think I’m trans.”

She said it. There’s no taking it back now.

Taylor’s thumb runs along the side of her hand. “That’s amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you,” he says, and Link knew in the back of her mind that her boyfriend would always be supportive, but that last irrational bit of fear finally vaporizes.

Lincoln opens her eyes, and Taylor’s looking at her with so much open affection that it makes her eyes water up with tears again, and she brushes them away.

“I’m not… I still like being a guy, sometimes,” She says, the words leaving her in a rush, “but sometimes I feel more like a girl? And sometimes it’s a little bit of both?”

“That’s cool,” Taylor says with another encouraging squeeze to their joined hands.

“I think I might be… bigender?” Link tells him, and wow, it’s so nice to hear the word aloud, to tell someone. “Or maybe genderfluid? Genderqueer, definitely.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Her boyfriend says with a smile, looking a little misty-eyed himself. “Coming out’s really fucking nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

“No kidding.”

“Is Link still okay to use?”

“I think so, yeah,” Lincoln responds, and she’s thought quite a bit about it. Despite how masculine her full name is, Link still likes it a lot. Maybe she’d find something later, but for now, she’s content with it.

“I, um,” Lincoln stutters, a little unsure of how to word it. “Is it alright if you use she/ her for me today? I still like he/him, but… feminine feels better right now.”

“Of course. Speaking of feminine, this dress looks fantastic on you.”

“Really?” Link asks, twisting a little and glancing back at the mirror, grateful to see that her makeup still looks okay.

“Really. You should buy it! If you like it, too, of course.”

“I do,” She confirms, wiping up the last of her tears, letting go of Taylor’s hand to pat her face dry with the backs of her palms. “I really do.”

“Did you do a little spin yet?” There’s a fond excitement in Taylor’s eyes as he looks her up and down - not just appraisingly, but lovingly.

She shakes her head.

“Trust me, it’s the best part. I know these things.”

Lincoln spins around a little, curious, and the way the dress floats around her, the way the fabric laps against her legs like waves - it’s addictive and oddly freeing. She twirls a little faster, reveling in the feel of it, and a smile stretches wide on her face as she lets out a little whoop of excitement.

“This is amazing, Tay!”

“It’s great, right?”

Link comes to a stop, her dress still in motion from the force of her whirling, and she’s giddy as the fabric swooshes, then settles.

“Yeah. Wow, I kinda never wanna take this off.” She smooths her hands down her sides and over her waist, looking up again at her reflection.

She looks happy.

Lincoln is happy - really, truly, incandescently happy, in a way she doesn’t think she’s felt in a long, long time.

“You do kinda need to take it off to buy it, though,” Taylor says. “As much as I love how gorgeous you look in it.”

“Guess so,” Link says, already dreading changing back. Maybe she can convince Taylor to help her out of the dress - with minimal making out. Maybe.

“Have you told anyone else?” Taylor asks her, dispersing Lincoln’s brief fantasies.

Link shakes her head. “I thought about telling Dad, but, well, he’d want to tell Grant… things are still a little rocky between us, but, like, I still love him, and I don’t wanna hurt his feelings by not telling him directly? Does that even make sense?” “It does, I think,” Taylor says.

“I’m gonna tell Normal and Scary, soon, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And… I was thinking of talking to Hermie about… this. Gender,” Lincoln confesses, though she still cringes at the thought of it. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but they probably knew a lot more about gender nonconformity than Link’s figured out through her own research.

“Mm, my auncle probably has some good insights, even if the two of you don’t really get along,” Taylor muses, seemingly on a similar train of thought.

“She's probably not gonna make fun of me, right?”

Her boyfriend’s eyes gleam with demonic light even in the weird fluorescent lighting of the changing room, brows furrowed, and Lincoln’s stomach does a funny little flip at the expression. “Link,” He says seriously, “If they’re even the slightest bit mean about it, I’m fucking his shit up on sight. I don’t care if we’re related - Nobody messes with my girlfriend.”

My girlfriend, Link’s mind plays back, loops it like a broken record as something shining and effervescent floods the cavities of her lungs. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, I’m his girlfriend .

Lincoln must not be making the right face, because Taylor hastily tacks on, “W-who is also my boyfriend! Sometimes?”

He blinks up at her, brows tilted upwards in concern, a silent are you okay? and god, Link is so, so happy that she lets out a little huff of laughter.

“No, no, it’s not that, I just… I didn’t realize how much I’d like hearing you say that.”

“Oh?” A shit-eating grin forms on her boyfriend’s face, and before she can do anything about it, he’s reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “I have the most beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend in the world. I adore her big brown eyes, her pretty hair, her stunning smile… oh, my god, look at that, there it is, my girlfriend’s smile.”

“Stop,” Link says, half-hearted and breathless, so much heat rushing to her dimpled cheeks that Taylor, even with his demonic heritage, can probably feel it. And she would look down, but she’d only meet Taylor’s smug, knowing smirk, and that would only make her more ridiculously happy.

Taylor moves his hands to her waist, squeezes at her sides, and though she’s sure he’s continuing his goofy little litany, she’s a little too overwhelmed by sheer exhilaration to make out most of it.

Not quite sure what to do with all her joy, laughter tumbles out, lower and raspier than she would like at the moment, but loud and bright and full.

“Oh, wow, my girlfriend just laughed and it’s my favorite sound in the whole wide world!” Taylor says, and she can hear the beam in his voice, so wide that his eyes narrow to crescents. “My girlfriend looks so pretty in this dress. I’m gonna have to buy her a dozen more.”

“You are not doing that!”

“Of course I am,” Taylor refutes, shaking his head with that adorable vehemence of his. “I’m rich! One for every day of the week, at least. You look so happy in it. I’m gonna spoil you so bad, wô de tiānshî.”

“Wô de tiānshî,” Lincoln parrots, sounding out the rise and fall of the syllables carefully. “I haven’t heard that one. What does it mean?”

“‘My angel,’” Taylor tells her softly, thumbs gently circling at her waist, and the reverence in his eyes makes her feel simultaneously unmovable and unsteady on her feet. “I always thought it would suit you, but traditionally, it’s used for girlfriends. Unless that’s too, like, weirdly gendered, uh, if it makes you uncomfortable -”

Link crushes her wonderful, amazing boyfriend to herself in a tight hug.

In an instant, Taylor’s arms circle around her, too, and so much about her has felt wrong lately, but this has always, always felt right.

“I love it,” Lincoln says, “I love you . Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Love you, too,” he replies, and they stay like that for a few long moments.

Eventually, Link pulls away, and Taylor drops his arms.

“So, wanna get this dress and get out of here and go for froyo in the food court?” He asks.

“Only if you help me take this off,” Link answers, waggling her eyebrows like Taylor had earlier. "Seriously, the zippers on these things are kinda tricky."

Taylor laughs.

“That’s my girl.”

#happy international women's day!!! *transes a guy's gender*#bigender link is so real to me okay. so real #also. this is the first time i think i've written someone coming out maybe 😅 hope it reads somewhat realistically!#also ft some mandarin terms of endearment from taylor (and link. link's learning :])#okay uhhhhh hope y'all like it!!!#dndads #fic #swiftli #dndads swiftli week 2024 #happi scribbles

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samasmith23 · 9 months

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The best Saladin Ahmed Ms. Marvel scene

One of the strongest elements from the original G. Willow Wilson run on Ms. Marvel IMO was the complicated relationship between Kamala Khan and her best friend Bruno Carrelli. While Kamala & Bruno already had a long history as childhood friends, Wilson portrayed both characters struggling with developing romantic feelings for each another due to them now being teenagers and dealing with hormones and all that jazz. Saladin Ahmed followed-up on this subplot during his run on Magnificent Ms. Marvel after Wilson left the title, and in Issue #9 seems to finally settle the "will-they/won't they" drama of the character's relationship by having Kamala suddenly kiss Bruno when she was torn between stopping a supervillain's rampage and staying at the hospital with her dying Abu.

However, by Issue #15 after Kamala felt awkward about publicly dating Bruno and suffered a near-death experience due to the events of the Outlawed crossover, the two decide to have an incredibly honest and earnest conversation about the status of their relationship:

Although I’ve used to be a huge shipper of these two as a couple, I can honestly understand both Kamala & Bruno’s perspectives here on why they feel it won’t work for them and feel they should just stay friends despite their feelings for one-another. And I love how Kamala acknowledges being confused about her feelings for Bruno since she kissed him in a heat of passion when she was emotionally stressed due to other factors like the Stormranger Nanosuit influencing Kamala's physical behavior to try and kill her arch-nemesis Discord (aka, Josh Richardson) and her grief and anger over her Abu dying in the hospital while she had to go off and fight the supervillain Mr. Hyde.

Additionally, Bruno acknowledges that maybe he was too fixated in the ideal relationship he always imagined having with Kamala that and ended up being a jerk about wanting to be more open about their relationship after the kiss. And while it’s a more subtle implication, Bruno’s mentioning of his ex-girlfriend Mike from G. Willow Wilson’s run is a reference to Bruno and Mike’s relationship developing at a more natural pace without any of the awkward baggage that comes with Bruno & Kamala being best friends since childhood.

Furthermore, this conversation between Kamala & Bruno served as a nice callback to the rooftop scene from the Last Days arc of Wilson’s run wherein Kamala similarly stated that she wasn't ready to pursue romance due to her life as Ms. Marvel. Except here, Ahmed provides some resolution and closure to Wilson leaving possibility of a relationship developing between the two open-ended, settling on the two characters deciding that the messiness of being a couple isn't worth risking their friendship over.

Overall, I was surprisingly impressed by how Saladin Ahmed handled Kamala and Bruno maturely sorting out their relationship and their decision to remain friends going forward. And I say all this as someone who defended and championed the KamalaXBruno ship for quite awhile (especially since a large subsection of Ms. Marvel fans on Twitter seem to actively despise Bruno as a character for reasons that I honestly don't understand...).

From Magnificent Ms. Marvel (2019) #15 by Saladin Ahmed & Minkyu Jung.

#ms marvel #kamala khan #ms marvel kamala khan #ms marvel comics #magnificent ms marvel #bruno carrelli #saladin ahmed #minkyu jung #ian herring #marvel comics #outlawed #mini essay

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princessmisery666 · 10 months

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PM666Reads - Fic Recs - June 2023

Sorry its taken so long to get this out but life is busy and only going to get busier. So this may be the last one for a while.

Fic Title - Author - Summary & warnings (if any) copied from author original post.

Clint Barton

The Spy Who Loved Me (series) - @letsby - She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up… Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Reader has a nickname but no physical description. Over 18’s only. Song lyrics from Carly Simon’s Nobody Does It Better.

Sam Wilson

What You Gave Me - @justagirlinafandomworld

Bucky Barnes

You Should'a Kissed Me - @justagirlinafandomworld

The Reason, The Answer - @justagirlinafandomworld

No Character Specified

History Repeats Itself - @hoboal87 - Warnings/Tags: a/b/o dynamics, mentions of / implied sex and knotting, implied unprotected sex, angst, ambiguous ending

Dean Winchester

Rules & Roses - @justagirlinafandomworld - AU in which Dean personifies Rules and Reader personifies Roses.

Distracted Driving - @dean-winchester-is-warrior - Y/N is out to prove she's a better driver than Dean, and Dean's very determined to distract her from that. Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Fingering, Implied oral (m receiving), stupid, dangerous driving (never do this IRL!)

I'm Driving - @justagirlinafandomworld - Warnings: just a lil’ manhandling 👀

You Smell like a wet dog prompt - @supernaturalfreewill -

Promise Me - @justagirlinafandomworld - No one is guaranteed a long life. Least of all hunters. Dean knows this and so do you. Still, you pull promises from each other to protect the sliver of happiness found together. Warnings: Naked fun. Fluff. Angst.

Rick Flag

Surprise - @a-reader-and-a-writer -

Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester (no wincest)

Tattered - @stusbunker - Warnings, etc: Hospitals, at risk pregnancy, hormonal imbalances, amnesia, claiming, little bit of blood, Sam and Dean tag team smut, emotional sex.

Sam Winchester

Waiting For A Love Like This - @girl-next-door-writes - Sam has been in love with his best friend for so long that loving them is like breathing. He has successfully kept the depth of his feelings hidden, but there’s only so long you can hold back those three words before they find a way to escape.

Jake Seresin

Manspreading - @writercole - Public transportation comes with many potential hazards, including sharing a seat with someone you don’t like. Warnings: Innuendo, Jake’s cocky ass.

Rhett Abbott

Faithfully - @writercole - A summer rainstorm brings big changes. Warnings: Fluff, rainstorm, Spoilers: proposal, pregnancy

Kraven the Hunter

You Better Run - @cockslutpadalecki - Once you’re on his list, there’s only one two ways off. Warnings: mentions of multiple orgasms, a little blood consumption, rough sex, mostly just PWP. MINORS DNI.

#fics rec #fics recs #pm666reads #marvel #supernatural #kraven the hunter #jake seresin #rhett abbott #sam wilson #bucky barnes #dean winchester #sam winchester #top gun maverick #spn #fluff #angst

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brian-in-finance · 10 months

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SPOILERS AHEAD ! ! ! 🦜 (what she said)

Outlander Just Broke Our Hearts. Here's How Sam Heughan and Caítríona Balfe Reacted.

Robert Wilson/Starz

The official logline for episode 702 of Outlander secretly warned us what we were in for ("a startling discovery about Roger and Brianna's newborn daughter; a familiar face returns; explosive consequences at the Ridge…"), but nothing could have prepared us for everything that went down, both literally and figuratively. Written by Toni Graphia and directed by Lisa Clarke, the episode—titled “The Happiest Place on Earth”—harkened back to Outlander's early days, when traveling through the Stones was commonplace, and Jamie and Claire were left with nothing but each other.

The episode starts at Fraser's Ridge, with Claire looking well after being captured. However, she soon runs into Malva's brother, Allan, who is visiting his sister's grave. We learn that he was the one who killed his sister because he raped her and the unborn child was his. He pulls out a pistol and tries to kill himself, but Claire pulls the gun away, thinking she's saved him until Ian shoots him with an arrow and kills him. Later, when Claire and Ian go to bury Allan, Mrs. Bug sees what they're doing and offers to help.

Following the opening credits, we see footage of Disneyland from the ‘50s, which seems to make no sense until later in the episode. (On that note, how much fun would it be to see a fantasy episode in which Jamie is able to travel through the Stones and Claire takes him to Disneyland? I’d watch that in a heartbeat).

Anyway, the joy of Disneyland soon gives way to Bree screaming at the top of her lungs about to give birth. (Hey, I'm sure some people have had a similar reaction to The Haunted Mansion or Tower of Terror). She gives birth to a little girl named Amanda Claire Hope Mackenzie. But soon thereafter Claire notices Mandy’s fingernails are blue-ish. She listens to her heartbeat, and realizes that Mandy has excess blood flowing to the lungs which means not enough oxygenated blood flows through the body. Mandy will probably not survive without surgery.

And so, the Mackenzies decide they must go through the Stones. But first they must prepare for the trip ahead. While gathering supplies, Bree runs into Lord John and meets William Ransom, Jamie’s son, and her half-brother. Bree is annoyed that Lord John won’t tell William about Jamie, and says she hasn’t forgotten about her other father (Frank) or stopped loving him. Later, Jamie visits Lord John and says he won’t be fighting for the British. Lord John gives him a sapphire to give to Bree to pass thru the Stones. Jamie is overcome with emotion.

Bree, Lord John, and William. Robert Wilson/Starz

In the official press notes for the episode, David Berry (Lord John) says “that was an interesting scene to film. Lisa, the director, and I discussed this was like it was a divorce scene. The separation of Jamie and Lord John; Jamie has taken his allegiance to the Continentals and Lord John to the British—there is now an irreconcilable difference. However, there's still immense love there from both sides. The sapphire was symbolic of a ring—a piece of jewelry that unifiest them or a symbol of their deep connection. So, the giving back of the ring is an act of love, but it's also a goodbye. It's a way of ending the relationship.”

Anyway, we get to the meaning of the episode's title later that evening when Jamie and Bree spot fireflies in the forest. She tells him about Disneyland and why it's known as the Happiest Place on Earth. He asks if she’s disappointed being here in the 18th century, but she says no because it’s magical being with him.

Later, Jamie gives Claire a small gem in case she wants to go through the Stones as well, but she throws it out the window, never giving a second thought to leaving Jamie behind. They kiss and he says they should fetch that gem.

The next day the Mackenzies and Frasers travel by boat to the Ocracoke Stones. It’s a highly emotional scene all around, for both Claire and Bree, Jamie and Roger Mac, Jamie and Bree, Jamie and Jemmy (you get the picture). The intensity of the moment is balanced out by a sweet and clever exchange with Jamie and Jemmy where he tells his grandson to send his regards to “Michael Mouse.” Of course, any laughter one might have soon gives way to full-on waterworks when Jamie tells Bree he doesn't have the words and can't say goodbye.

The hardest of goodbyes. Robert Wilson/Starz

The Mackenzies successfully pass through the Stones, which we learn when they wake up and see a plane in the sky. Meanwhile, back in the 18th century, Jamie and Claire arrive back at the Ridge and things start to heat up in bed before Claire starts crying. She says every time she closes her eyes, she’s lost half her family. She tells Jamie she’ll never see them again, and he says he often thinks of Murtagh, as he knows they’ve lost a great many between them. Claire starts bawling. I'm bawling. Where's a trip to Disneyland when you need one?

At least we then get a little montage of things going well at the Ridge. However, there's too much time left in this episode for it to end on this uplifting note. Soon enough, Claire enters into the main house at night where she stumbles upon fellow time-traveler, Wendigo Donner. Claire wants to know what he is doing there and questions where he was when she needed his help before she was gang-raped. He says he would have been killed had he tried to intervene, but he's not there to talk about the past. Instead, he wants to get back to the present day and needs her help on how to travel through the Stones. She's reluctant, but just wants him out of her life, so she advises him to focus, have a clear conscience, don't drink, etc. But this being Outlander, he then pulls out a pistol and asks for more gemstones. He and his men (who had also been holding Jamie in another room) start ripping apart the house, including Claire’s lab. While I love this entire house, it's the demolition of Claire's hard work developing ether and all that's in her lab that leaves me the most devastated. But then it gets worse; Wendigo lights a match so he and his men can have more light to find the gemstones, but the fire from the match comes in contact with the ether, and the episode ends with the house blowing up.

“That was a really emotional, in part because it comes on the heels of losing Bree and Roger and the kids,” Caítríona Balfe (Claire) tells Glamour. “I think for Claire, she was trying to hold everything in and be the strong person who's let them go for a really good reason…but it's this thing of just losing your home [that breaks her]. It is such a destabilizing thing.”

The house going up in flames means it was also the end of a massive—and important—set piece that's been part of Outlander for several seasons now. “We were saying goodbye to that place, the location that had been our home for the last couple of years,” Sam Heughan (Jamie) adds. “It holds a lot of memories for Jamie and Claire.”

But before we get too much into the aftermath of the fire, we hopped on a Zoom with executive producer Maril Davis to talk about the episode as a whole, and what the goodbye scene means going forward.

Glamour: That was the most emotional episode I've seen in awhile, and also one of my favorites.

Maril Davis: Well, I cry every time I watch that goodbye scene [at the Stones], and I've seen it 20 times. I just think there's something so sad about it as a mom to be sending your daughter back through. And then also, I think the complicated thing about that scene was there was a lot of goodbyes. Do you know what I mean? You had Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Bye bye. And then I think actors and director and the writers all figured out a way to make it kind of seamless and so heartfelt.

When Jamie says goodbye to Jemmy and has that iconic line about, "If you see a mouse named, Michael, tell him I say hi." But my favorite, favorite line from that scene that I'm so glad made it in is when Jamie at the end declares something to the effect of, "If not for you, I would not go on." And that to me encapsulates their whole relationship. It's like I've just sent my kid and my grandkids through. I do not think I can make it except for you. That's the only reason I'm still alive. And I'm just like, oh my God, I just want to cry.

Claire and Jamie Forever. Robert Wilson/Starz

Wasn't it also the last scene for the little actors (Andrew and Matthew Adair) that played Jemmy?

Yes. So yes, those twins, we won't be seeing them again. I know they've grown so much.

When might we get a Roger, Bree, Claire, and Jamie reunion?

I think we've been at pains to try to show that going through the Stones is not easy. It's not like a low revolving door that you could just go through. And I think it takes its toll going through the Stones and people have died. We know from past seasons that Wendigo Donner, his friends didn't make it. It takes its toll on you, so it's not something you should enter into lightly. So I think, Bree and Roger are thinking, this is a time we should stay in, that feels like a safer time. And I think Jamie and Claire feel better knowing they're in this other time and they're safe. But are they?

So will they reunite this season and be in the same time period?

I can't say anything. You'll have to watch.

Let's talk about the fire at the end. Wow.

Oh my God, I'm so sad to see that house go. It's so sad. But on the other hand, we have been talking about this fire for so long. I think I just wanted to tap in and us to move on. It was so sad though. That beautiful house is no longer there, but I think also the aftermath of it is so brilliantly done by our art department.

And that took a long time to do. That's not just like, oh, we burn it down. That's a piece of art. I think for the actors, it was a really sad moment for them as well, because we've been filming on this set for a long time. We no longer have this set, and we said goodbye to some sets this year. We also said goodbye to our Wilmington set. And it's something very sad when you say goodbye to these pieces of your show that you're not going to go back to. It feels like a nostalgia and a kind of bittersweet moment. It's just like everything you know and love is gone. But that's the point of it. It's like that's just possession and the important thing is right here.

Glamour

Remember… it's this thing of just losing your home [that breaks her]. It is such a destabilizing thing. — Caitríona Balfe

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Outlander #Glamour #23 June 2023 #S07E02 The Happiest Place On Earth #Instagram Story

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bi-bard · 2 years

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Feels Like I’m Becoming a Part of Your Past - James Wilson Imagine (House MD)

Title: Feels Like I’m Becoming a Part of Your Past

Pairing: James Wilson X Reader

Based On: Bye Bye Baby

Word Count: 680 words

Warning(s): mentions of divorce and infidelity.

Summary: Maybe James should accept that he’s the reason so many of his relationships have failed… or not. Pushing away blame is much easier.

Author's Note: Short and angsty. Just how I like it.

Masterlist for From the Vault - Taylor Swift Writing Challenge

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I was convinced that I would never find myself in a divorce. It took me such a long time to love and trust people that I thought that the person I chose to let in would be the real deal.

I was convinced that James was the right person.

How could someone that was so careful be careless when loving someone?

I was shocked at how long my brain could go without acknowledging I was in pain.

It didn't set in when we were yelling at each other.

It didn't set in when we signed the divorce papers.

None of it hit me while I was going through the process. It made me feel cold and heartless. I had resorted to being exactly what he had claimed that I was.

It wasn't until the first night completely alone that it all set in. No more meetings or need to contact him. The first night in my apartment with nothing to do other than face my thoughts.

I had failed. My relationship had crumbled in front of me, and I failed to stop it.

I spent the first night on my couch. Most of it had been me avoiding the empty side of a bed. The smaller the space, the less there was to miss. It didn't make sense to me then, and it doesn't make sense to me now.

The next morning, I woke up to someone knocking on my door.

I had this deep sense of dread in my stomach.

I only wish that I had listened to it at the time.

I pulled the door open to see James on the other side of the door.

"Did I not sign in the right place," I asked, hoping this was just about the papers and not something more ridiculous.

"I wanted to talk," he replied.

"We did that," I said. "Kinda how we ended up choosing to get divorced."

"We have more to talk about."

"No, we don't. I don't have anything to say, and I've listened to every excuse you could come up with."

James sighed, "Please."

"No."

"This is why we ended," he pointed at me. "You could never communicate."

"What?"

"You just shut down. Something doesn't go your way and you throw up all of these walls. I got tired of trying to break through them."

There was a moment of silence where neither one of us spoke.

"You are so much dumber than I originally thought," I finally said.

"What," he asked.

"James, we split up because you fucked someone else," I replied. "My communication skills were not the problem."

James didn't reply. Not to deny it or to make some half-assed attempt to explain himself.

"I know it's easier for you to blame someone else, but you didn't accidentally fall into someone's vagina."

He looked down.

I was right. I was starting to accept that. I was not the reason my relationship failed. I couldn't have stopped what he did. I had no control over that. He did. He had every chance to stay committed to me and he didn't That's not my fault.

He forgot about everything I had ever done for him. Every chance I took in trusting him. It was not my fault that he didn't see that until it was too late. I shouldn't have had to teach him.

"Is there anything else I can help you with," I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He just looked back up and rolled his eyes. "Then leave. I am not talking about this anymore. I did my talking before signing the divorce papers."

I closed the door in his face.

As I stepped away, I heard another knock. I didn't open it.

"I'm sorry," I heard him call through the door. "I'm sorry for everything."

I didn't respond to him. He didn't deserve that.

This wasn't a movie where he could say all the right things and I would go back to him. That's not how this was going to work. He knew that.

I just wish he would accept it.

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Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#james wilson x reader #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson imagine #dr james wilson fanfiction #dr james wilson x reader #dr james wilson imagine #house md x reader #house md imagine #house md fanfiction

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callmebrycelee · 1 month

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9-1-1 REACTION

This reaction is for the season 7, second episode “Rock the Boat” which originally aired March 21, 2024. The episode was written by Lyndsey Beaulieu and Juan Carlos Coto and directed by executive producer and Glee and American Horror Story director Bradley Buecker. Spoilers ahead!

“Stay calm and nobody will be hurt.” – Boris, the pirate

We begin the episode by picking up where we left off. Bobby, Athena, and Norman Peterson (played by Daniel Roebuck) are taken hostage along with Captain Ochoa (played by Mercedes Colon). We learn the reason the pirates have come aboard is because the ship has been turned around due to the approaching tropical storm. The lead pirate, Boris (played by Nikita Bogolyubov), asks Norman to hand over the dongle in exchange for Lola (played by Romy Rosemont). Another pirate walks over with a bound and gagged Lola. Norman insists he doesn’t have the dongle and Boris gives him to the count of three to turn it over. Bobby and Athena intervene on Norman’s behalf and for a moment Boris accuses them of having the dongle. He tells them that he’s only messing with them and then he shoots Norman.

Cue title card.

Bobby goes to assist Norman while Athena tries to talk Boris down. Athena deduces that Lola is having an affair with the cruise director, Julian (Rick Cosnett). She explains that when Norman called Julian over to their table a few nights ago, she noticed Lola wouldn’t look him in the eye. Turns out, Julian is the one with the dongle and after he gets roughed up a bit, he turns it over along with the password. Norman is heartbroken by all of this and asks to die. Boris and the other pirates flee the ship now that they have what they need and Athena escorts Lola away. Bobby carries Norman to a nearby casino and places him on a craps table so he can access his injuries. The ship’s doctor (played by Eddie Jemison) is brought over but he immediately gets nauseous upon seeing Norman’s gunshot wound. Athena tells him to go help Julian who only has minor injuries. Athena asks her husband what he needs. Bobby tells her he needs his team.

“Why is that drunks always come out of these things without a scratch?” – Hen Wilson

The 118 are called to the scene of an accident involving a young girl and her mother. Lexi (played by Jadah Marie) and her mother are trapped in a car after being struck by another vehicle. While Eddie accesses the mother’s injuries, Chimney goes to talk to the other driver involved in the collision. The driver (played by Ricky Martinez) refuses to be checked out and gets rough with Chimney. Hen comes over and asks the driver if he is refusing care. The driver says, he does not consent to being checked out. Hen asks Officer Williams (played by Chris Wu) to detain the driver. Chimney tells Hen that they should still evaluate the guy but Hen says ‘no’.

Lexi and her mother are safely extracted from the vehicle and loaded into an ambulance. Officer Williams calls out to Hen; the other driver has stopped breathing. Chimney checks his pulse but there isn’t one, so he immediately starts with compressions. Officer Williams says one moment the guy was fine and then he started speaking gibberish. Then he collapsed. Hen switches places with Hen and asks Buck and Eddie to call for another ambulance and also call the hospital to have a neurologist standing by.

“Better than finding out your wife of 36 years, the mother of your only child is an international smuggler … and a strumpet?” – Norman Peterson

We head back over to the cruise ship where Athena and Bobby have transformed into their first responder alter egos. Bobby tends to Norman. The latter is still coming to terms with his wife of 36 years and the mother of their only child is an international smuggler. He tells Bobby that he and Lola got rid of their home and sold all their possessions at a yard sale. They only made $2800. $2800 for 36 of memories. Norman asks Bobby how long he and Athena have been married. Bobby tells him they’ve been married for four years and that it’s the second marriage for the both of them. Norman asks Bobby if he’s happy and Bobby, without hesitation, says ‘yes’. Meanwhile, Lola asks Athena if she can be by Norman’s side, but Athena asks her if she really thinks Norman wants to see her right now. Athena goes to Bobby and asks him how Norman is doing. Bobby tells her Norman is stable but needs a surgeon. Bobby suggests contacting the Coast Guard so that Norman can be airlifted to safety. Athena and Bobby go to find Captain Ochoa but as leave, Athena notices Julian is gone.

“His name was Kyle Ortiz. His mother is Olivia Ortiz.” – Chief Simpson

Back in Los Angeles, Hen is dropped off at the 118 where Chimney and the others are waiting. She tells Chimney that the belligerent driver was pronounced dead at the hospital. Hen is shocked to discover the LAFD Professional Services Division is at the station taking statements. Chief Simpson (played by Richard Brooks) asks to speak with Hen. He tells her that the guy who died is Kyle Ortiz – the son of Councilwoman Olivia Ortiz. Hen insists that Kyle was showing signs of impairment, but Chief Simpson reminds her they won’t know for sure until his toxicology report comes back. Hen reminds the chief that Kyle refused care and that she followed protocol. Chief Simpson tells Hen she is removed from active duty until they get the toxicology report back. He tells her to go home.

“She went after the snake.” – Lola Peterson

Bobby goes to Captain Ochoa to ask her about contacting the Coast Guard. Captain Ochoa tells him that the pirates sabotaged all of the com systems and the transponder. She lets him know she is headed below deck to check on the engines. She tells Bobby that Mr. Peterson is still his patient and to let her know if his condition changes.

Bobby goes back to the casino to check on Norman. He asks Dr. Gibson about his condition. Dr. Gibson tells him that Norman is in and out of consciousness and his vitals are weak. Security Officer Wes (played by Denzel Johnson) brings Lola over to Norman. Bobby asks the officer where Athena is. Meanwhile, Athena locates Julian and knocks him out with a fire extinguisher. She asks him what his plan is. Julian tells her he was planning on staging his death. Athena uses some zip-ties to cuff him.

Captain Ochoa finds Chief Communication Engineer Scott Westin (played by Nate Riley) trying to get everything back online. They think he’s successful until Scott finds a long yellow cord attached to a hatch. He opens the hatch which detonates a bomb. The blast takes out the lower half the ship causing it to capsize.

“Well, they can’t fire you for one bad call.” – Evan “Buck” Buckley

Hen tells the others about her suspension. Eddie asks what happens if the toxicology report comes back showing Kyle Ortiz wasn’t under the influence. Hen tells him she doesn’t know but Councilwoman Ortiz is looking for someone to blame for her son dying. Buck says they can’t fire her for one bad call. Hen asks him if anyone has said it was bad call. Buck, of course, starts babbling and back-pedaling. Hen asks him if he thinks she made a bad call. He tells her know and says he and Eddie really didn’t see anything since they were tending to the young woman and her mother in the other car. Eddie says that he and the others all thought the guy was drunk, too. Hen says that he was and that she can smell it. She says Chimney could smell Kyle as well. Chimney says he didn’t smell anything. Hen finds this surprising considering he was the one closest to Kyle. Chimney asks her if she wanted him to lie. Hen is extremely offended by him asking this. He tells her that if the roles were reversed he and the others would’ve made the same call. Hen says, if the roles were reversed, she would have their backs and that she wouldn’t have to lie to do it.

“You just got a little more redder than white collar.” – Athena Grant

Back on the ship, the lights are flickering, sirens are going off, and the lower deck is taking on water. Athena and Julian try to find a way back to the others. Bobby checks Norman to access for further damage. A general muster call goes out over the ship’s intercom system asking for all passengers to go to their pre-designated muster stations. A passenger named Jarod (played by Christopher Livingston) asks if they need to abandon ship. The ship’s doctor says not necessarily; it’s just a general muster. Jarod says he is not getting in a lifeboat without all of his casino winnings. He threatens to sue the cruise line. Lola asks what they should do. Bobby says they will need to wait on an order to abandon ship. He tells Lola to stay with her husband and when she asks where he’s going, he tells her he’s going to find his wife.

Down in the lower deck, Athena and Julian find Scott Westin dead and Captain Ochoa trapped under some debris. Athena cuts Julian’s ties so he can help her lift the debris off the captain. The captain’s arm is broken, and she has some broken ribs. Captain Ochoa radios to First Mate Kenneth (played by Anthony Carvello) and tells him that the pirates have hobbled the ship. She tells him the ship is taking on water. Kenneth tells her that a general muster has been called. Captain Ochoa gives him the order to abandon ship. He warns her about the storm, but she tells him things are only going to get worst. In order to deploy the lifeboats, someone will need to activate the bilge pump. Athena volunteers to complete the task under the condition that Julian gets the captain back to the top part of the ship.

“They did not betray you. They were just trying to make you feel better about the situation.” – Karen Wilson

Over at the Wilsons’ residence, Hen is venting to Karen about her suspicion and Chimney, Buck, and Eddie’s betrayal. Always the level-headed one, Karen assures her the guys were only trying to comfort her. Hen says that they were only trying to comfort her because they believe she made a bad call. Hen admits she screwed up. She tells Karen that when she looked at Kyle Ortiz, all she saw was an entitled brat. Karen reminds her that she didn’t kill Kyle. Hen tells her she didn’t save him either. Karen implores her to let this matter go. Hen gets up and goes to call Athena. She gets the voicemail which prompts her to call Bobby. She gets Bobby’s voicemail as well. Hen starts to get concerned but Karen reminds her there is a tropical storm off the coast of Baja which has been upgraded to a hurricane and is currently heading back out to sea. This does not quell Hen’s concern; however, Karen tells her everything will be fine because ships like the one Bobby and Athena are on are built to sustain anything, even a hurricane.

“Of course she is.” – Bobby Nash

Bobby runs into Security Officer Wes who is busy helping passengers get onto lifeboats. He tells Bobby that once he’s finished, he will help him get Norman ready for transport. Bobby asks him if he’s seen Athena and Wes says he thought she was still in the casino. They try to find her via her passenger medallion, but they are unable to locate her. Bobby asks Wes where the explosion happened, and Wes tells him the engineering room on portside. Just as Bobby is about to leave, Captain Ochoa and Julian make it back. The captain tells Bobby that Athena saved her. When he asks her where Athena is, Julian says that she is saving the ship.

“Did you lose a boat?” – Maddie Buckley

Hen goes to see Maddie at the dispatch center, and it occurred to me that we rarely get scenes between these two characters. Hen asks Maddie to contact the Coast Guard. Maddie jokingly asks her if she lost a boat and Hen tells her that she cannot locate Bobby and Athena’s cruise ship. She shows Maddie a map with every ship that’s currently on the water off the coast of California. Bobby and Athena’s ship is not showing up on the map. Hen tells Maddie she has tried to call Athena and Bobby, but her calls are going straight to voicemail. Maddie says she will make a call.

Athena makes it to the room where the bilge pump is located. She tries to open the hatch but isn’t strong enough. Bobby makes it to her and helps her open the door. The two of them go inside but the door slams shut behind him. Now the two of them are trapped inside and the room is rapidly filling with water.

“Sometimes when people do the kinds of jobs you do, they understand the urgency of now. Of not waiting.” – Frank, the therapist

We flashback to two weeks before the cruise. We see Bobby in a session with everyone’s favorite therapist, Frank (played by Eddie McGee). Bobby is feeling the weight of their upcoming cruise and wonders if he and Athena had their honeymoon after they were married that maybe things wouldn’t seem so consequential. He admits that when he asked Athena to marry him, she was in a vulnerable place. They both were. Bobby was widowed and Athena was newly divorced. He and Athena had only been together a few months before he proposed to her. Bobby tells Frank that he didn’t give Athena a chance to say ‘no’. Frank tells Bobby that he’s afraid that if they go on the cruise, it’ll give Athena the chance to tell him ‘no’. His advice to Bobby is to go on the cruise and enjoy spending time with his wife.

“I don’t deserve you, Athena. I never did.” – Bobby Nash

Back on the ship, Bobby is trying to get the door open. He starts to call for help, but Athena tells him that no one is going to hear them because everyone is getting onto lifeboats. The reality of their situation starts to settle in, and Bobby apologizes to Athena. He tells her she wouldn’t even be here, trapped, if it weren’t for him dragging her on the cruise. He tells her he doesn’t deserve her but for some reason she said yes. Athena tells him she would say ‘yes’ again. He tells her that he couldn’t even save his first family and he can’t save her either. Athena tells him he’s already saved her. She reminds him that he’s not the only one getting a second chance. She tells him that she’s there with him because she wants to be. She admits that she was afraid that she wouldn’t know how to be with him without all the noise. She was worried that when they were alone, they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. But now, with time running out for the both of them, she has lots to say. Athena says I love you, Husband and Bobby says I love you, my wife. They kiss as the water wises. Bobby tells Athena to grab the pole over their heads while he goes under water to hold her up. Athena screams for him. Just as the water rises up to their necks, the door opens. Turns out Julian isn’t all that bad of a guy.

“Captain Wilson, our job is to protect the people of Los Angeles.” – Chief Simpson

Back at the dispatch center, Hen runs into Chief Simpson. He tells her that she can go back to work. He tells her that Kyle Ortiz’s toxicology report came back showing he was twice over the legal limit and had meth in his system. He says that Hen acted professionally. The 118 will be turned back over to her. Hen tells Chief Simpson she is looking for Captain Nash and his wife. She tells him that their cruise ship is missing. He asks if there was an SOS from the ship. She says ‘no’ but they need to utilize all resources to find them. Chief Simpson reminds her that they are not the Coast Guard and that the LAFD has no jurisdiction over the waters off of Mexico. He tells her to report back to the 118 as captain. After he leaves, Hen asks Maddie for the number for 9-1-1 in Mexico.

Julian leads Bobby and Athena back to the top deck, He tells them that almost everyone has been placed onto a lifeboat. Only a handful of them are still on the ship.

“That can’t be a coincidence.” – Hen Wilson

Maddie reaches out to 9-1-1 in Mexico. She learns that around ten that morning, more than two dozen 9-1-1 calls came into coastal emergency call centers in central Mexico. All of the calls dropped. Hen says that’s around the same time Bobby and Athena’s ship went off the radar. Hen gets up to leave right as Maddie gets a call from Chimney. Hen asks her not to answer it until she’s out of the building because she doesn’t feel like being second-guessed right now.

“He wouldn’t leave without you.” – Julian Enes

Julian, Bobby, and Athena make it back to the top deck where Captain Ochoa, Norman, Lola, Security Officer Wes, Dr. Gibson, and Jarod are waiting. Bobby is shocked that Norman hasn’t been evacuated but he is told that Norman wouldn’t leave without him and Athena. Captain Ochoa reports that First Mate Kenneth is trying to send a distress call via SOS. We then see Kenneth using a light to send out a message. He goes outside the cabin and sees a huge wave approaching them. He sets off an alarm. Back on the top deck, Bobby yells for everyone to brace themselves for the oncoming wave. When the wave hits, we see the ship flip upside down and just like the movie Poseidon Adventure, we see everyone slide across the floor. Athena holds onto a table. Jarod falls onto the glass ceiling but thankfully it doesn’t shatter. Oh, shit!!!!

Oh man! Oh man! Oh man! Let me just say, I have never been this riveted by an episode of 9-1-1 and that’s saying a lot considering I have seen episodes where the 118 face off against 7.8 earthquakes, mudslides, tsunamis, city-wide blackouts, and Maddie’s husband. We still have one more episode to go before we see this story play out, but something tells me this season opener is going to go down as one of the best of the series. I loved both stories equally this episode. I sympathized with Hen as she second-guessed her actions during the emergency call. I also felt bad for Chimney, Buck, and Eddie who didn’t mean any harm but who could’ve chosen their words more carefully. I’m happy that Hen was vindicated in her actions as captain of the 118 but I do think she’s learned a valuable lesson about leadership and not judging so harshly. Kudos to Karen for being a supportive partner who was able to comfort Hen without simultaneously feeding into her frustrations. I do worry that Hen’s job will be put into jeopardy in the next episode when she ultimately defies orders from Chief Simpson and goes to look for Bobby and Athena. I actually worry about everyone else, too, because if I know my boys, I think Chimney, Buck, and Eddie are going to help her out.

As for the drama playing out on the ship, I really felt bad for Norman Peterson. When we met him several seasons ago, he was a husband who simply wasn’t paying attention to his wife’s needs. When this was brought to his attention, it seemed he did everything to make his marriage better. I hate that Lola cheated on him and which ultimately put his life in danger. I do wonder if their relationship will survive this catastrophe. I wonder if they will survive, period. Speaking of survival, last episode I was really worried about the state of Bobby and Athena’s marriage; however, after this episode, I feel confident these two are in it for the long haul. Yes, they thrive when it comes to chaos, but I think they will now be able to appreciate each other in those moments of calm. I will say, even though I knew coming into this episode that Bobby and Athena were going to survive, it didn’t stop me from tearing up during the scene where they told each other they loved each other right as the water was rising. This will go down as one of my favorite scenes of the show.

Next week is the conclusion to the cruise ship story and I’m counting the minutes until we get to see what happens next. 9-1-1 airs on Thursdays but I won’t get to see the episode until Friday. I’m extra excited about this Friday because it’s the same day that Cowboy Carter drops. So, hopefully I not only get an amazing Beyoncé album, I also get an amazing episode of 9-1-1. Until next time ..

#abc 911 #911 abc #athena grant #hen wilson #bobby nash #howard chimney han #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #evan buck buckely #tv reaction #blw reaction #911 7x02 #blw reactions #911 reactions #tv reactions 2024

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marvelstarker-mha98 · 10 months

Text

The Runaway Distance Life Of A Little Stark chapter 17: The Fall Of Shield

Pairing: Tony Stark & daughter!Reader, brock rumlow vs reader, Sam Wilson Vs brock rumlow, Friday & reader, Natasha romanoff & nick fury & Sam Wilson Steve Rogers & Sam wilson Summary: Reader meets a sam wilson and she also meets a Special Cameo Warning: Bullet, fight, Car crash Co author with: callikc Tag: @venomsvl @geeksareunique

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You quickly took the hand offered, grimacing as the sting in both your cheek and shoulder blade. "Thanks." You told the stranger, waiting for a name in return. "I'm a friend of Steve Rogers." He said. You tilted your head. "Cap sent you?"

"He wanted me to keep you safe. (Y/n), right?" "Yeah." You smiled. "And thanks. Consider your job done." You didn't wait for a reply and picked up the scepter case, securing it in one hand before grabbing a chair with the other and throwing it at one of the glass windows in the room. It shattered on impact and the friend of Steve's jumped back.

"Sorry, what's the plan here?" He questioned, confused.You lifted an arm and tapped a button hidden in the bracelet you wore. It turned green and you smirked. "I'm keeping this weapon away from HYDRA." You explained. "Then I'm going to New York to see my dad." "And that shoulder?" He motioned to the bleeding wound. "It needs to be treated.

"You shrugged, quickly regretting that action because of the sting of pain, and grimaced. "Yeah, I'm aware."

"Let me take a look."

"It's alright, I can manage it." You took a step towards the shattered window and glanced back at him. "What's your name? Got a flashy superhero title?"

He laughed and shook his head. "The name's Sam Wilson. United States Air Force pararescue. Or I used to be."

"Got a suit?"

"Falcon."You nodded in approval. "Nice name."

He grinned. "I know, right?"

"You look after it, and tell Steve I said thanks." You then turned to Rumlow, who was regaining consciousness.

"As for you... Shut the hell up in future."You flipped him off as you walked backwards towards the window.

You stopped at the edge, took a breath, and let yourself fall backwards. "(Y/n)!" Sam yelled, running forward. He stopped right at the edge of the building, eyes wide and jaw hanging open as a convertible floated up with you casually sitting in the driver's seat. "Holy shi-" He went to say. "Hey, watch that mouth." You warned with a smile, sitting back in the car that Coulson had bought you so long ago. "See ya, Sammy."You gave him a lazy salute and turned in the seat, flying off. "She's crazy." Sam mumbled, watching you fly off. "Cool, but crazy."

"Sam, any update on (Y/n)?" Steve then asked on comms.

"I found her. She's safe, and said thanks."

But he didn't hear the reply because Rumlow let out a loud yell of anger, trying to stand up again.

"No!" He groaned, looking at the spot you'd fallen from. "We need her!"

Sam glared. "Good luck getting her."

"You don't get it." He staggered to his feet. "She has the scepter! That brat won't be safe from us, HYDRA will always find her."

And, without warning, he lunged. The pair fought until Sam was pushed to the floor.

"This is gonna hurt." He glared, removing his jacket. "There are no prisoners with HYDRA, just order. And order only comes with pain. Are you ready for yours?" Sam got to his feet, wiping some blood from his lip. "Man, why don't you take (Y/n)'s advice and shut the hell up?"

At the same time, the two went for each other, getting a few good hits in. It was impossible to tell how long they kept the fight up, perhaps a few minutes, but it was abruptly interrupted when the helicarriers outside suddenly started firing at each other instead of their intended targets.

The three carriers destroyed each other, two crashing into the flood bank and wrecking that, while the third started losing altitude and heading straight for the Triskelion building itself.

Rumlow hadn't noticed the last part because he was too focused on taunting Sam. "You're out of your depth, kid."

Sam, on the other hand, had seen the rapidly approaching danger and immediately got to his feet, sprinting for an exit. This made Rumlow turn in confusion and notice the helicarrier.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed.

He tried to run but he wasn't fast enough, being lost in the debris as the carrier smashed into the building.

Sam wasn't far ahead, panicked and determined to outrun the killing machine. His only exit was the window on the opposite side of the room.

"Please tell me you got that chopper in the air!" He yelled on comms.

"Sam, where are you?" Natasha's voice replied.

"41st floor, north-west corner!"

"We're on it, stay where you are."

"Not an option!"

With the carrier directly behind him and dilapidating the room, he had no choice. When he came face-to-face with the window, he jumped.

By some miracle, the chopper Natasha and Fury were in was below him. It was turned on its side to catch him but before he fell through the other end, Natasha pulled him up.

"41st floor!" He yelled. "41st!"

Fury, who was piloting, glanced back at him. "It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!"

"Hill!" Natasha called, speaking to the woman who was still inside the command center. "Where's Steve? You got a location on Rogers?"

"What about (Y/n)?" Fury asked.

"She's okay." Sam said.

"Then where is she?"

"She said she was going to take the scepter to New York. She wants to find Stark."

"With the scepter?" Natasha questioned.

"Yeah."

"Does she want the Avengers to look after it? Or Thor?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

She nodded, thinking about it, before looking at Fury. "You need to tell Stark the truth before she does."

The sweat was beaded everywhere on your forehead. Your body - the shoulder in particular - felt like it was on fire.

The flying convertible was on autopilot and you were trying desperately to wrap your wound. The bullet hadn't gone through but the best you could do for now was stop the bleeding. Since it was an impromptu treatment, the only dressing you could find was half of your shirt.

When it was finally done, you relaxed in the seat, your body slumped and your eyes staring at the blue sky above. It was beautiful. Peaceful, even.

As the clouds came and went, as did your thoughts. You couldn't help thinking about what you were going to do once you arrived in New York. It was strange, the concept of talking to your dad after so many years. Did he still love you? Would he recognize you? Did he try looking for you after he became an Avenger? Would he be happy?

It was tiring. You just wanted to sleep.

An alarm startled you awake.

You hissed in pain and grasped your dressed shoulder, cursing under your breath.

"FRIDAY?" You asked. "What's going on?"

"We've run out of gas, Miss." She replied.

"Oh, for fu-" You threw your head back in frustration. "What's the flight power?"

"2% and falling."

As she said it, the convertible stuttered and shook, dropping a little. You grabbed the sides, eyes wide.

"Anywhere I can land?" You asked desperately. "Literally anywhere?!"

"Half a mile east is a corn farm in Philadelphia."

"Got it. Give me control."

The light signaling autopilot switched off and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it right. You sped up a little since the car was dropping more and more every few seconds. When the farm finally came into view, you cheered in relief.

The landing was bumpy and you almost got thrown out the convertible once or twice. Your knuckles turned stark white as you gripped the wheel with everything you had. When the car finally crashed, you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"Who the hell are you?" Someone asked.

You jumped, looking for the source of the voice and seeing who was presumably the farmer. It was an elderly man with glasses and a strong Manhattan accent.

"Sorry?" You asked, still processing.

"What are you doing on my farm?" He repeated. "Look what you did to my cornfields! I've had enough of you kids and your flying cars!"

"Uh..." You didn't know what to say. "I can pay for damages?"

The old man scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Still awkward, you dug around in the glove compartment until you got a slip. From there, you scribbled down details and offered it to him.

He took it from you, only seeming more confused as he read from the slip. "What kind of things does a farmer talk about when they are milking cows? Udder nonsense."

He did not look amused.

"Yeah..." You chuckled awkwardly. "I chose that one just for you."

#Tony stark #ironman #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark & daughter! reader #steve rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #Nick Fury #brock rumlow #sam wilson #falcon #mcu #marvel #avengers #stan lee cameo

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lokilickedme · 1 year

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Would you mind ranking your characters on how much you would or wouldn’t trust them to put a holiday dinner together?

Thank you for this @meri47 <3

I suppose, if I was ranking them all, I would start at the top with the most reliable dinner organizer and finish with the absolute dead last person I would ever want setting a plate in front of me, and that list looks something like this:

1. Chem!Tom. This one’s a no-brainer, the boy is a natural born nurturer and he runs a freaking pub. He feeds the homeless. He made sandwiches for Anja every day at lunchtime for what, two years after Sam died? Homeboy knows the way to just about anyone’s heart is through their gastrointestinal tract and he’s got the skills to be beloved by everyone who’s ever set foot in his establishment. He can cook, he can mix a drink, and he’s all about presentation with that cute ass and seductive wink. Definitely #1.

2. Rachel and Lani, aka the Puma Club girls. These ladies are in their early 50′s, have raised kids and kept husbands alive for decades, they’ve got something like 40 holidays under their belts. Old gals will pop a bottle and hit the kitchen and come out shitfaced drunk with a four course meal on the table two hours later, just go watch your damn football, they’ll yell when it’s ready.

3. Molly McClary. Sis has got the skilz with a pie and can bake circles around Martha Stewart without going to jail for tax evasion even once. We’re talking about the woman who put 20 lbs on the King of Claighe in their first ten years of marriage and fights tooth and nail for first prize at the Womens Institute Village Faire every Spring, you don’t go up against the Queen when dessert bragging rights are on the line. Plus she’s mastered the tenuous art of feeding King’s heathen cousins. She’s got this.

4. Kevin and Ted. Weemeetwa’s Merry Thankschristmas festival is a success every year thanks solely to these two - Kevin can shove a beer can up a turkey’s ass like nobody’s business and Ted’s Blueberry Fairies are Minnesota’s answer to psychadelic tiramisu (don’t ask, he’ll never tell...and no that wasn’t Wilson you saw sneaking down the alley behind the bakery. But it probably was). This is the day the Chief turns a blind eye to literally everything because goddamn the fixins are good so who cares what’s on the ingredients list?

5. Pete. Hear me out now - the big guy may swing a mean hammer and run his construction biz loose and questionably legal, but those aren’t his only talents. Turns out he’s a grillmaster extraordinaire and starts smoking turkeys in the backyard coal pit days ahead, so by the time the 24th rolls around he’s got a massive spread for his entire found family and all of Jake’s sisters. A feast fit for Valhalla indeed.

6. Bragneire of Tarses, also known as Bragneire The Previously Undefeated But Now Solidly Stripped Of That Title Due To Having His Ass Beat (Metaphorically Speaking) By Loki And That Goddamn Ugly Redheaded Wife Of His. Dude’s a king, he’s got some damn fine cooks and bakers at his disposal. He’ll tell you some good stories (all lies and exaggerations) while the castle staff lays out the feast.

7. Loki. Not Jack Montague’s Loki - this slot belongs to Lyra’s husband, TheKingsHeart!Loki, and it’s basically for the same reason as Bragneire above. He’s a king, he employs only the best, and he’s got all those daughters who like doing potions and herbs and questionable magic. Who says that stuff’s not handy in the kitchen?

8. Jack Montague. Why? Because she’s got two moms, one of whom isn’t very far removed from human - they’re gonna be calling every takeout restaurant in Michigan to Uber their best across town and it’s also likely Eve has contacted her favorite cafe owners in Tangiers to FedEx something special. It’ll be a spread like nothing you’ve ever seen. And you and Loki will be the only ones eating, so chow down baby, it’s all for you.

9. Cara and Aleks. They’ve been settled into domestic bliss for a few years now, and Aleks still has a little bit of his summoning magic - should be easy enough to snatch a couple bottles of wine from France without having to leave the house. Bonus: Cara is Chem!Tom’s daughter so it’ll be a combined feast. Can’t lose.

10. Anna from Body Double. Something just tells me this girl can cook, and every year she and Tom raise a toast to Ian, who is still exiled to Ireland, and another to DelToro, who sends ‘round a giant cake every year in the shape of a gothic four-poster bed.

11. Carly Lane. Not a bad cook, but you gotta listen to Duncan’s stoned stream of consciousness monologue through the entirety of dinner.

12. Tommy and Chloe. They try, bless them. Amy is still on tentative terms with them during the holidays, but she brings the stuffing and a pecan pie anyway. It was a tough sell getting her to relinquish turkey duties to Tommy, but *redacted for spoilers* so now she bites her tongue and behaves herself.

13. The Strada. But not Baltho. Keene can be trusted to somehow acquire the necessary components of a good meal, but don’t send Baltho to get anything. I mean it. Leave him out of it. This is your only warning.

14. Candy. She may be the seasonal cook at the Rancho de La Luna, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t lie her ass off to get the job. It also doesn’t mean she won’t cut open a sleeve of hot dogs and slap a loaf of Mrs Bairds on the table and call it dinner.

15. Greta. Her place is behind the wheel, not at the stove.

16. The Concierge. I mean, really? The Rockstar’s ditty about the biscuits wasn’t just an accurate dinnertime dirge, it was probably God’s Literal Truth leaking in through the cracks in the universe. And FYI, the Traveler nearly died of starvation before the world ended.

17. Sevensix. Loki’s buddy can barely even fit in a standard kitchen, don’t ask him to operate kitchen appliances - though I’m sure he could program one of his ButlerBots to do the work.

18. Clarissa Carmichael. Do you want Thanksgiving dinner or the apocalypse?

#this was fun #meri47

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dollarbin · 5 months

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Dollar Bin #28:

Mike Heron's Smiling Men with Bad Reputations

In 2003 I spent a day with two way-out-of-my-league hipsters. I was not cool: a social worker married with a 1 year old; I had no thoughtful facial hair or ironic t-shirts; they were the epitome of cool: screenwriters and poets by day and ladies men by night; it goes without saying that both had very thoughtful facial hair and very ironic t-shirts. Together we visited one of San Francisco's hippest independent music stores.

Once in the door, we split up. My peers thumbed and nodded their way through the Stereolab and Flaming Lips sections while making confident small talk with the shop's owner about how Jeff Tweedy had plagiarized him on basically all of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (the store had a big, loud, handwritten editorial on this subject on prominent display: according to the shop, they'd turned Tweedy on to the source for all the background noise on the record - you know, the lady repeating the call sign title and the swirling jet streams of periodic chaos - and therefore they deserved co-songwriting credits for everything; but they were way too cool to consider legal action, and, what's more, they considered the music Tweedy and Co had made detracted from and trivialized the original, CD collection of white noise, which they still exclusively sold for only 28 bucks) while I hit the shop's very small and disregarded Dollar Bin on the floor in a corner.

2003 was, as you know, still the height of the CD era. Only cheapskates like me still bought records, let alone still owned a record player. I had that Dollar Bin all to myself.

Similarly, the Incredible String Band was not enjoying any kind of renaissance at that point. (They've never really had one. I'm starting it right now.) In 03 people were still very much reeling from 9/11, wrestling with the Bush presidency and downloading Nabster. Everyone was listening to Outkast and Radiohead, not hippies who sang about minotaurs.

And so when I passed a Dollar Bin copy of Mike Heron's Smiling Men with Bad Reputations across that august shop's counter for purchase everything got real awkward real fast. The owner rang me up with disdain and great reluctance, like he was worried that Tweedy might show up at that very moment, his full, written apology in hand, and then see my transaction going down and change his mind. My hipster friends took deep breaths and suggested I get a bag with which to carry the record back to their squat; after all, flashing Mike Heron on vinyl was gonna cut our cool factor in front of the SF ladies down into the negatives.

Happily, the only lady I've wanted to impress since 1992 is my wife (only she can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a ladies man, no time to talk). And happily, I have no pride. So I declined the shop's bag and told everyone present that Mike Heron's first solo record rocked - think VU's third record, I told them, if Cale had fired Reed and replaced him with Brian Wilson and everyone was way into Scientology. The embarrassed sighs that greeted this speech were collective; had I asked for a copy of their white noise album the owner dude would have claimed they were sold out.

Listen: I am never shy about making a fool out of myself when it comes to Mike Heron. I once sat at a bar for an hour with the great Meg Baird before one of her Heron Oblivion shows. We were the only people there; I was so excited for their show that I showed up ridiculously early (again, I'm a no pride person).

Meg and I talked about her music for a bit, then I name dropped my famous brother, who she totally knew, because, you know, he's famous. Once discussion of his fame petered out, and after she'd politely asked me this and that about my own life, I got down to the most important topic of that or just about any other evening: Mike Heron.

Me: So, Meg, I'm guessing your band's name, Heron Oblivion, is a tribute to the great Mike Heron, yes?

Meg, who was fingering her Led Zeppelin necklace and thinking big deal rock and roll thoughts: Uh, Who's Mike Heron?

Me: You know Meg, from The Incredible String Band! Mike and Robin Williamson were Paul McCartney's favorite musicians in 1968. Paul's a smart guy, some of the time. Jimmy Page played on Mike's first solo record!

Meg: Oh yeah, right, Mike Heron. No, we definitely did not name our band after anyone in the Incredible String Band. We were thinking about the bird actually. You know, herons.

Me: There's a bird named after Mike Heron?

Okay, so I admit it: I didn't say that the last line. But I wish I had! And the rest of my story is true. Finally, who knows, maybe herons really are named after Mike, pictured flush left, who wrote about so masterfully about amoebas living the timeless life.

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What song can you name that's more unique, bizarre and wonderful? That's right, none. Here's what I think: if indeed there are not already birds named after Mike Heron, then I think we should find some new ones and name them Mike Heron.

Back at the bar, I did go on to suggest, very earnestly, that Meg and her bandmates consider covering Feast of Stephen, the final track on the A side of Smiling Men with Bad Reputations. The track is totally ready for Heron Oblivion's twin guitar attack under Baird's howling vocals. Baird very nicely decided that she needed to get a life and stop talking to me at that point. I don't blame her, but I stand by my suggestion. Feast of Stephen is an under the radar platter of sonic sweetmeats ready for everyone's consumption. Eat it now.

youtube

Let's get into a little background on my man Mike and the story behind this record from 71. ISB had made 6 or 7 (or maybe 8?!) records in the previous 5 years, records that are alternatively silly and deeply spiritual. Heron typically wrote the lighter and more joyful tracks, except when he didn't. Williamson wrote droning, brooding epics that turned delightful corners, except when he didn't. The two men sounded as good together as they look on the cover of The Big Huge: clear eyed young geniuses sharing a double bill, like a behind the looking glass version of Lennon and McCartney with all their angst and megalomania swapped out for earnest, unbridled joy, plus kazoo solos.

The boys played every instrument imaginable and included their lady friends, Rose and Licorice, who sang and played bass like they were in The Shaggs. Song topics ranged from the joy one can find in a box of paints or new puppies to the meaning of life. Imagine Robyn Hitchcock and Rafi dropping LSD and then sharing a jet ski. Why isn't everyone into the Incredible String Band?

But somewhere right before Heron slipped away on his own to make Smiling Men with Bad Reputations, Scientology slipped its slimy, parasitic hooks into the duo. It would quickly suck them dry. Under evil uncle L. Ron's sway, Williamson's songs got longer and wilder, almost unlistenable. Heron, his head at least momentarily more firmly in place, decided it was time to rock. And so he called his famous friends and admirers. They all came. And I mean all of them: sessions for Smiling Men with Bad Reputations featured most of The Who, Elton John, most of the Fairport/Fotheringay crew, and Stephen Winwood. Oh yeah, and Jimmy Page. What's more, John Cale arranged much of the record, filling in all the cracks with his signature swelling grace; the ubiquitous Joe Boyd produced.

Heron may not be on any hipster's radar this century but he was, for a moment, the leading hipster in England in 71. Everyone wanted to spin in his wacky orbit. I imagine Lennon and McCartney showed up hoping to contribute but were simply not needed. (Stephen Stills, who, dedicated readers of the Dollar Bin will remember, was living in Ringo Starr's mansion at that point, surely heard that Heron had a song in development entitled Feast of Stephen and assumed the song was dedicated to his mastery; when he showed up to grace the sessions with his presence I trust Richard Thompson karate chopped him in onto his keister.)

Happily, Heron didn't simply bask joyfully in his famous friends attention. He brought his best work to the table. The album opens with Call Me Diamond, a joyful, flinging horn ride; it's weird the B52's never covered it.

Flowers of the Forest follows, featuring Richard Thompson's unmistakable gurgling guitar leads; the song is very nearly perfect. All that's missing is Cale's polish; he appears on much, but not all, of the record. Why, oh why, didn't Joe Boyd insist that Cale get his hands on every single song? Even so, I encourage you to listen to Heron's passionate track alongside another masterpiece Cale did in fact arrange that same year, Nick Drake's Northern Sky. What are better love songs than these?

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All of Side 1 is packed with equally good ideas, the tone jumping from wild to earnest to gentle then epic. Unfortunately, much of the flip side is dedicated to Warm Heart Pastry, Heron's paean to the kind of meat that is placed inside dough. Mike fronts The Who on the track which sounds awesome on paper; but the results don't fully justify its 6 minute run time.

Still, let's cut Mike a break. Smiling Men has got everything, even has a goofy, incomprehensible cover. (What the hell is the story being told on the gatefold, anyway? Heron joyfully presents a pineapple to a chaotic mod of Halloween Saudi sheikhs; there's enough aluminum foil on hand to cover a whale sized burrito. I can't understand any of what is going, but I sure wish someone had invited me to the party.)

So, why isn't this record famous? Why didn't Heron sell enough copies to instantly become chief captain of Scientology's battleship and crash all those John Travolta-look-a-like aliens that are secretly controlling our thoughts into the sun? As near as I can tell - and I'd love to hear from someone who knows better - Heron escaped the cult in the early 80's, but he hasn't made music of note in 50 years. What happened?

I don't know, but Mike is still alive and well. Rick Rubin, Heron Oblivion or Jeff Tweedy should get their act together and lure Heron back in the studio with them for a final run of genius. I have no doubt that the music they could create together would finally bring Heron the recognition he deserves.

And hey, Rick/Jeff/Meg: when you settle into the studio to record it all, let Mike know that I will graciously keep quiet about how the entire project is essentially plagiarism of The Dollar Bin (so long as I'm granted co-songwriting credits, of course).

#Youtube #mike heron #jeff tweedy #stephen stills still sucks #incredible string band #heron oblivion #meg baird #rick rubin #gloom and doom from the tomb

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sharpestasp · 1 year

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The Judas Contract

Dick Grayson slinging around accusations of crazy, and being distrustful of Joseph for merely watching and not speaking… without knowing he cannot.

So when he braces Joseph, and Addie says he's mute, because of Slade, and he actually meets Joseph's eyes… he's a bit awed by the gentleness there.

(Side note, the height difference really kills me. Dick's supposed to be an adult, and Joseph was meant to be younger than him.)

We get Slade's backstory, from Addie's POV. This story is set early 1960s, making Slade's first war that we see in his solo title Korea, as Addie says. Youngest decorated Korean War Hero (Slade lied about his age and enlisted at 16).

Addie is his trainer, gets the better of him in an exercise, and sets up an enemy for them in doing so. They fall for each other, and Grant Wilson, the nominal reason Slade is now using Terra against the Titans, is born the day he lands in Vietnam.

Slade goes into the experiment, comes out weak has hell and senses all fucked up. But he recovered, with it flipping to the strength/stamina/etc that allowed him to be the Terminator.

Their enemy captures Joseph, Slade refuses to give up his details on a client, and Joseph's throat get sliced. The boy lives… without his voice, forever. In revenge? Addie shoots out Slade's eye, yet his brain working as it does filters out for the loss of depth perception, negating that disability.

And now Dick is in his DiscoWing suit, formally taking the name of Nightwing. While Joseph reveals his costume and Addie states he will be called Jericho.

An apt name, for what Jericho allows him to do.

Which is demonstrated.

Jericho's powers are supposedly a secret from Slade.

And we find out Dick doesn't know sign language. I think it was determined Joseph uses ASL, over the run of NTT he was in, which is odd, given his mother was usually said to be headquartered out of Germany.

Marv Wolfman and George Pérez had rules for how Joey was depicted, being careful to draw panels showing him using sign, and trying hard to keep his agency and communication distinct to him, not talked for by most characters except here, when his mother sets the stage for him.

#new teen titans #ntt #dcu #dc comics #the judas contract

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duskwood-by-daylight · 2 years

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Happy Hour

Summary: You want everyone to get along, but of course these boys have to make it difficult.

Warnings: cursing, drinking, awkwardness, Marco

Word count: 1270ish

A/N: I've decided on the title Say It Now for this series, inspired by the Nick Wilson song. As always, 18+, minors DNI. Don't steal or copy or whatever. Feedback always appreciated.

The tentative reforging of Taylor and Marco's friendship is a slow process, but you've been trying to help in any way you can, starting by encouraging Taylor to meet Marco at the bar near your job. Although if you're being honest, you'd rather get Taylor all to yourself for some catchup alone time. "I'll try to join you two after work, okay?"

Taylor frowns at you and even over video chat, you can almost taste his displeasure at the idea. He groans, "Fine. If it'll make you happy, I'll do it."

"Good boy. I'll see you then."

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Sally called me earlier."

You don't want to be that person, but you feel your neck tense at the mention of her name. Forcing your voice to be completely level, "Oh? What did she want?"

Taylor grins and you realize he can see your discomfort, "Don't know. I missed the call. I texted her, but she never answered. I guess she wants to talk about everything."

"Yeah." Ninety-eight percent of you is perfectly fine with Sally and Taylor talking and continuing their friendship, maybe even exploring their feelings, but two percent of you wants to threaten her at weapon-point and dare her to touch him. It's a big two percent. "I need to finish uploading my files for work tomorrow, so I'll talk to you after I'm done."

"Hey, good luck on your presentation, love."

"Thanks, babe. I'll need it."

"You won't." He blows you a kiss before the screen goes dark.

Real boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. Real lover. Pretend best friend. Pinning down a title for Taylor is near impossible in your mind. He's all those things, but if you based it on your feelings toward him, you'd land on partner. Partner in crime, partner in love, partner. Your thoughts drift to Marco and the prospect of seeing him again. The last time hadn't been very pleasant, watching the wedding fall apart before your eyes. You've spoken to him a few times since, but the conversations have been hollow and simple. Taylor has managed to avoid him for the most part, stating he doesn't want to get involved in the drama Marco is sure to bring, most of which is unspoken. "He says he loves you. He wants you. I'm tired of fighting him for this kind of thing. Can't we just be for a little while? Can't we just exist without Marco inserting himself in the middle of it?"

Taylor idly folds and unfolds his napkin, trying to stay focused on Marco's story, but his mind keeps wandering to you and how excited he is to see you again.

"You're not listening." Marco grins, knowing the faraway look in his friend's eye. "What's up?"

He sighs, finally meeting Marco's gaze. "You know, I never thanked you for introducing us, me and Y/N, I mean. She's really great and… thank you." Marco's expression stiffens a little but he hides it by taking a drink. "Now that things are done with Sally, I know you want to go after Y/N. Before you do, I need you to know how I feel about her. I want it to be clear."

"Do you love her?" Marco's tone suggests he knows the answer already, but sincerely hopes that he's wrong.

Signaling the bartender for another whiskey, Taylor contemplates, "I might."

"Well, I do." Marco sips, "I can't believe you've been her fake boyfriend this whole time."

Taylor holds the glass against his lips before speaking, "Dating might have been fake but the orgasms are pretty real."

Marco splutters, "what?"

Taylor runs a hand back through his hair. Seeing his best friend look so rattled makes him feel a certain smugness. Sure, he might come off as an asshole, but he knows exactly what his own feelings toward you are and Marco being Marco won't change them. "Did you expect me to just… sit back and serve her up to you, gift wrapped and ready to fuck? Because that won't happen, Marc." Taylor finishes his whiskey in one swallow, turning to glare at Marco. "Ever."

"No, but I want a chance because I think she has feelings for me, too."

Taylor opens his mouth to respond, but falters when he spots you entering the bar, standing up to wave you over. "We'll talk about this later. Hey, lover!"

"Hey guys, hope I haven't kept you waiting."

Taylor immediately moves and gives you his barstool, helping you into it. "Here, love. You can take mine."

"Thank you, babe." You quickly kiss the corner of his mouth.

"How was work? I see you survived the big presentation."

"Exhausting. I could use a drink or ten."

Marco flags the bartender down and Taylor uses the opportunity to softly kiss your cheek, slipping his arm around your waist. "I'm glad you're here, my love. I've missed you these past few days."

You lean into his shoulder, "I missed you, too."

"Here you go." Marco passes you a glass, your favorite drink reflecting inside.

"Aw, you remembered. Thank you. What have you boys been up to?"

They both start talking and you slowly let yourself fade into the background of the conversation, hoping the guys will ignore your lack of input. It's been a terribly long day and frankly you've been more worried about this moment than the presentation. Taylor must sense your hesitancy after a bit because he clasps your hand on the bar, giving it a light squeeze and holding it there until his phone rings.

"Excuse me, it's my boss." He steps away and leaves you with Marco and of course he would leave me with Marco.

"So how have you been?" Marco's cheerful facade has receded a little, revealing his anxiety.

"I'm okay. Have you been doing better since the breakup?"

"Oh, yeah. It was rough at first, but I've had the time to really think about things and decide what I want in life." He turns his focus fully on you and instinctively you know what he's going to say. Don't. Don't do it.

Fortunately, Taylor reappears, "Looks like I'll have to cut the night short. My boss needs a copy of our most recent shipping orders and they're on my laptop."

"Aw, honey, I just got here." You can't help but pout.

"I know, love. I'll call you when I get home though. I promise."

Marco walks you to your car since Taylor left in such a hurry. You're already thinking of crawling into a relaxing bubble bath with Taylor on video chat and hardly paying attention to your walking companion. "It was good to see you."

Digging the depths of your purse for car keys, you vaguely agree, "mhm."

"Look, can I be honest with you?"

"I would rather you didn't."

"I care about you and I want to take you out on a real date."

"Where are my fucking keys?" You're ready to upend the contents of your purse onto the ground when Marco holds them up. You quickly snatch them away from him and turn to your car. "Thank you."

"Are you even going to say anything about what I said?"

"Marco." Truthfully, you don't really know what to say. It isn't a new confession or admission. "You get that I don't want to be with you, right? Like… I've made it pretty clear and I'm already kind of dating Taylor."

"Fake dating. Let me take you out."

"So if I agree to one date, you promise to leave me alone about it?"

#lovelink #taylor x reader #taylor taylor #marco bottazzi #down with marco #lovelink fic

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