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#steve Walker
ratatoskryggdrasil · 24 days
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Steve Walker, Trusted Hand, 1999
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satoshy12 · 4 months
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Respawn/ Steve Walker or better known as Captain America!!
Part of this. Well, the way Aunt Alicia raised the son/Clone of her Ex Slade It had been pretty good. He really turned out to be a hero. While Slade didn't show it, he was pretty proud and showed off that his spawn was a better and more famous hero than the other sidekicks. And not even a sidekick! So yes, he was kind of smug, THE Hero the government supports fully. + Danny is confused… Why again was he a villain or anti-hero seen by his family? Does he really fight that brutally? It's his enemies fault! They otherwise don't go down! + Respawn now known as Steve kind of liked it, and all the chaos is doing pretty well for him. And it's fun being a Hero. + Alicia is proud of how her child became a true hero; all the comics she read with her Dad and Maddie worked out.
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edgarmoser · 11 months
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steve walker, painter
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dustedmagazine · 1 year
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Listed: Violin Sect
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Photo credit: Steve Jinks
Formed in 1980 and disbanded in 1981, the obscure Welsh post-punk band Violin Sect left behind just one seven-inch, “Highdays and Holidays/Rivals,” documenting their brief existence. In fact, they’ve flown so low on the radar since then that they were even overlooked for the Messthetics compilations, the CD series that brought the sounds of the many forgotten and amusingly-named UK DIY bands of their time and ilk to a (relatively) wider audience. This started to change in 2019, however, when Sect bassist Steve Walker posted a couple of previously unreleased songs that he’d dug up to Soundcloud, where Minimum Stacks label head Joe Piccirillo heard them as his label was just getting off the ground. Fast forward to 2023 and we have the Vile Insect 12-inch, featuring all four songs from the band’s short life transferred from the original ¼" tapes. The result, to Andrew Forrell of Dusted’s ears, is a mix of “dubby rhythms, scratchy post-punk guitar, whimsy and skepticism,” able to stand with Scritti Politti’s “Skank Bloc Bologna” and Swell Maps “Read About Seymour.” And thanks to this release, it’s finally in a position to reach the audience it deserves.
Although Walker’s bandmates — Steve Jinks (guitar), Phil Rimmell (drums) and Hywel Pontin (percussion and backing vocals) — were unavailable to take part, Walker has assembled a list of some of his favorite music, art and literature from his 67 years on earth for Dusted. “A snapshot within a snapshot,” if you will.
The Raincoats
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I was lucky enough to catch a London gig by the Raincoats in 1979 around the time they released their first single. This year Gina Birch (bass/vocals), also 67, has released her first solo album, I Play My Bass Loud, and it’s been worth the wait. Here’s an early one from the first Raincoats LP, though.
Mica Levi — “Lips”
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I got the same sort of excitement when I first heard Mica Levi, together with their bandmates in Micachu and the Shapes. Their work has continued to grow and encompasses other genres such as film soundtracks (e.g., Jackie).
Sufjan Stevens — “Video Game”
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I first became aware of Sufjan Stevens with the release of Illinois and caught him at the end of his UK tour promoting it at King’s College London with a pared-down (although still with those wondrous wings) extra gig. In later years he was in Bristol on the Carrie & Lowell tour. Sublime. Here’s a later track with fabulous dancing.
Saul Leiter — In No Great Hurry: 13 Lessons in Life
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I’ve spent a lifetime as a specialist nurse supporting individuals with intellectual disabilities to maintain and develop their independence together with practicing as a part time psychotherapist for the general public, within the UK’s National Health Service. During this time, I’ve drawn, painted, made music but mainly taken photos (since I was a kid with a darkroom). Maybe there’ll be an exhibition of my own one day but, like Saul Leiter, I’m used to “postponing things and seeing no reason to be in a rush.” For me, his exhibitions and photobooks have a magical quality that validate and inspire all at the same time.
Ivor Cutler
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Ivor Cutler always had my heart but here’s an epic that didn’t feature on his own albums.
Angeline Morrison — The Sorrow Songs: Folk Songs of Black British Experience
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In 2022 Angeline Morrison released an astonishing album… I’m afraid that I can’t stop myself recommending it to people! If you get a chance…
Paul Wright — Arcadia
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Arcadia is a short film that explores Britain’s relationship with the earth, its secret pasts, hidden histories and collective amnesia using old film and TV footage in an exhilarating fashion.
Wet Leg — “Chaise Longue,” live at the BRIT Awards, 2023
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A performance from the here and now, incorporating the past with the present in a truly WTF moment at the Brits!
Gretchen Gerzina — Black England
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Books… so many books! So, here’s what I’m currently reading.
Anthony Gormley — Another Place
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Finally… if ever in Liverpool, visit Crosby Beach and experience Antony Gormley’s sculpture. It consists of 100 cast iron figures facing towards the sea, (gradually becoming encrusted with barnacles, etc.) all modeled on Gormley’s own naked body.
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3080ti · 11 months
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Steve Walker
The Gentleman Caller
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pigs-in-art · 6 months
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IMG_4156 by jdong Via Flickr: "Pigasaurus" Pigs on Parade Seattle, WA
Painted by Steve Walker
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Introducing Steve Harrington as a part-time dog walker in an expensive area, his dad owns a bunch of properties there and Steve lives in one of the apartments. And since his office job is fairly boring, he put up fliers and now he has a side gig.
Introducing Eddie Munson as a how-the-fuck-did-I-get-rich rocker who happened to adopt a stray dog during one of his tours and is now a tad overwhelmed. His uncle Wayne helps him with James Barkfield, but Eddie still feels guilty about the pup being home alone.
Enter Steve who loves all dogs and shows genuine enthusiasm - James Barkfield is a certified street mix and everyone around keeps telling Eddie he should have a purebred or something, but Steve doesn't care. "Look, it might be dumb, but I kinda hate doing to dogs what we consider unethical for humans," he says to Eddie about the whole purebred thing and that's it.
And if Eddie's poor heart managed to withstand that one, he meets Steve during one of the walks as he sings "WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!" ´to his canine companions.
Lots of awkward flirting later, visits under the pretense of James Barkfield missing Steve and more, they get together, adopt another dog (Rob Howlford) and utterly confuse the whole Corroded Coffin fanbase when Eddie decides to play "Who let the dogs out" as an encore for his lovely boyfriend.
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brokenpiecesshine · 1 year
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Evanescence on Instagram, 19/11/2022.
Some shots from our show in Glasgow Thursday. We had an incredible time with you! Leeds, you’re next! See you tonight!
📸 @stevewalker_photos
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themorningsunshine · 1 year
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Brownies
Pie eyed over you : Chapter 2 
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Nothing in this one
Word count - 3.9k
a/n - And here is the second part to the Pie-eyed over you series. I am SO grateful for the love all of you have shown to the first part and I am really excited for you guys to read this. This will (hopefully) not be a very long series but I haven’t decided on how I want it to go so updates might be slow. Please bare with me.Also, let me know what you guys want to see in this story :)
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He looks around once before stepping out of the car.
The area is as lively as the last time he had seen it.
Not a lot of changes in 5 days, Bucky 
He can see the bakery from where his car is parked.
He didn't have a reason to be here. For some reason, he hadn't demanded the money last time he was here and he was pretty sure it won't change this time either.
But there was something about this bakery.
It's the cakes. He tells himself, but his suddenly quickening heart tells a different story.
He walks towards the bakery and sees you standing behind the counter, with a small smile on your face, which seems like your default setting, looking at the registers. And just like last time, Bucky's steps falter for a moment before he takes a deep breath as if his lungs had suddenly been deprived of air before walking again.
As he opens the door, the bells above his head jingle and notify you of a new customer.
.
When you look up from the register, your smile grows and turns into a slightly teasing one as you look at the man standing in front of you. You were relieved. Was it okay that you kinda hoped he would come back?
As he walked towards the counter, you spoke up, "Can I say, 'I told you so'?"
Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the way his lips were turning slightly upwards. "Come on, sweets. We both know you wanted me to come back."
Your breath hitches in your throat at both the nickname and the comment. You clear your throat, willing yourself to speak, "Of course I did. It's good for business, you know." You tried to sound composed but the smile on your face gave it away.
Bucky chuckled as he took the seat beside the counter and looked at the case full of sweets in front of him. It was still the early hours of the day and there weren't a lot of people in the bakery, except for a couple sitting in the corner and a teenage girl sipping coffee while working on her laptop.
"So, what do you want today?"
You. Bucky's eyes widened as a voice from inside him replied almost instantly and he had to look up to make sure he hadn't said it out loud. What the hell was happening to him? He clears his throat and replies, "Surprise me"
You smile at him before bending to pick up a couple of brownies from the case putting them on a plate and passing them to him. "Just made them. Try and tell me how they are." There was a glint in your eyes and Bucky knew that he could never not like anything you made.
He picked up a brownie and took a bite. As it melted into his mouth, a perfectly sweet taste filling his senses, he closed his eyes and moaned.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and clenched your thighs together at his reaction. "Sweets, this is the best damn thing I've ever had."
You chuckled as red color crept up to your neck at the praise. "Glad you liked it, James."
"Liked it? I love it, sweets." He spoke before taking another bite from the brownie.
You stood there for a moment, just looking at him. There was something about him. A rough exterior, covered in dark clothes from top to bottom, but there were moments like these where you saw just how soft he was beneath all that and for some reason, you just couldn't take your eyes off the man who was eating your brownie as if a second without them would kill him.
The sound of the bells jingling at the door brought you out of your daze. You looked at him once more before walking towards the other end of the counter to the middle-aged woman who had just walked in.
When Bucky finished one of his brownies and forced himself to not instantly reach for the other one, he looked around. The bakery wasn't that large. A small, cozy place with a few decorations. Filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies and cakes, it was warm and inviting. It was so you.
Bucky's eyes landed on a shelf beside the counter and his feet brought him to it before his mind could catch up. It was a small shelf but lined with books.
The books looked old as if they had been read over and over again but well kept. Cherished. He brought his flesh hand to one of the books and slowly picked it up.         To kill a mockingbird
He stared at the cover for a moment, before walking back to his seat, with the book in hand.
As he opened the book to the first chapter, the words brought him to a time long gone. An easier time.
He used to read a lot, as much as he could anyways. He liked books. They were an escape. The stories made him forget about the struggles of his own life.
But that was a habit long gone. Another thing he loved that was lost to time.
He starts reading it before he knows what he is doing and instinctively reaches for the brownie on the plate, taking a bite.
You look up from the cash drawer, eyes drifting to the man who has been occupying your thoughts more than you would like to admit.
He is engrossed in a book and his furrowed brows as he focuses on the book and the soft look in his eyes as he skims through the pages has your heart fluttering. You notice the brownies on his plate are almost gone now and trying your best as to not disturb him, you place another two on the plate and watch as he reaches into the plate without looking away from his book and takes a bite. You smile to yourself before getting back to the kitchen to prepare an order of cupcakes.
**•̩̩
Bucky looks up as he feels eyes staring at him, only to be met by your y/e/c ones.
"Finally, and I thought you will finish the whole book in one go." You said, letting out a chuckle.
Bucky narrows his eyes. Sure, the page he was on and the feel of the chair proved that he had been there for long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? "How long has it been?"
You smile at him before tilting your head towards the little clock adorning the walls and Bucky's eyes widen. It had been 2 hours. What the hell had happened to his sense of time?
He hadn't felt this at peace in ... a very long time. He looked down at his plate which still had a small piece of a brownie left and he could swear he could still taste it in his mouth. How many had he really eaten?
Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. "So.." You kept your head on your fist and leaned on the table with a teasing smile on your face and it was becoming difficult for him to focus on the outside world. "And this is a wild guess. Like, completely random. You like reading?"
He let out a chuckle before thinking about your question. "I used to." 
"What happened?" You ask with genuine curiosity. He looks at you and realizes that you're not asking just for the sake of it. You want to know. You want to know him.
"Life. Life happened." He replies, only because he can't get himself to lie to you.
"Come on, James. If we are not able to find time for the things we love, are we really living?"
He looks at you as if pondering over your words. It wasn't that easy.
"I know what you should do." You stood before taking the book away from him, dog-earing the page before sliding it back towards him. "Here, take this book with you."
When he narrowed his eyes, you continue, "Take it with you and read it. When you're done, come back and return it to me." You explain as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if giving him one of your favorite books that you had cherished for so long wasn't a big deal at all.
Bucky shook his head. "Nope, no, sweets. I am not taking it."
"Come on. You don't leave a book in the middle if you like it. It's a crime."
"Then I'll just buy it from the bookshop. This is yours." He said before sliding the book back towards you.
"We both know you won't do that. Come on, James. Just take it."
He picked up the book and slid it into his metal hand, knowing that there was no use in arguing with you but said with a smirk. "Careful there, sweets. Or I'll think you're giving me this book because you want me to come back."
As if on cue, the bell of the entrance dings notifying you of a customer. So, you turn back to look at him for the last time before saying, "Maybe I do."
And Bucky really hopes it's true.
*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ **•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*
He comes back a week later.
And the week after that.
He comes to the bakery every week until it becomes a routine. A part of him. A part engraved in his life as if it had always been there. It's simple.
He would come to the bakery, the book you gave to him last week tugged under his arms. Sometimes he would be finished with it, other times, he would just promise to return it the next week. You didn't mind. Not till he kept showing up.
He would sit beside the counter, ordering whatever it was you recommended. When you asked him how it was, he would always reply with 'The best damn thing I've ever had.' and he could swear to god he meant it every single time.
The both of you would talk, as much as you could anyways and Bucky found that being around you was the simplest part of his whole week, and the most precious too. It was his little escape. A time when he didn't care what was happening. About the people working for him or the people behind his life, he couldn't care less. All that mattered was that he was there, in the middle of a little bakery, eating sweets and talking to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
You didn't mind either. Somehow, every single time the bell of the entrance jingled, you silently hoped it was the same beautiful blue eyes that you just couldn't take your mind off.
The only trouble was, it is really easy to get distracted from running a bakery all alone when you have a guy like him sitting there, carefree and yet intimidating as if he owned the place. It was very distracting.
And one day, you let him know exactly that. It had been a month since he had shown up at the bakery for the first time. A book on the table and a plate of cookies, talking to you as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
You walked back from the cash register after handling a customer before speaking up, "You know, I have a bakery to run, James, and you are pretty much the most distracting person here." Even though your words were borderline harsh, you let him know through your teasing tone that you were just kidding. Him stopping to come to the bakery was the last thing you wanted.
"Aww, come on, sweets. We both know I am your favorite customer." He replied with a smug look on his face and you didn't know if you wanted to slap it from his face or kiss it. Definitely the latter.
"You wish, James."
.
As if on cue, the bell of the door jingles, and Bucky looks that way to see a young pregnant lady with a blond man standing at the door.
He looks back at you to find you grinning from ear to ear and watches as you practically run from behind the counter towards them and engulf the woman in a big hug, angling yourself so as to not hurt the evident bump.
When you do the same with the blonde man, the air surrounding Bucky suddenly thickens and he realizes he isn't going to like this man much. But it was just because he is blonde. Bucky has never liked blonde guys.
You say something to the both of them before bringing them inside towards a table near to where Bucky is sitting and helping the pregnant lady on a chair. You still have the widest grin on your face when you turn toward him.
"James, this is my best friend, Wanda, and her elder brother, Pietro." You said before pointing towards them.
"He is literally elder than me by 13 minutes." The brunette points at you accusingly as you snicker.
"Still older." The blonde replies with an accent just like his sister.
"Guys, this is James." You point toward him and Bucky watches as something flashes through Wanda's eyes and her lips turn into a teasing smirk.
"So, he is THE James Barnes." She brought her hand towards him to shake before continuing, "She has told me so much about you."
At this, Bucky turns towards you with a smirk on his face and raised brows and watches as your cheeks turn red. Just then, the oven dings and you thank heavens for the distraction, "That's my cue."
You turn back and walk towards the kitchen with hurried steps as Bucky's eyes follow your form, just like they always do. When you disappear into the kitchen and he finally takes his eyes off and turns back, he finds Wanda looking at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk as if she could read his mind.
Bucky cleared his throat, "So, how do you know y/n?"
"We met years ago when she came to visit here as a kid. Have been friends since."
Bucky shook his head but clenched his jaw when she still didn't remove her accusing stare from him.
Pietro, sensing the slight tension between them, tried breaking the silence, but Wanda cut him off, "Where have I seen you before?"
Bucky's breath hitched in his throat. You still didn't know who he was and if it was up to him, he would keep it like that for as long as he could. You looked at him as if he was human as if his hands weren't covered in blood as if you weren't scared of him and he would do everything he could to keep it that way.
"I don't know. You must be mistaken." He took a breath to calm himself down. He couldn't intimidate this woman the way he did with his people. He wouldn't give her a reason to doubt him. She clearly meant a lot to you.
As Wanda opened her mouth to speak, you came back from the kitchen, interrupting the conversation.
You looked towards Pietro before speaking, "The boxes are in the back, and please be careful this time."
Pietro brought his hand to his chest as if your words had somehow hurt him. "You hurt my feelings, y/n. When am I not careful?"
You brought your finger to your chin in mock thinking before replying, "Let me think. Off the top of my head, maybe whenever you drive your bike way past the speed limit. I swear to god, Pietro, one day, your speed will ruin all my sweets."
"Ouch, you care about your sweets more than me?" He said as if your words had physically hurt him this time.
This time, Wanda replied, "Pietro, my dear brother, even I care about her sweets more than you."
The both of you chuckled as Pietro huffed and stomped off towards the back.
You looked at James before explaining, "He does the deliveries for me, as a favor. Believe it or not, it's difficult to deliver stuff in a town you know nothing about."
Bucky lightly chuckled before replying, "Tell me about it."
He then looked at Wanda once again and saw that she was staring at him with the same glare from before, but thankfully, you didn't notice.
He knew he had to leave soon. He wouldn't give her enough time to put the pieces together. "Sweets, I should go."
"You, sure? You could stay. I am sure Wanda wouldn't mind."
"No, I know. But I will leave you to it. Bye, sweets. Bye, Wanda." He turned towards the door quickly as if he couldn't get out of there sooner.
"James, wait." You called out to him and he stopped midstep. He will never get tired of how his name sounded on your lips. "Here. You forgot this." You handed him the book he had been reading for the past week and look up at him with a smile on your face.
Yeah, he definitely didn't want you to find out.
As he walked out of the bakery, you turned back towards Wanda, the smile etched on your lips and a soft look in your eyes. "So....." Wanda started in a teasing tone.
"Don't say it. Don't say it."
"He is hot."
You rolled your eyes at her. "What would Vision think, Wan?"
"You know what I mean."
You bit your lips before looking at her. "It's nothing like that. We are friends. Or at least I hope we are."
"Yeah, because going around calling people sweets is the new thing men do."
You plopped yourself on the chair opposite to her before burying your face into your hands. "It's just a nickname that stuck."
Who were you lying to? You couldn't hide from your oldest friend the fact that every part of you knew that him calling you sweets was the best sound in the whole world. She brought her hands to yours and removed them from your face and you looked up to be met by her serious gaze. "Just be careful, y/n. Something about him just doesn't seem right."
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙
The corridors of this building always seemed darker when he came back from the bakery. He already missed how warm and inviting it was. The book tugged under his arm the only reminder that he had been there.
He heard some voices coming from his office and as he walked closer, he recognized the voices instantly.
He opened the door to his office, only to find Steve and Sam standing in the middle of the room.
"You're finally here." Sam almost exclaimed with relief as his eyes landed on Bucky. "What, couldn't handle this place for a few hours without me, Wilson?" He looked at him teasingly.
"Shut it. Stark called, asking about you. I had to make some half-ass excuse to him. But I am pretty sure he knew I was lying. That man is too smart, I am telling you." "Don't worry about it. I'll give him a call. Will schedule a meeting with him."
Sam crossed his arms across his chest. "What, you're not even gonna tell us where you were?"
Choosing to ignore his question, Bucky walked and sat on the couch. "How's Carl? Alive?" He asked as if he couldn't care less about the answer.
"He is still in there. Breathing." Steve replied before contemplating his next words. "Buck, do you think you were maybe a little too harsh on him? A week in the dungeon filled with our enemies is not really a vacation."
"He got what he deserved, Steve. We can't go easy on them."
Sam looked at Bucky with an accusing gaze before speaking up again. "So I lie to Tony Stark and handle all the chaos in here for the whole day and you just conveniently ignore my question of where you were."
Steve gave Bucky a once-over before smirking. "Let it go, Sam. Bucky has got a lot on his hands."
Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve before looking down, only to find crumbs of cookies still sticking to his hands.
He not-so-subtly rubbed his palms on his trousers before looking up and ushering the both of them outside the room with a lame excuse.
.
He placed the book he had brought with him on his table and opened it, only to find something in the middle of two pages. He opened it to find a small flower kept gently between two pages. A little pressed, but fresh, telling him that you had sneaked it in between today.
He picked up the flower, oblivious to the smile on his face when his eyes landed on a small note sticking to it. In swift handwriting, it read                                                To my favorite customer
Bucky couldn't help the way his heartbeat quickened or how he just couldn't remove the smile from his face. But he couldn't care less.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard knocks on the door to his office. Tucking the flower and the note inside the book, he turned towards the door and called out for the person to enter.
When the door opened, his eyes landed on one of his men. "Walker, what do you want?"
"Sir," He said bowing his head a little to him. Bucky never really liked John Walker. He always tried to show himself to be more than what he actually was. But he got the work done and he hadn't given him a reason to not trust him.
"Sir, I checked the collections for this month and I noticed something."
Bucky nodded his head, not really paying attention to whatever he had to say.
"The new Bakery." Bucky's eyes shot up and he tried his best as to not look too interested. "That baker hasn't paid this month too, sir and we can't ignore this. She is trying to rebel. Has no idea what she is trying to go against."
Bucky didn't like where this conversation was going. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. It's just a bakery."
Walker narrowed his eyes at him. When had the most ruthless mafia boss gone so... soft? But maybe he just didn't care for some stupid baker.
"Sir, this sets a wrong example. People will try to imitate her and that is never a good sign."
Bucky was growing impatient now, This isn't how it was supposed to go. "Just let it go, Walker."
"It's okay, sir. I understand that you don't want to get your hands dirty. Please let me handle this. I promise I wouldn't disappoint."
Bucky should have ordered him to not do anything. Should have just given him some other thing to do. But he didn't want to gain suspicions. He couldn't show that he cared about anything. It would always go against him.
He knew this wasn't going to end well, but he nodded his head at Walker. There was no way in hell he would hurt you or anyone without his permission but it didn't mean he was letting Walker anywhere near you without him around.
But among all this, one question lingered in his mind.
Why did he care so much?
Next part 
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Part Three of the memes of Cap and Co. (Part One here; Part Two here.)
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kausstar · 11 months
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let's read and get so high we can't recognize the real world around us !
❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒 (in order) ★ slashers. stranger things. the peaky blinders. criminal minds. euphoria. the punisher ˎˊ˗
smut, angst and fluff included.
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˚₊⊹ 20/20 VISION ✧ ethan landry. ── @echnated !
[ sfw ] okokok! reader x lalala! ethan.
loved the concept, writing and the fic.
˚₊⊹ CLASSMATE CHARLIE WALKER ✧ charlie walker. ── @lithiumfae !
[ sfw - bit of spice ] obsession.
the obsession with her voice is literally everything to me because my voice is rather… man like.
˚₊⊹ DAMN, BOY! SLOW DOWN! ✧ thomas hewitt. ── @vampiremillk !
[ nsfw ] chubby black reader. breeding kink. overstimulation.
i just love pussydrunk! thomas :))
˚₊⊹ SOUTHERN STYLE CREAMPIE ✧ thomas hewitt. ── @/vampiremillk !
[ nsfw ] female chubby reader. breeding kink.
mwahhhh. the whole thing at my legs shaking.
˚₊⊹ NO.1 AUNTIE ✧ steve harrington. ── @erin-bo-berin !
[ sfw ] single mom! reader. steve x single mom! reader. robin x single mom! reader (platonic).
i can literally imagine robin being the funniest auntie alive and i love this.
˚₊⊹ DEVILISHLY HANDSOME MAN ✧ thomas shelby. ── @toomanyfandomsallatonce !
[ sfw ] lots of flirting. kinda dirty flirting. eating.
the flirting throughout had me kicking my feet in the air.
˚₊⊹ EAT YOU OUT- I MEAN ✧ spencer reid. ── @ddejavvu !
[ sfw - bit of spice ] spencer being a complete reck.
the post should say it for its self. just beautiful.
˚₊⊹ HOT WIFE ✧ spencer reid. ── @radiant-reid !
[ sfw ] hot wife! reader x spencer reid.
them sliding it under the table is EVERYTHING that i never knew i needed.
˚₊⊹ MESS OF MINE ✧ aaron hotchner. ── @hotchgirlsummer !
[ sfw ] female! bimbo! reader.
the cutest of this fic makes me wanna just die. i am in love with him. i believe it was written by gods.
˚₊⊹ DO YOU LIKE HER ✧ elliot. ── @eunoiathewriter !
[ sfw ] talks of smoking weed and drugs (duh, it’s euphoria).
i just loved it. thank you for writing this.
˚₊⊹ SHOW ME LOVE ✧ frank castle. ── @captainmarvels !
[ sfw - angst-ish ] insecurities.
so fluffy and adorable i would blush if i could…
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TO WRITERS ! thank you for being here and for your wonderful writing. your writing is not only people of color friendly but also beautiful, and really appreciated by everyone. i hope you have a beautiful day, because you deserve it. <33
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Kinktober 2022 Masterlist.
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Day 1: Praise Kink with Regulus Black
Day 2: Thigh Riding with Steve Harrington
Day 4: Spanking with Kit Walker
Day 7: Breeding with Billy Hargrove
Day 8: Choking with Spencer Reid
Day 9: Face Riding with Sirius Black
Day 11: Degradation with Peter Ballard
Day 12: Eating Out with Kit Walker
Day 16: Size Kink with Remus Lupin
A/n: these are my kinktober blurbs from 2022 but I thought I’d make a little Masterlist to help everyone find them. Some have gone missing unfortunately so there are days skipped in here.
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edgarmoser · 11 months
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steve walker, painter
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Blind Offer 5
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)
Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker
Note: I wish this week would be over.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖
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The checkered fabric beckons you forward. Your fear smothers all doubts. You're in no place to question any of this. What will they do if you don't listen? Who are they? The voice that comes from thin air. Certainly Steve too.
You touch the dress and move it aside to unveil the small lumps beneath. A set of red lace lingerie to match the shade of the checkers. You swallow tightly and pull your hand back. You look at your fingertips as if they've been singed. 
You tremble and touch the hem of your shirt. They're watching. You shudder and slowly raise the cotton. You try not to think about what's happening. Just get through it.
You drop your shirt on the bed them quickly push down your sweatpants. You heap them atop the tee and close your eyes as you peel off your underwear. You sniffle as you don the red lingerie and figure out how to tie the little string at the waist of the dress.
Your eye is caught by the shiny red shape at the foot of the bed. A pair of heels. It's not hard to guess you're supposed to put them on.
There's a chime, the same jingle as before. You spin as you search around and tinkles again. It's coming from downstairs. You clamour out into the hall and cling to the banister as you descend. You go back to the kitchen and read the screen.
'Check your phone.'
Your heart leaps. You trip over your toes but keep upright as you run into the front room. You go to your phone but deflate in an instant. There's a video pulled up on it and nothing else. No status bar, no time. What the heck?
A message pops up over the paused video thumbnail, a woman's eye up close. You read the font in the bubble before it disappears.
'Upstairs bathroom. Press play. You'll know what to do.'
You lower the phone. Right. Not cryptic at all. You teeter on your heels before you can gain your balance again. You clop out and to the stairs. You take off the shoes before your climb and keep them in hand as you skirt down to the bathroom.
As you enter, there's a sparkly pink case on the counter. That wasn't there before either. You put the shoes on the tile and lean your phone against the mirror, leaning it just so before you tap play. You twine your fingers through each other as a beaming woman smiles at you from the screen. She welcomes you to her video with her cherry red lips and expertly lined eyes.
"Today, we're going to learn how to get the perfect look!" She chimes and frames her face, "so first, lets go over our tools."
She smiles so big, her cheeks are round, almost twitching as her eyes bulge just slightly. She lifts up a small bottle. 
"Let's go over our base..."
She lists off the items, showing each to the camera. You reach to open the case as you listen, revealing a collection of cosmetics. Wow. You keep a few essentials, tinted moisturizer, some mascara, a touch of gloss, but nothing too substantial.
She presses on, going through everything you'll need for eye, lip, and cheek. When she finishes, she smiles even wider and stares. The camera lingers a bit too long and the hollowness in her eyes unsettles you.
"But first, we have to start with a naked face. Let's go!"
She claps her hands in front of her and the shot transitions. Suddenly, her face is barren of makeup. You notice the fatigue under her eyes and the vibrancy missing in her skin. She looks above the lens and her lips quiver. She gives a small nod and clears her throat, as if distracted by someone else.
"Alright, let's begin," her voice creaks at first but she quickly steadies it, "are you ready?"
You feel icky watching the video. You're not ready. This is demented. This cannot be real. It's a horror movie come to life.
"Find your primer," she presents a tube proudly, waiting. 
You look down and search for a similar tube. You shake your head as you take it out and look back to the screen. She starts by showing you where exactly to apply the primer. You hesitate. The video on your phone pauses and another message pops up.
'I can wait, doll.'
You inhale and lean in. You focus on the screen and the video skips back ten seconds. You uncap the primer and follow along with the application. The longer you look at the woman, the more you notice. That mark on her neck, a patch darker than the rest of her skin.
She moves on to foundation. The video pauses again as you struggle to find the right bottle and a clean sponge. Then concealer, and some blush, bronzer, and highlighter. You're starting to sweat.
"And that's the base," she preens, tilting her head back and forth to show the effect of her contouring, "isn't that pretty?"
She stops, smiling, staring. The shot cuts again. She pulls her hand away from her chest and bats her lashes.
"N-now," she stutters, "now, we have to do our eyes." She leans closer to the lens and you notice the slightly puffiness in the brims of her eyelids, "remember, we don't want to mess this up. We have some nice waterproof products to make sure we stay perfect, from morning to night." She looks up, above the frame, "we don't want to be crying it all off because we had one bad day, right?
"Now, I'm going to try a nice shade of gold for today's look but you can really be creative. Go wild and choose whatever you like. But nothing too loud, we don't want to scare him away."
She winks at the camera in a theatrical manner. You take out a palette and lower your head. You can't move. You're frozen. This is too much. There's something just off about all of this.
"What kind of Stepford bullshit--"
The video stops. Another pop up. You peek up at it. There's only two big red exes in the bubble. Alright, fine. You open the palette and pick out a brush. The video resumes. You really hope this stuff is waterproof because you're about to have a goddamn breakdown.
You get closer to the mirror as you work on applying the shadow. You go with a subtle caramel and amber combination. You're not very good at it but the instructions are easy enough. Nothing too difficult as long as you keep up.
You finish the eye after fighting the liner. You're starting to get the hang of it. Wait. No. That's not a victory. You don't want this.
Eyebrows. Do you really need to do all this? Right, now lips. You take out the candy apple red and delicate trace the shape of your mouth. Finally, a setting spray that nearly makes you sneeze.
"And that's it. You're all done," the woman announces, "you're ready to--"
The screen cuts. The image of the woman with her makeup smeared covers the screen for a split second then disappears to a credit screen, congratulating you on completing the the look. You gape, stunned, and take a step back. Alright, this is twisted.
The video exits out and you're left only with a blank screen. The next message takes over the expanse; kitchen. You grab the phone and take it with you, swiping up the shoes as you go.
Downstairs, you plop the shoes down and face the Echo as it chimes again. Your next directive is on the screen. A timer that reads 'Dinner, t-minus 2 hours'. You hear the television mounted in the corner flick on and you turn to see the same woman as before.
"Hello. Welcome. It's good to see you." She puts her hands on the counter, staring again. She flinches. "Please, don't make--" The video cuts. "Today!" She points at the camera, "we're going to make a classic; meatloaf."
You walk closer to the screen. There's something wrong with this woman. This isn't Rachel Ray or Martha Stewart. This is horrifying. She pauses, nodding, her smile getting bigger, than falling, and spreading again. It's as if she's glitching.
Another jarring switch. She's by the fridge, speaking intimately as the camera is angled down at her.
"So, let's get our ingredients, ladies," she announces, "now, we can go with lean turkey if we're being mindful or we can go with a classic beef." She reaches inside and takes out a paper packet, "nice and fresh."
The screen pauses on her hands. There's a broken nail among her perfectly manicured hands. You back up and drop your shoulders. You drag your feet to the fridge and pull out the ground beef in the same brownish red paper. The video starts again.
You put the beef on the counter and wait for the next ingredient. One buy one you get everything out. Then you get your tools, bowls, pans, knives. You admire the long silver blade as it slides free of the block.
"It's important," the woman chirps from the screen, "not to play with knives..  you could get hurt."
You look up as she holds up a knife and shakes her head. You frown as she grabs the blade and slides her palms down it, leaving a red sheen on the silver.
"See? Always be safe," she grips the knife by the handle as her blood drips onto the counter. "Lets prepare our veggies first–"
The blip is less than subtle. Her hand is suddenly wrapped in cause thought the drops of blood remain on the cutting board. You put the onion on the wooden surface and dice along with the happy host.
The step-by-step directions keep you occupied enough to ignore the tremor of fear inside you. Your thoughts fade to background as you pull the lid off the breadcrumbs. You work through the recipe mindlessly until you have the meat neatly in the loaf pan.
As you open the oven door, that small voice of logic breaks through. Who are you cooking this for? It's an awful lot of food for just you.
"Now we can work on our sides," the woman sings, "roasted potatoes and charred asparagus."
🖤
You stand before the table. It’s set precisely to the standard set by the woman on the screen. Cutlery, cloth napkins, tall glasses, and a jug of iced lemon water. 
The timer counts down and dings. You rush over to hit clear and grab the oven gloves. You take out the pan of meatloaf, then the roast potatoes. You place them carefully on the stove. It smells delicious but your appetite is scant. You’re not very concerned with food at the moment.
You wince as the television flicks on again and the woman holds a spatula and talks to the camera, almost as if she’s talking directly to you. 
“Now, it’s time to plate dinner,” she explains, “now I know, it’s just meatloaf, but it doesn’t mean we can’t spruce it up. Let’s begin by slicing the loaf.”
You huff and push your head back. This is a chore. You don’t think you’ve ever put this much effort into a meal. 
“We want to make our romantic dinner for two perfect,” she chimes as she sets out two plates, “for our very special someone. The most handsome man…”
She bats her lashes as she gives another tense smile. Forced and frightening. The camera slowly pans in before suddenly pulling back. You blow off the unease and open the cupboard.
You once more follow along with the knock off Julia Child. You get two plates set, the meat placed just so, the potatoes scooped out in delicate measurements, the asparagus lines up neatly. You put each plate on a table mat and take a step back. 
So, what next?
Ding dong.
The loud chime makes you jump. You don’t move. You wait and listen until it comes again. The doorbell?
You turn on your heel and pass into the entryway. As you do, the door opens from the other side. Your lips part in shock as Steve steps inside, greeting you with a smile as the security system alerts you to the open door and secures again as he lets it fall shut behind him. You clasp your hands together, questions racing but no words coming.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he smiles, “you look…” his eyes fall to your feet. “Adequate.”
You follow his gaze and curl one foot behind the other. You left the heels off. You suppose that was wrong. Wait, no, this is wrong. What he’s doing is wrong.
“Excuse me?” You scoff.
“Dinner smells good,” he smooths his golden hair. 
He wears a crisp white button-up and gray pin-striped slacks. You grimace at him and cross your arms. He comes closer, stopping before you as he reaches to touch your cheek. You wince and lean away from him.
“You shouldn’t scowl. You’ll get wrinkles,” he says.
“Wha– Steve. What is going on?”
He presses his index finger to your lips, “ah ah. I came for dinner. Let’s not chatter and let it get cold.”
You step back and glare at him, “Steve, what are you doing? Please, let me go.”
“Honey, let’s not argue,” he comes close and grabs your upper arms, pulling them apart, “you won’t like how it ends.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Meatloaf,” he turns his head and looks towards the kitchen, “it’s my favourite.”
You’re upended by his sudden change in topic. It’s frustrating how he just ignores you. You want to know why he’s doing this. How can he even think of something like this. He can’t. Someone will come looking for you.
No one knows where you are. You didn’t tell them.
“Don’t keep me waiting, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice as he leans in, “I’ve waited long enough.”
You look up at him, shaken by his tone. You’ve never heard him sound like that. You feel his grip tighten on you. 
“Go get your shoes and we’ll sit down and have a nice dinner.”
“Steve,” you croak.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. He smirks and lifts his lashes, blue eyes gleaming like crystals, “don’t you remember what I said. How I like order. How things should be in their place. How everyone has their role.”
You scrunch your nose. You remember. It was weird then, now it’s terrifying.
“Yes,” you rasp, “I remember.”
“You don’t want me to be unhappy, do you?” He challenges, his thumbs rubbing your arms.
You shake your head stiffly, ready to wilt beneath his gaze. “No, I don’t.”
“Good girl,” he slides his hands down your arms and slowly retracts his touch, “so, let’s eat.”
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jamlelsaslmp · 6 months
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time to lose some fingers
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pigs-in-art · 6 months
Video
IMG_4153 by jdong Via Flickr: "Pigasaurus" Pigs on Parade Seattle, WA
Painted by Steve Walker
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