#Chump Buchanan

[perfettamentechic]

20 ottobre … ricordiamo …

20 ottobre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Tsin Ting, è stata una cantante, attrice e doppiatrice taiwanese, probabilmente meglio conosciuta come la Marni Nixon del cinema di Hong Kong. Grazie al suo talento autodidatta nel leggere la musica, molti studi cinematografici iniziarono a richiederla come doppiatrice musicale nei loro film. Durante una sessione di registrazione, il regista Li Han-hsiang la sentì casualmente doppiare una…

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil, Chapter 1

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings:  Slight itsy bitsy angst…but nothing major.

Maybe it was because Steve had told him that he didn’t need him for a few hours, and he was rushing.  Or maybe it was because he really just wanted to get the copy of the book and head to the laundromat to read it in peace, instead of his best friend antagonizing him over re-reading his favorite book so much that he had to buy the new copy.  But Bucky hadn’t noticed her until it was too late.  Until her fingers grazed the spine of the copy of The Hobbit, just as he was reaching for it. 

She jumped, obviously surprised at the large, calloused hands nearly enveloping her own dainty ones.  Her large doe eyes seemed shocked at the level of intimacy and closeness she was sharing with the stranger. 

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t realize,” she stuttered, trying to step back from the shelf.  Bucky felt the electricity as it ran up and down his arm, jolting through his body.  His lips parted, throat suddenly feeling dry as he gasped at the innocent looking woman in front of him.  She was quick to shake her head, the loose curls bouncing along her shoulders and down her back, “I-I’m sorry.”

He just stared at her. 

He didn’t know how to react as his own hand retracted. 

“Y-you were reaching for The Hobbit, right?” she asked curiously.

Bucky felt like a dummy. 

His mind and his lips weren’t working together, but he managed to nod his head.  She grabbed the book, offering it up to him, “I-I really am sorry.  Please.  Take it.  I-I have a copy, but its spine is so worn I just-it’s silly…I-here!”

Bucky felt his cheeks warm up as the woman giggled out her apology.  It was obvious that she was just as enamored with him as he was with her, but his normal charming, flirty attitude was absent.  He felt like a love-struck teen as he looked at her. 

He shook his head, reaching into his leather jacket, and pulled out his copy of the book; its spine worn so much that the binding was splitting, “i-me too…”

He watched as her cheeks warmed as well, and he couldn’t stop the stupid smile that worked its way onto his face. 

She bit her lip and her arms dropped ever so slightly as another giggle escaped her lips, “oh…well…uhm-you have very good taste in books then…”

“Yeah…y-you too.”

Did he just stutter?

His mind seemed like it ran into overtime as he processed the fact that he stuttered out a response to a woman.

James Buchanan Barnes never stuttered.  And definitely not in front of a woman. 

Bucky was a very self-assured, respected man in the city.  At least, in his circles.  Some would even say that he was feared.  But yet, there he was, stuttering to a doe eyed woman like he was some chump that never saw one let alone spoke to a woman. 

“I-I’m Inez.”

“Inez…” Bucky pondered, letting the name roll around on his lips, “y-you have a beautiful name.”

Her blush deepened and she tucked some of her hair behind her ear, “please…I insist you take the book…”

“Bucky…” he finished.

“Bucky…th-that’s a curious name…” she smiled gently, “wh-what does it mean?”

He chuckled, “my first name is James…Bucky is a nickname…”

“James…I like that…”

“Thank you.  But no, you take the book.  I insist. We’ve both got copies…I-I’d rather you have a new one.  My friend will laugh at me if he sees me with a new copy…”

“But yours…yours is in worse shape than mine is,” she tried again, holding the book back up to him, “I-I would feel bad if I walked away with it.”

“Okay…” he agreed softly.  He took the book from her hands, their fingertips touching yet again.  Bucky noted how she gasped at the interaction, and he found himself wanting to keep it going.  His eyes found the café tucked away in the corner of the shop, “let me buy you coffee?  If you’re letting me have the book, it’s the least I can do…”

Her eyes trailed to the café, and for a minute, Bucky wondered if she could read his thoughts, as her eyes seemed to light up, but she turned to him and nodded, “make it a cup of tea?”

“Of course…”

She nodded then, and Bucky took the book from her, “did you want me to meet you over there after I pay for the book?”

“I-I have to pay for a few myself,” she admitted, looking to the small stack of books that she’d had in the basket she was carrying.  Bucky blushed, “we could-walk up together, if you want?”

How had he not noticed the books?

Noticing things was one of the most important factors of his job.

“Sure…”

“Okay,” she grinned.  She looped her arm through his and turned towards the checkouts, before stopping herself quickly, “y-you didn’t have other shopping to do?  Did you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at the innocent woman he’d just met, “no…just this…”

“Okay…well then, James…as Tolkien says, ‘the biggest adventure is what lies ahead!’ “she giggled, gesturing forward.  Bucky couldn’t stop his grin from getting wider as she led him forward.

“Y-you didn’t have to get it in a to go cup, James…” she giggled as she stirred her tea. 

“Unfortunately, in my line of work, I never know when my boss will call…” he frowned, thinking of how he’d already managed to spend an hour and a half talking to her in the café, “I’m surprised I got away this long.”

“You don’t have a regular job?”

“Security,” he said with a shrug, “my best friend, actually.  He’s got a pretty lucrative business…string of night clubs along the east coast…a string of different businesses actually…they’re all pretty successful.”

“Successful enough that he needs a security guard?”

“Yeah…” he muttered. Bucky frowned and his fingers fiddled with the paper sleeve for the to go cup. 

“I-I’m sorry if I insulted you…”

Bucky’s eyes shot to hers, “Wh-what?”

“You got quiet…” she murmured gently, reaching forward so that she could take his hands in her own.  Bucky’s eyes followed her movements, watching only how she held onto him, “if I insulted you in any way, I’m so-“

“No…no…” Bucky replied quickly, shaking his head enough that some of the hair fell out of his loose bun, “I just-I don’t like to talk about work…sometimes I feel like I have no life outside of it.  Steve is like my little brother…and I just-I’m always there.  I’m almost always with him…watching out for him.”

“Well, it must be good getting to work with someone you’re so close with…”

“Again, the whole…no life thing…” he muttered with another frown, “I don’t go out.  Don’t meet people.  I jus-“

“You met me!”

Bucky gazed back up to her eyes once more and he felt himself all but melting with the sweet woman in front of him, “how are you real?”

She blushed at the blunt question, “What?”

“You’re just…people aren’t like you, Inez…”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you either, James…”

His heart thudded in his chest, “you’re just saying that.  Guys like me are a dime a dozen, Inez.  I-“

“Hey, don’t say that,” she rushed, cutting him off.  Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest even more as she gently squeezed his hands, “you’re one of a kind.”

“Doubt it…”

“You’re the only other person I’ve ever met who’s read The Hobbit so many times you could literally quote it.”

“We-we did spend the first half hour doing that…” he admitted bashfully, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I just-“

But Bucky was cut off when his phone started buzzing in his pocket.  He frowned and Inez mirrored his expression, “Is everything okay?”

“Speak of the devil,” he chuckled shortly as he pulled out his phone to show her that a picture of Steve and him were on the screen as his caller ID flashed up on it, “Steve’s probably wondering why I wasn’t back yet.  I told him I was going to pick up the book then head out to do some laundry.”

“You should get it…it’s work…”

He sighed, not wanting the moment to end, “do I have to?”

She nodded once more, and he sighed.  He pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.  On the other side of the call, he could hear Steve ordering some people around, undoubtedly at the club. 

“Where the hell are you, punk?”

“I got caught up at the book store,” Bucky admitted, telling his friend a half-truth, “I-“

“You’re still at the bookstore?” Steve asked, cutting him off, “how hard is it to find a book?  Just go online and order a new copy.”

“I got the book…I just…I’m in the café…having a coffee.  Is everything okay?”

“Get back to the club…” Steve said shortly, “Romanoff and her sister are coming by with Barton…and I’ll need you and Sam.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Inez couldn’t stop the giggle from spilling from her lips.

“Are-are you with someone?”

“What?” Bucky asked, hoping that Steve wouldn’t ask the question again. 

“You heard me, Buck…are you with someone?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, Steve…”

“Buck!”

“I’ll be at the club soon, okay?” he asked, an edge to his voice. 

“Get here in ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Eight!” Steve said briskly, before disconnecting the call.

Bucky gave a heavy sigh, his attention returning to Inez, “That was Steve…I have to go…”

She nodded sadly, but got up from her spot, nonetheless, “okay…well I enjoyed meeting you today, James…”

“Let me walk you to your car?” he offered quickly, standing up from his chair as well. 

“I-I shouldn’t,” she said with a shake of her head, “I-my brother doesn’t like me talking to strangers to begin with…and he definitely doesn’t like when-“

Bucky frowned and she stopped speaking, “oh…your brother…does he…control a lot of what you do with your life?”

“Yeah…”

His brow raised at her tone.  It sounded like she was almost as sad as he was at the fact that she hadn’t known the same freedoms that he had.

“How long?”

“Anthony always looked out for me…but after our parents died, he really made sure I was looked after,” she admitted with a shrug, “he’ll probably flip out when I get home.  I mean-“

“He won’t-he won’t hurt you or anything, will he?”

Her eyes seemed to widen at the thought, “what?  No…god no!  He’s a big teddy bear.  He just-he worries… and I know that I probably don’t help that…I left my phone at home because well-I don’t like technology…especially since of who he is-that’s not important.  I-I digress…I’m sorry.  You said you had to go.  I’m holding you up.”

“Steve can wait,” he said dismissively, “just…let me walk you to your car?  New York is a big city…and I’d hate for someone like you to get caught up in it…especially since you don’t have your phone.  I think your brother would be more upset that you were out here alone and didn’t have anyone with you.”

“Probably,” she giggled, “I-uh…I ditched him earlier…he probably still thinks I’m in his office…but when I found out about the book, I just had to come.  You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a copy of The Hobbit that’s pocket sized.”

“Trust me…I know…” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, “where are you parked, doll?”  

“I-I took the subway!” she said quickly, shaking her head, “It’s New York…I don’t drive…”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at how she was giggling yet again, “let me ride you home then?  I drove my bike…could get through the city quick…and you’d save a few bucks…”

She seemed to consider his request, if only for a moment, before shaking her head, “I-I couldn’t…I’ve never been on a bike…and anyways.  You have to get back to your friend. Steve…right?  Oh, and work!”

He sighed, “I-I want-can I ask to see you again without being too forward?”

“My brot-“

“Doesn’t have to know…” he said quickly, cutting her off, “I-I want to see you again, Inez.”

She bit her lip, then pulled the book from her bag, “on one condition…”

Bucky instantly shook his head, “I’m not taking the book…”

“You paid for coffee…and in my case tea…and all of my other books…please…take this one?”

He sighed, watching as she wrote something down in it before placing it in his hands. 

“What did you write?” he asked curiously. 

She leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before turning towards the subway, “open the cover…you’ll find out.”

Bucky waited until she disappeared out of one of the doors before opening the book.  He sighed dreamily as he stared at the phone number.  But his heart broke when he saw the next few words.  Her name, with a little heart around it.

Inez Stark

Chapter 2

Tag List:  @teambarnes72, @prokey16, @lohnes16

[reformationcartoons]

The Wicked Sodomite Theology of Paradox & What to Do With It

by Monty L. Collier

The importance of logical deduction from Scripture alone in the formulation of Christian doctrine—especially the doctrine of justification by faith alone—cannot be emphasized enough. The Bible is logically consistent, so it can be rightly divided. The Bible is infallible and inerrant, so it has no mistakes, nor can it make a mistake. The Bible alone is the special revelation of God, who cannot lie, so there are no contradictions in Scripture.

While absurdity, irrationalism, and mysticism have always found a home in Roman Catholicism, they also flourish in Neo-orthodox theology, dialectical theology, and the theology of paradox. Even so, and by logical contrast—such insanity and confusion are entirely absent from theology based on Scripture alone (a.k.a. Calvinism).

There is simply no place for irreconcilable paradoxes, antinomies, apparent contradictions that cannot be harmonized, unsolvable mysteries, nor logical paradoxes in Christian theology—for the Bible does not teach such nonsense.

Presbyterians should not tolerate men who peddle such satanic irrationalism. When churches teach absurdity and confusion, should we be surprised when society calls good evil or vice versa?

It is not a surprise that many Americans are confused about their gender and their sexual orientation, for men like Cornelius Van Til, Greg Bahnsen, Douglas Wilson, R. Scott Clark, John MacArthur, James White, and others have been teaching ministers that the Bible is replete with irreconcilable paradoxes for decades.

According to the absurd and satanic teachings of men like Van Til—since all the teachings of the Bible are irreconcilably paradoxical—when the Bible teaches that boys are male, then it also necessarily implies that boys are NOT male. Simply put, Van Til’s theology results in gender confusion, as well as the moral affirmation of every behavior condemned by God’s Law—and the moral negation of every work required by God’s Law!

To persuade chumps to accept their idiotic teachings, men like Van Til had to disparage logical deduction and advocate for non-linear reasoning. The wicked theologians of paradox had to convince their followers that the Bible was wrong when it describes God as being reasonable: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord” Isaiah 1:18. The satanic imposters had to convince men that the Bible is wrong when it describes Christians as men who reason in a linear fashion—using logical deduction—from Scriptute alone to establish clear and authoritative teaching: “And Paul, as his manner was, went in unto them, and three sabbath days reasoned with them out of the scriptures” Acts 17:2.

The blasphemous wolves that disseminate the lie that biblical teaching is irreconcilably paradoxical should be removed from any and every Presbyterian teaching position they may hold.

In the old days, Presbyterians refused to tolerate absurdity, irrationalism, and confusion thinly disguised as Reformed doctrine. This can be seen in the subsequent quote on Sola Fide by Scottish Presbyterian James Buchanan (1804-1870):

“The reasoning of the Apostles with the Jews on the subject of justification relates chiefly to the doctrine which was revealed in the Old Testament; and, apart from its inspired authority, or considered simply as a process of logical deduction from the facts which are there recorded, it is one of the finest specimens of close, consecutive, conclusive reasoning to be found in the whole range of human authorship.”

(The Doctrine of Justification, Lecture 2, page 51)

Actual Calvinists, for example, do not accept the heretical notions of those who follow Norman Shepherd (a Van Tilian). Shepherd spent his career arguing that Romans 3:28 could not be logically reconciled to James 2:24. Shepherd was rightfully fired from his seminary job for espousing that Papist heresy. It’s too bad his defenders escaped termination and excommunication (Cornelius Van Til, Greg Bahnsen, John Frame, and a host of other professors at Westminster Seminary, Pennsylvania publicly defended and endorsed Shepherd’s justification-by-faith-and-works heresy).

We have pointed out for years that the dialectical theology of men like Cornelius Van Til and Herman Bavinck necessarily leads to agnosticism, utter skepticism—or to speak plainly—satanism (i.e., do whatever you want). If Presbyterian churches are to ever be reformed, then the sodomite theology of paradox running rampant in our land has to be thrown out, along with the bums that teach it.

[dertaglichedan]

In the middle of the last century, prizefighters who weren’t fighting frequently enough to keep sharp would schedule tuneup matches with capable boxers to shake the ring rust out of their form. Their managers wouldn’t pick palookas or chumps but boxers who could challenge their guy in a way that would reveal his weaknesses and indicate what part of his game needed more training.

President Joe Biden needs a tuneup. He’s a stiff when speaking at the lectern. When not a stiff, the 80-year-old can be a dolt, saying, as he did this week, that Russian President Vladimir Putin is “losing the war in Iraq” when he meant Ukraine, or blurting out a senseless, “God save the Queen, man,” at a gun control rally last week. The English language has never been his friend, so it’s logical that his managers, er, his aides, have limited his exposure to the press. No president since the equally doddering Ronald Reagan has held so few press conferences. Not since Ray Leonard’s ill-advised third comeback has a contestant seemed so out of condition for a big rumble.

Biden has challengers, of course, but Marianne Williamson and Robert Kennedy Jr. aren’t the right ring partners to prepare him for what will be his last electoral contest. With a tepid approval rating that puts him near to Donald Trump at his worst, Biden needs a primary opponent who can prepare him for the 2024 general election, somebody who can make him prove that he can still run the traps and beat whichever Republican he faces. If Biden can’t vanquish a worthy Democrat in primary season, he has no business entering the general.

Who might that challenger be? Because the parties tend to think of their presidents as kings and not mere servants, rare is the politician who will go up against his party leader just for the sport of it. Dethronement of an elected incumbent president by his own party hasn’t happened since Franklin Pierce, so the daunting odds end up canceling out capable candidates. The intraparty argument against primarying the president notes how, in recent decades, such challengers have failed to win and only weaken the incumbent to the point that he loses the general (Ronald Reagan vs. Gerald Ford; Ted Kennedy vs. Jimmy Carter; Pat Buchanan vs. George H.W. Bush). Winning, after all, is everything in politics.

*** Libs are talking more and more about this. How long can he last?

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

[leanstooneside]

Buchanan (ERRONEOUSINGENUITY)

◊ nose and jeffa€™s

◊ noolahn to his

◊ grasp and his

◊ gunwale and hea€™s

◊ thomethinks to eath

◊ misery to incur

◊ creation and hissed

◊ methyr but she

◊ cajoleries and her

◊ bragshaw and renshaw

◊ moran though you

◊ sheets and scuppers

◊ whoo and wherea€™s

◊ chumps and cowcar

◊ caius and sempronius

[yeahishipthatsowhat]

Person of Interest X WinterSpider AU

Peter Parker takes over the job of saving people after the death of his father, the creator of the Machine, and enlists ex-soldier/mercenary Bucky Barnes as his 'man in the suit'.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Bucky's gotten into a fight, again. The thugs hadn't know better, making noise and talking trash in the subway late at night. Just low level mafia chumps that thought that picking on a 'homeless' man would be easy. Bucky, although appearing, as detective Romanoff would later call him, a 'bum', had not forgotten his training. It was sheer reflex that moved him to grab for the bottle of rum the men had tried to take from his hands. . .

Two hours later, after a ride down to the station, and an interview to boot, he was being bailed out by a lawyer. Bucky wants to ask, question the man, but a black car and two men show up a few seconds up after exiting the station. Bucky's questions are cut short as he's asked to enter the SUV.

'Might as well see who's gone through the trouble.'

When he arrives at the grassy area next to the river the last thing he expects to see is a small figure looking down into the water. They're male, what looks like a young man. As Bucky takes a couple steps forward the boy turns around, and Bucky has to hold back the urge to touch and to get closer.

Soft tones and a sweet voice rides through the air.

"James Buchanan Barnes I presume?"

It takes a second, but he responds.

"You know my name, but I seem at a disadvantage not knowing yours."

A pause as the young man steps closer, a small smile on his face.

"You can call me Spider."

Bucky cocks his head to the side, Spider?, what an unusual alias for a beauty such as the boy before him. Soft brown locks sit upon the boy's head, striking brown eyes fixed on Bucky's own, the boy's body looks small, but Bucky doesn't doubt for one second that the youth isn't as fragile and weak as he might seem.

"Do I owe you money? If not, I don't see any other reason to get me out."

"Mr. Barnes, you don't owe me anything. I know about the work you used to do, the doubts you had about the jobs you did. I have information that can help people, and I think you and I can help each other."

"Help? How can you help me?"

“I don’t want to put you away for what you've done, and I don't think you need therapy or pills, or anything of that sort."

"Than what do I need?"

"I think you need a purpose. . . Or more specifically, a job."

Its a temping offer to hear the boy out, to listen to his voice and to see what he wants, whatever the job may be, but Bucky is tired. So tired of people using him, taking what he has and leaving him nothing left. So he declines, leaves Spider alone in the bank of the river, rents a room at the nearest motel and thinks about drinking himself to death.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Bucky wakes up with one of his hands tied to the head board and hysterical screams coming from the next room. He quickly looks around, locating the noise as coming from the motel room attached to his own. He looks at the mirror near the bed before reaching and breaking it, using the shattered glass to cut himself free. Making a b-line for the door that attaches his motel room to the one next door, he breaks it down with little effort.

Bucky looks around, eyes searching for the danger before his eyes land upon a tape recorder and the boy from yesterday. The screams ripping into the air from the tape recorder, a sad look on Spider's face.

"You were too late, 3 years too late.

She died here, in this room, screaming and begging."

Spider doesn't move, just breathes out a heavy sigh.

"You couldn't stop this one, you couldn't stop the attack that happened 10 years ago, you couldn't stop your best friend from dying, but you can stop the next one."

He looks at Bucky then, his eyes open and sorrowful, a little glossy from unshed tears. And Bucky feels in what seems like the first time in years.

"When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.

So tell me James, will you help me save them? Help me stop the people who want to cause harm and protect the people who can't do it themselves?"

Bucky takes in a breath before falling to his knees in front of the young man.

A whispered 'yes' on his lips

The boy smiles, and Bucky feels like he can finally breathe.

[jomtpodcast]

In “Columbo Cries Wolf,” Ian Buchanan is one half of the inexplicably popular skin mag, Bachelor’s World. When the other half, Diedre Hall, decides she’s had enough of his philandering with the magazine’s models and wants to sell out, he kills her. Or does he? Well, yes, eventually. But before that, the two of them spend almost the whole running time of this episode making Columbo look like a chump, as he chases after dead ends and clues that lead nowhere. Jon and guest Tim Turner (Bitter Bastard Nerdcast) disliked this one waaaaay less than RJ. Variety is the spice of life, after all.

Listen to the episode here

[queenieschronicles]

The Arrangement

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky needs your help impressing his boss and coworkers at a charity dinner. You accept the arrangement happily after a bit of begging.

Word Count: 2278

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I am so sorry this is so long. I was going to make it two parts, but I settled for one. I might turn it into a series. If anyone is interested in it, let me know!

“It’s just one night!” He whined trailing behind you.

In all four years of college, you hadn’t managed to find any other friends to replace Bucky Barnes or Steve Rodgers. You had counted yourself fortunate to make friends in Natasha and Wanda. Even after graduation, you were stuck rooming with the two dorks from Brooklyn.

“I’m not gonna do it!” You threw your hands up. “No way in hell!”

Bucky grabbed your hips and whipped you around. “Please?” He was on his knees. “I’m begging you. It’s just one night. One dinner.”

Your brow shot up just as your lips curled in cruel delight. “James Buchanan Barnes begging a woman on his knees. Ha. This is priceless.” His face was slack with irritation and his eyes were focused on some picture hanging on the wall.

“Come on, Bucky. Begging stopped me from slamming my door in your face.” You gave him a devilish smile.

“Technically,” He gave you a cheeky grin,” It was me grabbing your hips and man handling you.” There was no way he was getting away with that one.

You blinked at him. Unamused, you crossed your arms over your chest.  He sighed melodramatically. “(Y/N), I am begging you to please accompany me to the company charity dinner. I cannot possibly do this without you. You are my last hope.”

He was a bit lazy with it and he didn’t put forth his best effort, but it would do. “Groveling looks good on you, Buck.” You gave him a Shirley Temple smile and turned away to get ready.

“So… Wait… Are you gonna help me?” His eyes lit up. From this angle, he looked like a Golden Retriever puppy being praised. You nodded from your doorway.

Steve exited his room,” Help him with what?” His quizzical brows gave away his curiosity. You smiled at him,” I’m playing arm candy while Bucky schmoozes with the company boss.”

Bucky was still collapsed on the floor. He gave a mock smile to Steve,” Yeah. Lucky me.”

You shot him a look,” Hey! I can still cancel on you last minute.” You faked a small cough. “It is cold season.”

Bucky bolted up from the floor,” Nope. I’m luckiest man on earth. She’s the best date any man could ask for.” He nodded like a chump.

Steve and you laughed. He looked at you,” Better get to dressing up Pretty Woman.”

You punched his bicep,” I’m not a prostitute, Steve! Oh but –“You returned your attention to Bucky,” Am I getting paid for this?”

Bucky glowered at Steve. Steve shrugged at him with an apologetic face. “You’re getting paid in food.”

“Oh. I guess that will do.” You shrugged. “I’ll be ready tomorrow by six.”

Bucky leaned against the wall blinking into space. Steve nudged him,” You’re going to have so much fun. When was the last time (Y/N) got cleaned up? Senior year formal?” He grinned. Bucky hadn’t thought about that.

You gave one last glance at the clock – six sharp. You gave yourself a glance over in your vanity mirror. You had been gone all day shopping with Wanda and Natasha. Wanda curled your hair and left you with a proud hug. The dress was definitely Nat’s choosing.

You refused to wear anything that brought too much attention to your hips or your chest. You had settled for a wine red evening gown. You compromised with the plunging neck line, but adored the floor-length tulle skirt. Nat was happy with the neckline as well as the racy slit on the skirt lining underneath the tulle.

You sealed the package with a subtle red lipstick. You took a deep breath and nodded. Bucky wanted eye candy, well he got it.

You slipped on your silver heels; you hadn’t worn them in a bit, but would endure nonetheless. You exited the room promptly.

“Sorry I’m like three minutes late. I’m ready though.” You smiled snagging your purse off the kitchen counter. The men at the front door were fumbling with something you weren’t paying attention to.

They stopped immediately. In sync, their mouths fell open. Steve’s gawk turned into a grin. You two had always been platonic, but tonight he was checking you out head to toe. Bucky was still silent. His blue eyes trying to take in as much of you as possible. His eyes falling on your leg exposed.

“This tie. Definitely this tie.” Steve pressed a red tie to Buck’s chest. Neither of them taking their eyes off of you.

You stood there confused. Your brows furrowed,” Guys, what’s the hold up?” You realized their gawking and a mild panic rose in your stomach. “Crap! I got lipstick all over my face didn’t I?” You fumbled for a small mirror in your purse. “Or is it too much?”

You stopped to look up. Steve laughed,” There she is!” He walked over to you and offered a hand. You took it with a bashful smile. “You’re a fairytale.” You rolled your eyes trying to play off the blush rising on your cheeks. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and you happily accepted.

“Thanks, Steve. Maybe we can go out to eat sometime. At least you’re giving me compliments.” You turned an eye on Bucky who was still staring at your leg. You covered it up quickly, feeling self-conscious.

He shook his head with a scowl. “I was getting to it.” He finished off his tie as he walked over to you. “You do look – er – beautiful.” He offered it up. Saying that to you was odd for him.

You rolled your eyes and smiled,” That will do Prince Charming.” You checked him out in his suit. Tuxedos were way too much for Bucky. He preferred to be business and that suited you just well. He looked good. You stopped at his tie, which you straightened up.

He stared at you the whole time. “There you are. I couldn’t let my date go in there without looking as put together as possible.” You looked up at him and swallowed the shakiness. He had done an awful lot of staring at you tonight.

Bucky coughed. He diverted his attention elsewhere: checking for his wallet and grabbing the keys. “Thanks.” He walked to the door, gesturing you out.

“Have fun you two.” Steve called. He was grinning from ear to ear. You waved until Bucky shut the door.

The ride was pretty quiet. Bucky had been tense the whole way. You managed the silence between the two of you by singing to the music on the radio and staring up at the city lights.

It wasn’t long until you pulled up to a large building. The door abruptly opened and a valet offered a hand to help you out. You smiled graciously and thanked him. You stood elegantly until Bucky came to collect you. He tipped the valet and began prompting you.

“Carson Bullard is my boss. He is also the man behind this company. He’s the one you’re really trying to impress here.” You gave him a look. “Okay, I’m trying to impress him. The other guys are all my competition so be agreeable and make them jealous.”

He gave you a glance down. “If you can manage that.”

You glared at him,” I’m capable, thank you very much.”

It wasn’t long before the butterflies set in. Maybe it was the hair or the eyeshadow, but you didn’t know where this confidence and assurance came from. You let Bucky take the lead.

The brooding and moody Bucky you knew dissipated and he was all smiles. He introduced you to so many people. You tried to file all their faces and names together into a neat folder in your head.

The room went hush when a man began to speak. He introduced himself at Carson Bullard. You paid close attention to what he was speaking about and made sure to make a note for things to talk about later. Soon enough, Mr. Bullard came over to the two of you.

Bucky shook his hand,” Good evening, Mr. Bullard. It’s an honor to be here.” The man had a kind smile. He took Bucky’s hand and gave a firm shake,” James, my boy. How many times have I told you? Call me Carson.”

You gave Bucky a smile and applied a small pressure to his forearm to calm him. You could feel him calm a little. He laughed a bit. “Right, sorry Mr – I mean Carson. Thank you for inviting us tonight.”

Carson had moved his attention to you by then. He was smiling at you. You smiled back with a blush. “James, you are disappointing. Not introducing your lovely date first.” Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at you.

“This is (Y/N).” He released a small breath. You released his arm and allowed Mr. Bullard to take your hand. He gave it a quick peck before releasing it. “Absolutely beautiful my dear. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His nose was a lovely red button and you couldn’t help but think of Santa Clause when you looked at him.

Mr. Bullard engaged in conversation with Bucky for some time before the dinner bell rang. Bullard straightened up and motioned for us to follow. “You’ll be sitting next to me, of course.” Bucky smiled at you and you gave his arm a squeeze.

Once seated, you studied the people at the table. There were three people fighting for the position at this table, which included Bucky. Bullard’s wife sat to the left of him and Bucky to the right. Bullard had asked for that rearrangement himself. There were also two other business associates with their wives.

You couldn’t help but be proud of him. You took delight in your champagne enjoying the background noise as the men talked business and the women engaged in small talk.

“What about you, (Y/N)?” You looked up, shocked to be put on the spot. They had been talking about meet cutes and their first impressions of their significant others.

You looked at Bucky. Bucky was lost and a little worried. You two hadn’t discussed specifics. You drew from real memory. You smiled and breathed out a short laugh,” My first thoughts of Bucky?” The women smiled and leaned in and Bullard smiled at the nickname.

“I met Bucky my first year of college. I was reading a book under a tree when this football landed right in my lap. It nearly tore the page I was on. I was angry because this spot was usually quiet. I looked up about to snap at whoever disturbed me, when – “You stopped. Your smile deepened,” When I saw Bucky smiling down at me. I forgot about my anger and I forgot what page I was even on. He looked so stupid grinning down at me. I wanted to laugh. I knew then, well, I knew he and I were going to be together.”

Everyone laughed a bit and you could tell there was some envy from the other girls. You looked at Bucky and blushed. You quickly looked away and found solace in Bullard’s smile,” My first impression was that this boy clearly had no idea how to introduce himself to a girl properly and it was obviously my job to help him.”

That got everyone to laugh. For the rest of the night, things went smoothly and Bucky was asked upon by Bullard so many times. On your way out, Bullard stopped you both and hugged you. He made you promise to come to more events. You promised and thanked his wife for her biscotti recipe.

You waved once more before tucking away in Bucky’s Aston Martin. The ride home was cheerful. The two of you laughed at Todd, one of Bucky’s competitors, and his big interruption of Bucky. Bullard had shut that right down. You chuckled about a woman’s earring falling into her soup.

Your stomach hurt by the time you got into the apartment. You had just enough champagne to keep you warm and bubbly. You laughed as Bucky fumbled with the door. He helped you inside. All was silent. Bucky dropped your shoes and you shushed him.

He grinned at you. He was helping you to your room when he tripped. His hand bracing on the wall to stop him from falling on you.

You blinked quickly, feeling a rush of anxiety. You’d never been in this situation with Bucky. He was just barely smiling. His eyes were studying you in this close proximity.

“You really do look divine tonight.”

You bit your lower lip,” You don’t look so bad yourself.” You calmed yourself with quips.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb,” I didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

You laughed and gave a shrug,” Who knew?”

He laughed, his smile turning into a grin. “You were incredible tonight. Honest, doll. I owe you.”

You shook you head,” Don’t worry about it kid.”

“Did you really mean what you said at dinner?”

Your brows furrowed.

“I mean, did you mean that we were going to be together?”

He leaned in a bit closer. You steadied a hand on his chest. He looked down trailing his gaze back up passed your plunging neckline to your eyes again. You could feel his breath, so warm and inviting.

You loosened his tie,” It’s bed time Bucky.”

He nodded, straightening himself. You let your hands fall, flattening yourself against the wall. You watched as completely loosening his tie and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt.

He smiled back at you. “Goodnight, doll. Thank you for everything.”

[takebackthedream]

Republicans: Up is Down, Medicare is Safe by Leo Gerard

Republicans live in an Alice-in-Wonderland World where they can pass $1.5 trillion in tax cuts that won’t cost anything. They’ll pay for themselves! Just like a worker’s mortgage does every month. Just pays for itself! And then the GOP can propose another $1 trillion in tax cuts that also won’t cost anything! They certainly won’t increase the federal deficit, or damage Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security!

Or so we’re told.

Magic Unicorn Money

The reason Republicans believe in Magic Unicorn Money is that they never actually socialize with, or speak to, or even vaguely know minimum-wage workers, or middle-class workers or precariat workers who drive for Uber at night because their day jobs deny them full-time hours. These workers get paid in cold, hard currency that lacks the power of Unicorn Money to magically materialize whenever necessary to pay bills.

Up is Down

When Republicans passed their massive tax cut for the rich and corporations in December, most credible economists, including nonpartisan ones in the government itself such as the Joint Committee on Taxation, estimated it would cost at least $1 trillion over 10 years. That is, the government would receive $1 trillion less in tax payments. Which means $1 trillion less to pay bills. Which means higher deficits. Especially since Republicans increased spending.

Republicans said that wasn’t true. It wouldn’t happen. No way. Just last month, Larry Kudlow, director of the President’s National Economic Council, told Fox News that the tax cuts caused the deficit to decline, “And it’s coming down rapidly,” he said.

Yeah, about that: Tax collections from corporations, which got the biggest, fattest tax cut of all, are near a 75-year low as a share of the economy. In the first six months of 2018, tax receipts from corporations fell by $50 billion when compared to the first half of 2017. That means the federal government received about a third less money from corporations. That drop off is enlarging the federal deficit even faster than economists had predicted.

This decline in revenue for the feds is occurring even as corporations are rolling in cash. Their profits after taxes have hit all-time record highs. They’re spending that slush fund on stock buybacks, which raise stock prices, thus enriching already rich shareholders and CEOs. They’ve announced $436.6 billion in buybacks – the most ever and nearly double the old record.

Would is Wouldn’t

Of course, those cash-fat corporations have awarded big raises to workers, just like Kevin Hassett, chair of the President’s Council of Economic Advisors, said they would. “I would expect to see an immediate jump in wage growth,” ranging between $4,000 and $9,000 for the typical worker, Hassett said in October, just before Congress passed the tax cuts.

Maybe what he meant to say was “wouldn’t” expect that jump in wage growth. Fewer than 500 of the nation’s 6 million employers gave workers a one-time bonus or a wage increase because of the massive corporate tax break, according to tracking by the group Americans For Tax Fairness. U.S. government data show that for nonsupervisory workers in the first quarter of 2018, real wages, that is wages adjusted for inflation, fell 0.1 percent, and private data show them dropping even further in the second quarter.

While corporations wouldn’t come through with those raises, prices workers had to pay this year shot up, including those for gasoline, interest on credit card debt and health insurance.

That is the real, lived experience of workers. Higher costs and no additional money to pay them. Not only did corporations stiff them, but workers are not feeling that tax break in their paychecks either. Only a quarter of those surveyed in a recent Politico/Morning Consult poll said they’d seen more money in their paychecks as a result of the tax cut. By contrast, 52 percent said they saw nothing. Nada. No bump for the working chump. And those guys aren’t happy about it. The poll found only 37 percent supported the tax cuts.

But a worker can’t be trusted to really understand his or her own paycheck, right? “What you are seeing and what you are reading is not what’s happening.”

Republicans are trusting that statement to be right – that workers don’t actually know what’s happening. The House GOP announced this week they’re going to extend the individual tax cuts – the ones workers couldn’t find in their paychecks, the ones that gave the vast majority of benefits to the wealthiest 1 percenters.

That’s fat cats like U.S. Rep. Vern Buchanan, a Florida Republican who bought himself a $1 million yacht on the very day he voted to approve the tax cuts for the rich. And like U.S. Sen. Bob Corker, a Tennessee Republican who swore he’d never vote for a tax bill that added “one penny to the deficit,” then voted for this tax bill that added $1.5 trillion to the deficit after lawmakers added a special provision at the last minute to specifically benefit Corker, a provision immortalized by the title: Corker Kickback. The Center for American Progress estimates Corker got himself a tax cut of between $125,383 to $706,383 as a result. Buchanan’s tax reduction – between $371,752 and $2.1 million.

Last December, as Republicans in Congress passed the tax cut for the rich that they said would not balloon the federal deficit – but which did, in fact, balloon the federal deficit – they announced their project for 2018 would be to deflate the massive federal deficit.

Confused? Don’t worry, “What you are seeing and what you are reading is not what’s happening.”

House Speaker Paul Ryan, Sen. Marco Rubio and Sen. Orrin Hatch all raised the deficit by voting with their fellow Republicans for the tax scam while at the same time saying they’d really like to cut the deficit by raiding Medicaid, Medicare and Social Security. That’s right. Tax breaks for the rich; heartbreak for the rest. No Magic Unicorn Money for the old, poor or sick.

But don’t say that out loud. Up is down. Would is wouldn’t.

[perfettamentechic]

20 ottobre … ricordiamo …

20 ottobre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic #felicementechic #lynda

2016: Michael Massee, Michael Groo Massee, attore statunitense. Massee è noto per essere l’uomo che accidentalmente uccise Brandon Lee sul set de Il corvo. L’attore non riuscì mai a superare del tutto il tormento di quella tragedia. (n. 1952) 2014: Oscar de la Renta, stilista statunitense (n. 1932) 2006: Jane Wyatt, nome d’arte di Jane Waddington Wyatt, è stata un’attrice cinematografica,…