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itgetsdarksometimes35 · 4 years

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For Freedom

Warnings: This chapter: none; the series: non-con, dub-con, depression, forced marriage, angst, forced pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 4,237

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes / Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family. After being sold to Bucky Barnes, and forced to have his child, she and her sisters look for a way to escape.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: Hey you guys! I know I planned on this being the ending, but I thin this will be a small series. The next part will be the ending for sure, though. Hope you enjoy, next thing out will be Love In True Form, and then I’ll get to work on challenges. Then after that, I may have a new series for you all...

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It took months to save up enough money. You only needed enough to get two one-way tickets to Germany, but you were scared to take out too much in fears of James finding out. In that time, your oldest sister, Lucille, had twin boys. She had 5 sons altogether now, and you couldn’t wait to see her again. You hadn’t spoken to her since she was married and taken away years ago; Anne seemed to be the person who was doing all the communicating for you all. The second oldest, Vienna, had 3 daughters before she finally had her son. Her husband refused to give up until he had an “heir.” Anne had only 3 children, two boys and a girl. All the names to your nieces and nephews were a mystery, along with their faces and ages. You could guess Lucille’s twins’ ages were less than a year, but you could never be sure. Anne knew you had your son, but she didn’t know his name. She never asked, and she told you not to tell her. You weren’t sure if your other sisters knew, but it would only be a matter of time before they did.

Bucky had turned 1 years old a month prior to you both leaving. James threw a small party at a local amusement park that he had rented out for the entire day. His friends and family were the only in attendance, as usual, and the older kids enjoyed the rides while Bucky smiled at all his guests and messed his face with icing from his safari cake. James had been so happy to plan the party; balloon animals, a small petting zoo, and face painting areas all decorated the park. You couldn’t deny the way he beamed at Bucky as he screamed in affection at the baby goat drinking from the bottle or the way he giggled at the stuffed rabbit James’ friend, Natasha, had gifted him. James wasn’t loving with you, but you were thankful it didn’t carry over to Bucky. You wished yours and James’ situation was different. Maybe you’d love him in different lights.

When James thought you were buying groceries one day, you went out to get you and Bucky’s passport and buy your tickets. The passports would be ready and shipped to your house in 5 weeks, you paid an extra fee to get the expedition processing, and our flight would be the following week.

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“See ya tonight, bud.” James caressed Bucky’s head while speaking to the pouting toddler. Bucky was always upset to see his daddy leave for work, and overjoyed when he came back. Your heart clenched. Were you doing the right thing? Then James turned to you and you shook the thought away. Of course you were.

“Have a good day, dear. We’ll miss you,” You chirped as you kissed James on the cheek. He turned his mouth up in a small smile before kissing you on the lips.

“Can’t wait to get back.” He winked at you and your stomach turned at his crud intentions. You were nothing but a walking toy for him, something to cook him food and bear his children. You faked a smile before dipping into the house while James drove off.

You shut the door and quickly walked upstairs, your cab would be here in an hour. Plenty of time to pack. You set Bucky in his playpen and he looked at you as you frantically moved around yours and James’ shared room trying to throw useful items into the suitcase you brought to the house the day you moved in.

“Da-da,” Bucky cooed from the pen as he picked up a block to start stacking.

“Da-da went to work, baby. Now you and mommy are going to go on a trip,” You turned to your son and smiled at him, “Are you excited?” You talked in your baby voice and your son smiled back at you. His 3 teeth on full display for you.

Your suitcase was filled with as many clothes as you saw fit. Everyone had specific items to bring, and your job was the clothes. Anne and Lucille would bring baby supplies, diapers, sippy cups, toys, etc; Vienna shared your job. The plan was to pack light, anything other than what you absolutely needed had to be left--including photos, and then drain your husband’s bank account for money. Finding out James’ banking information was the hardest thing for you to do, he kept it all locked in a safe in a room that was always locked. After snooping on him one night after he thought you were asleep, you were surprised to see the combination was the day of your marriage.

As you were leaving the bedroom, you saw Bucky’s baby book. It wasn’t big, and you could fit it in your purse. There were millions of photos on the walls, but none of them were personal to you. They were high tech and flashy photos James had spent too much money on. None of them looked natural. Then again, you had never felt natural with him. But that book held photos you had captured with an old polaroid you found in the basement. The film was just as old, but there was enough to last you years. You grabbed it and stuffed it into your purse as the Taxi started honking. You picked Bucky up from his playpen and left. You would just have to deal with Anne’s complaining when you got to Germany.

The taxi dropped you off at the airport 45 minutes before you were supposed to board. You rolled your suitcase over to the bank that was next door, and entered with Bucky on your hip. James listed you as an account holder in the case of an emergency. You were positive he hadn’t seen anything wrong with this, you’d still need to know his information, and he probably thought he had broken you beyond the point of willing yourself to run. Little did he know.

“Good morning, I’d like to withdraw some funds from my husband’s account,” You said to the older woman with a blonde bob and bright red lipstick. She smiled and set the glasses hanging around her neck on her nose before turning to the screen ahead of her.

“Alright, name please.” You told her and she typed a few times. “And his?” She looked at you, and you noticed a bit of lipstick in her teeth.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” The woman nodded and typed away.

“Da-da,” Bucky yelled and you looked down at him with a smile.

“That’s right, honey, that’s daddy’s name.” Bucky smiled up at you before grabbing at your hair to play with.

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” The older woman exclaimed, “Can he have a lollipop?” She reached into a brown bowel on the counter separating the two of you before pulling out a blue sucker.

“I don’t see why not. Thank you.” You took the blue lollipop before turning to Bucky who was eyeing the candy with intensity. “What do you say?”

“Tank to!” You unwrapped the lollipop before handing it to Bucky. He grabbed it with his chunky hand before greedily sucking on it, already getting a blue sticky streak on his mouth.

You turned your attention back to the blonde, and she asked you for your name and bank information. You gave it to her as she continued to type away at her computer. “Alright, can you tell me the amount you’d like to withdraw today?”

You cleared your throat before answering, “All of it.”

The woman’s eyes got big. “Ma’am, there’s 2 million dollars in here. Can you give a reason?”

“Yes ma’am.” You adjusted Bucky on your hip as you tried to remember your lie. “My husband, James, was recently in a horrible accident at his job. I understand the hospital can take the money from the account, but they’ve given me the option to give it to them in person as well. I was on my way to catch a flight to him, and decided this was a route I’d like to take. Our insurance wouldn’t inflate because they wouldn’t have to pay anything, too, and now that we have this little one,” You lifted your hip that carried Bucky a bit higher, “I want our insurance as good as possible. We never know, you know?”

The blonde looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, of course I understand completely. I have 2 daughters, and when their father got sick our insurance and healthcare went completely down the drain. I wish I could’ve had the money you have, I know it can be terrifying to have bad policies when raising children. Especially young ones.” You were nodding your head, trying to look pitiful. You felt bad for lying, especially to this woman. She looked so bad for you and was able to relate to your fake story. Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Thank you, I’m sorry about your husband. It’s a horrible situation that some of us are put in.”

The woman agreed and typed on the computer again. A register was opened and she counted out taped together stacks of money. She put them in a cream colored bag along with a receipt and handed it to you.

“I hope everything goes okay for you and your little one. Us moms have to stay strong and do what’s best.”

You held back tears at the woman’s words. “That we do.”

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You made your way back to the airport as Bucky babbled a song from a show you both watch together. The bank teller, who’s name you learned to be Camille, informed you that your husband would be emailed by the bank about the deposit due to legal protocol. You knew James checks his email religiously and that he got notifications on his phone. You knew that he was probably on a phone call with the bank right now, screaming into the phone. But you didn’t care.

By the time he figured out you’d left, you’d be in Germany. Or close to it. You planned on destroying your trail once you got there. Anne had planned it all out. She deleted her history and told you to destroy all your letters by burning them. She led her husband to believe you all had traveled to Greece with undeleted searches. It would throw all of them off for a bit, but eventually you knew they’d figure out you went to Germany. You all knew that you couldn’t stay together after a while, it’d be too risky. You knew at some point one of you might get caught, and the rest would have to save themselves. You were fugitives, trapped in your own homes, with men that were supposed to provide security as the guards. But, until then, you’d stick together as long as possible. You were stronger as a team during the weaker parts of the beginning.

As you boarded the plane you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You rushed to the plane bathroom with Bucky still in your arms. You threw the door open, and emptied your stomach into the toilet bowl.

“Uh oh,” Bucky said, making you laugh at his purity.

“It’s okay, honey, mommy’s just a little nervous,” You reassured your son. You flushed and washed your hands before stepping out of the cramped room to find your seat. The plane took off soon after that.

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You were jerked awake as a flight attendant tapped your shoulder, her brown hair pulled tight into a low bun.

“Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” She had a smooth voice that you felt could put you right back to sleep, “But you’ve arrived at your destination.”

“Okay, thank you.” She smiled at you before standing up straight to move to the back of the plane to wake up other passengers. Bucky was asleep in your arms, and you planned to keep him that way. He had been good throughout the entire flight, but you weren’t surprised. He was such an easy baby, you couldn’t have been blessed with a better one. Especially not in your circumstances.

You got off the plane and went in search of your suitcase in the bag return. You quickly found it before you headed out of the crowded airport. Bucky was quick to wake up after hearing the commotion of the early Wednesday morning traffic. Taxi drivers were yelling in German and English to the people exiting the airport, offering them a ride for a “price they couldn’t get elsewhere.” You would’ve taken the offer, but knew that you had to wait for the bus. Anne had said it’d be easier to hide that way. The taxi driver would ask for a direct address while the bus would drop you off at another station. Miles from your true destination. Plus the bus driver was less likely to remember you.

Your stomach growled as Bucky bounced in your lap. You had eaten on the plane, but had vomited nearly everything up. Your stomach wasn’t agreeing with anything today, but you knew it was just the guilt and nerves you felt. Everything would go back to normal once you were with your sisters, and plus they would have something good for you to have at the house.

The bus smelled and was cramped with loud people on their way to work. They spoke words you couldn’t comprehend loudly in your ear, and Bucky sat amazed at them. When your stop came, you eagerly grabbed your suitcase, bag, and son and all but jumped off the bus, glad to be rid of it for now. You followed a path Anne described in great detail until you came to houses with numbers. You dragged your tired body along them until you found the number that had played in your head for the past few days. Number 39. Your new home

You climbed the three steps up to the brown, wooden door, and grasped the iron knuckle. You pulled it up and down several times emitting loud thuds to echo in the small community of homes. Bucky grasped the front of your chest and stuck his face into it to represent his hunger.

“I know, baby, mommy will feed you soon.”

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you waited for an answer. You counted 23 seconds before you considered your possible mistake. Did you go down the wrong street? Was 39 the house number or was it the bus number you were supposed to take? Was there any way to contact your sisters? Could you somehow convince James that you had been kidnapped in hopes he’d believe you? Just then the door creaked open. Your worries came to a halt as you saw Vienna standing in the doorway. She had, of course, aged a bit since the last time you saw her. Her hair was shorter and a little bit dull in color and she was skinnier than the chubby teenager you were used to, but there was no denying that was her.

“Oh my God, Vienna?” Her droopy tired eyes held tears as she took you in. Her lip trembled and she whispered your name. She opened the door wider as she held out her arms to you. “It’s been so long!”

You held her tighter to you with the arm that didn’t hold Bucky. She pulled away from you as tears escaped from her eyes. Your own were starting to conjugate in yours. Vienna stepped aside so you could step into the small house. She took a peek outside before shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Where’s everyone else,” You asked, setting your bags down at last.

Vienna didn’t have to answer as you heard your name being called behind you. You turned and adjusted Bucky into your other arm as you see Lucille stepping out of a room. Her back is a bit hunched over and one of her eyes seemed to lazily shut now. Gray hair was sprinkled across her scalp, and wrinkles were setting under her eyes. She was only 36.

“Look at you, you’ve grown so much,” She exclaimed, stepping closer to you. You were only 1 when she was married off at 16. She was the youngest one wed, but she was also the prettiest. Your father had no problem finding a man to sell her to. She was the only one auctioned off before 18. Vienna left at 19 and Anne left at 22. None of you were as strong as Anne, she had held on the longest. You had left at 18, too.

You hugged her tightly. You never got to know her, but you still loved her deeply. You hated the cards you all had been dealt for keeping you apart for so long. You let go as Vienna stepped closer to you both. She rubber Bucky’s small back.

“And who is this little guy?” She smiled down at him as he gave a 3 tooth grin back.

You sniffed before handing Bucky to your sister. “This is Bucky. My one and only.” Vienna mimicked the name before bouncing him on her hip a bit.

“Well, Bucky, I think it’s time for you to meet your aunts and cousins.”

Lucille took your hand as Vienna carried Bucky into a room filled with kids and a crib with two babies sleeping. They all were watching a TV, but turned to you as you walked in.

“Kids, come meet your 4th aunt,” Vienna said as she cooed at Bucky. 3 girls and a boy walked over to you and Lucille. “That’s Jade,” Vienna pointed to the girl with dutch braids, “Josephine,” The one with big curls and floral dress, “June,” The one with a ponytail and a sports jersey, “and Jared,” The only boy. They all waved to you, all looking a bit uncomfortable. You didn’t blame them, they had traveled from God knows where to a weird house, and now they were meeting people they had never met before. Probably never even heard of. “And this is your other cousin, Bucky.” Josephine, she looked to be the oldest-- probably 13, smiled at the child.

“Oh, he’s so cute! Can I hold him?” She looked to her mom for confirmation before looking at you. Her big eyes soft, just like her mother’s.

“Yeah, of course. He’s hungry, do you want to feed him?” Her eyes lit up.

“Yes!” You chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she gave a shy smile once realizing how excited she sounded.

“He can eat crushed up fruit, do you guys have any?” Your eyes searched Vienna and Lucille.

“In the kitchen. I can go do it for you,” The girl replied, scooping up your son before moving through a door that led into, what you assumed to be, a kitchen.

“We left just in time,” Vienna said, “Her father had already found a man to marry her. She’s sweet, and I know she’d make a great mom one day, but she’s also so smart. She has a life to live before she should even think about a baby,” She sighed, “But of course, women in our situation don’t hold any other value.”

Vienna’s children had gone back to watching the TV, and Lucille called her children up.

“Boys, come here please.” 3 boys walked over to you. “This is my oldest, Tennessee,” The boy with dusty hair nodded to you, he looked about 16, “Then Anthony,” the one with curly hair and glasses, “And Kyle,” He had freckles and a dimple on his chin. Lucille pointed to the crib. “Over there are Michael and Ian, they’re 3 months old. Didn’t think I had it in me, but I guess it’s not over until the big change, huh?” You smiled at her as she squeezed your hand.

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” You say and they nod at you, taking their seat on the floor and couch yet again. There were still 3 kids that were taking steady glances at you, and you were about to ask about them when you heard your name yet again. You turn to the left to see Anne walking down the stairs.

“Anne!” You ran over to embrace your sister. You and her had by far had the strongest relationship, being closer in age and spending the most time together. You felt yourself crying once again. Anne broke the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

“Wow,” She breathed out as tears flowed freely. She looked exactly the same as she did 7 years prior. You giggled at her and she joined you. A little girl, no older than two, ran to hug her legs. “This little stinker,” Anne said lifting the girl up, “Is my youngest Brooke.” She kissed the girl’s cheek before waving the last 2 boys over. “That’s George,” The oldest one with shoulder length hair, “And Evan.” He looked exactly like your father. Had the same lifted left eyebrow and everything. Anne looked like the man she hated the most, and you knew she’d never be rid of the man who she blamed all her sorrows on. Especially not now that her son looked like him, but you knew she’d never neglect her child.

Josephine was walking out of the kitchen while wiping Bucky’s hands. You grabbed your sister’s hand and led her over to your son.

“And this is Bucky.”

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After the tear filled reunion, you found yourself at a small dinner table with your sisters. They were all huddled around it as your nieces and nephews sat in front of the tv and had dinner. They giggled at the silent screen that flashed cartoons at them. Bucky lay asleep in Anne’s arms as she bounced him.

“Alright,” Anne whispered loud enough for just you all to hear, “So, does everyone know the plan?” You all nodded. Anne had planned this all out. Every time something was needed outside of the house, somebody different each time would leave to retrieve it. It would go in rotation from oldest to youngest. You would carry a burner phone with you and would only use it if there was an emergency. The phone would have one number on it, the house phone, that another sister would be right by until the other one returned back safely.

After dinner, you helped Vienna clean up. You both had insisted Anne and Lucille get some rest, saying they had gotten there the earliest and were tired. Anne took Bucky to the room you, her, Bucky, Brooke, and June would sleep in. The house only had 3 bedrooms, and 5 people would have to bunk in the small bedrooms with only one king size bed together. It would be a squeeze, but it was all definitely better than the Hell you all had escaped.

While cleaning, you found yourself not being able to focus on the story Vienna was telling you. Your stomach was turning, fighting the peas and chicken you had just ate, and your head was suddenly hurting. You were sweating too. Were you having a panic attack?

“You okay, sis?” Before you could answer, you were vomiting up your dinner into the sink. Vienna soothingly rubbed your back as you finished off the remnants. You turned on the faucet to wash away the mush.

“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m a little scared still?” Vienna looked at you and gave a knowing smile before resting her hand on your shoulder.

“How far along are you?”

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The day had been a shitty one. James was in the middle of an important business pitch with Sam Wilson, a promising company from Louisiana that he wanted to partner with, when his assistant rushed in. He tried to order her out, but when he heard “money” and “gone” he had to apologize and excuse himself. After seeing the bank’s email, and hearing the voicemail they left his assistant after she called them, he rescheduled his meeting with Sam, explaining vaguely what was happening.

James believed someone had stolen your information in order to rob him blind. He didn’t think you would do that, what reason would you have? Name anything on this Earth and James would have it in your hands the very next day. He was clutching the steering wheel with a vice-like grip that was turning his knuckles white. When James got home, he looked on terrified at how it was left. He called your name out while he ran around looking for you and Bucky. Once he found it empty, he started dialing 911. You both were missing.

James was tapping his foot waiting for the operator when he saw it. The picture album that you begged him for when you first found out you were pregnant. It was gone.

The metal hand clutching the phone crushed right as he heard the female voice on the other side greet James. You and Bucky weren’t kidnapped, you had run away.

James went downstairs to call his friends, Steve and Natasha. He was going to need their help tracking down his bratty wife. She was smart, he’d give her that, but she’d have to try a lot harder if she wanted to get away from an ex super soldier.

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@jtargaryen18 @coconutqueen21 @collette04 @stayhazey @nsfwsebbie @official-and-unstable-satan

#non con #dub con #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!mcu #dark!marvel

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a-crash-in-time-collection · 3 years

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Chapter 3: Return of the Mysterious Diva

It took awhile for the dark woods to pass the group, desert sand replacing it. It always felt a bit strange to Hat Girl, people always seemed to complain about the desert's heat, yet it never really bugged her. Then again, that simply could be because she was an alien who could more easily handle heat, or this desert was cooler than others. Either way, it didn't stop her from chatting with the others on the way to Dead Bird Studio.

The others informed her about how things on the planet were since she last arrived. It was... the same for the most part. Mafia Town was still Mafia Town. Dead Bird Studio kept making movies, and although slightly more tolerant of each other, DJ Grooves and Conductor still had their rivalry. The captain and seals got a new ship, apparently bigger than before. Alpine Skyline was apparently fine as well, but no one really knew exactly since they kept to themselves.

It made her happy, knowing everyone was still living their lives peacefully. She found herself soon looking forward again, seeing they were now in front of Dead Bird Studios. It felt almost like nothing changed, seeing it. The main thing that was different were two posters on each side of the building. Those posters being for the movies she took part in when she first arrived on this planet. Apparently, her movies were still some of the best the studio ever made.

It almost felt surreal that she was here again, after all this time... She felt herself take a slight breath to calm herself, glancing to her sides slightly. DJ Grooves gave her a reassuring smile, Conductor glanced at her with pride. She felt a ghostly hand remove her hat, ruffling her hair briefly before placing the hat back on. She took another breath, and walked into the building that made her a star.

They passed through the dark hallway, into the reception room. Everything was almost the exact same as years ago, minus the same posters as outside on each wall on each side of the building. The Receptionist owl was typing away at the computer on his desk. The birds there were chatting among each other, Express Owls on one side, and Moon Penguins on the other. Her smile grew slightly as Platinum began glancing around in awe.

"HEY, we're back, Receptionist!" The Conductor called as he walked up to the desk.

"I hear you Conductor, no need to be pushy about it." The Receptionist said, as his typing went quicker, as if to finish whatever he was working on.

"Normally I would agree with your statement darling, but I can't really blame him myself." DJ Grooves said, taking Hat Girl's hand as he walked closer. "One of the greatest stars we ever had has returned. Who can blame him if he's a bit excited."

"Really? The only person I can think of that meets that memo is-" the Receptionist finally glanced over, and although his eyes remained closed, he seemed to straighten up in surprise. "Is that the lil' chiper?"

"Lil' chiper? How many nicknames did you get on this planet, Hattie? Or just, names in general?" Platinum asked as he walked back over to the group, Hat Girl giving a shrug in response.

"Who else do you know that wears a purple and yellow hat almost 24/7?" Snatcher spoke, having shrunk his from slightly to where he was still able to tower the others, but to where he wasn't knocking said others to the side by mistake.

"I'll be takin' her to the back to get her bird passport renewed. Clear out everythin' else in me schedule today." Conductor said quickly.

"Same with me darling." DJ Grooves said, the Conductor huffing quietly to himself. "Oh, and do me a favor. Tell Biddy and Sheryll to bring her over to the picture booth." Hat Girl gained a bit of confusion in her eyes, weren't they already taking her to the photo booth?

"Of course, right away Mister Conductor and Mister Grooves." The Reception said, giving a quick wave to Hat Girl before getting back on the computer.

"This way darling, we'll get your passport ready, then you can choice a movie you'd like to be in." DJ Grooves said, leading her through the doors on his side of the building. The Conductor could faintly be heard mumbling in the background, as he followed them, a rare sight to be sure. Hat Girl found herself glancing around, it was so much like she remembered, yet not at the same time.

"Still can't believe you were in movies without me." Platinum huffed, though it wasn't a serious huff like Conductor's past one was.

"In my defense, I didn't know I was going to be getting a robotic brother when I was starring in them." Hat Girl giggled, smiling slightly as she waved to the owls and penguins that recognized her. It felt a bit strange, walking through the studio instead of just jumping about. Either they built some new pathways while she was gone, or she was always looking for a challenge when she was younger.

"Whelp, here we are, lass!" Conductor said, the large fake golden trophy a few feet away from them.

Platinum froze in his steps, month opening in slight shock. "Woah! Especially when the trophies are that big!" He glanced back at her, to which she rolled her eyes. She loved her brother, and they worked well together. But it takes a few tries to get some facts into his head. Like when the answer he was given was 'no'. But, to be fair, she was guilty of that as well. He turned his attention to the birds. "Where do you two even keep all these trophies!?"

"Well, this one is just a plastic replica, darling." DJ Grooves said, watching disappointment fill the Topbot's face.

"Why do you two have a plastic replica anyway?" Snatcher said, flouting to the top of the fake golden trophy, laying on the top slightly. "Aww, were one of you so insure that you would never win a first place trophy? That's just sooo sad."

The Conductor gave a slight smirk and DJ Grooves, who quickly and magically gained a cough. "Step over here darling, and we'll take the new picture for the passport. I do hope you're more… photogenic with staying still this time around." He said, heading to the camera booth.

"No promises, Grooves." She chuckled as she walked over to where the camera was pointing. She still remembered standing in this exact spot years ago. She made sure not to move this time, despite Platinum making faces at her like a child in the background.

The camera clicked, allowing Hat Girl to breathe a sigh of relief. The Conductor snatched the picture from DJ Grooves and looked at it, glancing back at her with a smile. "You look great, lassie!"

"Daddy!" A voice called before Hat Girl had the chance to say 'thanks'. DJ Grooves quickly got out of the photo booth, as a small blue penguin ran from two moon penguins to him. She was wearing a small pink dress, similar to one she remembered one of the Conductor grandkids wore. She giggled as she got to his feet, as the penguin picked her up.

"There you are, did you miss me, little star?" He asked, booping the young penguin's beak, causing her to let out a giggle. He then turned over to the toppat teens. "This here is Dinenna, my beautiful magnificent little girl!"

"Awwww, she's so cute!" Hat Girl said, walking over to the two slightly. Apparently, things had changed more than she had thought. Still, she wasn't going to let that bug her, as she smiled at the little bird. "Hi there, Dinenna!"

Dinenna looked at her slightly, letting out a small gasp in wonder. She then smiled and pointed to her. "Hat Diva! Hat Diva!" She then reached for her slightly. Hat Girl heard a sigh from the Conductor in the background, apparently he was going to take care of Platinum's picture while waiting for 'this' to be over with.

DJ Grooves chuckled slightly, as he looked back at her. "She's a big fan of yours, darling. She even watch the Conductor's westerns that have you in it."

"Don't think I can't hear ye, peck neck" The Conductor grumbled in the background.

Hat Girl smiled slightly at them both, letting the little one garb her hands slightly. Her ice blue eyes looked up at her in joy, she might be able to compete with the seals.

"Alright, we got the lad and lassie's passport taken care of." The Conductor said, walking back over to the three. He then glanced at Hat Girl. "So, which movie should we film, lassie? I've gotten a few ideas over the years."

"Well..." She began messing with her fingers. "I hope you don't mind, but I was kinda thinking I could do a movie with DJ Grooves first. It would likely take less time, and we do need to get back to the others soon. Besides, I figure Dinenna would like that, won't you?" She said, the little penguin giggling slightly.

The Conductor glanced at DJ Grooves slightly, possibly giving him a glare, before sighing slightly in defeat. "Aright, lass. But yer gonna be in one of my movies next!" He crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby wall. Platinum looked at the bird, giving a shrug before walking next to his sister.

"Well, if we're going to be in one of DJ Groove's movies, maybe we can do something with that parade thing I saw while walking in?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. "It seems like it would be a cool idea, and you looked like you were having a lot of fun while making it, Hattie." He smiled at her.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling." DJ Grooves said, looking at the two of them slightly. Dineanna giggled in his arms, making him pause to smile at her before turning his attention back to the other two. "I still remember watching you leading those Owls around the set, like the leader you were."

"Well, if we are going to do that movie, there are a few things I liked to bring up." Hat Girl said as she looked at him. "We should get finger signs in place for us to use. The band tended to get way too close during the parade. And maybe we should have some extra safety measures in place this time around. I loved running around carefree and all, but things would have been bad if I slipped."

"I do see your point there, darling." DJ Grooves said, rubbing the back of his head.

"You better see the point. It would be awful if they fell and broke all their bones, or gears in Platinum's case." Snatcher stated as he flouted to the group with a chuckle. "Normal I say stuff like that in a joking manner, as I want that to happen. But know I will be seeing you in court if something happens to the kiddo." His voice gained a faint threatening tone, hand making a slight fist that was hidden from the others view.

The penguin gulped slightly. "Don't worry, darling, everything will be fine... now, let's get things ready!" He said, picking up his tone again slightly.

Snatcher flouted besides Hat Girl and Platinum as she was being led to another room. "Don't worry, I'll be at the movie set with you in case things go haywire."

"Wow, I really earned a spot in your heart, didn't I?" Hat Girl chuckled, as Snatcher glanced up at the ceiling, likely rolling his eyes. She didn't remember Snatcher being this... nice... or protective. Did something happen while she was gone that made him like this? She didn't bother asking.

Soon, they found themselves in a dressing room. "Platinum, you head into the one over there, I'll go let you know the plans in a few minutes." The Topbot nodded after a brief moment, and headed into the room, followed by a few Moon penguins. DJ Grooves walked over to a nearby closet, and pulled out her... old Parade uniform?

"Wait, didn't you give that to me?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

DJ Grooves looked over at her, head tilting to the side as Dinenna reached for the feather on the top of the hat. "Not that I recall, darling."

"Weird..." She said, only faintly noticing some Moon Penguins holding measuring tape to her sides. "I could have sworn you did, it was in my closet when I left the planet... same with a bunch of other outfits I don't recall having..." She glanced to the side, faintly able to catch Snatcher starting to mess with his fingers again.

"Must have been a spare, or something." DJ Grooves said, placing Dinenna on the floor with the hat, before grabbing a roll of red fabric off the wall, comparing it to that of the outfit. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to go with me first darling, but I appreciate it." He looked over at her, giving her a soft smile. "I promise, you won't regret it."

Hat Girl giggled. "I'm sure I won't." She said, pausing as she bent down when one of the penguins asked her too. They quickly marked her head length on it before removing it. This was going to be fun.

-------

Hat Girl adjusted her new hat as she glanced into the mirror Snatcher had summoned for her. Her current outfit was almost the exact same as the one she wore years ago, only fitted to her current size. Platinum jumped into the mirror's view as well, wearing almost the exact same outfit, but the gold and silver parts were swapped in color. He looked at her with a grin, warping an arm around her happily.

"You too look perfect, darlings." DJ Grooves said as he glanced over at them, ending the phone call he was on. Dinenna had to go home, as her mother and him agreed it would be a bad idea for her to stay up late, so he was making sure everything was alright there. He then glanced over the two rows of Owls, who were waiting patiently. "Everyone remembers the signals?"

"Yes sir, we got them memorized... r-right everyone?" One of the owls called to the others, who nodded or mumbled shyly their answers.

"Just don't draw attention to the fact I’m here, I don't want to be associated with DJ Peckneck."

"You're in the shadows of the starting building playing cards with a ghost known for stealing souls buddy, I'm pretty sure no one's gonna notice." Snatcher said casually, placing down a 7.

"Ehhh, fair." He glanced down at his cards. "Uhhh... is ace the best card, or the worst card...? This is why I don't play without me grandchildren."

"Alright Darlings, let's get this movie started!" DJ Grooves called, hopping over to a tower-float thing.

"Let's get my movie career started!" Platinum called, racing to another building as soon as he was given the 'go' command.

Hat Girl chuckled slightly as she raced the opposite direction then her brother, hopping onto the nearby building as the owls followed her. She could hear shouts of excitement from the crowd below, she could hear variants of her name shouted in joy below, it made her feel happy.

"Hey Hattie! Check this out!" Platinum called, reading himself up to a wire. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the wire, doing a cartwheel across it.

Hat Girl rolled her eyes, singling her owls to slow down slightly so she could more easily talk to him. "Yeah yeah, I can do a lot more on those wires, dear brother of mine. Watch!" She said, hopping onto one, doing a front flip as she landed on a nearby rooftop. She glanced over smugly.

Platinum made a grin, and singled for his owls to speed up as he raced to his left. Hat Girl was a bit confused, as she hop back and forth between the 'stage' area and a nearby rooftop to get a better look at the situation. She saw Platinum turn around from the rooftop edge and hop off. Before her worry could fully set in, she saw him grab some flags between two buildings just above the crowd, and used them to quickly swing himself onto the next rooftop.

"I'm sorry kiddo, but I'm pretty sure you just got owned!" Snatcher called as he looked away from the card game, chuckling along with the Conductor. Hat Girl gave a glare, then singled for her owls to speed up while looking at DJ Grooves. Then she gave him another single just from him.

"Start the firework cannons!" He called to a nearby group of moon penguins at the controls. They nodded at him, and began to press the buttons. The canons from the nearby flouts started to shoot out fireworks, and some of the ground crew got more safety tarps ready, in case one of the two were to fall onto the ground.

Meanwhile in one of the shops, a storekeeper glanced at the gems on the counter, then looked at the man. "Sir, we're legally not allowed to accept gems as payment."

"Come on, it's basically keeping change." Reginald spoke, voiced tired yet filled with stress and worry. He and Right Hand Man went looking for the kids, but after hours of searching and Reginald falling into water, they decided they should try and get some supplies for the clan. After all, they had to come back on their own sooner or later. Platinum's battery could only last so long after all.

"Look sir, I can tell something's going on, but I can't just give all of this for gems or gold." The storekeeper, glancing at the supplies that were sitting to the side of the counter. Some packs of food, bottles of water, tools, and a few tents. They glanced back at him. "If you don't have anything you can actually use to pay, you have to leave."

"But I..." Reginald let out a groan, glancing over at Right Hand Man.

Right Hand Man sighed as he reached in his pocket. Normally they would likely have just stolen it all, but Reginald refused too. He didn't want to risk them making Hat Girl look bad. Made things a bit more annoying, but he was sure he would adapt over time. He pulled out his wallet and placed some cash on the table, as Reginald had forgotten cash existed. "Alrig't, 'eres yer money. Now we'll be goin'."

"Ohhh, you're from the metro..." The shopkeeper placed their arm in front of the items before the cyborg could garb them. "News flash, your type of money doesn't work here either, pons only."

"Pons?" Reginald asked, confused by the term, before it clicked. This was an alien planet, which meant they had a completely different money system. If they wouldn't accept gold or gems, or the cash they had, they couldn't get anything from the clan... panic began to fall on him as he tried to find words.

"Come on, Reg." Right Hand Man said, holding his husband's hand once he saw panic enter his eyes. He gave the shopkeeper a slight glare, before garbing the money and leading Reginald to the door. It was getting late... they needed to get back. He was a bit annoyed to find the streets filled, which would not make leaving any easier. "It's gonna be alrig't, Reg, we'll figure out w'ot we need to do."

"H-How can you be so sure Righty!?" Reginald asked, some tears forming faintly in the corner of his eyes. "No past leader has ever had to deal with something like this, so I can't use them for guidance! The clan is all going to look to me, hoping I have a way home, but I don't! I can't even keep an eye on my own kids!"

"Easy Reg, easy..." Right Hand Man said, moving some hair out of his lover's eyes. "S'ould 'ave been t'e one keepin' an eye on t'em, knowin' 'ow busy ya would be." He faintly noticed a shadow passed by overhead, but shook it off as he kept his focus on Reginald. "Ya need to trust me, ok?"

"I hope you're right..." Reginald sighed as he glanced at the ground. He could hear the cheering coming from Penguins around him, and giggling, shouting, and taunting from up above. There were two voices that seemed stuck out to him...

"Bet you won't can't do this, Hattie!" A energetic voice called, causing both men to look up at the sound.

"Platinum?!" Reginald asked in shock, as he saw the topbot jump across to one of those large float tower things.

"Wha's the lad doing near the rocket?" the Conductor asked, having longed given up on the card game at this point. Platinum sent a sign to his Owls to have them temporarily stop, as the canon began to glow red. He tapped his foot slightly as he wanted for the faintest sights of a firework. Once one was about to launch out, he jumped over the cannon hole, just barely avoiding being hit. "Wow, the lads really got some skills."

Fear filled Reginald's eyes in a second. "P-PLATINUM TOPBOT COPPERBOTTOM, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" He shouted, but was muffled by the cheering of the crowd. He could feel fear itself swimming through his blood, especially when he spotted Hat Girl jumping onto a wire before bouncing up again. "YOU TOO, HATTIE!"

Right Hand Man watched in worry, what were they doing? "Hat Girl, Platinum! Get down now!" He shouted.

Unfortunately, the two were unable to hear their fathers' worried calls, and kept racing around the buildings with the owls following them.

"T'at's it." Right Hand Man groaned, his feet gaining rockets under them as he lifted into the air. He flew over to the two. "Hat Girl! Platinum! Get over 'ere!"

Snatcher caught the flying man out of the corner of his eye, and was naturally confused. He then noticed he was heading to where the teens were, and had to act. He flew over to him, quickly garbing the man by the leg. "WELLLLLLLLLLL... What do you think you're doing?" he coughed slightly "FOOOL!"

"W'ot t'e-" Right Hand Man looked behind him, seeing a large dark figure with glowing eyes smirking at him. He growled, he didn't have time for this! "Let me go! T'e kids could get t'emselfs 'urt if I don't stop t'em!" The ghost didn't respond, just shook his head with a chuckle like he told a joke. Right Hand Man reached for his leg, trying to get it free.

"Oh there's no need to worry sir. As the actor's lawyer, I can say that they aren't going to get hurt anytime soon." Snatcher said, placing a hand on his chest.

"Actor?! Lawyer!?" Right Hand Man shouted as he looked up at him. "Don't know w'ot yer goin' on about!"

"Simple, these two are filming a movie, and I can't have you interrupt them rudely like that."

"It's alright, Snatcher darling. We got enough footage for the movie." DJ Grooves called, as he singled for the filming crew to stop, and for the kids to come back.

Hat Girl and Platinum both raced back to where they were, chuckling all the way. It was only when Hat Girl looked over at the phantom did she notice the cyborg with him. "Snatcher, what are you doing with Papa?"

Snatcher's face went blank as he processed the information. "This is... your father? ...How can you stand being raised by someone so boring!"

"I honestly don't know!" Platinum called up, replacing his parade hat with his normal topbot hat. "No offense Pops, but you're kinda a killjoy."

"A 'killjoy' because I try to protect ya bot'" He called, as he looked at the phantom, before the name Hat Girl called him sunk in. "'ait... T'is is the g'ost who's song I sing for ya, Hattie?!" He shouldn't really be surprised, he knew the ghost wasn't the best person, based on the lyrics. He honestly didn't know why Hattie even liked the song, but it always seemed to cheer her up.

"Yea! Isn't he super cool! Just like Grooves and Conductors are! And everyone on this planet!" She called up happily.

"Righty! Are you and the kids ok!?" Reginald's voice called from the ground below, even more worry inside of it than before. Hat Girl and Platinum glanced at each other, another type of worry growing on their features. They completely forgot about their dads.

The cyborg sighed slightly, as he called out. "Yea, just 'ang on a second!" He then glared at the ghost holding him. "Will ya let me go get my 'usband, t'en we can all 'ave a... proper introduction to eac' ot'er." He mumbled slightly, he rather just garb the kids and start heading back, but that wasn't going to let this ghost let go.

Snatcher glanced to the side slightly with a hum, as if in thought, before shrugging and letting go of his foot. "Sure, why not. You're staying next to my forest anyway, might as well get to know you since you'll be staying here awhile."

The Conductor finally raced out of the shadows next to Grooves, a bit curious at this point. Right Hand Man disappeared from sight, only to reappear with the worried toppat leader in his arms a few seconds later. Reginald quickly, yet somehow gently, raced out of his husband's grip and over to his kids, hugging them both. "You two had me so worried! Are you hurt, you better not be hurt!"

"Relax Dad, we're fine." Platinum said, a slight embarrassed tone in his voice, as Reginald backed away after a moment's hesitation. "We've just been chilling with some of Hattie's friends. Oh! We're also going to be in a movie."

"A movie?" Reginald asked, before shaking his head slightly. "You two should have at least told me or Righty first! I fell into the ocean looking for you earlier!"

"In our defense, you would likely have said no if we told you." Hat Girl said, adjusting her Family Badge on her normal hat before placing it back on.

"Oh, I know for a fact I would 'ave said no." Right Hand Man said, crossing his arms with a huff. "Ya could've gotten 'urt or lost. 'nd Just because ya were on t'is planet before doesn't mean it's any safer for ya t'an ot'er Toppats members."

"The lassie is much more capable than you give her credit fer. But as a father meself, I can see yer worry." The Conductor said, getting the attention of the toppat leaders. "Name's the Conductor, and the Penguin right here is DJ Peckneck."

"DJ Grooves." The penguin corrected, giving a slight glance at Conductor, who just gave a grin in response. He then looked back at the two. "Sorry about keeping your kids for so long, darlings. We just got a little excited when we found her, and didn't think of how her family would react."

"Wha's with the long apology. I would just say 'Sorry' and that'd be that." The Conductor said.

"Ehhh, it doesn't help that we only really mentioned the whole 'crashed on here with the clan' situation to Snatcher." Platinum said, rubbing the back of his head slightly.

Reginald took a few breaths, finally allowing himself to fully calm down after what felt like, and likely was, hours. He then smiled tiredly at the three from this planet. "Well, it's nice to finally met you all, Hattie talks so fondly of you all. My name is Reginald Copperbottom, and this is my Right Hand Man."

"'Ello." Right Hand Man sighed, as he glanced at Reginald. "I 'ate to cut t'is s'ort, but we s'ould be gettin' back to the clan. T'ey're probably worried about us all."

"Awww... but I don't wanna leave yet! There's so much we can do!" Platinum said, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

"Yeah! And besides... " Hat Kid glanced at the birds and phantom, not finding the exact words. It seemed like she was worried...

"It's alright, Darling. I need to get home anyway. Hazel will kill me if I stay out too late." DJ Grooves said jokingly.

"Aye, same here. I got a busy train schedule tomorrow." The Conductor said, glancing at Hat Girl with a smile. "Besides, ye need to get things with yer... clan, figured out anyway. After that, we can work on our movie!"

"After askin' us first." Right Hand Man stated, a slight glare in his eyes. "I'm not lettin' Reg 'ave anot'er panic attack because t'ey disappeared."

"You really are no fun." Snatcher said, shaking his head to the side slightly.

Hat Girl smiled at them all slightly. Everything was going to be fine...

-------

Burt turned away from the sleeping form of Fredrick when he heard footsteps. He shined the flashlight over, glancing around before his mind took in the figures he saw. "Oh, chief, boss, you're back with the kids."

"Yeah... did anything happen while we were gone?" Reginald asked, sighing as he glanced around. There were a few fires set up, the children sleeping on beds close to each one, while one adult stayed up with a flashlight and a bucket of water near them. Most of the other members were asleep under the broken pieces of the orbital station. A few were still up around what was basically 'medbay' now, likely doing some final checks before heading to 'bed' themselves.

Burt shrugged. "Nothing really. We just got a few fires up and are switching between resting and making sure they don't spread. But uhh, you could probably see that already." He glanced at the small boxes Hat Girl had. "Are those some supplies?"

"No, just two outfits Hattie's friend made for 'er and Platinum." Right Hand Man said. It was true, DJ Grooves allowed the two to keep the outfits. Said to keep it as a welcome back gift. "Store wouldn't accept gold, gems, or cas'. So we're gonna 'ave to find anot'er way to get t'e stuff we need."

"Forgive me for asking, but uhh, why not just steal the supplies?"

"I didn't want to risk making a bad impression to any of Hattie's friends." Reginald sighed, glancing back at Burt. "Besides, based on what Hattie told us in the past, nearly everyone here has a 'trick' they could use to hurt us, even if they don't really mean to. Stealing just seems like a bad idea."

"Bet you some people never thought the leader of the toppat clan would ever say that." Platinum chuckled slightly.

"Well, uhh, do you have any idea what we can do to get supplies?" Burt asked, glancing to the side slightly before groaning. "I'm going to be a wreck without my coffee tomorrow... I blame you, Fredrick." He said, glancing back at the sleeping Toppat.

"Oh! I got an idea!" Hat Girl stated as she glanced at Reginald. "It's a bit away from here, but maybe we can head to Mafia Town? See if we can trade some of the gold for pons, they have a lot of both."

"Well, we did find a boat earlier we can use to get there... " Reginald glanced at Right Hand Man. "What do you think?"

"'onsently? We don't really 'ave anot'er c'oice." Right Hand Man sighed, before he yawned slightly. "W'otever we're doin', we s'ould 'ead ta bed. Can't do anythin' w'en yer basically a zombie."

Reginald nodded as Burt looked at them. "Calla placed some blankets for you all by the power grid. Said you all would likely want to stay close together until you get your actual rooms back."

It took a few minutes to find said power grid, but once they did, they all got settled in. Well, the best they could, as some of the broken walls made the area a bit crowded. Platinum adjusted his position, since there wasn't much room for him to properly stand, before plugging into his charger and turning off for the night. Reginald, Right Hand Man, and Hat Girl stayed close to each other in a nearby corner, having decided it would probably be best for them to sleep together, at least for tonight.

"You know things are going to be ok here, right?" Hat Girl asked as she looked up at them slightly. "My friends won't let anything bad happen to us. There's no need to worry."

Right Hand Man replied with a tried mumble, as he shifted slightly to get more comfortable. Reginald let out a yawn, and brushed some hair out of her eyes, smiling softly at her. "We know, Hattie. We know... Adults just tend to worry about things more than you do. Especially when they're in charge of the clan." He shook his head slightly as he closed his eyes, Hat Girl following suit soon after. "But we have each other... and that's all that matters..."

-------

Snatcher watched the crashed orbital station sight from a distance. He knew the kiddo was bound to leave once again. No contract could make her stay. Why... how did she even worm herself this far into his non-existing heart?! He knew part of the answer, sure, but was that alone enough to make him feel like... this? The fact it felt like part of her was always here didn't help either. He sighed as he floated back down, heading to his tree home. Everything will be fine. He would just have to... enjoy all the time he had with her. Maybe make some extra time as well, if he had too...

Just small little things like a missing tool every now and again... No... that would be cruel... he was already known for being cruel... but to the kiddo? Could he really bring himself low enough to prevent her from going home once again? He'll just have to see what the future has in store... Maybe time will surprise them all...

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Twelve)

*dramatic music* and also RhodeyTony softness because Besties deserve it.

MASTERLIST HERE

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

“Rhodey.” Tony paused when he came into the lab and found the colonel sprawled out across the couch, phone in one hand and a clearly stolen-from- Tony’s-desk bag of chips in the other. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“Didn’t know I had to announce when I was coming by, thought there was an open door policy in this place.” Rhodey tipped the bag up into his mouth and crunched loudly at the crumbs, remained silent while Tony gave the lab a quick once over, and then told him, “Don’t worry. JARVIS hid everything away when I opened the doors, I didn’t see any of your super secret boy band stuff.”

Tony made an attempt to not look so relieved, but Rhodey caught it anyway and rolled his eyes. “Damn Tones, used to be you didn’t keep anything from me. You can trust me, you know. Just tell me you’re getting N’Sync back together and that’s why all the cabinets over there now have locks on them and I’ll quit bugging you about it.”

“N’Sync?” Tony rummaged through his desk until he found an unopened un-pilfered bag of chips and tossed it at Rhodey, dropped down onto the couch and scooted close to his best friend. “You know damn well I’m a Backstreet Boy. N’Sync. More like N’Wack.”

“Yeah, that joke wasn’t funny when you told it six years ago and it’s not funny now.” The colonel popped the new bag of chips and offered Tony the first handful. “Are you gonna ask me what I found out about the Monaco Whip Fetish guy, or are we going to have to karaoke duel it out to figure out who’s the best band?”

“Always Backstreet.” Tony crammed in several bites of chips and said around a spray of crumbs, “Is Monaco Whip Fetish Guy the official name? Because I could be on board with that. Just spicy enough to sell headlines, just awkward enough to ruin the moment at social gatherings.”

“You seem chipper today.” Rhodey commented instead of answering straight away. “And by chipper I mean obnoxious. What’s going on?”

“I thought you missed my patented brand of hilarity?” Tony nudged Rhodey’s foot and ignored the gratifying twinge in his core from James at the Monaco hotel. He was running on three hours of sleep and the left over high of being fucked to the point of near incoherence and it was nice. It was nice and all the questions were sort of ruining his buzz which was a bummer because he really needed it to last all the way through Pierce’s stupid party and then hopefully carry over into--

“Where the hell did you just go?” Rhodey snapped his fingers in front of Tony’s eyes and the brunette jumped. “What was that, you zoned completely. Earth to Tones.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. Solidly on Earth and chipper as hell.” Tony waved the hand away. “Eat some more chips and tell me about Whip Fetish Guy.”

James’s look was thoroughly unimpressed and unconvinced, and Tony’s returning glance was equally unconcerned and more than a little impatient so the Colonel cleared his throat and reached for the file next to him on the couch.

“Alright. Whip Fetish Guy’s real name is Ivan Antonovich Vanko. Forty years old and some change best as we can tell, his passport and ID are all fake so it’s sort of a guessing game.” Rhodey pulled out a photo and handed it to Tony. “You recognize this guy at all? Anton Vanko worked with Stark Industries and specifically with your dad on the arc reactor. Those two were bosom buddies right up until Vanko was accused of espionage and then convicted of selling weapons grade plutonium to Pakistan. They gave him almost two decades in Kopiesk before he fell off the map.”

“JARVIS?” Tony held up the picture and a light burst from the ceiling to scan the photo and upload it to his servers. “I’ve never even heard this guy’s name. You sure he worked with Dad?”

“How else do you explain the arc reactor, Tony?” James asked flatly. “We both have reviewed the Senate footage of the other attempts to replicate your armor and nothing comes close. not even in the developed countries. Then a guy from the butt end of Siberia who says your dads worked together has a perfectly working model. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s not--” Tony ground his teeth together and pursed his lips. “It’s not perfectly working, but yeah pretty damn close. So what, you think old man Vanko hated Howard for getting him deported and encouraged his son to take revenge over some plutonium? I don’t think terrorists are allowed to upset about being outed as terrorists.”

There was that left over bitter than Tony had never quite managed to hide after Afghanistan, the left over anger after what had been done to him at the hands of the Ten Rings, what he’d seen done to villages full of innocents after his company sold the baddies the means to wage war.

“Nope.” he decided. “Being outed as a piece of shit selling our weapons to the bad guys isn’t a valid reason for revenge. Ask Obadiah. Oh wait, you can’t because we disintegrated him when the reactor core blew.”

“Easy easy.” Rhodey murmured when Tony’s hands balled up tight. “Nobody’s saying Obadiah or the Ten Rings were justified in anything they did. Not to you, not to all the people they hurt--”

“--not to Yinsen!” Tony burst out and the colonel nodded, “Not to Yinsen. And I’m not saying Anton Vanko didn’t deserve to be locked up but it might not have gone down the way we think.”

“What does that mean?”

“You didn’t hear this from me.” Rhodey handed Tony another piece of paper, the report filed by Howard naming Vanko as a spy. “But there wasn't a whole lot of proof, Tony. Not a whole lot of proof of anything until the charge comes in for selling the plutonium. Vanko’s name is all over all the early plans of the reactor, then they get something finalized, a few days later he’s deported as a spy and if you look at the timeline it sure seems like first he was accused and thrown out, then he turned to selling weapons.”

“It’s not an excuse.” he said slowly. “But Tony, I’ve read these reports a hundred times. It sort of looks like they got everything finalized and everything went to hell. Either Howard discovered some concrete proof of espionage and decided not to share it with the class--”

“--Or Dad sold the guy upstream so Stark Industries would completely own the patent on a piece of technology that would change the world.” Tony raised his eyebrows skeptically. “That’s a reach, even for Howard.”

“It’s a reach.” Rhodey allowed. “But it’s not unheard of. Remember Project Paperclip after the war? We imported all the best minds from Germany, used them up and threw them in jail or sent them back home to be tried as war criminals. Using intellect and getting rid of the person attached is capitalism at it’s finest, and especially back when everyone was worried about Communists and turning on their neighbors to report them... it’s not really a reach at all. One business partner getting rid of another with a frame up job isn’t unheard of. And the 'bad guy’ moniker is so easy to slap on someone who talks with an accent. You know that. You’ve seen Die Hard.”

“One hundred and twenty seven times, yeah.” Tony picked up the file and flipped through it himself. “Well what do you want me to do about it? No matter what Howard did or Anton thought he did-- Ivan walked down the middle of the Grand Prix slicing up cars and not caring who he killed. If he was after me for revenge, how did he even know I was racing? I didn’t plan that at all. How did he know? Is there a security leak I should be worried about?”

“Well, I don’t trust your new hunky boyfriend and I sure as hell don’t trust your new super hot secretary.” Rhodey took the papers back and reassembled the file. “But I don’t think Ivan knew you were racing. I think his original plan was to show up and murder a room full of people until he got to you, and you deciding to be a full tilt moron and go racing just changed things. Sure made it easier for Vanko to find you, and probably saved a bunch of lives keeping the fight out on the road.”

“Oh good, I’m glad my trauma and what will certainly be re-occuring nightmares made things easier on the maniac.” Tony slumped back into the couch and closed his eyes, a coming headache from lack of sleep and a couple days of high stress pushing at the edge of his vision. “Don’t bother updating me on the situation, alright? So long as he’s not out causing more mayhem, I don’t want to know what’s happening. Can’t take the stress.”

“Uh huh.” Rhodey nudged at him. “You’re not jealous that he has cool whips and you’re still shooting stuff out your palm like a dummy?”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll pop you in the face with a repulsor, see which one of us is the dummy then.”

Silence in the lab, comfortable and years in the making of content, Rhodey crunching away on chips while Tony tried to relax and drifted towards sleep. Monaco had only been yesterday morning and the flight home had taken the entire night. A few hours of sleep had been all Tony managed before the restlessness drove him downstairs to find Rhodey and he only had a few hours before he had to get presentable and the promised appropriate for Pierce’s party.

He was suddenly exhausted, the buzz from Monaco draining away and leaving him worn out but Rhodey was familiar and warm and despite the secrets piling up between them, Tony breathed out a sigh of relief and snuggled closer. “Remember college?” he mumbled. “When we’d fall asleep studying?”

“I remember your ass running on unfiltered caffeine and Satan’s own spite to get through finals.” Rhodey countered, settling an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “I remember you shrieking about freedom after the last exam and then coming to find me and falling asleep wherever I was. The table in the cafeteria, the front quad, the library.”

“Yeah.” Tony yawned. “Good memories, right? Treasured times.”

“Not half as treasured as you think.” Rhodey frowned when Tony’s shirt gapped and he caught a glimpse at black lines around the reactor, and his frown deepened when he saw a spot that looked like a bruise at Tony’s neck. “What’s with the extra dark lines right there, Tony? You okay?”

Tony was not okay and Rhodey knew it, but he still gave his friend the chance to lie to him come clean. “Everything still good?”

“Everything’s fine.” Tony closed up his shirt without opening his eyes. “Normal stuff behind the arc reactor after extended use of the suit and stress.”

“And your neck?”

“Probably a hickey.” Tony grinned to himself when Rhodey muttered a curse about ‘too much goddamn information’. “Yeah, sort of surprised I don’t look worse. James is energetic.”

“I will push you off this couch if you keep talking like that.” Rhodey stated, and Tony zipped his lip over a quiet laugh. “So what, you two are getting serious?”

“If by serious you mean we’ve progressed to the dance with no pants--”

“--Tony!”

“--then sure, I guess you could say serious.” Tony shrugged, yawned and stretched until he was fit snugger at the colonels side. “It’s fun. Never thought I’d be the one to say things like ‘get deeper’ but--ooph!”

Tony gasped when Rhodey unceremoniously-- and honestly sort of rudely-- pushed him off the couch and right onto the floor. “Honeybear! How could you?”

“Try again.” Rhodey stretched all the way out on the couch so there was no room for Tony. “And keep it G-rated.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Brat.”

Rhodey gave in and hauled Tony back up, tucking the smaller brunette in at his side and frowning all over again when he felt how thin Tony was beneath his shirt, the way Tony trembled just a little bit in his arms. “Tony--”

“James treats me good.” Tony changed the subject and Rhodey took the hint for what it was. “I waited twenty five years after Tiberius to try something like this again and I gotta say, it’s working out really well.”

“So he’s uh--” Damn, Rhodey hated having this conversations but he’d been having them with Tony since MIT so there was no reason to stop now. “-- he’s being good to you? Listening to you and all that? You guys are being safe?”

“I’m in my forties, Rhodey.” Tony jabbed at his side. “You don’t need to have the birds and bees talk with me.”

“I’m pretty sure this talk is just bees and bees.” The colonel replied dryly. “Seriously though, Tones. You aren’t letting him break your heart are you?”

“Not sure I have a heart left to break, Platypus.” Tony mumbled.

“Come on now, we all know that’s a lie.” Rhodey couldn’t shake the feeling that Tony was fragile just now, so he budged forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Want me to stay here so you can sleep a little bit before Pierce’s thing?”

Tony didn’t answer because he was already asleep, lulled under by the sound of Rhodey’s voice in his ear and the steady beat of his heart.

“Wacky kid.” The Colonel tried for affectionate, but it just came out miserable as he got an up close look at the bags under Tony’s eyes and the stress lines etched into his face. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“If I may, Colonel?”

“Yes, JARVIS.”

“The shelter Mr. James stayed at requires a full health panel to be run on any of their residents. At the request of Ms. Potts I accessed the information and can assure you that James was given a clean bill of health. Almost astonishingly clean considering his time being homeless and former military service. There were several curious markers in his blood noted, but nothing that raised any red flags so they were simply pushed aside.”

“Curious markers?” Rhodey repeated. “Anything you could access?”

“I fear the shelters system is not as equipped as I am to deal with unknowns, so once it was established there was nothing untoward in his system, transmitted or otherwise, the rest was ignored.”

“Okay, well thanks for letting me know.” Rhodey ran a careful hand through Tony’s hair and sighed. “Damn near fifty years old and I still gotta make sure your partners aren’t skeevy? Come on, Tones you’re killing me.”

“Shall I turn the lights down, Colonel Rhodes?”

“Put on that one song too, the one his Mama always played on the piano. That always helps him sleep.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

The first strains of Try to Remember floated through the lab, and Rhodey pulled one of the blankets down from the back of the couch to cover Tony, set his alarm for ten am so Tony would have time to shower and change before the party and settled in for a quick nap.

Sometime soon he’d have to sit James down and give him the old shovel talk, but for right now…

“Thanks for staying, Rhodey.”

“It’s no problem, bud.”

...for right now, this was fine.

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

“I thought the party was at eleven?” James asked as he followed Tony out of the limo at just past twelve thirty. “We’re late?”

“It’s called making an entrance.” Tony was still tired-- would that ever go away?-- but after a nap with Rhodey he was feeling better so he managed an almost real smile for the cameras that immediately began flashing in his face. “Trust me, we’re not even the latest ones here. The richer people are, the later they will show up to an event.”

“Seems rude.” James remarked and Tony chuckled, “Yeah, so are rich people. Come on, I’ll introduce you to a whole bunch you definitely won’t like.”

“You said this would be fun!” James was only mock complaining, but he did have to put his hands in his pocket so he wouldn’t try and hold onto Tony when the pretty brunette grinned at him. Snuggling close on the plane had been one thing, sharing a quick kiss before going to their separate rooms at the Malibu house had been another. But the Inauguration and Promotion party for the new Secretary of Defense was not the best time to announce their...relationship?... to the entire world and even though James didn’t understand a whole lot about Tony’s life, he remembered enough of his own hidden memories to not be angry about keeping things under wraps a little longer.

No problem.

“I said there would be lots of suits and uptight small talk.” Tony corrected. “I never promised fun.”

“Okay okay.” James held up his hands peacefully. “But I also remember you saying something about tiny snacks too, so lead me to those and I’ll be fine. S’not rude to eat trays at a time, right? Or is that only rich people rude?”

“You’re um--” Tony peered over his glasses at James curiously. “You’re fun today. Not that you aren’t usually fun but this is-- I like it. Teasing and sort of flirty? Is this you you?”

“Think so.” James nodded once, then again. “It feels real to be like this, not like I’m pretending or following what other people do so I come across as normal.”

“I hear that.” Tony’s glasses went right back up when someone approached, and he cheesed through a few faux pleasantries before coming back to the conversation. “I spend most of my time acting the way people expect me to act, it’s nice sometimes to just be me.”

“When are ya just you?” A hint of Brooklyn in his words, natural and unintended and James smiled when Tony blushed a tiny bit. “With Ms. Potts? At home?”

“Lately?” Tony waved to someone and then glanced at James, glanced away when the pink on his cheeks darkened. “Just with you, I think.”

“Tony Stark!” someone interrupted their quiet conversation, an older woman in a tailored suit and the sort of tasteful jewelry that spoke of both money and a personal stylist and James took a step away purely out of habit, purely so he could observe from something of a distance.

These people were fascinating, most of them lying through their cosmetically enhanced to each other, laughing at unfunny jokes and doling out compliments that were only thinly veiled insults. Even Tony at his fakest and most camera ready behavior didn’t compare with how plastic the entire even felt. Plastic smiles, plastic bodies, plastic conversation. They were fascinating and there was far too much for James to catalogue and understand for him to pay attention to yet another inane conversation about--

“So! Taking a chance on something new are we?” James snapped back to attention when the woman’s gaze zeroed in on him, eyeing his left arm and silver fingers, lingering over his shoulders and long hair. “Who’s this?”

“This is James.” Tony motioned James forward. “I’ve been doing some work on his prostheses and he’s--”

“Gorgeous!” the woman interrupted. “He’s gorgeous! New flavor of the month? How long will this one last?”

“Wow.” Tony cleared his throat. “Listen, I uh--”

Thankfully-- and perhaps purposefully-- another voice called the woman away and she waved a cheerful, “Oh Secretary Pierce! Hello!” and granted Tony and James at least a moment of reprieve.

“Sorry about that.” Tony took two glasses off a passing tray and handed one to James. “Remember when I said rich people are rude? Somehow they’re even worse than the press because at least the press fears being sued for slander and libel. Gossip is exempt from all of those things and it thrives in parties like this.”

“Huh.” James took a sip of his drink and grimaced. Why didn’t they ever serve beer at these things? He liked beer right? ...right?

“So what’s the verdict?” he asked from behind his glass, and Tony cocked a confused eyebrow in his direction. “About me being the new flavor of the month, I mean.”

“Ah.” Tony took a sip of his own, but didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. “Well, you certainly are new aren’t you?”

“You’re fun today too.” James inched closer so just their elbows brushed. “Had a good time with Colonel Rhodes?”

“Believe it or not, Monaco wasn’t even all that bad.” Tony let his eyes sparkle almost devious and was rewarded when James tinted soft pink. “The hotel was excellent. Sturdy walls and soundproof-- Secretary of Defense Pierce!”

Conversation derailed by the same man that had stolen their too nosy companion away before, Tony switched topics mid sentence and raised his glass in a toast. “Hey! Congratulations on the appointment! We’re all rooting for you. Couldn’t go to a more deserving individual.”

Tony was lying and James noticed for only a split second before his attention was captured by the man in front of him.

“Tony Stark. And his new.... friend...”

Alexander Goodwin Pierce was a consummate politician-- deceptively easy going with quick smiles and warm hand shakes that contrasted with the severe lines of his suit and the sternness set into his features. His sharp gaze saw everything, sharper wit gleaned information from even the most reticent sources, and while he’d been known to de-escalate nuclear level tensions, there was a shark like quality to his gaze that spoke of searching for blood.

The man was intimidatingly smart, overly educated and weaponized a practiced act of humility, going so far as to turn down a Nobel Peace Prize while simultaneously leveraging the influence afforded him by the honor into an ever escalating ladder of success. He was an American hero, a life long patriot and the sort of individual that would do anything to ensure the success of an endeavor he deemed the right path.

Alexander Pierce was dangerous in the same way all smart men were dangerous, and while Howard had shaken his hand many a time and dined alongside Presidents and dignitaries while sharing private jokes, it had been Maria that never quite trusted Pierce’s particular brand of charm.

And Tony took after his Mama in more ways than one, so when he reached to shake Pierce’s hand and was left rebuffed for a few seconds while the Secretary blatantly stared at James, he didn’t ignore the wiggle of unease down his spine.

What is happening?

“This must be James.” Pierce said, smoothly, a hint of a smirk on his face as if he knew a secret neither Tony nor James knew, and Tony-- Tony hated that. Snake. “How on earth did you manage to find someone like this, Tony?”

“We were both having breakfast in a diner with really good pancakes.” Tony stepped a little bit in front of James as if his height in any way covered the soldier’s hulking frame. “I offered to build him a new prostheses, he said I had a nice smile. Tale as old as time.”

“Uh-huh.” Pierce had yet to look away from James, but his mouth turned up more at the corners, eyes sharpening as he looked James over. “I see. And tell me, how did a man like this happen to be in the exact diner where billionaire genius philanthropist Tony Stark would come in for pancakes? Was he living nearby?”

“Was staying at the shelter in D.C.” James answered shortly. Tony was practically radiating tension towards a guy that didn’t seem to be any more danger than a damn toaster, but if Tony was going to be uncomfortable, James was going to be uncomfortable too. Tony had said Pierce was a nice guy but right now, he seemed more like an enemy so James tipped his chin up and narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to ya?”

“What’s it to me.” Alexander laughed softly and lifted his glass up in a faux cheers. “An excellent sentence to be sure. How long was he at the shelter, Stark? Do you know why he chose D.C. as a landing point?”

“Um--” James blinked, thrown by the way the man kept talking about him but not to him and the way Tony kept winding tighter and tighter. Everything about this was wrong and Pierce was smiling like he knew something, like he knew James, but that didn’t make any sense.

Something was wrong.

“Tony.” Alexander kept watching James. “You’ve never done a hands on charitable deed in your life. What is so special about this particular ex soldier?”

“Sure, Stark Industries Charity Foundation does most of the good deeds, but I like to get my hands dirty every once in a while.” Tony retorted defensively. “How did you hear about James? Or his military service for that matter?”

“He’s got soldier written all over him.” Pierce said, and that was apparently funny to only him. “The way he walks, the way he stands there staring. The speech--” he tapped at his bottom lip. “That’s new. A new development--”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I just mean you’d expect someone so clearly military to keep some more of that stilted speech pattern.” Alexander was quick to explain his words, but the seemingly intentional damage was already done and Tony reached behind him when he felt James step away.

“Hey.” he said softly. “Hey, it’s okay. We can just leave if you want.”

“Talk to your friend.” It was a like a curtain fell in front of James’s eyes, leaving them blank and cold, his speech stilted. Something was wrong and everything was plastic and he needed to leave. “I’ll find something to eat and wait for you outside.”

Tony was safe, James knew that. The danger Pierce represented had nothing to do with Tony and something to do with James so he was just going to walk away. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Oh no, don’t let him leave.” This was the shark Maria had hated so much, the eerily focused eyes and the teeth bared in a barely convincing smile. “I have so many questions. Tell me again how you two met?”

“It was a diner.” Tony turned long enough to make sure James made it out the door then turned back to Pierce and took one, two steps into his space, reaching to finally finish that shake they never really got to, and purposefully squeezing hard.

All his life he’d let the press and tabloids say what they wanted about him, he’d let Rhodey or Pepper deflect the meaner comments while he just laughed as if they didn’t wound him to his soul but now? Now Tony had a countdown and percent of nearly fifty and if he was crossing things off his bucket list, he might as well add finally telling pretentious politicians to shut the hell up to the tally, right?

...and if he was sort of irrationally angry that Secretary Pierce was being so rude to the first person to make Tony honestly happy in years….

….well that was something too, wasn’t it?

“Mr. Stark.” Alexander raised his eye brows when Tony invaded his space. “Something on your mind?”

“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, but no one is going to come along and purposefully make me and my date so uncomfortable.” Tony said calmly, quietly, clearly. “I don’t care who you are or how many President’s hands you’ve shaken, there is no excuse to talk about anyone the way you just talked about James and there’s certainly no excuse for the recently appointed Secretary of Defense to bring that sort of assholery to a former soldier.”

“Tony, I think you’re over-reacting.” Alexander protested lightly. “I was just curious about your date, I wasn’t aware that you and the Soldier-- er, any soldiers-- ran in the same circles. Is there something in your past--”

He emphasized the word. “--that draws you together? Perhaps he knew your dearly departed mother?”

“Mr. Secretary, I don’t know why the hell you’re acting like this, but I have had enough.” Tony bared his teeth in an equally frightening smile as his vision practically flickered red with a surge of anger. His Mama? Pierce wouldn’t dare. “I am far past the days of giving a single flying fuck what people think about me or my actions. I don’t care what your title is or how much people admire you for pretending to not want that Nobel Prize. Whatever game you’re playing right now? Cut it out, or I will ruin you, do you understand?

“Just so we’re clear…” Pierce glanced around the room then pulled Tony an inch closer, eyes flashing in defiance. “Is Iron Man threatening me? Coming after the Secretary of Defense and head of SHIELD?”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Iron Man and everything to do with us. I personally will ruin you if you continue acting this way towards myself or anyone I bring around. Do you understand?”

It was a step too far, way too far in fact, threatening a high ranking official and powerfully connected man with danger just for insulting him was way too far but Tony didn’t want to stop. No one else was going to tear down the things that made him happy, no one else was going to step up and ruin what should be a good day. Tony didn’t have all that many days left and damn it, he was tired of them being spoiled all the time.

“Do you understand?” he asked again, pointed and focused and wishing half to hell he had finished the design on the stand alone gauntlet so he could whip it out and send Pierce through a wall. “No more.”

“You’re the boss, Mr. Stark.” Pierce relaxed in a half second, backing off and smiling broadly. “After all, I never would have made it this far in life without the support of good friends and faithful Americans who choose to let me continue doing what I believe is right.”

“Sure.” Tony’s head was suddenly throbbing and he tried not to visibly wince. “Whatever you say to make Washington like you. Now if you’ll excuse me--”

“Oh there’s just one more thing.” Pierce said and Tony ground his teeth together in frustration. “You never gave me James’s last name.”

“He’s got a pretty bad case of PTSD and some form of amnesia after his accident.” Tony said shortly. “We don’t know his last name, and trust me, I’ve looked.”

“If you ever want to call in one of the dozen or so favors I owe the Stark family, I’d be happy to look up any information I can find on your friend.” Pierce offered smoothly. “Any information at all. I’m sure with my resources we could have an answer sooner rather than later. Might even see about getting some of those memories back. Wouldn’t that be fun? To be able to remember the nineties again? Good times for all involved, right?”

“Mr. Secretary.” Tony pressed a hand to the arc reactor when his chest tightened with unexplained anxiety. “You’re clearly having a conversation that I am not privy too and since I don’t have time for political, societal bullshit anymore, I want you to know I mean this in the best way possible-- Congratulations on your promotion, but you can go fuck yourself.”

Tony was on his way out the door a minute later, visibly seething, visibly searching for James and anyone who doubted that perhaps Tony Stark was actively dating a man had their questions answered when the two reunited at the front steps and held hands down into the waiting limo.

My oh my, the gossip of the decade.

“Was that--” Brock Rumlow was head of Secretary Pierce’s security, and he paused just over his boss’s shoulder to ask, “With Stark. That was him, wasn’t it?”

“Somehow yes.” Pierce tossed back the rest of his drink. “We lost track of him in D.C. and it’s because Stark picked him up like a lost puppy and brought him all the way to Malibu. What are the odds of that?”

“Sorta weird that it's old man’s Stark work that helped create him.” Rumlow offered. “Should we be worried about interference from big and blond?”

“The most interesting thing about any member of the Stark family is that they have always thought they were ahead of the plot.” Pierce remarked slowly. “When in reality, they are so focused on their genius and their one project, they fail to see the rest unfolding around them. It was Howard’s issue, it was Maria’s issue and now it is Tony’s downfall. He is literally holding the piece to one of the greatest conspiracies of all time, and he has no idea.”

“Doesn’t know about his parents?”

“At this point, I’d say no.”

“Are we going to change that?”

“Not yet.” Alexander smiled graciously at a passing waitress. “No sense rushing things. The Soldier was wiped to the point of incoherence and he’s barely human as it is. Let’s wait and see what’s going to happen.”

“What happens if the Soldier comes back online?”

“Well, the last person on his list of targets was Stark.” the Secretary reminded him. “Then Stane stepped in and took care of Tony for us and we wiped the Asset before we realized Tony would escape. If he comes back online, he will revert to the last known objective and that will solve every headache and problem I’ve had since meeting Howard thirty years ago.”

“Huh.” Rumlow shot one last look at the departing limo. “If you say so, boss.”

“Oh, I think I’d prefer it if you called me Mr. Secretary.” Another smile for a party goer. “It has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

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

It was later that night when Tony lay in bed staring up at the ceiling and wishing he had the nerve to go and crawl in close to James when the conversation with Pierce came back to him.

It was weird the way Pierce kept acting like he knew something about James, and not in the smarmy smirking way that homophobes acted around two men together, but in a more disturbing way, like he was laughing right in Tony’s face for just not knowing.... something.

“J?” he called to the ceiling. “You up?”

“For you sir, always.”

“Do me a favor and create a program that will connect Alexander Pierce with anyone like James. Former soldiers, PTSD patients, anything like that. Was he over seas in a time when James might have been, was he involved in any rehab program-- all that sort of thing.”

“Of course sir, I’ll begin right away. Would you like James’s opinion on the day’s events? My sensors show he is still awake as well.”

“Um--” Tony’s entire body heated thinking about James being awake. “Um-- no. I need some sleep.”

“The admission is a miracle in itself, sir. Ms. Potts will be thrilled you’ve finally come to recognize the very human need for REM sleep.”

“Snarky shit.” Tony muttered, and rolled over into his pillows. “Good night, J.”

“Good night sir. Sleep well.”

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

Chapter Notes:

I. LOVE. BOY. BANDS so my NCTS-verse Tony does too. Die mad about it.

‘Try to Remember’ is the song Maria is playing when Tony does the BARF demo in CACW.

I sort of enjoyed how fucking terrible Pierce was in this. Talking about James because he never once saw the WS as a person, just as a tool. Making references to Howard and Maria’s death to Tony’s face. MAKING TONY STARK THE WS’s OBJECTIVE JUST BEFORE TONY GOT KIDNAPPED IN AFGHANISTAN. HOLY PLOT LINE BATMAN THAT COULD BE A FIC ALL BY ITSELF

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #iron man 2 #alexander pierce

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Good day tumblr.

I'm migrating to using google docs for writing and I found something I wrote that was unpublished.

It's like an OC x OC because I wrote this at the time I got invested in A LOT of contemporary romance books.

It's also NSFW, It is a one-shot and I don't know how I made that last sentence. I'm single since birth and maybe had a couple of girls in my life but never really made it together. Enjoy? I guess

Matt

I released yet another deep sigh as I tossed my controller on the couch. It has been two months since my heart got shattered but I still haven’t found the chance to move on. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to, that’s why my mind has been tormenting me ever since. Even my best bud gave up on me when after all those “conventional ways” he knew failed, evidenced by me still visiting her profile page every now and then. Heck, I even have her notifications of whenever she posts.

My phone vibrated and that specific ding means that it’s an Instagram post from her. Yes, call me crazy and all because I still am even after all this time. She posted a picture of a plane ticket and a passport to whoever knows where, it’s one of those photos that didn’t contain her face, meaning, it’s a personal and unsponsored post and it’s something she wants to express. See, I’m still clearly not over her. I groan in frustration and threw my phone beside the controller, as I slide down from the couch down to the floor like a kid who didn’t get the toy he wanted for Christmas. I lazily reached for the tub of ice cream on the coffee table beside me and looked at it, it’s half melted and sad, Just like me. I got up and brought back the sad dessert to my refrigerator and as soon as I got back, I saw myself on the mirror. Fuck, I looked horrible, my hair was a bird’s nest and my beard grew thicker each day. I’m actually glad my work doesn’t involve me showing up in an office because, I could get used to this look, I wanted the world to see how broken I am right now, I wanted her to see what happened to me. I surveyed around the room, it was a mess. Empty beer bottles sprawled over the living room, while chips were all opened and half eater on every chair of the room. The only good thing is that the mess only accumulated on one specific room, I don’t sleep on my bed anymore because I could still smell her on the sheets, and I never wanted that to leave.

A few more days passed and I finally did something not involving gloating: I ordered a cleaning service for the living room and specifically told them not to touch any other room. The past days reminded me that there’s more to life than her and I actually went outside today, grabbing my camera and slipping on my trusted hoodie which I use for work, I let the cleaning team fix my mess as I unwind by doing what I am really passionate about, taking pictures.

My best friend, Patrick, was actually proud of my decision, wishing he could support me but was stuck in his wife’s family gathering. I felt guilty that I didn’t talk to him the past months as I gloated, hearing someone who actually cares for me was a good feeling, especially after locking myself from the world after a miserable break-up.

As soon as I got to the park, I started taking simple pictures, flowers, children playing, flowing streams, and skyscrapers. It actually feels good to be back outside, seeing the beauty of the world not from a glass screen. I flipped through my camera roll and examined each photo I took. They really weren’t that good, but mixed with a nice back story, It could be a killer post. I chuckled as I rotate the dial of my camera and went a little too far back and I froze in the middle of the park. It was a picture of me and Bianca, my ex-girlfriend, whom I missed so much. It was taken on a gazebo at the park we visited back then and a 7 year old kid took the photo, We were travelling around so if the two of us were In a photo, it means we asked someone to take it for us. The said photo was where I saw myself smile the widest. She was wrapping her arms around me from behind and my eyes were closed, smiling while she was looking at me and laughing.

A single drop fell on the screen and I woke back to my senses, did I just cry? I looked around and saw children running about as I looked up into the sky and saw dark clouds forming. So much for going outside…

That evening, I actually had the inspiration to work. With the storm brewing up outside, sending tendrils of lightning across the sky, I decided that It was the perfect set-up to get something done. Hours flew by as I managed my schedules and checked my e-mails letting my clients know that I was alive and just hit a rough patch. I didn’t even realized that my entry got nominated on a competition I signed up for earlier that year, which was probably the little ray of sunlight on my gloomy skies. Just this evening, I managed to book 3 photo sessions for next week, which might give me something to get busy on while I do the inevitable: moving on.

Later that night, my phone buzzed a familiar tone. She was calling me. Rubbing the sleep off my eyes, and making sure I’m not dreaming, I hurriedly grabbed my phone. It’s her photo. She. Is. Actually. Calling. Me.

My heart sped up and I took deep breaths. I’m not dumb. I’m going to pretend I’m over her. I’m doing this for myself.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Hello! Is this you Matt?” her voice reignited my mind. Shit. My mind went blank.

“Uh.. Yes. This is Matt. Who is .. Who is this?” I stuttered. I’m not a great pretender, but I did my best.

“This is Bianca, your uh.. friend. We’re still friends right?” she chuckles, the sound of an intercom could be heard from behind. As I thought, she’s in an airport.

“Oh. Of course, Bianca, we are.” I scoffed. Yeah. Friends. Would it hurt you to say we’re at least ex lovers?

“Listen, um.. I badly need your help. I’m at the airport right now and they canceled my flight due to the storm. I was about to look for nearby hotels but there’s a concert right now that filled up the rooms fast. Do you mind if I stay in there for a while?” my breathing sped up. No way, she’s spending the night here?

“Oh sure sure. I’ll come pick you up there, just wait for me..” I stuttered and ended the call, so much for being able to move on, I managed to make a fool of myself yet again. Without any more hesitations, I quickly prepared myself and drove to the airport.

Bianca

“I won’t regret it.” I whispered one last time as I sat on the waiting area by the entrance, hugging my phone close as I breathed out a heavy sigh. I can’t believe I’m in this situation, it’s like fate wanted me to give Matt a proper farewell, the one with no vague explanations and quick goodbyes. I closed my eyes and braced myself as sooner or later I’d be facing him. He sounded fine over the phone, except he felt nervous.. and hesitating. Maybe he’s busy and he has to make quick changes so he could cater to me. He shouldn’t, but knowing him, he would. Everyone who knows Matt knows he’s very accommodating.

“Bianca..” a voice whispered in front of me as I opened my eyes.. Matt stood there, with an umbrella open and another one hanging on his hand. He offered his other umbrella and carried my luggage behind me. I can’t help but wonder how he’s holding up and the longer I wonder, the more shy I become knowing that I caused a part of this change. Last time I saw him, he was this slightly chubby, always freshly shaven and a smile never leaves his face. Now, he looked like he lost a couple of pounds and he hasn’t shaved in days as his stubble grew around his mouth, and he’s not fooling me with that fake smile he plastered on his face. He should know that I could see through that smile of his.

I started to feel nervous as I entered his car, although nothing much changed, the consistency bothered me a lot. It felt the same when we were together, the smell, the same things in his dashboard and even these dust settling on the floor. Did he not use his car ever since? I shouldn’t be bothered by this, but I can’t help but be curious as to what he was up to all these months.

I admired how Matt handled this situation maturely, he kept casual on his questions, evading everything that would lead to the events of two months ago. I took the chance to ask how he was doing and surprisingly, he answered quickly that he took a lot of photo sessions and how he got nominated on some indie photography award. At least that talk shook off the worry that was growing in me and gave me hope that this night will turn out great rather than a disaster.

As soon as we walked into his room, he talked about how I should feel at home since I am his guest. He talked so nonchalant it felt like he rehearsed what he said, I tried to ignore his emotionless introduction as he led me to his bedroom, I glanced around and noticed that nothing really changed during my time here, and it probably means that he’s holding up pretty well. He settled my luggage beside the bed and he grabbed a pillow and some comforters, and single-handedly carried it outside.

“I’ll be sleeping by the couch if you need something. I mean, you probably know your way around, Good Night, Bianca.” he says as he slowly shut the door, leaving me alone in his room. I slowly plopped myself into his comfortable sheets and tried to shut my eyes, but I can’t help but smell my old shampoo in his pillow. Slightly bothered, I got up and took a whiff at the pillow and realized it was my smell, I quickly grabbed the other one and caught a whiff of Matt’s scent on it. He probably doesn’t use the whole bed when he sleeps, I thought to myself, dismissing any other thoughts and tried to sleep. I shifted positions every other minute until I couldn't take it anymore. I grew curious until the point that I wanted to confront him about it. It looks like the talk we’ve both been evading should happen.

Matt

I fluffed my pillows one last time and glanced at my bedroom door for the last time. She’s in there. I muttered to myself. I wanted to talk to her one last time, maybe ask some questions and say what I feel… But that won’t happen tonight, she has a lot of things on her plate right now and has to deal with rebooking a cancelled flight, I should probably stay out of her way. I heard the door creak and I quickly got up and locked my eyes on her, as she peeks at the door.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“I’m just going to get some water.” She replied as he walked to the kitchen, I can't help but let my eyes follow her as she carefully moved to the fridge. She was wearing her favorite pajamas, pink with flower prints sprawled everywhere. I smiled as our gazes met.

“Feeling comfy?” I asked.

“Yeah, what about you?” She nodded and nudged toward my direction.

“Yes.” I replied shifting comfortably on my couch, grinning like a little kid. She let out a soft chuckle and entered back to the room. I smiled as she shut the door and drifted myself to sleep.

The cold burst of air crossed against my foot and made me shiver, this wasn’t supposed to happen, did I forget to close the windows? I slowly got up and looked around, I wasn’t dreaming, my ex is still here. I peeked at the balcony and saw her staring at the moon, I saw that she scratched the pajamas and is now wearing possibly only her underwear behind that silk robe, a robe she got when she competed that one competition overseas.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked her as I offered a mug of warm milk. She looked surprised and a faint blush on her face formed as it was illuminated by the moonlight.

“Actually, yeah. Just thinking of what’s ahead.” She smiled as she grabbed the mug, wrapping it with her hands and blowing the steam away and taking a sip. “You?”

“You opened the balcony and the cold breeze kinda made me shiver.” I laughed.

“I’m sorry.” She bowed and chuckled softly. “I never knew you were that sensitive to cold.”

“Well, I wasn’t until…” I answered while I looked down on myself, emphasizing how loose my shirt was.

“Oh.. I noticed that. What happened? You hit the gym? Oh, you’re trying to impress someone! Do tell!” she asked grabbing my shirt, I could feel the shakiness in her reply, as if it was invading uncharted territory.

I sighed. “I can’t lie to you… I didn’t really want to bring this up but… I forgot to eat. When you left… You can forget that detail. I just want this off my chest, that’s all.” My heart pounded through my chest as I told her.

She pursed her lips and averted her gaze elsewhere. “I’m sorry about that…” she said but I shushed her mouth with my index finger. “You don’t have to… It’s my fault.” I said, trying to save her from recalling what she did. I didn’t want that, I wanted her to know that I’ve been trying. I continued talking, I told her about the things I learned from her, and that I was willing to move forward with my life, I wanted her to keep the details of our break up to herself, so I could evaluate on myself and become a better person. Lastly, I told her that I still loved her up to this very moment, and how it might take a while for it to slowly fade away.

A tear fell from the corner of her eye and I wiped It off with my thumb as I cupped her soft warm cheeks, her hands slowly grabbed mine and slowly guided it to her heart, I felt it pound and of course, I felt her soft breasts as she let me feel it.

“I’m still at fault for letting you go like that… I didn’t even consider how it’d affect you…” her voice croaked and I can’t help but embrace her and rub her back.

“I guess, it’s just like that sometimes, Bianca. Words don’t need to explain everything.” I whispered to her ear as I slowly accepted that we were never getting back together. I have lost the war for her heart and at least I did it with her wrapped around my arms.

She then looked up to me, reaching her arms on my cheek, gently rubbing my stubble. She then pulled my face close to hers as our lips met each other. I hesitated at first, but I’m only human and I still loved her, so as I felt her tongue beg to enter me, I tilted my head and wrapped my tongue against her, tasting her again possibly for the last time. I gripped her waist, slowly sliding my hand to her ass and held it tight pulling her body close to me. This action made her moan while she was inside my mouth and I closed my eyes wishing this moment would never end. Bianca quickly hoisted herself toward me and wrapped her legs on my hips which led me off balance. I quickly regained composure as I blindly led her to the couch and we both crashed on it while she was straddling on my lap.

We almost never had the time for sex, it was either she was too tired or I was and most of the time, she's away for trainings. If I was given the chance to rate all of our sexy moments together, this was possibly one of the best, yet it also is one of the worst, as it was the last one. Our make out session was full of soft kisses on every angle possible, smacking sounds echoed across the room along with soft pants and groans escaping from our mouths. My hands clung on to her ass most of the time, slowly rubbing her soft ass cheeks and stretching it outward during long kisses. She didn't stop me, so I started kissing her chest area as I let her perky nipples peek through her bra.

All I got from her is a smile and a sparkle in her eye saying 'go ahead' and I began to suck it and lick around her nipples, her soft moans felt rewarding as her hand guides my free hand to play with the other one. I hungrily sucked on both her nipples, changing course quickly, giving each of her breasts undivided attention. This went on for quite a while, until she moved back and pushed me back, her hand trailed through my chest, teasingly grazing through my nipples and slid down to my stomach, gripping the hem of my shirt and pulling it upward. All I did was oblige and she lifted my shirt off and tossed it behind her. She then left my chest and grabbed my shoulders, guiding me to rest my back on the couches' arm rest as she crawled towards me, giving my chest a soft kiss, slowly trailing down just below my belly button. Her eyes looked at me and our gazes met, she smiled menacingly as she grips my cock through my pants and slowly rubs it. I let out short and fast pants as she slowly yanked my pants down while I quickly pulled it off my feet and kicked it away.

Her index finger slowly circled around my shaft as she spread my precum around it and moved her mouth and began to devour it whole. My mind began to blur as I let out a huge sigh, my hand moved her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her warm tongue welcomed my cock as it licked the shaft like an ice cream cone, then started circling around it finishing her act by going deeper into her mouth. Fuck, I wanted to cum so bad but I shouldn't, so as soon as I felt it drawing close, I yanked her hair up. She didn't flinch. I was expecting her to be mad at me, but all she did was flash a wide grin on her face and all I could ever do is slowly get up and quickly push her to the other side of the couch and pin her.

I pressed my whole body into her and my hand quickly unclasped her bra, setting her impressively huge tits free. Grabbing her breast, I quickly leaned into her mouth and kissed her angrily, growling inside her as our tongues clashed inside each other. My hand slowly let go of her chest and my mouth slowly trailed down to her dripping wet pussy, angrily pulling her panties down and tossed it behind me. I started playing with her pussy by giving it soft licks, my tongue barely touching her inner senses, then I applied a little bit pressure, followed by steady repeated licks on one area while my fingers spread open her labia.

I stopped and guided her to sit on the couch properly as I sat next to her, spreading her legs wide and let my fingers enter her, feeling the warmth and tightness of her pussy. I stopped a moan from escaping her mouth as I kissed her while my hands played inside her. I picked up the pace and all she could do was pant and cup my face, letting me kiss her as she moans inside my mouth while I continue to pleasure her using my fingers. I grinned at her and kissed her tits, my heart racing as I felt her getting excited at the effect I have on her right now.

"Oh. My. Fuck. Matt." she moaned in between pants, her voice quavered giving me the motivation to move my fingers faster, as I hear the sound of her pussy and my fingers compliment each other. She arched her back as I steadily pleasured my mouth on her right breast.

"So good.." she whimpered as I felt her wetness in my fingers and moved my lips back to hers, my fingers now moved slowly inside her. She panted and straddled herself on my lap, facing me with lust sparklin on her eyes as she gripped my cock and guided it slowly in her. Her wetness easily drenched my shaft as my mind went hazy when she quickly sat on my cock, letting out a soft yelp as she bounced on top of me. She started it slowly, letting us moan 'haa' at different intervals, as she circles her hips while slowly sitting on my cock. All I could do was open my mouth in pleasure, while looking at her maneuvering my cock like a cowgirl.

My mind will never forget this memory of her, riding on my cock and her tits bouncing in front of me while I held onto her waist. Ever since she picked up her pace, our soft 'haa's turned into loud 'aah's as the sound her ass clapping with my thighs rang on my ears. She continued to bounce as she leaned forward to me, letting our foreheads meet and eyes steadily lock in each other.

"Holy shit, you're still amazing." I whispered and all she could reply was a kiss, another long kiss while my hips met with her bounces. I felt my orgasm close, so I broke the kiss to warn her. "I'm about to c-" she cut me off with another kiss, as I felt my cock release waves of hot cum inside her, feeling her tighten me as we slowly ease the pace until it stopped. As soon as I pulled my cock, I saw her pussy drip down my cum, a smile escaping my face while I pant.

"I guess this is goodbye?" I whispered as I asked her for one last kiss, and she obliged, giving me the closure I needed to move on. Funny story is, we had more steamy sex after that, in the kitchen, on the bed and even on the floor, I even sneaked into her while she showered. But at the end of the day, I managed to delete her name from my contacts, along with unsubscribing on her notifications and washing the sheets she used to sleep on. Later that day, I looked at the sky as her plane flew past the building and took a deep breath. I guess first love never dies, but then again not all first loves are not meant for you.

#horRAYfic #suggest a title #yeouch

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studyawayblog · 4 years

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13/8/20

UK Student Visa

Today the biggest piece of my international student journey fell into place, my visa!

Unfortunately because of COVID, my entire visa prosses has been even more stressful than it normally would have been.

It began when I got my CAS statement, which serves as proof of my place at a university in the UK. I received my CAS on July 23rd and I filled out the online portion of the tier 4 student visa application that afternoon. At the end of the application, you schedule a biometrics appointment, where you will have your fingerprints and a photo taken.

The application centre near me that provides biometrics opened on the 27th, and I was able to get an appointment for the 30th.

I drove an hour to my appointment, which only took about 10 minutes, and then mailed in my application to be overnighted to the visa processing office in NYC.

I was told my visa would take three weeks, which would mean I would only get it around a week before I’m supposed to leave.

But to my surprise, yesterday afternoon I received an email from UPS saying that my return shipping label had been dropped off and would arrive to me the next day.

Having heard nothing on the status of my visa, I was a little nervous. But this morning my passport arrived, with my approved visa inside!

I’m so happy that my visa arrived earlier than expected, as that was one of the main things causing me anxiety. Now all that’s left to do is pack, and get on my flight.

See you soon Wales.

#international student #studyawayblog #aesthetic #studyblr #student visa #tier 4 visa #uk student visa

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hotforharrison · 5 years

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To Sleep, Perchance to Dream ch 8

Chapter 7 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 9

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: He’d been in your dreams almost your whole life, but was it real?

Word Count: 1,171

Warnings: Minor sexual content

A/N: I slept for less than 2 hours and woke up to an anxiety attack. You get more updates! Go you!

You woke up disoriented. You were in a strange room and bed, and most of all, you weren’t alone. You’d always woken up alone, not pleasantly warm and curled around another person. It all clicked back into place after a few moments of confusion.

“Good morning, love,” Tom mumbled, stretching against you.

“Good morning.” You smiled. “Waking up with you is nice.”

“It is nice,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around you and sleepily kissing you. “Would you mind if I did something a little weird?”

“Be my guest,” you replied, curious what qualified as ‘a little weird.’

He shoved the covers down to the foot of the bed and nudged your legs apart. His fingers slipped between your folds.

You moaned softly at the contact. This wasn’t weird, but maybe the weird part hadn’t happened yet. You wondered what you’d agreed to.

A finger dipped into your entrance, swirling around, sending a wave of pleasure through your core.

You were eager for more. Instead, he withdrew his hand, examining his fingers and leaving you sexually frustrated.

“We’re good,” he said. “You’re really wet, but that’s all you and none of me. It’d probably still be a good idea to go to a clinic to get something more effective than condoms alone anyway, though, if we plan on having sex regularly.”

“Is having sex regularly something you wanted?” you asked, a bit hung up on the ‘if.’

He gestured at his erection. “I think this is a pretty good gauge of what I want.”

You were relieved that he was on the same page. “I definitely want that, too, preferably as soon as possible. Is sex different when you’re awake and not in the White Room?”

He paused for a moment. “Honestly? All I’ve got to base that on is a few times of rushed and awkward fumbling while trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid getting caught by her family or mine. I’m only a bit more experienced than you are with this. The rest is online guides I read before we met in person about how I can make it good for you.”

Your heart swelled with happiness at how sweet that was. “I want to make it good for you, too.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of guides out there for advanced blowjob techniques or ways to give a guy ‘mind-blowing’ orgasms, but all my dick really needs to be happy is you. I mean you made me cum in my trousers last night without even trying to.”

You lightly blushed at the pleasant memory.

“But before we start fooling around and wind up spending all day together in bed, we should start the passport process and get you to a clinic for birth control.”

“Getting the passport probably won’t be too painful. I brought my folder of important documents with me, in case I decided not to go back to the boarding school. Never going back was about as far as I thought ahead, though,” you admitted. “Other than the documents and some clothes I brought with me, there was nothing there I’d miss.”

The look in his eyes grew sad for a long moment before he spoke again. “The documents should make it much easier to get your passport. We’ll head over to the passport agency first and then find a clinic that accepts walk-ins.”

“What about the rest of the day?” you asked.

“I’ll take you out for a proper date first. Then, we’ll come back here, and I’ll spend the rest of the evening doing unspeakable things to you,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

You wondered what he considered a ‘proper date,’ and wondered even more what ‘unspeakable things’ he had in store for you. You considered asking, but there was an appeal to the mystery, too, the inevitable anticipation that would burn low in your belly with undertones of arousal.

He climbed out of bed, stretching again as he stood up. You followed him.

“I’m going to take a shower. I’d invite you to join me, but...” he trailed off.

“I’ll take a raincheck on that,” you told him, trying not to think too much about all the things you could do to each other under the warm spray.

You were already aroused enough. If he caught you touching yourself after he got out of the shower, it would probably derail the rest of your plans for the day.

“Oh! I got you a birthday present that I didn’t get around to giving you yesterday.” He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out a small box with a birthday cake patterned wrapping paper on it. He handed it to you.

You carefully unwrapped and opened it, surprised to find a black smartphone inside. “Wow, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Consider it partially selfish. I wanted to be able to call you and text you. We could’ve avoided you spending god knows how long crying in the hotel lobby last night if I’d been able to get a hold of you. Anyway, it’s already charged, and I added myself to your contacts.”

“Thank you so much.” You kissed him briefly and turned on the phone.

“Have fun,” he called over his shoulder as he headed into the bathroom.

There were several social media apps already installed, waiting for your login info. He’d also installed the Uber app, which was much better than dealing with a notepad with taxi service numbers on it.

You logged in on your social media accounts and sent off some quick messages to the friends you’d been missing desperately for the past few months. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone before your phone had been taken away. You’d spent a lot of time wondering what your parents told your friends when you disappeared from the face of the Earth.

Tom walked back into the room with a towel slung lowly around his hips, skin and hair still a bit damp. It was a good look on him.

“You’ve got to stop looking at me like that, darling, or we’re never going to leave this room,” he teased.

You put your new phone down on the nightstand and padded into the bathroom to take your own shower. You considered having an orgasm to take the edge off, but the idea of letting the anticipation build was more appealing.

You showered and shaved quickly, but spent a little extra time making yourself look good because passports required photos.

“You look quite pretty today,” Tom commented. “It’s still sort of strange seeing you in normal clothes instead of your pajamas.”

“You too,” you agreed as you put what you needed into your purse and grabbed your folder of documents. “I have to keep reminding myself that you’re not going to just disappear suddenly now. I’m ready whenever you are.”

While you walked through the hotel, he reached over and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. The public display of affection made your heart flutter in your chest.

Tag list: @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @jackiehollanderr

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland writing #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland scenarios #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland story #tom holland reader insert #tom holland reader #tom holland you

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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James & Ava

James: Good morning, how are you? Ava: 😊 All the 🌞 for hearing from you Ava: how are you, James? James: I'm happy to hear that James: meanwhile I'm busy, but unfortunately not solely with hours dedicated to missing you, which is in itself dangerously close to a regret Ava: I know what you mean Ava: the universe doesn't allow nearly enough opportunities for pining at open windows or reflective musing whilst staring into bodies of water, or mirrors, depending on the mood Ava: impressive you can think up any beautiful words in such circumstances Ava: what are you busy with? James: I can't remember the last time I looked into a reflective surface that wasn't a kitchen appliance, but considering how few hours of sleep my present universe allows, that's perhaps for the best James: there is only so much a caffeine fuelled bloodstream can produce and therefore no new paragraphs of the novel are forthcoming either James: I'm steeping your in disappointments to begin your day, I'm afraid James: and you're not the only one, as what I am overwhelmingly busy right now is cancelling plans Ava: I'm sure I'll survive them all though Ava: as you will the lack of sleep and caffeine jitters, with a bit of help Ava: what can I do? Ava: Which is to say, what plans are worth keeping cancelled, and which ones should be salvaged from the ❌🗑 James: all I am left with are the activities which I cannot bear to erase from the schedule, therein lies my dilemma in its entirety Ava: Lay it on me Ava: two heads are better than one James: she is supposed to be here & isn't, which is of no surprise to me & wouldn't be of any consequence if I were capable of being in two places at once James: but I am not, nor do I have words to spin this into a story that doesn't end with a child having even less routine or structure when what she wants is more of both Ava: Right, and naturally, she's left it too late to contact any grandparent to be a stand-in? Ava: is it something I could do or not? James: I did try my mother but her reaction to being asked to enter the swimming baths was as hilarious as it was unhelpful Ava: I can imagine Ava: if that wasn't a waste of imagination James: I should have foreseen that they'd end up sharing the same unwillingness to get their hair wet Ava: but swimming caps are so fetching Ava: 🙄 James: of course James: & it's entirely about them, not the children's enjoyment Ava: or that swimming is actually a pretty vital skill Ava: you think people who like to spend so much time doing water-adjacent activities, yachting, sailing etc, would realize said importance but half my friends can't swim, only take the poolside pictures Ava: but seriously, if you think they'd be okay, I'm happy to keep watch on whichever kid would be more agreeable with me doing so James: Jay loves swimming, but I'm sure she'll outgrow it & prefer to pose apathetically on a lounger in designer sunglasses given a few years & the force of my wife's will James: that's how things work in this universe Ava: Not everyone is like that Ava: and your wife's will can be broken by the horror of damp hair, it can't be that much of an unstoppable force James: her will isn't the one being tested, but point taken Ava: No, I know Ava: I bet none of her yummy mummy friends take their kids though, do they? James: all of her friends have foreign au pairs that they barely have to financially compensation for raising their children full time Ava: so Ava: we can pretend I'm your enthusiastic...Swedish is perhaps a little too cliche Ava: Dutch? Ava: au pair James: what language do you actually take in school? James: they might hypothetically try to voice their complaints to you & expect you to respond in kind Ava: Such a shame the obligatory Latin won't come in handy, as per with dead languages Ava: I take French though, some of them might be Swiss James: it's inconsequential really, I can't ask you to help me when I haven't even asked what your plans are Ava: I offered, you didn't ask Ava: and I wouldn't have offered if I was busy with anything of consequence James: yes you would Ava: Nothing in my life is that important, not currently James: this isn't important to you James: & it doesn't have to be Ava: It's a life skill, like I said Ava: I don't mind doing it James: what am I supposed to say? Ava: if you think it's a bad idea, it's not like I'll be offended or anything silly like that James: it isn't that it's a bad idea Ava: What is it? James: it's that I feel bad, if this is what I can offer you James: because ours isn't supposed to be a sob story & it seems like I've only started a conversation with you to file my complaints Ava: it's not all you can offer me Ava: or all you do Ava: you have responsibilities, plenty of them, I knew that before Ava: and it's not a negative, even with it meaning we spend more time missing each other than we'd like James: it is however painfully stereotypical, 'my wife doesn't understand me' & so on Ava: well, yes Ava: at least you aren't alone in that pain Ava: 2/3 marriages, isn't it James: you're not supposed to be a sounding board for my mistakes, or hers, is all I'm trying to say Ava: I don't feel like one, I promise James: I just wish we could exist independent of this James: but there's no way not to feel equally as bad for wishing for a different world as I do for dragging you into this one Ava: I know Ava: but that wouldn't be a real world at all Ava: it could only exist within the pages of the novel Ava: it'd be perfect but James: I know that too, all of it James: ignore me, I'm tired Ava: I couldn't if I wanted to Ava: and I don't Ava: maybe you'll find a lilo to catch some 💤 on James: sadly I'm not taking any of you swimming at the villa Ava: You would have to tell me if I needed my passport as well as my swimsuit James: one day Ava: yeah? James: if you want to Ava: I don't need to pose apathetically in another sun lounger Ava: but of course, I'd like to be anywhere with you James: you won't be, that isn't even the hypothetical holiday I have in mind James: you know I want to experience things with you Ava: Then we will Ava: and it'll be much more than a photo opportunity James: okay, good Ava: Where would you most want to go together? James: I don't know James: but I like snow Ava: We can work with that Ava: top of a mountain, maybe James: that would be an undeniably good photo opportunity Ava: okay, so the view doesn't count 😅 James: I'll be relying on that, taking mental pictures is all well & good for now but you're a very lovely view Ava: oh 😌 Ava: you're lovelier James: no, you're impossibly beautiful James: all I can do is my best to put suitable description to it Ava: you're just Ava: I want to help you today Ava: but it's undeniably a bonus that I will get to see you James: I'll make some time purely for you James: I don't know when, but as soon as I can Ava: I'll take it Ava: whenever it is James: there's a chance I can use my mother's unwillingness to help me now as a insistence to do so later Ava: potentially Ava: promise her hair won't get wet, that'd be a start James: thank you, I'll open with that Ava: 😏 Ava: there must be something she'd like to do with them Ava: that won't also be entirely torturous for them, because certainly counterproductive James: I'm not sure there is James: but at the very least she's capable of feeding & putting them to bed Ava: then I can do the same for you Ava: more or less James: by then, it'll be my turn to do something for you Ava: which would you rather 🛏 or 🍽? James: it's not my decision, it's yours Ava: I'll cook for you James: I think that's wise Ava: I just want to see you, we don't need to go anywhere unnecessarily Ava: my place is often empty James: I'm happy to hear that in this instance, because of how much I want to see you too Ava: It has its perks Ava: you can take as long as you like putting me to bed, also James: can I? Ava: Yes Ava: I very much hope so James: I don't think you've anticipated how long I would like to spend doing so James: in a perfect world Ava: in this world Ava: we can go to bed very, very early, so you'll still be home by the time you need to be James: & if I don't need to be anywhere else, can I stay? Ava: yes Ava: you can stay as long as you can James: I'll try & stay until we can say good morning face to face Ava: I'd really like that James: me too Ava: You make me smile, you know James: I look forward to seeing it, should traffic ever allow Ava: Oh, I could've got myself there James: I know but I want to spend as much time with you as possible, just in case James: it's already been highlighted how unreliable all of my childcare options are & just how dependent on ridiculous whims Ava: I'm not going to complain, trust me James: you'd be entitled to, when you see how much energy these girls have compared to me James: they make me appear a level of exhausted that I haven't yet reached, honest James: it's horrifically unjust Ava: If I know anything about having kids, it's that any complaint I might have doesn't even register in comparison Ava: and you're still beautiful, even if you're very, very tired James: in theory possibly, but actually, your every sound & silence registers with me Ava: in that case, I'll make every one count James: I believe you Ava: not that I promise my words will be as good as yours Ava: that would just be foolish James: I don't doubt your vocabulary either, you're extremely eloquent & capable whatever the circumstances James: a very worthwhile skill in a protagonist Ava: you could make me the swooning type and it'd be valid Ava: perhaps not very likable or inspirational though James: unless you've changed your mind about seeing me, I don't have the time for such a drastic & unnecessarily out of character rewrite James: there aren't enough hours in the day to finish the saga, never mind turn us into the next Bella & Edward James: what a great disservice that would be to you anyway Ava: That would be so out of character, I couldn't possibly, we'd find ourselves in the same situation regardless Ava: and whilst I'm happy to miss you and do some pining for the cause Ava: I'll be happier to see you, of course Ava: no need to exile yourself to Italy, though I can see the pluses of that for you/Edward James: not to mention, the age gap is already enough of a potential concern Ava: at least you aren't re-doing high school for the nth time Ava: that would be alarming James: there's an argument to be made that I should Ava: if you picked a better school, maybe James: at the top of a mountain, perhaps Ava: yes Ava: though, distracting as you would be, I wouldn't be mad at an excuse to see you every day James: there is nothing more distracting than the thought of the blush of your cheeks in the cold air, which is what I'm considering right now Ava: James James: Ava Ava: I'm going to have to be cool when I see you, aren't I James: yes Ava: okay Ava: then I better compose myself James: such a heartbreaking sentence will never make it into the final draft Ava: it's okay, I like swimming James: you'll enjoy it when I can promise you a hot spring Ava: I'll love it then James: I hope so Ava: I will Ava: but I could be anywhere with you and feel 🌞 James: I can't help but feel as though this swimming lesson will put that to the test Ava: screaming kids are nothing Ava: I'm 💪 James: you can have the baby then, there's more heavy lifting involved Ava: alright Ava: I can do that Ava: she must be like a little 🐠 James: she looks like one with her 🐠 hooded towel on Ava: that's adorable James: [sends her a picture from a previous swimming lesson of that adorable bub wearing it because that's not cheating evidence Chlo, we're safe] Ava: Bless her Ava: she's precious James: you'll do fine, she enjoys a compliment Ava: I feel that James: well, it'd be amiss if I didn't flirt with my au pair & we don't want any raised eyebrows Ava: Exactly Ava: got to play your role James: if there was ever one I was seemingly born to play Ava: you don't want an actual au pair? Ava: not for flirting purposes, obviously James: I'm not allowed one, for flirting purposes or otherwise Ava: Ahh Ava: I see James: yet another cliche Ava: you shouldn't need one Ava: she doesn't work, right Ava: or uni, or anything James: of course not, but we would hypothetically need one because, as you just highlighted, she doesn't do anything Ava: yeah Ava: maybe you could find a man Ava: or a really unappealing woman James: I'm not handing her someone else to sleep with, least of all someone who's supposed to be busy watching the children James: & I don't think a woman unappealing enough exists given that my imagined track record clearly surpasses the actual Ava: and it would just be cruel to force any queer guy to be her built-in gay BFF Ava: 🙁 James: oh god, that would be the cruellest fate imaginable Ava: couldn't wish that on anyone Ava: I just Ava: wish I could help more long-term James: all you have to do is be here, that is helping me both short & long term James: more than you know or I could feasibly let you know Ava: but you can try Ava: and I will very much enjoy you doing so Ava: later James: I miss you James: I want you to know that now Ava: I miss you too James: I'll be there soon though, whether or not that helps or makes the feeling worse for you Ava: we'll see Ava: at least I can let you know 💬 James: I'll take my own opportunity to compose myself before you do Ava: 😇 James: 😈 Ava: it will be hard not to be James: it always is Ava: yeah Ava: one day, you won't have to be James: but this morning, I'll try to please everyone Ava: and you will James: you're the 😇 darling Ava: but you are very, very good Ava: you should know, I want you to James: thank you Ava: you're 🥇 James: I will only accept the accolade if I can share the honour with you Ava: you're too generous Ava: you deserve it James: so do you Ava: nah, not really James: yes really James: I don't deserve you happening to me James: I'm in awe of everything about you, Ava Ava: That's not true Ava: you deserve me Ava: and a lot more besides James: irrespective of the difference of opinion, I don't want anything more than you Ava: anything? James: what could I possibly desire more than you? Ava: you're Ava: are you nearly here? James: yes, but I can take some kind of impromptu detour if you'd rather the answer was no Ava: I can definitely compose myself again Ava: becoming quite an expert James: which is why you deserve a 🥇 James: I know how difficult it is to do Ava: at least we share in it Ava: that makes it, not easier but at least worthwhile James: still, I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you Ava: it'll help when I get to see you in the pool Ava: or make it a lot worse in a kinda fun way, anyway James: oh James: I haven't stopped to consider what you're going to be wearing for this Ava: It's probably best you don't Ava: forget I said anything James: hm, what you're done is, you've essentially guaranteed I can't & won't Ava: it's okay, you have the whole ride there to think about it before you really need to concentrate James: except I meant it when I answered yes to being nearly there & as soon as I am, time will speed up as it tends to do James: around you there are just never enough moments Ava: I miss you before you've even got here too Ava: no amount of time seems suitable James: I'll write us days, weeks, months & years but there's every chance you'll still feel cheated by it Ava: that's just life isn't it Ava: there's no time for half the things we want to do, but we have to carry on in earnest anyway James: the fraction alters from person to person, depending on the life lived & what gets prioritised but I don't believe there's anyone satisfied that they've experienced enough of anything they still want Ava: right Ava: the best you can hope for is doing some of it and having no regrets about if you could've done any more with your allotted time James: in not doing regrets, I'm halfway there Ava: could be worse James: I'm aware it could also be better, don't worry, I won't make you say it Ava: who's couldn't though James: anyone I care about, if the 🖋 were mightier than the ⚔ or indeed intentions counted for more than words on paper in the 1st place Ava: good intentions might not exactly be doing good, but it's still much better than doing bad James: they might also be dangerously close to a fool's errand but I've definitely made a fool of myself for a lot less Ava: I think its noble James: do you? Ava: Yes Ava: of course Ava: I mean it, really mean it, when I say I think you're lovely James: it's just that I'm not used to hearing it James: give me days, months, weeks & years Ava: Done Ava: the only reason I'd stop was if you wanted me to Ava: even then, I might try again, a few more times James: I have no intention, be it good or bad, of stopping you from doing anything you want to Ava: as long as you want it too James: even if I don't Ava: I wouldn't want that James: give yourself days, months, weeks & years James: the point is, my limitations aren't yours, you can do whatever you want & I won't be something that prevents you Ava: I'll still have time and space to say and mean it, whoever I am, because it will still be true and you'll still deserve to hear it James: okay, I'll work on accepting that James: but I make no promises about getting that work done during this particular car ride James: nonetheless, if you're still willing to, you can get in Ava: [come through gal, say hello to them babies] James: [depending where we're putting this on the timeline it could be the first time you have] Ava: [very well could be, Jay just like whaaa] James: [she's like new phone who dis] Ava: [just like I too wanted to swim so I'm coming with, is that cool?] James: [cue excited chatter about swimming and all the other sports and activities she likes because she's a sporty bitch from cradle to grave hence her personal trainer future] Ava: [just taking an interest like your own mother never, so rude] James: [I like to imagine the baby joining in by making excited sounds like she's trying to chat too] Ava: [just replying like yeah girl, same, like you understand] James: [I love it when that's a thing] Ava: [so do babies] James: [already better with her than her actual mother is] Ava: [sad but true] James: [we know the bar is that low, no shade Ava we also know you'll be an amazing step mum and mum so] Ava: [but seriously, we aren't being that extra rn that would be weird, we're just being not shit lol] James: [exactly dr phil and we know this swimming lesson will go great cos I'm only gonna be evil after and not let him get away to spend the night with her cos forever rude] Ava: [that's real and fair] James: [you lowkey don't get to have anything you want rn lads it's just the era we're in] Ava: [true tea, can skip to that] James: the later we wanted is going to have to happen moreso than we thought James: I'm really sorry James: I've tried everyone, both my siblings even Ava: Oh, okay Ava: that is a shame James: It's not okay, you were wonderful earlier & I James: well, I'm hardly that, unless we're giving out marks for effort in the last hour Ava: I'm definitely counting it Ava: if it can't be done it can't be James: not tonight Ava: then it's, not okay but just a fact Ava: we'll find time James: what are you doing tomorrow, maybe we can find some time then? Ava: I'm going to another Uni taster day thing James: which uni is it? Ava: LSE, so I will be about the day after on James: & you'll tell me what you think of LSE when it's over, right? Ava: Of course Ava: it's 1st for journalism but I'm not sold quite yet James: the tour might swing it for you if they take it more seriously than the one I gave Ava: I happen to be fond of the tour you gave, thank you very much James: Yes, The Vault will forever hold a special place in your heart Ava: Exactly Ava: be swinging by whether I'm alum or not 😏 James: I'll bear that in mind should I ever need to find you Ava: you only have to ask James: or whistle, not your namesake's immortal line, but I'm sure it'd be effective Ava: I have two, should you ever like to try again James: I'll bear that in mind as well Ava: Are you named after your dad, or granddad? James: II not III Ava: might've skipped a generation, if he was feeling particularly ruthless James: that would be a fun anecdote, but no Ava: that's a shame Ava: how do they pick the second boy's name James: I assume my mother just named Teddy what she would have named me if my father's ego hadn't got in the way Ava: that makes sense James: how they chose me sister's name would be anyone's guess, were it not stolen from the royal family Ava: surprised they'd commit the faux pas Ava: never have you 'round now, very awkward James: or very much a relief Ava: Poor Charlotte is pretty awkward looking James: looking like your grandmother can go one of 2 extremely different ways James: the more greats you add, the more you're rolling the dice Ava: 😅 Ava: at least there is some mystery in that Ava: no prizes for guessing who I come from James: but hand on heart I can profess to being thrilled that neither of my daughters resemble any of their grandparents Ava: they look like you James: Jay does Ava: yeah, moreso Ava: little ones change so much James: yes, she's an unfinished work Ava: that's a good way to put it James: it's better than being a shelved one, as I am Ava: I can deploy tiptoes if necessary James: thank you for what will be a cherished mental image Ava: it'd be cuter if I was smaller but in relation to you James: you couldn't be any cuter, in relation to anyone Ava: I'm glad you think so James: of course I do Ava: no of course about it Ava: you're totally gorgeous yourself James: first you're comparing our heights & now follows the rest of our attributes James: it's okay, I'm sitting down Ava: well I'm glad to hear you're getting somewhat of a break Ava: I'm just saying, it was still very unlikely, if not star-crossed James: you don't think we looked right together earlier? Ava: I love how we looked James: is there a but coming? Ava: only in the sense I wish it wasn't such a predictable cliche scene around here Ava: but it's neither of our faults that employment is seen as an actual form of flirtation by some James: it was a convenient excuse, I couldn't have wished for more than that under the circumstances Ava: I know Ava: it did the job James: if you want to come again, we know it works Ava: do you think I'll be invited back? James: I don't see why not Ava: I did okay then James: you did better than okay, we're all in agreement here Ava: good James: you haven't been worrying about this since you left, have you? Ava: not worrying Ava: but I don't want to mess that up, so I'm glad I didn't James: I understand, but I meant what I said about being in awe of you, you know James: this wasn't any different Ava: You really do always know what to say Ava: I know it was only swimming, but I'm glad they got to go James: well it's obvious that you always know what to do because you were perfect James: I was worried I shouldn't have agreed to you coming with us, but I'm glad you did James: they would've missed out for no reason if I'd panicked needlessly Ava: it wasn't needless panic though, you were left properly in the lurch Ava: and on paper, does not sound like the best idea James: I'm used to that, but less used to us existing off the page, particularly when it isn't just the two of us James: I asked you what you thought about how we looked, but it's something I try not to think about Ava: because of what other people might think Ava: or because you don't like the thought James: because of everything about my life that makes it difficult for us to be an us James: & because of your age & theirs Ava: You aren't that much older, even if your life means you have to act it Ava: but I understand Ava: thinking about it too much makes you think it might only ever be a nice thought, a daydream on the page and in our heads James: I know but Jay is 6 & you aren't old enough to have a child of that age James: which is why you don't James: I can't help thinking about that Ava: Well, yeah, I don't get having kids, there's no denying that but I'm not trying to say I do Ava: most people your age don't have kids either James: of course they don't, that's the thing, there's not an excessive age gap but there is a huge discrepancy when it comes to our lifestyle Ava: I know James: I don't want to alter yours, that's all Ava: You aren't just going to Ava: my lifestyle is up to me James: okay, just don't let me rewrite you Ava: you won't Ava: you don't want to, and I won't let you Ava: don't worry, okay James: I'll try not to Ava: it's needless, we can use that word here instead James: it's only a worry because I like you exactly as you are Ava: those aren't your words, sir James: do you only accept original speeches? James: it's very much a sentiment that applies to you and how I feel in this instance Ava: as long as you stick to the classics Ava: Mark Darcy, Edward Cullen James: an easy promise to both make & stick to Ava: then I'm happy Ava: 😊 James: I'm happy to hear that Ava: I like it when you're happy James: I'm happy with you Ava: good Ava: that's a good start Ava: we'll see each other soon, but maybe we can call before then James: I'd like that James: when? Ava: whenever you can Ava: I'm going to have a quiet night in James: as soon as I can then Ava: perfect Ava: what are you doing now? James: everything you would if you were my actual au pair Ava: Awkward when I am just a pretty face James: you're not but you're also not on my payroll thankfully because that would be more awkward James: what are you doing? Ava: making some dinner Ava: then I'll see how long I can make a bath last, I reckon James: are you making the same thing for yourself as you were going to make for me? Ava: I would've made you something special James: you've earnt special too though Ava: I'll do a different kind of special then Ava: comfort food James: I normally can't stand compromises but that admittedly sounds like a lovely one Ava: aren't compromises key in kid negotiations though? James: I think that depends what kind of parent you are Ava: and you're the structure and routine, so you're the boundaries and rules that aren't up for discussion too James: whether I wish I could just give in sometimes or not Ava: you're the love too though Ava: you can tell they both adore you James: for as long as being everything doesn't wear me down to nothing, I'll keep being exactly what they need me to Ava: does anyone help Ava: like, give consistent help James: her parents are the closest I've got Ava: sounds really fucking stressful James: it was easier with one Ava: yeah Ava: now you're outnumbered James: & everyone helped more when Jay was younger because we were too James: I'm expected to know what I'm doing by now Ava: don't reckon anyone ever does though Ava: cop-out response, I'm aware but genuinely Ava: it's just everyone has the responsibility of fucking up their own kids James: every child is different & I'm not remotely the same person I was either James: an additional cop out response but true anyway James: the way I handle things now, or don't, is a world away from how I coped then so James: new challenges Ava: well, I can't say about then Ava: but you're nicer now than lots of dickheads 'round here that wait 'til they're 30-40 odd to have theirs James: thank you Ava: whatever missteps, having a parent that's a decent person is an advantage lots of kids don't get James: are yours? Ava: yeah, I think so Ava: like, they aren't storybook parents and they never have been that type, they're too fucked up for that Ava: but they did and would do anything for us, nothing we could bring at them would be too much, and my siblings have definitely put that to the test in recent years James: storybook parents tend to lead you into the woods using a trail of breadcrumbs or do nothing while you're placed under a curse anyway James: which sounds more like the school of child rearing my parents would subscribe to Ava: oh you're right Ava: the ones that aren't dead are usually terrible James: I need to write some better bedtime stories once the novel is finished Ava: you'd be perfect at that Ava: I can tell Ava: you can turn me into whatever animal sells best but it better be cute or I won't be able to help being slightly offended James: you'll be adorable & clever & kind, of course James: the good ideas can come from your animal counterpart as they always do from you when you're yourself Ava: very 🦗 Ava: she likes 🐕 a lot though, and I can handle that James: I was considering a water creature because you love swimming & are intending to be in the bath as long as you possibly can James: perhaps 🦦 Ava: see Ava: you're amazing at this Ava: that would be so cute James: you haven't seen the pictures yet, an amazing artist I am not Ava: we'll get you an illustrator James: male or unattractive? Ava: I'm not your wife, I don't need to make those sort of stipulations James: strictly hired on their ability to draw an adorable 🦦 it is then Ava: 👍 thinking James: [I was thinking he should send her some totally beautiful and expensive pudding because she said comfort food so that needs to arrive before she's in the bath otherwise that'd be annoying instead of sweet] Ava: James James: Ava Ava: how am I ever going to thank you? James: oh good, I thought you were say you didn't like it James: *about to Ava: I love it Ava: how are you just as sweet Ava: it's ridiculous James: it's ridiculous that I can't see you for days at a time James: I want you to know that you're in my thoughts more often than that Ava: if she knew how lucky she was, none of this would even be an issue, that's what's ridiculous Ava: but I'm sort of glad she doesn't Ava: selfishly James: she isn't lucky to have me, that's the obvious issue James: because to say that we don't work as a couple or aren't sweet to each other is an oversimplification Ava: did you ever? James: no Ava: I'm sorry James: I don't deserve any sympathy, I haven't always tried very hard Ava: It's still sad James: It's sad for them, I'd like to think that maybe one day they'll describe me as 'fucked up but...' as you did your parents though James: I'd happily settle for that Ava: I don't know how thrilled they'd be Ava: but there's not really a higher compliment so Ava: as far as goals go, it's a good one James: realistic goals are the only way forward Ava: I'll drink to that James: 🥂 since I can't actually Ava: I'm just eating my pudding, obviously James: very amiss of me not to send you 🍾 as well James: noted Ava: Shh Ava: it was perfect, you are Ava: there's always enough 🍾 'round mine to bathe in, should I feel so inclined James: I remember Ava: yeah Ava: I remember too James: I won't ask you to fill in the ensuing gaps in my memory, don't worry Ava: I tried not to pay that close attention, naturally James: 😇 naturally Ava: Hardly Ava: Buster was just pretty embarrassing James: I remember that as well James: though I took the 👑 in that regard so there's little room for me to say anything Ava: you aren't my brother so I guess it didn't really register James: it may have more closely registered had we stayed friends, I suppose Ava: He didn't stay, period James: precisely Ava: 🤷 James: if he had & we were still friends, there wouldn't be a you & I so Ava: depends how good friends you were Ava: think you'd have to be much better than you were, right? James: it would be an added complication regardless & there are more than enough of those Ava: very true James: no offense to your brother but I would rather have your company than his Ava: 😂 I should hope so James: you could improve your ⚽ skills but James: Jay'll help you Ava: Slander Ava: I could be semi-pro, you don't know 😏 James: 😂 Ava: I'm not though, don't want to get anyone's hopes up here Ava: definitely come back to bite me if I try and impress you with my dribbling skills 🙄 James: I won't wait for you to indignantly explain the off side rule to me, it's okay Ava: we're both better than that cliche James: I hope so Ava: besides, I have ZERO interest in being a sports journalist thank you Ava: not putting that out into the universe James: or a WAG presumably Ava: not unless he has an interesting personality to go with the ball control James: some of them must Ava: probably be better going with a female player but I doubt they're girlfriends go in for the WAG label Ava: not invested enough to champion it solo James: it'd be a slightly less stereotypical existence Ava: except every lesbian is either a footballer, cop or farmer James: I'll have to take your word for it Ava: yes, I'm very reliable James: well I'm sorry, you can't be the novel's narrator Ava: I like your words too much, that's fine James: you're too kind to me Ava: no James: yes James: because it's another failing of mine that I can't get inside your head in order to write those words Ava: I like when you tell them to me Ava: with your voice James: can I call you? Ava: yes James: [does and I vote it lasts for hours and hours because they are cute and high key] Ava: [agreed]

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revol-lover · 4 years

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so last year a lady contacted me on facebook saying she was my cousin, and turns out, she was. she’s my cousin on my mom’s paternal side. I guess theres a whole bunch of us who descended from 4 brothers and this lady has been working for years to make like a huge family tree of us all! it’s fascinating and goes so far back. I even got to see a photo my great great grandfather!

who apparently was said to have clear blue eyes. It’s so interesting to learn these details. so she added me to the group and now my name, my husband and Julia and our photos are added to this massive family tree and they were supposed to be having a family reunion TODAY with everyone from the facebook group who could make it there (Azores).

Both my parents were born there, both immigrated to the United States. My mom came with her parents as a kid when she was 11. My dad came, as an adult, to marry his pen-pal aka my mom, when he was 25. It sounds romantic but it really wasn’t. My dad’s aunt and uncle lived in the US already and they knew my mom’s parents so it was kind of a blind-date/arrangement thing. So anyway though, as a result of that I’m a 1st-Gen American.

Because of covid the family reunion had to be cancelled. i wasn’t able to go anyway because it’s expensive to fly out there. we do have a place we could’ve stayed, my dad’s parents still own a home there that all of the family uses when they visit (it aint nothing fancy though. it’s got these giant cock roaches that are common in island climates but freaked my new-england-raised-ass OUT when I visited once as a kid lmao) so if it weren’t for a) money b) my passport needs to be updated and julia doesnt have one c) people drive craaaazy there and i would need my dad to come with us to help me not only get to the town but to drive and while he would 100% do that at the drop of a hat, it would’ve been quite the coordination. but mostly a) and b) is what held me back.

so i’m bummed i couldn’t go. and i probably wont be able to go next year when i think they’re rescheduling it to. but maybe someday i’ll be able to. and that really excites me because i love learning about my ancestry and i’ve always felt very connected to my roots because as a 1st generation american i was raised with more portuguese culture than american just by default.

my parents brought me to the islands when i was 13 and it was one of the best experiences of my life. i havent been able to go back since but i really want to some day. especially to show Julia where we come from. but kevin’s family on his dad’s side are also from Azores so I’d love for him to experience it too.

i can’t tell you how many times in my life i’ve thought about how slim the chance was of me being born in the usa was. like literally. it could have easily not happened. my grandparents were struggling and got the opportunity to come here on plane tickets that were bought with borrowed money. things were really bad in the islands when they left. but if for some reason that didn’t work out i’d probably have been born there. that boggles my mind.

anyway this is my mom’s town where the reunion would’ve taken place. this town is right on the coast.

and this is my dad’s town, where we’d stay if/when we visit someday, this town is inland.

i try not to romanticize it because i know that my grandparent’s left because of poverty but damn when the country they immigrated to is bursting at the seams and has donald trump for a president it’s hard not to sometimes wish things could’ve worked out differently. but then i would have a completely different life and it wasn’t meant to be that way but i digress.

i could write a whole book about what its like to grow up as a first generation american. you’re always a little more “american” and understanding of american culture than your parents but you’re also less “american” and understanding/exposed to american culture than your friends whose parents aren’t immigrants. the best friends i’ve ever had were ones whose parents were also immigrants, not even necessarily Portuguese ones. just cause there’s this mutual understanding of how you grew up differently and how can live in one country but feel way more connected to the culture of another if that makes sense.

#personal

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kiss-my-freckle · 4 years

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Red’s Vanessa Cruz shooting. A long post.

Red’s Vanessa Cruz shooting is the most convenient piece. Tom’s involvement in that shooting being the “certain truth" about Red that I believe he wiped from Liz’s memory. Uncovering Tom’s involvement in that, Liz would’ve realized what part Tom played in her Cabal frame. While Red traced everything back to the harbormaster trial in his conversation with Liz on the phone, his shooting in 2x18 was their initial hit. I think Red made that connection to the harbormaster trial for a reason. He didn’t save Tom to save her. Red had no flipping idea Tom would walk on Ames’ murder, he only knew that Liz would. Dialogues show it. The judge didn’t let Tom go, Connolly did. Dialogues show it. I think Red mentioned the harbormaster investigation to leave that open for the memory wipe reveal. Their way to marker the episode where Liz should’ve circled back to that phone call. It was a basic hint to Liz, a puzzle piece - you have more than a grainy photo of Karakurt, you know Connolly made that investigation go away. I think Red knew at that point Tom was involved in his shooting because Connolly allowed him to walk on Ames’ murder. I think that’s why Red doesn’t understand why Liz continued a relationship with him. I think Red knows about everything at this point. Everything BUT her second memory wipe.

Several things about Red’s 2x18 shooting that are questionable. That’s why I consider Red’s shooting the most convenient piece.

1. Quon Zhang gave us timeline for each hit.

Karakurt and Andropov needed to remain in contact and line up their schedules so they could hit back-to-back as they did. The fact that Karakurt entered the country at the end of Zhang’s episode tells us that Anropov infected the college student in that episode rather than in Karakurt’s. He wouldn’t have entered the country until the virus was proven successful. That’s your timeline. Andropov infects the student at the same time Red introduces Zhang. Understanding their need to keep in contact according to their mulitple phases because they needed them to align a certain way.

Once Andropov tested the student at the open of Zhang’s episode, would’ve contacted Karakurt and informed him. That’s how Quon Zhang could speak to Karakurt entering the country by the end of his episode. Andropov would have informed him at the start of it. Then what you have, is Zhang smuggling Karakurt into the country so he can bomb Orea. Once the Orea bombing was completed, the next phase was Andropov infecting Liz at Union Station. After that, Karakurt’s phase at the memorial as a fake reporter. After the senator was infected, Andropov and Karakurt were done, Liz’s frame fully complete. This would’ve required a back-and-forth sharing of information - which they did.

Orea agents had no reason to believe Karakurt entered the country. Entering the country wasn’t mentioned in their conversation, they only spoke of “phase two” - which isn’t specific. Andropov in bold.

-Tell me it worked. -The proof of concept succeeded as projected. -Prepare to initiate Phase Two. -Done. I’ve identified the markers for targeting and customization.

2. Tom called Liz back to his warehouse.

Tom’s rapid switch, and a reason to question his need to lie to Liz.

Tom: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I can’t. Not about this.

He can’t tell Liz about the passports. About THIS. The passports didn’t come from Red, yet Tom claimed they did. Tom had no reason to hide the fact that Red hired him. If Red issued those passports, had no reason to hide that either. Tom was already “out.” He pulled himself back in when he messaged Liz to stop by.

Tom: The passports - the passports came from Reddington.

According to Keen2 shippers, Liz’s kiss goodbye caused Tom to change his mind, pushed him to be honest with her because he couldn’t imagine his life without her. The truth would’ve had no bearing on their relationship, nor affect Red. He didn’t have to know where that intel came from. So simple ... “Hey Red, I found out you hired Tom Keen to enter my life because I was finally able to trace those passports back to you.” Liz learning, not Tom informing. He would've been safe from Red, Liz would’ve appreciated his honesty. Tom simply could not reveal where those passports came from. He basically lied to Liz twice. Honest when he told Liz Red hired him to enter her life.

One should question: What did Tom hope to gain by informing Liz about Red? Why lie about the passports, but be truthful about his hire?

My belief. Tom told her the truth about Red hiring him so he could sell the lie about where the passports came from and basically bury the real truth. Easy to buy the lie, to buy Red issuing passports for the spy he hired to enter her life. I believe they tell a much bigger story.

3. Missing conversation and Connolly’s dialogue.

Before they cut scene, Tom had one more thing to say.

Tom: Liz, there’s more.

That’s it. That’s all we hear. Cut scene.

Jasper: It’s me. It’s done. Red: I’m listening. Jasper: The vote went your way. The Director wasn’t very happy, but - a vote’s a vote. Red: And Hobbs? Jasper: He wants to meet. Red: Yes, I’m quite sure he would have. But he can’t, can he? Jasper: What are you talking about? Red: Hobbs was to contact me after the vote was cast. He didn’t, which means he’s dead, which means you betrayed him. Betrayed me. Jasper: That’s not true. He specifically asked that the three of us should meet so that we can discuss the future. Red: You need to run, Jasper. Run like the prairie wind because I’m coming for you. And when I find you, I’m going to cut out that forked tongue of yours and deliver it to the Director myself.

Jasper was the one who said The Director had an inside man. Samar played it off like she was his inside man, but she was not. Jasper, The Director with his inside man, Red, and Dembe.

Red: It’s time to go away, Dembe. Dembe: Agent Keen wants to meet regarding the Fulcrum.

Red was prepared to go away because Liz wouldn’t give him the Fulcrum and his life was in immediate danger. The Cabal pushed him into a corner. That’s what made this work all the better. The Director knew it. His inside man knew it. The Director already got his backing to kill Red. That’s what they were voting for. All he needed at that point, was the Fulcrum. Guess what Liz did? Took the Fulcrum to the very location where Red took a bullet. Everything The Director wanted was there - after Liz left Tom’s warehouse:

“Liz, there’s more.”

One should question: What else did Tom tell Liz that we didn’t get to hear?

My belief. Tom told Liz that Red only entered her life for the Fulcrum. Basically confirming that fear she had since her Braxton recall.

Caul’s episode brought quite a coincidence. A bit of dialogue that came from the very man who allowed Tom to walk out of prison. Not only walk on the murder of Eugene Ames, but on charges stemming from his work for Berlin.

Connolly: I appreciate your loyalty to Agent Keen, Harold, but - you have to admit, there’s a possibility she’s being completely manipulated by Reddington. What if the reason he chose her in the first place is because he wanted to get his hands on this thing? What if that’s the real reason he turned himself in? Cooper: I don’t believe that. Connolly: All this talk about some personal connection between Reddington and Keen, why he chose her, some shared history - what if Reddington doesn’t care about Agent Keen and it’s all been a manipulation?

My belief. While Cooper didn’t believe what Connolly was selling, I believe Tom did, and I believe he sold it to Liz in their missing conversation.

From saying this on-screen: “Liz, there’s more.”

To saying this off-screen: “You’re being completely manipulated by Reddington. He chose you because he wanted to get his hands on the Fulcrum. That’s why he turned himself in. You have no shared connection, no shared history. You want to know why he chose you? It’s because of the Fulcrum. He knows you have it.”

I think that’s why she called Dembe immediately afterward, and told him she wanted to meet regarding the Fulcrum. I also think that’s why she brought the Fulcrum to their meeting.

4. Pushed to the edge.

Imagine the build-up since Luther Braxton. Liz’s fear that Red only entered her life for the Fulcrum. She spoke of this immediately following her recall. Several more mentions after that. The idea bothered Liz. Moreso because she became possessive of him. She spoke of this to Samar. Selling a shared history/connection just to get his hands on a blackmail file. Basically preying on her emotions, as she spoke of at Tom’s grave. That’s what Red would’ve been doing if that were the case. Yes, that’s something to fear. Even in The Deer Hunter.

Add in her belief that her father died because of the Fulcrum. Because Red and his people came for it that night. Now add in the man Red hired to enter her life. Their entire relationship built on a lie. And Tom could’ve easily sold that as yet another lie - claim he was hired by Red to enter her life in an effort to find the Fulcrum.

Her dialogue as well as her emotion.

Liz: Here. This is all you wanted. Now you have it.

Liz: I said, please do not attempt to explain why. I don’t care why. I just want this to stop. I want it all to stop, right now. Take it!

That’s quite a leap from Red issuing passports and hiring Tom to enter her life. “THIS is all you wanted” taken back to Tom’s initial statement. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I can’t. Not about THIS.”

5. Tracking Red.

No one has EVER been able to get close to Red. Surely not close enough to put a bullet in his chest. I know some theorists believe Fitch was able to get close to him due to S1 dialogue, but one must look at his dialogue, compare it, then consider intent.

Fitch: You were walking in the park this morning. We could’ve taken you then. Instead, we dragged you from the safety and security of the bed you’re now sharing with new friends.

Solomon: The plan was to grab her today, no matter where she was. Grocery store or house of God, it makes little difference to me.

As you know, Solomon was in custody at the time Liz was attacked in the grocery store parking lot. Word of mouth. That’s all anyone needs.

Their intent? To instill fear and maintain control.

Red is off the grid. No digital footprint. One can’t actually track him. No phone, no email, everything is done face-to-face. Not even Dembe’s flip phone. What I’m basically saying is this: NO ONE tracked Red to that meeting with Liz.

One should question: How did the Cabal learn about Red and Liz’s meeting and location?

Liz’s Lord Baltimore tail makes this all the more interesting. Compare her Lord Baltimore tail to Ezra. So obvious that it feels blatant.

Ezra tails her out in the open. You quite literally see him tailing her from the very beginning of S2. He has no need to wear Keen2 glasses. We NEVER see him wear them, and it’s not like he needs them - he’s not pretending to be a teacher. They only tail Liz for one episode, and they tail her specifically. They show this in scene. They are following her, not him.

How does one track Red when he leaves no digital trace and no one can get close enough? Either study his tie purchases like Samar, or take the simple route: tail Liz. As cautious as she was trying to be - changing her route, living in motels, etc - this person was still able to track her. I believe they brought this tail in specifically to show how the Cabal was able to put a bullet in Red’s chest. I believe they tailed her from Tom’s warehouse to the meeting location.

A gif set after this post to show what I mean by the tail and its purpose.

6. The time it took them to put a bullet in Red’s chest.

Less than 90 seconds after he arrived at their location. That’s 90 seconds his shooter had to get to the fourth floor and set up the shot.

7. Their initial hit.

Red’s shooting was their initial hit. The first move the Cabal made after learning Liz was born Masha Rostova. The first move they made in their plan to frame her for treason. They needed him out of the way so he wouldn’t be around when Karakurt and Andropov came in, nor be around to clear Liz’s name. Basicallly, they wanted things to go as planned.

8. Hits and their differences.

Section one.

While the Cabal orchestrated Red’s shooting, they had no idea Liz would shoot Connolly. An obvious difference there. Connolly’s shooting compared to the Orea bombing and the senator, just as obvious. His shooting didn’t require a frame. Liz pulled the trigger herself in a banquet hall full of credible witnesses. Unlike Red, one can easily get close enough to take a shot at Connolly. When it came to exoneration, Connolly’s shooting took her badge. She was cleared on everything else. Had she not shot him, Liz would’ve had her badge when she returned to work, no deal required.

Summation of Connolly’s murder.

Was not part of Liz’s Cabal frame.

Happened unexpectedly.

Was a choice Liz made.

Provided credible witnesses.

Took Liz’s badge.

The only charge that wasn’t exonerated.

Coincidence, the many parallels and dialogues supporting the possibility that Liz's second memory manipulation may have played a role in this shooting.

Section two.

Liz’s fingerprint found on the explosive device involved in the Orea bombing. An obvious plant. Seen near the truck, but not prior to detonation. An act that didn’t have as much proof as the virus that killed the senator. News reporter feed that recorded Liz infecting the senator as she assisted him into the car. Her blood testing positive for the virus. Overall, the biggest difference is the lack of evidence in the Orea bombing compared to the evidence they had for the senator’s death. Orea required more planting, whereas the senator simply required they mislead Liz into killing him.

Summation of the senator’s murder.

More evidence. Stronger evidence. Harder to disprove evidence.

Liz being misled, requiring less falsification.

Planting evidence in her blood.

Harder to plant evidence in someone’s blood. Wouldn’t be that hard to plant a fingerprint and falsify documentation. I believe the Orea bombing came first because their plan to reignite the Cold War required it in that order.

One final, glaring difference between hits: Tom’s character.

The Orea bombing. The virus that killed the senator. Connolly’s shooting. Three hits that put Liz on the run. Tom was hesitant to help her with the Orea bombing and the senator, but eager to help with Connolly’s shooting. Add in the possibility of Liz’s second memory manipulation.

Tom’s thoughts regarding the Orea bombing and the senator. That’s Reddington talking. There’s no clearing it up, there’s only leaving it behind. He can keep her safe, he can help her disappear. He doesn’t know Andropov. Liz told him she had proof that Cooper’s doctor worked for the Cabal, and he told her to slow down. She can’t leave. Then he can’t stay. Basically, Tom couldn’t stay either way, he had to leave with or without Liz. Why?

Connolly’s shooting in S3 was complete opposite. Tom came back. For some reason, now able to stay. For some reason, now eager to help Liz. For some reason, not a single moment of hesitation. Sitting by the phone, waiting for her call. Leaving his number with the damn waitress ffs. Tailing Ressler for the sake of it. And doing this to exonerate her. Apparently, they can clear this up rather than leave it behind. No need to keep her safe or help her disappear. He knew Karakurt but not Andropov. No need to tell Liz to slow down, Tom himself was unable to slow down. Why the change?

Connolly’s shooting mattered to Tom. Why?

Because Tom saw The Director on the news. The Director wasn’t on the news until S3. Cooper fooled by Connolly. Ressler fooled by Laurel. Tom fooled by Peter.

#Rederina #Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2 #Keenler baby theory

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xseildnasterces · 4 years

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only the young.

I need to stop. I did it again and saw something I didn’t want or need to see. Why do I do this to myself? I say over and over again that this will be the last time I write about her, but I can’t help myself. and why can’t I help myself? Because even now I am drawn to her in a way that I cannot even explain. I shouldn’t have an opinion, I shouldn’t care. I have no right to, yet it bothers me beyond belief. I knew this would come, but even still, it hurts. I have to forget her, in the same way, I am pretty sure she has forgotten me, I need to stop. I wonder if she has even thought of me any time recently or whether I have been cleanly wiped from her mind as she intended and washed the slate clean to start afresh. I have no idea, and I guess I never will. I feel rubbish. I feel down and I don’t even really know the cause of it, but obviously, this and these thoughts do not help.

I watched the news footage live when the clock struck 11pm in the UK, and 12 in Europe. I cried. I know some people will think that is ridiculous, but I don’t think people quite understand how much Europe and the EU means to me. I spent two years of my life working for an EU institution, and they were two of the best years of my working life. I will never have a team like that again, I will never have that much fun at work again. I felt part of something. Part of the European community and I loved that. I loved the collaboration with all the EU countries and how it brought us all together. I genuinely see zero benefits of us leaving, and I’m hard-pressed to find anyone that can tell me what these so-called benefits are - even people who support it! The fact we have now left the EU was one of the main deciding factors in why I ended up taking a job in the US. People always say they don’t know anyone who was directly affected by us leaving, well I was. It changed the way I looked at the job I was always in and knowing that if I had stayed I had no job security. My contract would not have been able to extend if I had stayed and then we had left - as we have, so I couldn’t take that risk. I love Europe. I miss it so much. I miss everything about it. I do like living in the US, but there is just so much about Europe that is unique and feels like home. I miss that so much. I hope that one day I will be back living in Europe and reaping the benefits that come with it. Eventually, once I have my Irish passport these things will be open to me again. It’s funny, I very rarely post anything on Facebook anymore, but I posted a picture on there today and on Instagram, and I got more likes on those photographs than I have on any other picture. I also posted it on my other Tumblr, and some hilarious person commented that I should ‘move then’. I gladly informed them I already had. I have never once been proud to be from the UK, I spent my childhood dreaming of far off places where I would move and live one day. The UK and its politics have just never been for me, but I guess I never expected to feel as embarrassed as I do now to be from such a place. I saw first hand the laughing stock we were seen as in Europe, and all I could do was agree. When I was talking to J today he told me that the flag has now been removed at the ECB, that same flag that my photo was taken with. Gone. It’s just so sad, and I know writing all this helps nothing at all, but perhaps getting it all out and writing it somewhere will help somewhat.

I just finished watching the new Taylor Swift film, ‘Miss American’ which I loved. She talks about how she was constantly told not to get involved in politics in any way and to not show support for any particular party because due to her country roots a lot of people assumed she was a closeted republican, which clearly was not the case. Her management etc. thought it would hurt her career, hurt her fanbase and no longer mean she would fill arenas how she was doing. I respect her so much for the fact that despite knowing that it could hurt her career, she still made her thoughts known. She stood up for what she believed in, spoke out about it and even started her own petition for equal rights. I have always liked Taylor Swift, but when this all happened, I loved her even more. And losing fans that believed we should still act like the woman of the 50s really would not have been a loss at all. I always find it confusing when people say politics should not become between friends and family, but if you feel like that you clearly do not feel strongly about your politics. I could never be friends with someone who didn’t agree with gay rights, someone who would clearly think that politically in society I was less of a person or less worthy of rights simply because I was queer and attracted to women. Of course, that would come between me and friends, in the same way as if a friend was campaigning to take my rights away as a woman to work, to vote, or the right to choose. I do not need those sorts of people in my life.

Talking about being pro-choice. I am sick to death of receiving the mail of the last person that lived here - who was clearly a religious lunatic. Every week I am receiving religious magazines, letters, newspapers and leaflets and I have already told them numerous times to stop sending them. I have returned every single thing they sent back to them. Despite being annoyed about it I just resent them because it wasn’t anything incredibly negative... until this week. This weeks magazine was a cover showing pro-life supporters shouting at women entering an abortion clinic. All over the page was pre-life signs and messages saying these women were horrific, evil people and it just made me so angry. I scribbled pro-choice all over it and sent it back to them in the post. On reflection, this probably wasn’t my wisest idea because they’ll probably just send more now because they think there is some crazy pro-choice supporter living here. The latter of which is true.

Work today was quite fun. I really wasn’t in the mood in the morning, but I had forgotten that today was our late ‘New Year party’, which meant a huge conference room was blocked for us. All the chairs were taken away, dance floors, music, limbo, games, pool, table football, ping-pong and even games consoles. H is still off sick so I headed down with C and R who I got to know a bit better and we had a really good time. I ended up playing pool with some guy who plays all the time, and although I didn’t win I actually did super well and got in some really good shots. It was good fun and I enjoyed spending time with some different people. The new gay guy who I originally thought was really cool is already starting to piss me off. He seems quite full of himself and reminds me a bit too much of another guy I used to work with, just without the touchy feely-ness (obviously), but yeah. I think he’s going to do my tree in.

[Blog Title: Only The Young - Taylor Swift].

#taylor swift #only the young #life #life update #me #personal #journal #thoughts #thought #feeling #feelings

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paullicino · 6 years

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On Immigration

With photos taken from my travels. I guess we really do photograph what we love.

I am flying on a plane today.

It will take me to my country of birth, Great Britain and, when I land, someone will tell me to go through the automated passport gates that let British people with their British passports slide smoothly and seamlessly back in to their country. I will tell the person that this won’t work and they will insist I do it anyway.

I will try the gates and they won’t let me in. They never have. This is a long collection of stories about that, as well as about so many other stupid things that happen and have happened to me, a white, English male, at borders. But first, I am going to tell you about a bank note.

I have a Canadian one dollar bill in my wallet. It was passed to me as a curiosity not long after I went to Canada, at the start of wet 2015. I didn’t know then that I wanted to stay in Canada, though I did know I wanted to be there more, to visit more after finding so much I liked. I also knew that I had to get out of Britain and go to other places, because the world is very big and it is peculiar to only want to stay in one corner of it, like a mouse in a nook.

I kept the dollar bill. Canada stopped making them in the late 80s, so it served as a curiosity and even a kind of totem. At first I kept it for fun, but as my life plans changed, it became a sort of companion. At the end of 2016, in a winter that turned wondrously white, I decided I wanted to stay in Canada and in the wet spring of 2017, a wrinkling bill still in my wallet, I began that process, a process that mostly involved documents. There’s nothing quite like immigration to remind you that your life, to someone else, is mostly a collection of documents.

Once upon a time, someone was very unhappy with my documents. It was March 2015 and I had recently flown back from wondrously white Sweden (for which I had the right documents: my British/EU passport) to a wet spring Canada (for which I also had the right documents: my visa). That dollar bill wasn’t part of any of my documents, but it was still in my wallet.

I tried to take a bus down to Seattle, to then take a train to California, to go to a convention and visit a video games developer. The bus crossed the US/Canada border at around six in the morning and unloaded us into a barn-like facility. A border guard asked me if I was on the Seattle bus and I told him I was. He flicked through my passport and was unhappy with the stamps and tickets in it. “Show this page,” he said, flicking to what seemed to be the wrong stamp, and the line moved forward to a desk where another guard asked me about my travel plans. I told him I was going to take a train down to California.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

Now, here’s a thing: when you’re telling the truth and someone says “I don’t believe you,” your situation is what’s most commonly referred to as A Problem. If that person is in a position of authority and has a gun, ratchet that up a notch. If that person begins to shout at you, to search through all your possessions in front of you and to ask you about all the things you’re carrying, even the things you take for granted and barely think about, dollar bill included, you’re having A Day.

I had A Day.

I saw a lot of things that day. I left the border some time in the late afternoon, after talking to a different guard about everything from my job to my family history. Toward the end of one of several protracted discussions, he leaned back in his seat and said “I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.” I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done wrong, taking a trip like the many, many others that I had before. The guard’s boss, who ran the whole border crossing, decided I was an “edge case” and that I wasn’t in any trouble, but couldn’t visit the United States ever again in my life without a specialist visa. My passport was also flagged.

I am now, for the rest of my life, on a list, and after being told I didn’t do anything wrong.

During the blazing summer of 2002 I read a carefully-researched journalistic feature about migration. It talked about how lots of people leave Britain all the time. It talked about how immigration figures can often ignore emigration, and about how students arrive to study, but then leave, or temporary workers arrive to work, but then leave.

British people were also leaving. A lot of British people were leaving. Some moved and some retired and some found work elsewhere. There was, the feature said, also a brain drain. A lot of smart people wanted to leave.

A lot of other people thought immigration was a huge problem because they only looked at one figure. They thought that Britain was like a sickly old man, forever inhaling but never breathing out. I thought the feature would fix this misconception, but that turned out to be like thinking that eating once will mean you’re never hungry again.

I wanted to leave, but I wasn’t smart. You can tell who is smart because they have a degree. In both 2002 and 2007 I researched the possibility of leaving Britain and going to other countries, Canada among them. Everybody wanted a degree, though. I couldn’t go. I didn’t have my documents.

I think about nationality sometimes. I didn’t get to choose where I was born, I must’ve missed that meeting, but I was born with the advantage that my passport gave me easier access to many other countries, with relatively little fuss. Trips to Europe demanded nothing and my first flight to the United States required me to fill in a landing card that asked me if I had ever been a Nazi. This was very funny, because I wouldn’t know how to start to buy into such a racist philosophy of believing I was better than everyone else, but also because I was pretty sure the Nazis had been defeated sixty years before.

That first flight was the blazing summer of 2002. I went to the United States partly because I had never travelled independently before, partly because I hadn’t travelled all that much anyway and partly because I thought it was a small act of defiance. The previous year, terrorists had flown planes into buildings to kill thousands and to try to make everyone feel scared and helpless. It stopped everyone flying. The foreign currency processing center I worked in at the time ground to a halt, because nobody travelled. It was, our boss said, very bad for business. When people don’t move around, money doesn’t move around.

It was a strange time and people often forget that these events were followed by mysterious anthrax in the mail and then a sniper who drove around the D.C. area shooting people dead. There was lots to worry about and even I was irrationally scared when I boarded that first plane, but by the time an airport border guard was asking me what my deal was, all my fears had evaporated. I was safe and I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was also British, and we were Best Buddies. Other British friends of mine had visited the United States for months at a time without incident. It was all fine. Travel was exciting. Travel was invigorating.

I learned later about how you get nationality. Being born in Britain didn’t automatically make me British. I was born in Britain and at least one of my parents was British. There’s also something called jus sanguinis, whereby your parent’s nationality can determine yours, wherever you’re born. It’s not uncommon in Europe, but Canada also has it. Have yourself a Canadian parent and you’re automatically a Canadian, wherever you pop out.

But then there’s jus soli, which is more of a New World thing. If you’re born in Brazil or Argentina or the United States or Mexico or, again, Canada, you have the automatic right to citizenship in that country, whoever you popped out of. Good for you. You can be born in one country to a parent from another and you are entitled to two citizenships straight away. You did good. Well done!

And there are some very cool combinations out there that give you all sorts of free passes. All sorts of documents.

I talked to a bunch of people after my border turnaround in early 2015. I talked to a lawyer who cost four hundred dollars and who told me nothing I didn’t already know and who also got some things wrong. I talked to someone who used to work in immigration and they told me border crossings could be arbitrary and that border guards weren’t always very well trained. They told me that the border, United States consulates and the United States State Department all had slightly different and conflicting rules to enforce. After all those terror attacks, the United States felt scared and helpless and that something had to be done, so spent a lot of money changing, among other things, how its border worked. Not immediately, but gradually. A constant, firm push. They did this not because they thought it would make the world a better place, but because they thought it would make their world a better place.

One of the things that changed was a new visa waiver program, which people like me were allowed to travel on. Unless something caused us to be turned around at the border. That bumps you off that plan. Forever. Even if you’re told you haven’t done anything wrong or a man at a consulate seems confused as to how this happened.

In summer 2015, I went to a United States consulate to apply for the first of the United States visas that I now hold. To prove I was who I said I was, I took an armful of documents and testimonials with me, plus my totemic dollar bill. Since the things I do are pretty public, you would think that it’s easy to verify who I am and what I do, but I still took every document I could think of. The United States consulate would not allow me to take anything else in except those documents and it sent me in with a whole bunch of other people who were applying for other visas. We all rode up a big elevator and then sat in first one, then another room as the hours rolled by. I was the only white person in this group and, as I watched people go up to windows for interviews, it felt like we were all under suspicion. Like we’d all done something wrong.

Barack Obama smiled at us from a picture on the wall and there was a flag in the corner. Nobody said very much. Everyone looked nervous. We very much had the impression that we shouldn’t talk. We sat there with nothing to do and nothing even to read.

A man called my number and gave me an interview. He asked me about my work and my life and whenever I even began to think that he needed proof of something, I pulled forth a document, though I also think I had an easier time because he recognised that we were Best Buddies. He looked at my flagged file and asked about the incident at the border. I told him the story of how I’d been stopped and spoken to. He gave me a hugely quizzical look and asked me one of the last questions of the day: “But they let you in, didn’t they?”

By summer 2017 I had all the documents I needed to apply for Permanent Residence in Canada. They were one hundred and forty-four pages of the most boring biography you ever read, including a history of travel transformed into the most mundane shopping list and tax documents that showed my income for the last five years, as well as details about my business and how it’s growing. Mostly, the point was to show that I was good at my job and that the job made money go into my bank account. If Canada grants me Permanent Residence, Canada can tax the money I (reliably) make, as my business and my income grows. I included an explanation of what I do and how I’d like to do it more, and bigger, in Canada, plus some character references and examples of work. I’d like to think that I bring more to Canada than just the money I spend, but I don’t know if immigration cares as much about that sort of thing. They can have whatever information they want about me.

Here’s a secret: They can’t have my dollar bill.

I submitted the application in August. In October, my company hosted its first convention, bringing 800 people (and their money) to Vancouver. I spent money. They spent money. The company spent money. I hope immigration noticed. It was very good for business, all those people and their money moving around.

Canada asked me, as they often do with certain kinds of people applying for Permanent Residence, to leave and to await a decision. If I’d been a different kind of person applying for Permanent Residence, perhaps a spouse or in a particular job, I could’ve stayed. I did not want to lie about any of this. Since I was applying to bring myself and my money and my business to Canada, they told me to take those things away for a while.

I left, rippled dollar bill in my wallet, to spend some time in the United States, wondering if I might return soon.

I love visiting the United States. I love many of the people there, some of them a lot, and even with all its problems, it still has so much goodness and possibility and such a variety of people who want to work together to make it better. I like talking to these people and I like seeing all the different places in which they live. There are so many of them and they are all so different and, like the best bits of Britain, this is what helps to make them wholesome and good.

Two years earlier, I gave the United States consulate my passport and they printed a maxed-out, five-year media visa inside, though I remain flagged and every time I cross the border a guard will peer at notes on a screen which I am not allowed to see or request. Sometimes I am sent for secondary inspection and quizzed. I must always show that I am not going to be A Problem, I must always show my good intent, in something that is the opposite of innocent until proven guilty. My rights as a person entering a country are not the same as my rights if I hold that country’s nationality. The Constitution and Amendments and Bill of Rights weren’t written for me, and when I turn up at a border I don’t have a lawyer with me to remind me of what I’m allowed to do, or to debate a border guard if they may be misinterpreting a rule, and I am definitely not allowed to see the information that is kept about me. So I bring documents.

I am leaving the United States after spending a legal amount of time in it on the Business/Tourism visa I also hold, after spending a long time seeing different parts of it, many new to me, and spending thousands and thousands of dollars as a visitor, all my money moving around. I still imagine that my next visit (another where I will spend my money, before leaving again), will elicit more questions and suspicion, regardless of my long history of legal travel. Who knows. I am not sure what those border guards think my plan is, but the guard in 2015 was very angry that I was on a bus to Seattle but that I said my final destination was California. I don’t know if he perhaps thought I had some clever, coy, Seattle/San Fran switcheroo planned. That this is some trick people pull all the time that is the equivalent of the ???? before Profit.

I talk about the money I spend as a traveller because I hope this will remind people that my existence has a positive economic impact. I’d like to think that I bring more to America than just the money I spend, but I don’t know if immigration cares as much about that sort of thing.

At the end of last year I stood at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I stood at somewhere called Immigrant Point. There I read these words, in letters each as big as my head, carved into stone:

"We opened the gates to all the world and said, 'Let all men who want to be free come to us and they will be welcome.’”

They were the words of President Woodrow Wilson, from his State of the Union speech on July 4th, 1914. In the same speech, he also said “We did not name any differences between one race and another,” and “We did not set up any barriers against any particular people,” and “This independence of ours is not a selfish thing for our own exclusive private use. It is for everybody to whom we can find the means of extending it.”

He was talking about how America wanted freedom and democracy for everyone. That anyone who respected these things should be allowed them. In the same speech he was also talking about the freedom to do business all around the world. Ethically, of course, but he wanted the United States to see money moving around. With the flow of people there was also the flow of money. Being accommodating was not unprofitable.

I spent some of my time in the United States reading news about immigration and worrying about myself. I read about how the Department of Homeland Security, set up after my visit in the blazing summer 2002 and made up of entities like Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or Customs and Border Patrol, had a budget five times larger than the FBI. I saw how this money was spent in news of people on planes and trains stopped and asked for their documents, or people deported aggressively and enthusiastically. I read stories of American citizens deported in this fashion, so quickly that the agents deporting them didn’t verify their status of check their documents. Some didn’t have documents. You really need your documents these days.

I thought about how I’d gotten in trouble without having done anything wrong.

Opening the gates is brave. If you open the gates, people come in, and many of those people are different. That’s a scary concept. They might do and want and need different things. If you close the gates, shore them up, raise the drawbridge and fill the moat with hydrochloric acid, you’re much, much safer.

Everything inside is wholesome and good.

I think about climate change sometimes. I think about how so many wars are over resources or territory, and how climate change will affect our ability to get some of those or keep some of those. Some countries will have their industrial and agricultural capabilities altered by climate change. Some will flood more. Some might spend a lot more time underwater. A lot of people may lose their homes or their livelihoods or their safety. It won’t all happen at once, though. These things happen gradually. A constant, firm push.

And it is constant. History, really, is geography. It’s where you were when something happened, what you had nearby and how it helped. Battlefields are geography. Cities are geography. Natural resources are geography. Sometimes countries do well because they happen to be in a good location. Sometimes they do well because they happen to have the right resources. Sometimes both. There are some very cool combinations out there that give you all sorts of advantages. You did good. Well done!

History is geography and geography is people moving around. In the future, lots of people are going to want to move around. Are going to need to. Their lives may depend on it.

Great Britain has always been defined by being an island. It has given them certain advantages. It certainly stopped the Nazis, who rampaged around Europe like wicked toddlers but never found a way to cross the channel. Twenty miles of water halted Hitler and his ego, halted him enough for a multinational collection of pilots from as far afield as Canada and Czechoslovakia, Poland and Jamaica, to win the skies and keep the waters Nazi-free.

The Royal Navy also became a muddle of all sorts of nationalities, united to beat back Nazism and all its rage and cruelty and intolerance. Beyond Britain, dozens of countries and their dependent states banded together as allies to fight and, even before it entered the war, the United States helped by sending aid and equipment and resources. Even then, we were Best Buddies.

All these different people came together to make something tremendously strong. It worked. The Nazis, meanwhile, were obsessed with checking everyone’s documents.

One obsession they had was about who you were born to, not so much because that might give you some jus soli or jus sanguinis right, but because it might mean you were a Jew or a Romani or some other kind of person who they considered an animal and wanted to shoot or burn or gas. They had people on planes and trains stopped and asked for their documents, even people pulled off the street aggressively and enthusiastically, and took many them away to be murdered. The Nazis thought they were better than everyone else but in fact had made a terrible error. They were worse than everyone else.

In the wet spring of 2017, as I walked around with a wrinkling dollar bill in my wallet and collected documents for my Permanent Residence application, there came the one year anniversary of a moment when more people in Britain voted to leave the European Union than voted to stay. They voted to shore up their borders, to change how they dealt with their neighbours and to be as mentally separate as their island is physically separate. They did this not because they thought it would make the world a better place, but because they thought it would make their world a better place.

Many, perhaps most of those voting for that, were very worried about foreign people coming illegally. They felt scared and helpless and that something had to be done. They wanted them to have the right documents and they wanted those checked thoroughly as those people arrived on their planes and trains. It was the logical conclusion to a decade that included vans driving around the country carrying billboards telling immigrants to go away, that included thousands of students being incorrectly deported, that included the use of more than a dozen Immigration Removal Centres, in which Britain began to hold women and children, and into which it wouldn’t allow UN inspectors. Britain has been working hard to close the gates, shore them up, raise the drawbridge and fill the moat with hydrochloric acid, to keep everything inside wholesome and good.

Their decision will also change how my passport works. I will no longer have the right documents and no longer be able to swan around the EU in the same way. I will remain exactly the same person, but those documents and rules will transform.

After the vote, after the drawbridge began to be raised (not immediately, but gradually), businesses and people started to leave Britain. Stemming the flow of people would stem the flow of money and those businesses liked it when money moved around.

There are definitely people in Britain who believe they are better than anyone else. As other people start to leave, maybe they will be the only people who are left, all patting one another on the back in congratulations about how much better they are. I imagine not only that few or none of these people know about all the pilots and all the sailors from all those countries who served and died so that Britain could stay free, but I also imagine that few or none of them want to know. They believe they are better than anyone else less because of what they do and more because of where they were born. They did good. Well done!

I am very tired of crossing borders these days. Tired and torn, like the dollar bill. Travel is not exciting and travel is not invigorating any more. Travel is me worrying about what I wear, if I shaved, if I seem professional or if I have the right documents, or perhaps even if those documents and the rules around them have transformed in some way I don’t understand or am not ready for. I don’t worry about my intention because I know I don’t mean to break any laws or lie to any border guard, but all I need is someone to say “I don’t believe you,” for some reason I will never fathom and never have the right to question and I will have A Day.

Some Canadian or American border guards will understand my work and my business and it will be fine. I already know that guards of both countries will continue to be confused sometimes and there will be more times when someone pulls me aside. It seems like this is what my life is now. A constant low-grade fear that travel, for business or pleasure, will go wrong. That there is some other flag, somewhere, that will determine what goes wrong next. That for even writing this I will end up on a list, a list that I am never allowed to see or even know about, and my life as a traveller will get even tougher.

Sometimes I think about my application for Permanent Residence. It has been nine months now. Because of the kind of person I am, a person not getting married, not working for a Canadian company and not hurling lots of money at investments, I’m not in a category that moves very fast. It might be processed soon. It might not be processed for a long time. Even though I qualify for the program, it might get denied. Something could go wrong. Laws change, governments shift and politicians fidget. Documents and rules transform, and what you thought you held for sure in your hand in one moment could be nothing but mist in the next. I’m sure you understand by now why I trust none of this.

Yesterday, the President of the United States said that some immigrants weren’t people, but were instead animals. He was responding to a question about criminals who might or might not be immigrants (and yet must be, because everything inside is wholesome and good), from a person who wanted to give Immigration and Customs Enforcement more power. He said that, that because of “weak laws,” these criminal animal immigrants kept getting back into the country. As a white man who finally got his university degree and who has all his documents and who has no criminal record and who even knows just a little bit about law and jus soli and jus sanguinis, but who still has trouble at the border, this was surprising.

With my qualifications and my business and all the money that I spend in the United States, plus my white face and British accent, I face scrutiny every time I try to get in. Even with my documents. Me and everyone like me must be fingerprinted and photographed and interviewed, over and over. I suppose there are people in the United States who have never been to their border or seen how it works, so they take someone else’s word for it, but I have never seen a “weak law” at the border or at the consulate.

Some of the things I did see at the border, on that day that I was stopped and turned around, included a man who worked for Microsoft being shouted at by a border guard because, after being asked to explain his job, he explained his job. They included two men who had forgotten to declare a $50 bottle of alcohol and were being detained. They included a lawyer who told me that everything in the room we were in right now was being recorded, as it was in every room at every border.

Things friends of mine have seen at the border have included a border guard who refused to believe that an American was from a state called Mississippi. Mississippi is a river, they said, not a place. They have included a border guard saying that the visa they have been holding does not exist, that it isn’t a real document. They have included a guard printing off a picture of their face and drawing a line through it, because they forgot to declare an orange that was in their bag.

The guards, I’m told, can lie, and sometimes they are trying to catch you out. Or perhaps some really do think Mississippi isn’t a state. It’s hard to tell. Just remember that you are guilty until proven innocent. And that five times the budget of the FBI is going toward shouting at staff from Microsoft and intimidating people who have oranges in their bags. This is how they close the gates, raise the drawbridge and fill the moat with hydrochloric acid, and yet somehow all the bad people, who are only ever outside, are apparently still getting in to ruin what is wholesome and good. They must need even more budget. Even more power. Even more hydrochloric acid.

I have also never seen animals at the border. I have only seen people. They have been all kinds of people, from all kinds of places, and that has made them wonderful, yet a circumstance of birth that they do not control has meant some have needed more documents than others. Not everyone can be Best Buddies.

Like most of those other kinds of people, I will not be able to step through those automated passport gates when I head back of my country of birth, a country I also never chose in the identity lottery that is nationality. I will instead be directed toward a border guard who will look at my passport, say nothing and then wave me on. The drawbridge will lower.

This has been happening to me for a long time. It has happened to me across decades and across passports so, toward the end of that wet spring of 2015, my dollar bill in my wallet, I asked one of those border guards why. He gave me a hugely quizzical look and tapped away at his computer. Then he said a line that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

“Somebody with the same name as you has done something very bad.”

How curious. I thought everyone inside was wholesome and good.

Sometimes I think about how, even in my home country, I have been flagged without having done anything wrong.

My favourite book is Slaughterhouse-Five and I have read it over and over for twelve years now. The opening chapter always makes me cry. The narrator talks about trying to write the book and journeys he took while doing so, as well as things he thinks about, sometimes.

On one journey, it’s always time to go and he has to keep moving. On another, he gets stuck and can’t move on, no matter how much he wants to.

I know you’re supposed to enjoy the journey as much as the destination but, believe me, all I want in life now is destinations. I’m a thirty-eight year old man who was the only person in his family to go to university, who had to work and pay his way through his degree, who taught himself his trade, who built a business with his friends, who is an abuse survivor, who wanted to make the world better with what he did and who fetched and provided the right documents he was asked to, every time. “Can I come in yet?” I want to shout, “How much more do you want from me?” and, “What do I need to do just to move unmolested through this world?”

Sometimes I prefer “How much shit do I have to eat for being who I am?” and “Do you want me to smile again so you can see it still smeared on my teeth?”

My plan for the dollar bill is to frame it. I hope that I will get to put it on a wall in Canada and that it will remind me of first coming to and then deciding to stay there.

It is a mess now. Old and ragged and ripped, trapped in gates, fallen from drawbridges and splashed with hydrochloric acid, it’s a reminder of the toll that all of this has taken.

#Immigration #visas #Permanent Residence #Citizenship

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tumblunni · 6 years

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MORE UPDATES ON THINGS WHAT HAPPEN

The half week milestone of the hospital house thingie time! I think the term they use for it is "a residential stay"? Cos like its not a hospital its a shared housing block thats just full of doctors. I get to sleep in a real bed and there's a nice community room and board game nights and stuff. But its still really scary how intense the supervision can be! Like they have a window to look into your room once per hour every hour constantly. And they have to go through your undies and catalog them as part of the possessions check. I was not warned about that and it was mega embarassing trying to explain a binder to a bunch of old lady doctors! Oh and i had yo do a urine test today which was possibly the most fuckin embarassing thing in the actual universe. And you're not even allowed to take your own pills! They keep them locked in a big ominous wall of lockers and you have to come into the office and swallow the pill while theyre watching. I guess maybe because some people might be faking their illness and selling their pills on the black market or whatever? But that literally doesnt happen with antidepressants, they have no 'high' or even any effect at all on non-sick people. So it just makes no sense to me and its real embarassing cos like i said i suck at taking pills with plain water and without a straw. The ones i take are real damn chunky things the size of my thumbnail! I think i'l get better at not (literally) choking under pressure over time, tho. Hopefully.

Anyway that's all the bad out of the way! Now the good and the neutral and the just miscellaneous!

Its still nervewracking having to shower in a shared house but they have a cool walk-in shower and ive never tried one of those so it was vaguely interesting. And im allowed to take my showers early at 6am to minimize the chance of anyone else trying to use the door, lol. My biggest fear is having some staff member walk in on me when im naked like back in that homeless hostel. Oh or that time in the homeless hostel where the teenage boys filled the entire bathroom with inflated condoms wall to wall. Like wow so much damn effort to prank the stupid nervous bunni who probably would have been embarassed by literally anything else. Man this place is bringing so many memories of that homeless hostel but at least this time its a place specifically for sick people and they know i'm anxious doing shared cooking and board games and whatever so they dont make fun of me for it. But in a lot of ways that hostel had more freedoms too.. *shrug*

Anyway! A good! I get to have cooking lesson!! I know literally nothing about cooking and now i get to know several thing!! This nice doctor called Josie taught me how to make an omelette and i tasted ham for the first time! That is just how limited my life experiences are, lol. Oh and they want me to say that she's a 'mental health worker' not a doctor, but its all real confusing?? Like they have the staff that look after you and then the only ones we're supposed to call doctors are the ones who actually have the authority to prescribe pills and diagnosies. But like if youre in a hospital you'd call them all doctors, not just the actual surgeon? Or i guess theyre kinda like nursing home staff?? But they cant be support workers cos support workers are specific government assigned inspector type guys like Richard who only meet with you once a week.and i have to remember to not call him a social worker either cos social workers only work with family and custody related stuff. I dunno?? Basically the medical industry has a lot of names that dont really describe what the actual thing is, lol. Anyway the ham omelette was great and now im gonna try and remember so i can try and make it myself next time! HAM ACCOMPLISHED

Also i played bingo with a few other patients and it was fun but funny that i lost 6 times in a row when there were only 3 of us. I got a consolation prize of a pack of neon highlighter pens so hell yeah!!

I'm getting booked in to try some additional classes starting next week on monday and tuesday morning. The computer programming one was sadly unavailable, but i managed tp snag a place in "confidence building group therapy" and "basic how to use power tools". I wasnt really all that interested in that one but i thought it would be a useful skill even if its less fun. And maybe you get to actyally make something to take home at the end? A lil shelf to help organize this awkward lil room better, maybe?

And an unexpected bonus of being semi-hospitalized is that i get a free bus pass! And cos im here cos of my social anxiety theyre gonna help me get outside more and actually use this thing to the fullest! The first thing we did was the trip to actually get the bus pass itself. It was like "bus, take my money to take me to the place where i can never give you money again!" XD Ive been really stupidly nervous about going on tne bus in my old neighbourhood cos MAN it was really isolated there and everything just amplified my mental illness. An almost two hour bus ride to get to ANY SHOPS AT ALL, with only one bus for the whole town so it was always crowded and full of screaming kids and gossipy everyones. Social anxiety: maximum level proud mode!

So yeah i feel BIG ACCONPLISHED! I was able to take this bus for the first time with a doctor coming with me. Power Grandpa The Strong. His actual name is Paul and he has awesome sleeve tattoos of like anchors and dragons and sports teams and stuff! And he likes thrift stores and wearing silly hats too! Its like he's powerful enough to wrestle away everyone's anxieties! I was able to be a bit reckless too and i went out wearing my fave shirt thats like trans pride coloured plaid. A POWERFUL SHIRT IS REQUIRED FOR THIS QUEST! so we went to the office to register this bus pass and i panicked a bit cos apparantky we brought the wrong form and i wrote my name in the wrong box and then my passport photo looked terrible and aaa! But it all worked out and i was kinda freaking out for nothing. And he took me for a lil tour of the place and showed me this cool shop that does spray paint tye dye t shirts with spiderman on them?? Why does this incredibly specific shop exist and how have i never heard of it before?? There was also a new harry potter shop next to the disney shop, and the old used book store i used to visit as a kid was still there, complete with rickety spiral staircase and ominous basement trap door. I'm still not brave enough to go down there, but apparantly its just the history books section so meh. Then we actually went to a fancy coffee shop and i had this brain freeze mango ice frappucchino thing! Im trying all the new foods!!

And i was TOO HIGH ON DECADENCE and made a RECKLESS CHOICE! i blame power gramp's amazing tattoos, they were totally whispering to me that i shoukd screw the rules and ride off into the sunset on a metaphorical harley davidsen of mental health

So i was like Hey Paul I Am Totally Fine Getting Home On My Own, and it was like i was floating off in the distance somewhere begging my body to not speaketh these words. But it ended up working out okay! The excitement of it all and the sense of accomplishmebt from getting there all okay allowed me to mostly not freak out as i spent the day in town and looked at some shops and stuff. Basic Living Skills: Completed! I chilled out in the library (tho i dont have a card yet, alas!) and visited like five comic and anime stores, and got lost but found a Pizza Hut and that was SO NOSTALGIC FOR MY CHILDHOOD and it didnt taste quite as good as i remembered but the waiter guy was super nice and had a similar shirt and it was All Good! Oh and i gave all my money to a homeless person and that's why i'm broke now. And i bought a plastic slug! I just saw it from across the room and was like OH NO I AM BEING MAGNETISED TOWARDS IT OH NO IT HAS ALREADY BEEN BOUGHT. I need to think of a name for this new friend!!

So yeh i got home okay and i felt really acconplished and that was the furthest trip away that i've taken in ages! Man my mental illness makes me feel pathetic, but it also brings ridiculously big joys from the smallest of silly acconplishys!

Oh and thank you so much to the people who sent me emails! It really helped so much to keep me from giving up during the first few days before i made a bit of progress and felt like i could really do this, yknow? Especially big thanks tp the friend who sent me that mysterious super happy song that they found on a mystery disc in a german market?? Im still not sure whether its in greek or hasidic jewish but it sounds AMAZING and i hope someday i can figure out the band so i can hear their other singles!

Ok this is bunni out! BIG HUGS FOR THE EVERYONE AAAA

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sophieebdaily · 3 years

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Sophie is on today’s Metro UK newspaper (23/09). Read the article below:

Pop star and podcaster Sophie Ellis-Bextor, 42, on mermaid boobs, sequins and her Love Island addiction.

Congratulations on being our first bumper 60 Seconds interview! Are there two different sides of you?

“What people might not associate me with is the way I came into music, which is through indie music. I was a massive Britpop fan. I was in indie band Theaudience in the late 1990s when I signed my first record deal. The pop disco side came quite a lot later and I think 16-year-old me would be slightly horrified I spend so much of my time in sequins. I remember being told I should make disco music and I was slightly offended but that’s exactly where my heart ended up going.”

What else would we be surprised to learn about you?

“My love of interiors and vintage clothing, and things like that. I get excited about aesthetics and creating a home but also vintage fashion. I also have quite a crafty side — I’m always making things with the kids at home. At home when I was younger my mum [Janet Ellis of Blue Peter fame] was always making things and we were allowed to paint on the walls. There’s a wall at home that’s been there since I was 15 where we’ve all done poems and Mum stuck fabric. I was allowed to do murals on my wall — one is still there of a mermaid with funny-shaped boobs. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly talented, we just really enjoy it. And I love the kids’ imaginations of how to make something work. We’ve made all sorts of contraptions, puppet theatres and models.”

You’ve been super busy lately. Is there anyone you’ve been nervous about interviewing for your podcast?

“I get most nervous when they’re people in very senior positions, people I perceive as being properly grown-up and who don’t have a silly job like me. They’ll notice if you get something factually wrong, although everybody’s lovely when you meet them. It’s such a privilege. I loved talking to Kath, Dan Gillespie Sells of The Feeling’s mum. Her story is incredible and I got really emotional listening to her.”

How do you juggle being a pop star with being a mum of five?

“It’s a case-by-case basis. If if I’m taking my kids with me to gigs, they need to have a lovely time and I need to be able to do my job well. If one of those two things is compromised, I’ll think it’s best not to. But I’ve taken them to loads of gigs. When I just had one, Sonny used to come to everything. Then I got more confident at getting back into the swing of things: I made my fifth album when my youngest was 13 weeks old and in the studio with me all the time.”

You became famous for your Kitchen Discos in lockdown. How did they help with your mental health?

“In every direction, not least helping us remember what day Friday was and having something to prepare for. We always went live bang on 6.30pm. [Husband] Richard [Jones] did all the technical stuff and I’d focus on the playlist, downloading karaoke versions and learning lyrics. So if I was doing Dizzee Rascal’s Holiday and needed to know the lyrics, every night at bath time I’d be like, ‘Get your passport and your bikini. You need a holiday. Come see me… there’s the shampoo!’. All the songs I chose as covers were messages to my friends or my clubbing days or my band or my mum. There was a lot of adrenaline. We always had a cocktail after.”

Which Kitchen Disco song resonated with people most? We hear you love dressing up…

“From my point of view it was Wuthering Heights for the Halloween disco. I never made the kids come, only if they fancied it. So often they’d surprise me at 6.20pm dressed as a disco monkey. For that one my nine-year-old said, ‘I want to be a vampire,’ at 6.10pm. I was singing ‘Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy’ swaying with my 12-year-old Kit in a cape and bear mask. We were all dressed in Halloween outfits with Richard filming and I thought, ‘How is this my life?!’’

What are your guilty pleasures?

‘I don’t agree with the concept of guilty pleasures because you should be OK with the stuff you like. That being said, I probably wouldn’t stand up in a crowded room and admit I watched every episode of Love Island this series. Maybe I would.”

Was doing The Masked Singer fun?

“It probably wasn’t as wacky as it would have been if it wasn’t a year where I was at home wearing lots of masks for all the discos where I was singing karaoke. It’s quite odd as well because you don’t know who else is on the show and you’re not allowed to talk to anybody except the people wearing tops saying ‘talk to me’. But the team was good fun.”

How is it being back on stage again?

“Lovely. Crowds so far have been so up for it. There’s a general mood of pure enjoyment but also recognising how much work goes into all these things. It’s been really joyful.”

How much did you miss being on stage?

“Thanks to the discos, not as much as I would have done. It was much harder for Richard because he didn’t pick up a bass guitar and play live for ages. I still got that same rush and I sang one of my own songs, Take Me Home, every week. They were all about my love of dressing up, singing, Julie Andrews and decorating the home.”

What’s your favourite on onstage moment?

“The gig I did at the Royal Festival Hall because it was with a 40-piece orchestra performing versions of all my songs from my album The Song Diaries. I just loved jumping around in a sequin catsuit with a big bump. It felt brilliant.”

What about a fan-girl moment?

“When I met Elvis Costello, I was star-struck because he’s such an amazing wordsmith and I grew up with his music. I’ve met Dick Van Dyke and John Travolta too. People you’ve grown up on who are also part of your framework. I’d lose it if I met Julie Andrews — she’d be so unnerved.”

Are you careful not to do too much work?

“I like being busy and it’s all stuff I like. I think I’ll know if anything’s got to give. The main thing is to finish my album because that’s still the epicentre of everything. I’m going on tour supporting Steps in November, which will be really fun. My book’s out in October [autobiography Spinning Plates] and I have my podcast. It’s not quite as hectic as it sounds.”

Where do you go for a bit of peace and quiet?

“I would love that place one day! I suppose it’s going to work. I’ve been able to finish every sentence I’ve started today! I had to stop a lot of working from home because I was locking myself in the bathroom trying to get a good angle for being on the news. Who cares? Just stop.”

Newspaper photos by Neil Albert.

#metro uk #sophie ellis bextor #interview

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orbemnews · 3 years

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The Pan Am flight attendant and the CIA man who fell in love on an airplane (CNN) — In September 1970 Jocelyne Nowaski was working as chief flight attendant on a Pan American World Airways flight from Paris to New York when her life changed forever. In her two years at Pan Am the 23-year-old had made friends across the globe, served celebrities including Beatle Ringo Starr and featured with her coworkers in the pages of Paris Match magazine. Pan Am layovers were spent exploring Morocco, on safaris in Nairobi, galloping on horseback on the beaches of Barbados, swimming in Liberia, and browsing the jewelry stalls of Beirut. As she recalls it, her career happened almost by accident. Jocelyne had majored in biology at New York City’s College of Mount St. Vincent, intending to become a doctor. But right before graduation, a friend knocked on her dorm room and told her the luxury airline was interviewing for flight crew at its famous Manhattan skyscraper. Her friend insisted they should both try out, for a laugh. “Why not?” agreed Jocelyne. She found herself recalling the glossy commercials: “Your Pan Am stewardess knows her way around the world like you know your way around the block.” To become a Pan Am flight attendant, candidates needed a college degree, and to speak a second language. Jocelyne’s mother was French-Canadian, so she ticked both boxes. She was hired — her friend wasn’t — and within weeks of graduating, followed by rigorous training, Jocelyne was working her first trip aboard a Boeing 727 to Nassau, in the Bahamas. Jocelyne never became a doctor and never looked back. “It was the best job,” she tells CNN Travel today. “It wasn’t a job; it was a labor of love.” In September 1970, love was the last thing on Jocelyne’s mind. She’d ended a relationship with a pilot six months previously, and she was having a blast exploring the world with her girlfriends. Her focus was on her career. In the interim, fire-arm qualified individuals from organizations like the CIA and FBI were seconded and assigned onto flights. Traveling back to JFK from Paris in mid-September, Jocelyne recalls she and her crew were told that two security officers would be joining them: one in economy and one in first class. Jocelyne in her uniform, including her gold wings. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Jocelyne was heading up the economy cabin as purser, and they were readying for takeoff. All the passengers had boarded the Boeing 707, a narrow-body airliner used by Pan Am from 1958. But the security officers were late, much to Jocelyne’s annoyance. She rolled her eyes even harder when she learned it was because they’d been buying Parisian scarves to impress girls back home. Finally arriving on board, the economy cabin security officer introduced himself. His name was Tyler Harding, smartly dressed in a suit and tie, a tan overcoat over one arm. Right away, Jocelyne recalls, she was struck by his charm and good looks, but she wasn’t interested in a relationship and didn’t think he was seriously interested in her. “I was working with some Swedish girls and the Swedish girls were absolutely stunning,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t even think of competing against them.” Tyler took his seat on the second to back row and the aircraft took off, bidding the Paris lights goodbye and setting off across the Atlantic Ocean. Air marshals are supposed to blend in, so Jocelyne served Tyler as she would any other passenger, but unlike every other passenger he tried to strike up a conversation every time she came over. “He was very flirty,” Jocelyne recalls. “I was not, because I thought: ‘Oh, he’s just doing this because he wants to talk to my colleagues.'” This suspicion — plus the scarves — made her wary. She kept her tone terse, even teasing him about his drink choice. “He was very pleasant, in spite of my being snarky,” she says. As the aircraft started cruising over the ocean, Jocelyne and her coworkers began their dinner service. Tyler continued to engage her in conversation whenever she walked by. Jocelyne and her Pan Am coworkers enjoyed their layovers in destinations across the world. Here they are on a safari in Nairobi. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding After she’d served the food, Jocelyne did her usual overview of the cabin. While walking down the aisles she glanced at Tyler. He wasn’t looking at her at that moment. But she felt herself stop in her tracks, struck suddenly with a thought: “I wonder what it’ll be like to be married to him?” She recalls quickly shaking herself out of it. “What are you thinking? You don’t even know this man.” But Jocelyne couldn’t explain it, even to herself. In that moment she’d been struck by this strange certainty that a future with Tyler was not only likely, but inevitable. Sometime later, she was sitting up top of the plane on the jump seat, when Tyler sat down next to her. At which point he asked her out. “I don’t date passengers,” she said. “And you’re probably married anyway.” Tyler pointed out he wasn’t exactly a passenger, and when Jocelyne still looked unimpressed, he fished out his passport, which back then listed dependents — or in his case, absence of them. He was 29, the black print said, and a resident of Alexandria, Virginia. Jocelyne was relieved, but still wary about dating someone she barely knew. Apparently sensing this, Tyler relented and returned to his seat. As the airplane approached Long Island, edging closer to New York City, it was time for Jocelyne to do the last drinks service, carrying a teapot in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. She got to Tyler, who requested coffee. “And as I’m pouring the coffee in his cup, he looked up at me with those amazing blue eyes,” recalls Jocelyne. “Naturally, I poured the coffee into his cup. Unfortunately, at the same time I poured tea into his lap.” Mortified, Jocelyne grabbed cloth napkins from the back of the plane and handed them to him. Tyler told her not to worry, but was laughing. “Now you have to go out with me,” he said. Blushing, Jocelyne dodged the question and went to confide in her friend Mala, who was the purser in first class. “As I’m pouring the coffee in his cup, he looked up at me with those amazing blue eyes. Naturally, I poured the coffee into his cup. Unfortunately, at the same time I poured tea into his lap” Jocelyne Harding Mala suggested they invite both the flight’s security officers to a crew party she was planning at her Queens apartment after they landed. Jocelyne agreed and returned to economy to tell Tyler and hurriedly pass on the address before making preparations for final descent. After landing, she couldn’t spot him amid the crowd, and felt disappointed as she traveled from JFK to Mala’s home. He was nowhere to be seen as the party got into full swing. Then the doorbell rang. It was Tyler, with his fellow security officer in tow. “It took my breath away. It really did,” says Jocelyne. Right away, the pair went to the kitchen and started chatting over cocktails. “I was leaning against Mala’s range with my back to the ring. He was standing in front of me and we must have talked for about three hours.” The pair discussed their childhoods — hers in New York and his in California — their families, dreams, travels, careers. The only thing off the table was the true nature of his job — Tyler couldn’t reveal he worked for the CIA. She found that out later. Tyler and Jocelyne ignored the hubbub of the party around them, chatting incessantly. “At the end of the evening, he looked at me, and he said: ‘Will you marry me?'” Her answer, she says, slipped out instinctively, in a moment of clarity and assurance. “I said, ‘Yes.'” Globe spanning romance Jocelyne and Tyler in December 1970, a few months after they met. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding After the party, Tyler and his colleague gave Jocelyne a ride back to her parents’ home in New York, where she couldn’t help but blurt out her fateful news. “I just met the man I’m going to marry,” she told her mother, who laughed. “Oh, you’re crazy. It doesn’t work that way,” she said. But the very next day Tyler called round to see Jocelyne and meet her parents, hitting it off with them too. Neither Tyler or Jocelyne had much time in New York City before they were heading on their next work trip — he to Tehran and she to Rome. “I can’t actually marry you yet,” Jocelyne told him, before he departed. “That would be ridiculous.” Tyler just smiled and left his 1968 Mustang parked in her parents’ driveway. In Rome, Jocelyne had plans lined up with a man she’d been casually dating during her Italian layovers. “He had a whole weekend plan to take me in his sports car up the Amalfi Coast,” she recalls. Upon landing in Italy, she called him up and, despite his protestations, told him she wouldn’t be able to come after all. Jocelyne in Rome, 1970. This photo was taken on the first leg of her trip, right before she met Tyler. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Instead, she spent the weekend in Rome with Mala and her other Pan Am colleagues, walking around the city, throwing coins in the Trevi Fountain, and enjoying pasta dinners. When Jocelyne got back to New York, Tyler contacted her right away. Ostensibly, it was under the excuse he needed to collect his car, but they both knew that wasn’t the real reason. The two started dating, spending all their time together when they weren’t traveling for work. That October, just a few weeks after they met, Tyler asked Jocelyne to marry him — again. This time, she said yes with certainty. They told their parents on Thanksgiving, and on Christmas Eve 1970, Tyler met her at JFK with an engagement ring. Jocelyne with her friend Mala (left) who was on board the airplane when Tyler and Jocelyne met. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Jocelyne and Tyler got married March 1971, at the chapel of the College of Mount St. Vincent. For their honeymoon they flew to Fiji, taking advantage of Jocelyne’s Pan Am discount to travel first class and spend eight days relaxing. Back in the US, she moved to Alexandria, Virginia, where Tyler was based, but still flew out of New York. “We both travelled a lot,” says Jocelyne. “He went on assignment often for the CIA, and that first Christmas, I remember he was gone for three months on an assignment to Laos, and that was tough.” When she could, Jocelyne tried to work round-the-world flights out of New York, so she’d be gone for weeks at a time too, traveling from New York to Tokyo and back. Jocelyne and Tyler on their wedding day on March 28, 1971. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding And towards the end of Tyler’s stint in Laos, she decided to surprise him with an unscheduled visit. “I thought, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ because there was a war going on there then. But I did, and I met him, and we came home together after his assignment. And from then on, it’s just been a whirlwind.” In March 2021, Jocelyne, now 74, and Tyler, 80, will have been married for five decades. “I can’t believe it’s 50 years already,” she says. “I can’t believe it.” The glamor of Pan Am Jocelyne fondly recalls working on the first Boeing 747 flight between Paris and New York. Here, a Boeing 747 is seen just after landing at London’s Heathrow airport, on January 22, 1970. AFP via Getty Images Jocelyne continued flying with Pan Am for a year after her marriage. Regulations had just recently changed to allow married women to continue working as flight crew. But she left the company in 1972, when Tyler’s job transferred to Thailand. Jocelyne said farewell to her wings with great sadness, but soon embraced the new adventure of a life in Southeast Asia, followed by a stint in Hawaii. The couple had their first child, a daughter, while living in Honolulu. Tyler and Jocelyne then settled back in Virginia for a while, having a second daughter there, but before long they were living in Frankfurt, Germany. “The kids loved it because we took them everywhere on weekends. We went to France, we went to all different parts of Germany, Switzerland,” recalls Jocelyne. In the late 1970s, the couple bought some farmland in Maryland from the uncle of one of Jocelyne’s old Pan Am pals and built the home in which they live today. Jocelyne’s still in touch with many of her friends from that time, including Mala. She’s part of World Wings International, the organization of retired Pan Am Flight attendants. “We still entertain like no one entertains,” she laughs. Pan Am’s glamorous reputation has lingered on, long after its last flight. That legacy is deserved, says Jocelyne. “Everything was about making the customer happy and elegance on the plane,” she recalls. “We served the finest wines, the finest of everything. Paris Maxim’s [the famed French restaurant] did our catering. It was elegant, it was special, people dressed up.” Jocelyne memorably worked the inaugural 747 flight between New York and Paris, a press flight where passengers sipped Moët Chandon Champagne and ate caviar from Tehran. That’s when she was featured in Paris Match magazine. “We were interviewed when we got off the plane. It was terribly exciting, it really was. The 747 was amazing. I did love that plane, but I missed the ambiance of the 707.” She recalls her team were given special buttons promoting the 747, which they wore on their lapels. Uniforms were blue or tan, with Pan Am wings made of gold. Alongside their two daughters Jocelyne and Tyler now have five grandchildren. Everybody in the family loves travel, says Jocelyne, with one of their daughters spending two decades living in France, Istanbul and Warsaw, and the other taking a year out to backpack the world after graduation. Jocelyne and Tyler pictured in 2014. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding The pandemic has grounded the family in the US for now, but despite their decades of travel, Jocelyne and Tyler still have spots left on their must-visit list. For Jocelyne, it’s Bhutan. For Tyler, it’s Australia, where the couple have family. Tyler now has some memory issues, but he still fondly recalls that momentous 1970 flight from Paris to New York. “I saw this cute girl and she was kind of snotty to me,” he says. “But we talked after we got off and after that, we never stopped.” “It’s been an amazing journey I wouldn’t trade for anything,” says Jocelyne. She pauses and laughs. “Oh, and I wound up with all those scarves he bought.” Source link Orbem News #Airplane #attendant #CIA #fell #flight #Love #Man #Pan

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