#(costume department head like me enough to keep me out of doing laundry)

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

-

#(grow up with mom sewing clothes and costumes for me) #(spend four years in college costume shop doing various productions and various crew jobs) #(from seamstress to quick changer to costume crew chief) #(never laundry though) #(costume department head like me enough to keep me out of doing laundry) #(sew costumes and do conventions for twelve years) #(therefore nothing should faze me right?) #(my/Magda's brain just broke over the logistics of getting Alcina's bust measurement) #(she keeps repeating in my head 'must be professional must be professional') #ooc

[allsassnoclass]

“Every day you wake up and make it my problem” Luke to Ashton

alrighty a theatre au for the only person in the theatre department who can handle me <3

Opening night brings a palpable excitement in the air, a nervous energy that can only naturally be produced at this point in the production process.  The scenes have been blocked, the lines memorized, the sets built, the costumes sewn, and every piece of design meticulously brought together to create something ready for sharing.  As Luke hangs up the laundered costume pieces and ensures that the dressing rooms are prepared for the night, he can already feel the excitement amongst the crew milling about.  It will only be compounded once the actors arrive for the night.

Luke has his sewing kit, numerous pins, extra hairspray, and a bite light.  There aren't many quick changes in Hamlet, and all of them have been easily doable in dress rehearsals.  He's ready.

When he wanders out to backstage, Calum and Michael seem to be ready, too.  Calum is sitting on the acting block Michael has commandeered as his seat since tech, scrolling through his phone while Michael goes through his pre-show duties on the other side of the stage.

"Ready for tonight?" Luke asks, making Calum jump.

"Yeah.  Is the laundry up?"

"Costumes are all clean and accounted for," Luke says.  "If you want an empty dressing room, now is your time."

He stands and stretches, wandering over to the dressing rooms.  Luke takes his spot and watches Michael  continue to double-check props on the other side of the stage.  Once satisfied, he heads back over, stopping short when he sees Luke.

"You're not my boyfriend," Michael says.

"He went to go get ready before the rush," Luke says.  "Ready for tonight?"

"Very," Michael says.  "No one has broken anything yet, which is a bit worrying, but I'm fucking ready to open."

"No one's broken any props or sets, you mean.  I've had to resew numerous buttons and seams.  Ashton can barely keep his clothes on."

"I bet you like that," Michael says, waggling his eyebrows.  Luke flips him off, too used to Michael's teasing to be truly bothered.  Ever since he first saw their lead actor and tripped over his own feet he hasn't known peace.

In his defense, Ashton is very beautiful.  It is not Luke's fault that he got flustered during their first interaction.  At least he was only writing down measurements instead of having to take them, because being that close to him without time to mentally prepare would have been embarrassing for everyone.  (If he still has to take a few breaths when helping Ashton get on his more intricate costumes, that's his business, especially because being under the stage lights only enhances all of Ashton's best features.)

"Ashton gets to make out with your boyfriend every night.  Stop laughing," he says flatly.

"Yeah, and it's fucking hot," Michael says, nudging Luke out of his seat.

Luke rolls his eyes.  Reducing the relationship between Hamlet and Horatio to a "fucking hot" make out scene is a disservice to all of the painstaking work that Ashton, Calum, and the director have done to seamlessly incorporate it into the story without alienating or reducing Ophelia, but Michael isn't exactly wrong.

Ashton seems like a good kisser.  Luke wants to know what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of that when there's no acting involved.

Luke kills time with Michael until he has to go on headset, signaling that it's late enough that Luke should probably check on the actors.  Gertrude's zipper on her dress keeps getting jammed to the point where Luke is really considering replacing it.  It works most of the time, but Luke is getting sick of having to finagle it.  He helps her get it up and makes a note to replace it before tomorrow, then he heads to men's dress, ready to camp out until someone else needs him

"Luke!" Ashton greets exuberantly as soon as he steps in the door.  He has his makeup on, just simple things to ensure he doesn't get washed out under the stage lights, but he looks stunning.  He isn't even in his main costume yet, an intricate black tunic with gold embroidery meant to blur the line between historical and contemporary like everything else in the show, but Luke wants to swoon.

"Hi."

"Thanks for fixing my buttons," he says.  "Again."

"Try not to rip them off tonight," Luke says.

"I always try," Ashton says.  Somehow, Luke still feels like he's going to be fixing a button.  Ashton doesn't restrain himself onstage.  It makes him captivating to watch, but it also means that unnecessary rips and button tears occur, sometimes in ways that Luke thinks should be impossible.  Being wardrobe head for this production has taught him many new ways to break a costume.

He helps the actors here and there with things like hair or specialty makeup, distracting himself from Ashton changing in the background and passing the time until the actors go to warm ups.  Rosencrantz has managed to misplace his socks because he hadn't zipped his laundry bag when he gave it to be washed and Gildenstern can't find one of her shoes, but otherwise there isn't much for Luke to do with this show.  He wanders out by Michael, knowing by now where he can stand to watch from offstage and when he'll have to move so he's not in the way.

When the lights go down and the warnings about flash photography and food in the theater play over the loudspeaker, Luke's heart starts thumping harder in his chest.  Michael turns on the fog machine for a bit of haze at the beginning, Bernardo and Francisco take their places onstage, and the play begins.

Even after having seen the show during the crew view and hearing it over the monitors backstage every night since, he manages to get lost in the story.  Each performer is on top of things tonight, none more so than Ashton.  From the moment he steps out on stage the charismatic actor is gone, replaced by a moody but no less magnetic Hamlet.  His grief and anger is palpable in his introductory scene, and his relief at seeing Horatio for the first time perfectly sets up their dependency in the rest of the show.  His scene with the ghost is heartbreaking, and Luke finds himself subconsciously biting his lip and leaning forward, wanting nothing more than to erase his pain.  Hamlet is enamored by Ophelia and broken by her betrayal, and every soliloquy is captivating.  No one can command a stage like Ashton Irwin.

Intermission sees Luke attending to his actual job as a dresser, helping with the laces on a few costumes and checking with all the actors to be sure there's no issues.  Ashton grabs his shoulders and blurts an excited sentence about crowd reactions, then immediately goes backstage to get "back into the Hamlet zone."  Calum watches this interaction with raised eyebrows.  When he heads backstage, Luke hopes he's not going to gossip with Michael.

The second half of the show goes just as smoothly as the first.  Michael has him take care of the actress playing Oscric when she feels a little bit faint, but once she gets more water in her she perks back up and Luke can return to watching Ashton's breakdown on stage.  The ending duel scene is more polished and realistic than they've ever done it, but it's Horatio's final moments with Hamlet that leave Luke speechless.  Something about Calum cradling Ashton in his arms while Ashton commands him to stay alive and tell his story has Luke tearing up.

He leaves during curtain call to grab the laundry bag and set himself up outside the dressing rooms, ready to take everything that needs to be washed.  It feels anticlimactic to have the first night of the show done, but Luke typically doesn't feel the same sense of accomplishment as the actors do after each individual performance.  It never truly hits him until strike, when he has to put everything away and reset the theatre and costume space to prepare for the next show.  Luke congratulates every actor that passes and waits for them all to leave so he can go home.  There's no one waiting for him in the audience tonight and he wasn't told about any after-parties, so he's looking forward to getting sleep before returning to the costume shop tomorrow to take care of the notes he has.

"Ashton's the last one in men's dress," Calum says when he hands in his own laundry.  "He asked me to send you in."

Luke had been hoping that Ashton would be able to make it an entire show without a costume mishap.  Apparently that hope had been misguided.

"It's Luke," he announces, knocking on the door.

"Come in!"

Ashton is pulling on a t-shirt, giving Luke an accidental glimpse at the dimples in his lower back.  When he turns around he looks sheepish.

"I lost a button during the duel."

Luke sighs.

"I promise I'm not deliberately being destructive," Ashton says.  "I'm not trying to make more work for you."

"Yet every day you wake up and make it my problem," Luke says.  "Can I see which button?"

Ashton brings him his dueling vest, pointing out where a simple black button had fallen.  Luke will walk by the stage to see if it's still there or Michael found it, but if not then it won't be difficult to replace.

"I'm really sorry," Ashton says, still standing close.  "I swear I won't make you fix my costume tomorrow."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Luke says.  "You have the worst track record with costumes out of everyone I've ever worked with."

"Well, I need some excuse to keep talking to you."

Luke blinks at him.

"That was a joke.  I mean, I do love having a reason to talk to you, but it'd be shitty of me to be deliberately making your job hard."

"Oh," Luke says.  "You don't need a reason to talk to me.  You can just do it."

"There's not a lot of time for it in the middle of a show," Ashton says.  "Unless you'd want to see me outside of work sometime?  Say, for a coffee or dinner?  As a date?"

"Me?" Luke asks.  Ashton makes a show of looking around the empty dressing room.

"I don't see any other tall, attractive blond men named Luke who keep putting my clothing back together."

Luke smiles, not trying to hide his excitement.  He's a shit actor anyway, and Ashton would see right through him.

"I could do that, but only if you stop ruining your costumes every night.  Make it through tomorrow with no mishaps and we'll go on a date."

"You drive a hard bargain, Hemmings, but I'll try my best.  For you, I'd sew everything back together myself if I had to."

"Please don't," Luke says.

"You don't trust me?" Ashton pouts.

"No," Luke laughs.  "You keep destroying your costumes.  I'm not about to trust you to fix them correctly."

Ashton shrugs.  "Yeah, okay.  I'm not a good sewer, anyway."

"That's what you have me for," Luke says.  Ashton smiles, just as dazzling under the dressing room lights as it is onstage.  It takes Luke's breath away, just a little.

The dressing room door opens, bringing Luke back to Earth.  Calum pokes his head in.

"Hey Ash, your siblings want to see you.  Stop flirting with Luke and get out here."  He doesn't wait for a response, thankfully leaving them alone again for another moment.  Ashton ducks his head, scuffing his shoes against the floor.

"I shouldn't keep them waiting," he says.

"It's hard being a star," Luke replies.  It makes Ashton smile again, which is an exhilarating experience in of itself.

"We'll check in about the date tomorrow," Ashton says.  "No more costume mishaps, cross my heart."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Luke teases.  Ashton snorts.

"Have a good night, Luke.  Congrats on the show."

"You too," Luke says.  "You're really amazing up there."

"Thank goodness," Ashton says.  "It'd be a bit late to replace me otherwise."

Luke rolls his eyes with a smile.  "Get out of here, superstar.  Go see your family."

Ashton blows him a kiss and ducks into a bow with a flourish on the way out the door.  Luke stands in the middle of the dressing room, running his finger over the spot on Ashton's vest where the button is missing.  He should probably be annoyed, but he's not.  He's going on a date with Ashton at some point, and that's worth all of the lost buttons and torn costumes in the entire production.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #I want to be involved in a production of hamlet SO BAD #SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!! #also hello I miss traditional theatre #zoom theatre is great given the circumstances but I can't wait to actually Watch A Show In A Theater again #and be involved in one

[hitsuackerman]

Kisses and Distractions (Hawks x Reader) pt. 1

Prompt: How hard can it be for two Pro-Heroes to kiss?

a/n: theres not much meat to this since i had a random thirst call for this bird man XD i hope ya’ll enjoy this and if you want a part 2, drop a comment below :)

Warnings: Cursing

Link: part 2

Heroes. A vast majority of people wanted to become heroes. Each person has their own reason, whether it be for fame, money, power, or they were just deemed destined for it.

Being a hero, be it lower ranked or high ranked, almost always had to push their personal lives aside in order to put the civilians first. That’s what they were trained to do. Despite having classes on how to balance your Pro life and Personal life, it was always a struggle to balance things out.

Paparazzi on the other hand just loved to get the latest dirt on heroes. Be it tripping on the sidewalk, spilling their drinks, or even just hanging out with other fellow heroes. They needed the latest scoop. Though it is understandable that some of them need those to feed their families, some of them are just plain ass hats that love to ruin the moment.

Speaking of ruined moments, Pro-Hero #2 and an underground have their fair share of ruined moments. It all started when they finally told their feelings towards each other. Given, of course, that the situation was not the best.

“Is everyone safe?” You inquired to one of your fellow heroes. Both your hero costumes are covered in uneven mixtures of blood, dust, and sweat. “My area’s been cleared.”

“There’s still a few people left on the top floor.” The hero replied. His eyes now fixated on the building. Fires dancing their way out the window while smoke littered the air. There had been a random villain attack whose quirk was related to pyrotechnics. It was indeed flashy when random fireworks began to break through the windows.

“Take care of the injured.” Another hero commanded. “Hawks is doing his thing up there.”

Now, normally, you wouldn’t mind. That was his line of work and he did a pretty bad ass job with it. The only problem now was that he had been recently given a mission that caused him to use a lot of his feathers. It had only been a day and his wings were badly uneven. 

One by one, the people stuck on the top floor came swooping down. Red feathers carrying one person each. Landing them as gracefully as the owner does. Looking up, your heart clenched at the sight of Hawks free falling with barely any feathers left. Seeing his feathers race towards him made you let go of that breath you had been holding.

Though it wasn’t as iconic as he usually lands, he still managed to look good anyway. Going back to treating the injured, your heart finally calmed down at the sight of him skipping towards Endeavor.

“You might as well just tell him, you know…” Ryukyu whispered. The two of you were now getting your injuries checked. Well, mostly you. “What’s there to lose, right?”

“The fact that he’s #2, that’s what’s holding me back.” You sighed as the nurse finished bandaging your forearm. “Or maybe because if he doesn’t feel the same way, he might tease me about. I doubt he’d do that but I think he might.”

After the last bandage had been placed, you thanked the nurse but asked if you could keep the blanket. Amused at your little act, she agreed and you thanked her for saving you a trip from the department store.

“You do know that blanket is dirty…”

“And blankets are hella expensive compared to laundry detergent.” The small finger gun you used on Ryukyu made her disown you. Face palming as she walked away. While you, questioned your sanity and Hawks’ effect on you. This was the first time you had ever pulled out those so called finger guns.

Your thoughts were cut when an uneven cluster of feathers framed your sight. Turning around, you were now face to face with #2. Thankfully, your face was covered with bandages. Enough to cover the blush forming on your face.

“You look pretty beat up, birdy.” His eyes scanned you from top to bottom. His fingers played with the edges of the blanket. The way he stared at you sent chills down your spine and your joints to grow a little weak.

“You’re one to say.” Somehow, you poked his shoulder. “Gave me a fright when you jumped from the building.”

“Bet you liked it.”

There it was. That wink that always catches you off-guard. Your grip on the comfort blanket tightened and you had to look away. If he would flirt even more, you would probably cave in and puke out your emotions to this birdman.

“You okay, birdy?”

“Yeah.” You lied. “Just a little shaken at the amount of, uh, injured people.”

“Such a bad liar.” His head tilted to the right. Pulling his visor’s down, you were blessed with a much clearer view of his eyes. You’ve never been fond of the color yellow but he  made you think otherwise. “You can talk to me, you know that.”

‘Should I tread the waters? Fuck it.’

“I’m only a bad liar when it comes to you.” You began to trace circles on his shoulder using an index finger. Reading people wasn’t your strength but you could tell he was tense. 

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, birdy…” Hawks warned as he took a hold of your wrist. His gloved hand easily wrapped around it. Yet, his hold was gentle. Making sure no pain was inflicted.

‘Damn it.’ Your heart sunk. This would have to be the first time he didn’t flirt back. 'At least you kept your mouth shut.’

Letting go of your wrist, Hawks examined your features. Though you were smiling, he could see how your eyes looked sad. Part of him loved that small action you did. It felt as if electricity ran through his veins. It took a lot of mental control to stop his feathers from ruffling.

Hawks knew you liked him. He was all too aware that you were keeping things bottled up. But, he was smart enough to know that should he pursue you, you being underground would garner a lot of attention. And he knew you hated attention.

“Anyway…” You continued. Looking at the people around you. “I gotta go. Ryukyu’s waiting for me.”

“Not so fast.” Before you could turn he managed to grab your shoulders. “You misunderstood something.”

“And that is?”

“You know what happens to me if you touch me like that…” Hawks leaned in and whispered. Making sure that his feathers blocked the view from outside.

‘Oh?’ Your mind went places.

“Sadly, I don’t know what happens,” This was a bit of truth though. On occasions, you would find enough courage and comb through his feathers but usually you’d be receiving a twitch of his eye. 

Hawks ran his fingers through his messy hair. A sigh to accompany it as well. When he looked into your eyes once more, your breath hitched. Maybe he already knew about your feelings. Most probably, yes at this point now.

“I know how you prefer to be lowkey.” Hawks began. “If I tell you that I reciprocate your feelings tenfold, the limelight would definitely fall on you. Making you uncomfortable is something I don’t want.”

“You like me back?”

“You may be a hero but you’re pretty blind to my attempts, (y/n).”  Hawks teased. Bringing you in for a hug. “You ready to be in the spotlight if it means being with me?”

“I don’t really mind it to be honest. I was thinking of going to a few interviews every now and then but,” You scratched your cheek. This was something you had been meaning to tell him. You just couldn’t find the right time to do it. Staring at the linings of his body suit, you exhaled and shut your eyes. “I was kinda thinking of joining your agency. I mean, not for you, but mostly because I like how everything is so fast paced. Never a dull moment at Hawks’.”

“Well if that’s the case, application granted.” He gave you the go signal along with finger guns. “You can be my literal side kick.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to talk about that though. I don’t do well with team work.”

“Pushing that aside, that would make things easier for us. I can arrange things where you won’t be caught in the center of attention.” Hawks reassured you. Leaning in closer, he brushed his nose with yours.  “That would mean I get to see you everyday.”

“Most probably, yeah.”

“God, I wanna kiss you so badly right now.” His feathers ruffled up. The way he pouted his lips as he stared at yours was too cute.

“I’m already wrapped around both your arms and wings,” You gave a shy smile. Seeing how your cheeks were flushed made him throw his resolve away. All he just needed was for your proper consent. “I don’t mind~”

Like a child, he smiled brightly. Once again, his feathers ruffled and even puffed up ever so slightly. Taking both his gloves off, he stuffed them into his jacket’s pocket and delicately cupped both your cheeks. His hands were calloused but you had always wanted them to touch your skin. Now, they finally were.

“I have to say, though.” He said as he leaned in. “We should’ve done this months ago.”

Seeing his golden eyes this close hit hard. 

“I would have to agree on that, birdy.” You leaned in as well.

The two of you shared a smile as you began to meet halfway.

“HAWKS!”

Just as your upper lips brushed each other, the two of you froze on the spot. Confusion and irritation in both your wide opened eyes. Barely a few centimeters and contact would have been made. If you two had been given a few more seconds, you would finally be able to feel his lips on yours.  He would finally taste you after how many months of deprivation.

“Cursed nuggets…” Hawks complained before letting go of your cheeks. It drove him wild when he saw the pleading look on your eyes. It yelled for him to just kiss you right there. “Don’t give me that look, baby. How dare he ruin our moment…”

Removing his wings and turning around, the two of you were now face to face with Endeavor. The #1 hero had just landed a few meters away from where you both stood. His flames danced with power as he made his way towards you.

“You realize you just ruined an important moment, Endeavor-san!” Hawks joked.

“Hawks…” You punched his shoulder. Tried, at least. He easily dodged it. Curse him and his feathers.

“Hawks. (your hero name). We have to meet with the others.” Endeavor relayed his message. Eyes focusing on Hawks then at you. “The two of you were not there for the hero count so they had to send me of all people.”

“You’re the only one who can get me workin, Endeavor-san!” The birdman replied as he skipped and flapped his uneven wings at the #1. Their relationship was always enough to make you giggle.

“Let’s go.” Endeavor commanded as he used his flames to propel himself to the air.

“I suppose you need a lift?” He teased as he offered a hand. When you accepted, he pulled you in and immediately cupped your cheek with his free hand. “Where were we?”

Smiling you leaned on to his body and wrapped your arms around his neck. Both of you breathed in and inched closer and closer.

*Ding*

“You gotta be kidding me, Chickadee…” Hawks furrowed brows.

“I’m sorry~” Taking your phone out, you read the notification only to be bummed out. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at the news article of All Might. “Fucking notifications.”

Hawks suddenly pushed the two of you into the air. Just in time for Endeavor’s flame to hit the ground. By now, the two of you were pissed at not being able to continue a simple kiss.

Flapping his wings faster, he zoomed past Endeavor leaving a few stray feathers behind to annoy him.

So going back, how hard can it be for two Pro-Heroes to kiss?

The answer would have to be that it’s tricky. Thankfully, the two of you did not give up. As to how you two kissed, we’ll save that for another time :)

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #wing hero hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks

[olliepig]

Waiting in the Wings, chapter 9

Another day, another chapter (or so it feels...) As always, massive thanks to @willow-salix for her boundless help, support and editing.

As always, the whole thing can be found on AO3 here.

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

“How’s everything looking up there, John?” Scott strode into the lounge, looking for Cat and pleased to see her already there, engrossed in conversation with Gordon.

“All quiet for now. Nothing stopping you,” came the reply he was hoping for, although he chose to ignore the smirk that accompanied it.

“Nothing stopping you from doing what?” Gordon asked, his eyes narrowing at his brother as Cat turned to look questioningly at him, sending the now familiar jolt through his stomach as her gaze met his.

“From asking Cat if she’d like to come for a ride in One,” Scott grinned, already confident of the answer before he had even finished the question as he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

“Hell yeah I would,” Cat shrieked, leaping off the sofa, ready to go in an instant.

“Then let's go,” he grinned, the sparkle in his eyes making her heart skip. “I think there’s a spare flight suit down in the hangar lockers that’ll fit you.”

“Or you could borrow one of mine. We’re almost exactly the same size so it’ll fit better than anything down there,” Kayo suggested, appearing from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and crossing the room towards them.

“Actually, that might be better if you’re sure, Kay?” Scott checked.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” she replied smoothly, before turning to Cat with a smile, taking her arm to guide her out of the room before the dancer had even fully caught up with what was going on. “Come with me. I’ll get you suited up and strapped in.”

Scott watched the two women depart, his mind now busy imagining the sight that would greet him in the hangar. He just hoped he could manage to keep it together without making another error in judgement that would, this time, see him having to fly Cat back to London earlier than planned.

“Ooh, you’re gonna be in so much trouble when you see her in that suit, Scott,” grinned Gordon, unable to resist commenting on the hungry look that had appeared on his brother’s face as the two women left the room.

Shooting him a withering look that could have melted ice, Scott turned abruptly, heading for his launch chute and the privacy it would offer him to calm his racing thoughts. The fact that Gordon had seen through him so completely worried him. He’d always prided himself on his ability to keep his personal life, well, personal, but having Cat on the island was making it harder and harder to maintain. He felt like he was in a goldfish bowl with all his family peering in as he tried to navigate the week, multiple members of the household having apparently picked up on his discomfort.

Selene had already had words with him after his last rescue, telling him that he needed to talk to her but he really didn’t see what good that would do. Cat’s silence on the subject of developing their relationship into romantic territory after his outburst in London had told him all he needed to know. The fact that she had confirmed that she only wanted a friendship when they had talked after her arrival had cemented that.

As familiar lights flashed by and his suit assembled itself around him, he felt himself regaining some control of his thoughts. That was until his traitorous brain chose that moment to helpfully remind him that she had been looking at him differently since she had spoken with Selene, a fact which his friend had vaguely alluded to when they had talked.

Settling himself into his seat to wait for Cat’s arrival, he decided on his course of action. Given the lack of any concrete evidence that things had changed, as well as his desire not to do anything else that could jeopardise their friendship, he would not push the subject. His lips would remain sealed.

*****

Cat and Kayo headed first to the laundry to grab a clean suit, and then directly to the small changing room in the hangar. Of all the occupants of the island, Kayo was the one Cat had spent the least amount of time with and she was having a hard time getting a sense of who she really was. Their conversation was limited to the essentials as Kayo sipped her coffee and the silence gave Cat time to focus her thoughts on what she was about to do.

She hadn’t allowed herself even the smallest hope that she would have the opportunity to go up in any of the Thunderbird crafts while she was visiting, so this was an unexpected but very welcome treat. She had adored aeroplanes since she was a child and, when she wasn’t practising she'd sit for hours at her bedroom window watching them descending toward the airport, wondering if she would ever be lucky enough to fly away on one.

Years later, the feeling of being pushed back in her seat by the raw power of the engines as her plane took off for America on her first ever flight had cemented her love for all things airborne. The thought of going up in the rocket plane made her body vibrate with excitement as she stepped into the changing room, holding Kayo’s flight suit and desperately hoping that it fitted.

“Scott’s not going to know what’s hit him when he sees you in that,” Kayo observed as Cat exited a few moments later, dressed and ready to go.

“I’m really surprised at how comfortable it is,” Cat remarked, looking away quickly, ignoring Kayo’s comment as best she could while resembling a tomato as they continued on their way into the hangar. “I thought it would be pretty stiff but it’s really not.”

“It’s good, isn’t it? I need to be able to move if I’m fighting so Brains developed a special material for it that’s flexible but really strong,” Kayo replied, allowing the change of subject but smiling as she saw that her observation had hit home, despite the lack of verbal acknowledgement.

Like everyone else on the island, Kayo was desperate for Cat and Scott to figure out what they were doing once and for all. It had been 5 days of longing looks across the sun loungers and she was done with it. As head of security, she had run all the necessary checks on the dancer before she arrived and so she was perhaps more aware than most of the history between her and Scott, a fact that Cat was uncomfortably aware of as they walked.

“That’s really cool. I could probably even dance in this, I think. It’s a bit warm but I guess that’s not such an issue for you guys,” Cat persisted, trying desperately to keep the conversation on anything other than the subject that occupied her thoughts constantly.

“I’ve always found being too warm is always better for the muscles anyway,” observed Kayo, warming to the conversation.

“You know, I’d never actually thought about how much dancing and fighting had in common before,” Cat mused. “We always warm up before shows but there’s often a big gap between that and going on, so we have to find gear that keeps us warm but also fits around our costumes without being too bulky and pushing them out of shape. Something in material like this would be perfect”

“I’ll speak to Brains and see if there’s any extra material kicking around that you could have, if you like? You’d have to make it yourself but if that’s OK you’re welcome to it,” Kayo offered as they came into the body of the hangar, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “Anyway, here we are. It’s a bit of a climb I’m afraid.”

Cat looked up in awe at the sleek body of the silver rocket plane in front of her, the cargo hatch doors were open and a mobile platform awaited her arrival, ready to lift her up into the body of the craft.

A movement from above caught her eye and she looked up further, seeing a tiny figure in blue waving down at her from the pilot’s seat. The sight made her heart rate accelerate although whether it was the plane or the pilot that caused it was a question that she had no answer to.

A small shove in her back moved her onto the platform and as it rose, Cat kept her eyes fixed on the man sitting waiting for her, keen not to show any sign of the nerves she felt as she watched his smile coming into focus the closer and closer she got.

Once the platform had stopped moving, another gentle shove encouraged her to clamber into the jump seat. Content that she was properly strapped in, Kayo climbed back onto the platform, leaving with a quick “now go get him” and a flash of a smile before the doors swung shut, leaving Cat’s head spinning.

“All set down there?” Scott called through the internal comms, peering down to where she sat beneath him. “The seats will rotate round when we level off so don’t worry - you’ll not be stuck down there for long.”

“Well, I guess it’s not the first time I’ve been beneath you,” Cat joked, only realising what she’d just said when Scott made a strange choking noise above her.

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to slide lower in her seat, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She’d been so busy trying to process Kayo’s parting comment that she’d said the first thing that came into her head, tripping her up after almost a week of ensuring that she didn’t make any hideously inappropriate comments in front of anyone, least of all Scott.

“You’re not wrong there,” Scott managed, trying very hard not to laugh in a mixture of amusement and shock, his previous calm shattered at the reminder of their shared past. His mind raced once again, wondering if there was any meaning in her comment before resolving that it was something he would have to deal with another time. “Right, let's get this show on the road.”

As Thunderbird One vibrated quietly around her on its way up to the launch bay, Cat remained silent, her head bowed, too embarrassed to say anything else in case she made an even bigger fool of herself than she already had.

She didn’t feel sorry for herself for long however. Registering the teal flight suit she was wearing, she was reminded that she was strapped into the world-famous Thunderbird One as it  prepared to launch. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected this when she had agreed to visit the island and her stomach churned with a mixture of fear and excitement, pushing away the embarrassment and regret of moments ago.

“You ready?” Scott’s voice cut into her thoughts as the craft juddered to a halt in the launch bay.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she grinned up at him.

“Better hold on then, here we go.”

Whatever Cat’s response was, it was lost, drowned out by the sound of the engines igniting. One shot into the air, pushing her down into her seat, the change in light blinding her as it went from the dark of the hangar to the bright sunlight as the villa shot past the tiny bit of window that she could see.

She was quite proud that she didn’t shriek until the craft had started to crest the top of its launch arc and levelled off, but the sensation of the speed combined with the seats changing position finally proved too much for her.

A giant grin split Scott’s face as he heard her through the comms. The adrenaline surge from launching had never fully worn off for him despite the thousands of times he had done it, but combined with the knowledge that Cat was sitting mere feet behind him was enough to ensure that it reached a new high.

Even in his air force days, he had never had a chance to fly her himself and, having missed out on his chance to bring her to the island, he was keen to show her not only what he could do but also what One was capable of. By any standards, she was no ordinary craft; she was sleek, powerful and fast and, as such, she fitted Scott perfectly.

“Are you OK back there?” Scott called, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“This. Is. Awesome,” shrieked Cat in response, her knuckles white, adrenaline flying through her.

“So, you want to go faster?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Make sure you’re sitting back in your seat then. This is going to give you a shove. You ready?”

“Ready,” Cat confirmed, gripping the armrests and taking a deep breath.

“In that case, Turbo jets engaged.” Scott called, pushing on both throttle levers as One shot forward, shoving both pilot and passenger back into their seats as the G forces took hold.

Ten minutes later, Scott set One down gently next to a secluded beach, somewhere in Western Australia. As soon as he was out of the pilot's seat, he ran to help Cat down the ramp, unable to avoid taking in her slender form in the skin-tight flight suit Kayo had lent her.

“Damn you look good,” he blurted out before his brain had fully engaged, his eyes flying up to meet hers in horror as he realised what he’d just said.

“Well, thank you very much,” she grinned, holding his gaze as she sashayed down towards him, feeling her heart rate increase at the compliment. “You don’t look too bad yourself, and I’m very glad to see that I’m not the only one with no filter today. Now roll your tongue in and let’s go, Flyboy, it looks like we’ve got a sunset to watch.”

Ducking past her to grab the blanket and small picnic he’d stashed in the locker before they left, Scott groaned inwardly. Gordon was right, he was in trouble. But a thought at the back of his mind niggled at him; he was now sure there was something different about how she was acting toward him since he got back from the rescue the day before.  

He knew that she’d had a heart to heart with Selene while he’d been gone and something seemed to have changed since then but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Nothing tangible had happened to make him believe it before, but Cat’s comment before launch combined with the way she had just looked at him made him wonder if that had simply been because they hadn’t been alone until now. There was a definite shift in the quality of their interactions; while they had playfully flirted with each other since she had arrived, there had never been any real intent there but something in her eyes when she looked at him now said different.

It was dangerous.

It had the potential to lead somewhere, and that thought both terrified and excited him.

Squaring his shoulders, he headed back down to meet her, finding that she had already made her way onto the beach and found a spot to set up. She waved to him cheerily and, feeling like he was walking towards something bigger than a simple picnic on the sand, he hurried over and set up their blanket.

*****

After eating their fill of the picnic while chatting about everything and nothing, Cat and Scott sat quietly together watching the colours dancing on the sea before them as they changed through every shade of red before starting to fade into darkness. The only sound to be heard was that of the tide lapping the shore as it made its way slowly up the beach.

Her mind drifting, Cat was sure that their silence was the most comfortable they had been since the night in her flat when she had been invited out to the island, just before everything had seemed to become so complicated the next day.

Now that she had accepted her growing feelings for Scott and had made her decision about what she wanted, she was sure that there ought to be alarm bells ringing everywhere at the thought of getting close to him again, but as she sat there trying to listen for them, the silence was deafening.

No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept slipping back to his reaction when she’d climbed out of One earlier. The way his eyes had raked over her as she walked had erased any doubt in her mind about his attraction to her and yet she was still struggling to summon the nerve to start the conversation she’d promised she’d have with him.

“Scott?” she asked tentatively, as the last of the sun’s rays slipped below the horizon. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” Scott turned to look at her, something in her voice giving him hope that this was the conversation that he had been waiting for. “Is everything OK?”

“It is,” Cat smiled. “Really, I just wanted to say thank you. I’m having an amazing time and your whole family are just wonderful.”

“You’re very welcome,” Scott replied, smiling to hide the disappointment coursing through him for allowing himself to think it could be anything more. “I’m very glad you like them. They’re very fond of you.”

“I’m very glad of that,” she replied, before taking a big breath and steeling herself to start what she so desperately needed to say. “I was talking to Selene yesterday and trying to figure some stuff out, and I have,” she reassured quickly, seeing concern written on Scott’s face, “but I need to talk to you about it.”

“OK…” he encouraged, sensing that she was struggling with nerves and hoping against hope that this was what he thought it was.

Cat looked out to the rapidly darkening sea to gather her thoughts, glad of the little light that was shining on their blanket making the moment seem intimate and somehow less scary against the vastness of their ocean backdrop.

Now that the time had come, everything she had thought to say seemed stupid and full of worthless platitudes. Dropping her head into her hands, she took a shaky breath, before looking up at Scott in desperation. “I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “I’m so terrible at this.”  

Scott scooted himself over to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into him, feeling her shaking as she leant her head against his chest. “Why not start off by just telling me what this is all about?” he coaxed, breaking down the issue into smaller parts in the hope that they would be easier for her to answer.

“It’s about us,” she mumbled into him, taking strength from his touch before sitting back up and holding his gaze, happy to feel his arm stay securely around her, offering her a lifeline. “Our relationship,” she clarified, with a little more confidence.

“OK, we can absolutely talk about that,” Scott soothed, never taking his eyes off hers as he felt his heart rate accelerating with every moment that passed. “Do you want something to change in it?”

Cat could only nod, nerves paralysing her once more. She kept her eyes fixed on his, pleading with him to understand, as she didn’t have a clue how to say the words that she now knew beyond any doubt that he wanted to hear. “I really do,” she started hesitantly. “I thought we could just be friends but… I don't think that’s what either of us wants.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, the anticipation she felt rolling off him the only thing giving her the confidence to carry on. “If... If you still want what you said you did a few weeks ago, I want that too.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asked quietly, scared to move in case it woke him from this dream and took away the moment that he had longed for but never expected.

"I’m sure,” Cat nodded, smiling for the first time as she lost herself in the sapphire depths of his eyes. “I’m so damn sure.”

Scott could feel a smile that matched hers creeping onto his lips as they both sat motionless, simply taking each other in and enjoying the sensation of this new and fragile thing that had just developed between them until he felt like he would burst with happiness.

Her lips were so close, so enticing and yet he almost couldn’t bear to look away from her for long enough to meet them.

Almost.

Unable to resist any longer, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, closing the distance between them and tenderly finding her lips with his own, brushing them softly as he tried to imprint every second into his memory. They were firm and impossibly soft beneath his and her moan of pleasure as she reciprocated resonated through him.

Every one of his senses felt like they were heightened, the cool breeze a stark contrast between the heat that was building in him. He felt stripped bare, there was nothing apart from Cat. Where their kisses at Penny’s had been passionate and fiery, now they were sensual and slow and he was lost in them. He was in no hurry, everything had changed in the last 10 minutes and he was happy to let things develop at their own pace. She was worth waiting for.

Cat gasped as Scott reached up, sliding his fingers into her hair and cradling the back of her head as he deepened their kiss. Gliding his tongue across the seam of her lips, he groaned as she granted him access.

She could taste the coffee he had been drinking earlier but underneath it he was just Scott, and it made her heart ache to remember how familiar that taste had once been.  

Without breaking their kiss, Cat shifted slightly, sliding an arm around his back and pulling herself closer to him, their bodies pressed up against each other, clinging on for dear life.

“Wow,” she breathed, eventually pulling back and meeting his eyes for a moment before cuddling into him, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heart pounding, feeling it matching her own.

“Tell me about it,” he grinned, feeling slightly shell shocked, fighting for composure as he wrapped his arms protectively around her and kissing the top of her head before resting his chin on it.

They sat quietly like that, enjoying the closeness and letting the stillness of the night calm them, each lost in their own thoughts.

Despite her overwhelming happiness at how everything had turned out, Cat knew that there was more that they needed to discuss before she could fully relax, and she wasn’t prepared to get any further in until she was certain they understood each other.

“Scott?” she asked tentatively, breaking the silence as she sat up and shuffled round to face him. “I think, before we get too far in, we should work out how we’re actually going to manage this. Wanting to be together is all well and good but we didn’t exactly do very well when we were long distance last time, and it doesn't get much longer a distance than we have now.”

“This has got Selene written all over it,” Scott grumbled good naturedly, missing her warmth and the feeling of her body against his, “but it’s a very good point. We’re both busy people, so working out how we’re going to manage this so we both know what to expect is definitely a good plan.”

“Thank you,” Cat smiled gratefully at him. “The way I see it, so long as we keep communications open this time and make sure we see each other as often as we can then I think we’ll be OK.”

“I’d agree with that. Any time I’m off rota and you’re free, I’ll be there. It doesn’t take long in the jet so it’s perfectly doable. And all the vacation time you get, you can spend with me if you’d like?”

“All my holidays on a tropical island? Now you’re talking,” laughed Cat, snuggling back into him, revelling in the fact that she was able to do so now.

“And anytime I annoy you, or if you think I’m trying to make decisions for you, promise you’ll talk to me?”  Scott asked, kissing her hair again and holding her tight.

“Every time you annoy me…?” Cat laughed, looking back up at him and fixing him with a cheeky grin.

“OK, not every time,” Scott conceded, taking the chance to kiss her again softly, simply because he could, “but anytime there’s something big, please tell me?”

“Absolutely, and the same goes for me. Selene has my number now so I can be contacted if anything happens, but still message me when you’re home OK? It’s terrifying knowing you’re out there and I just want to know you’re safe as soon as I can,” Cat admitted, tightening her grip on him and burying her head in his chest.

“Of course, I promised that when we first met again, didn’t I and I’ve never missed one yet,” Scott soothed, reminded once again of just how much he was asking of her to be involved in his life.

“I know you haven’t. It’s still just all very new and frightening, that’s all.” “I get that, and we can go at whatever pace suits you, OK? There’s no hurry. I’m not going anywhere,” Scott reassured, giving her a little squeeze and a kiss on the head.  

“I appreciate that. It’s taken me a while to realise this is what I want, and it’s not like we’re starting from scratch, so I think I’d like to take things slowly,” Cat sat back up again, torn between the comfort and warmth of being held and the desire to look at him, but feeling that she could better make sure he understood how she felt that way. “We’ve got this weird mix of it being a new relationship but also having a lot of baggage between us. I think it’s just going to take a bit of time to unpack all of that and get things back to how they were before.”

“I totally understand that. I’m not going into this with any expectations of what it should be or how it should go,” Scott answered thoughtfully, pleased to have an opportunity to finally explain how he felt. “What we had before was so bloody special that I’ve spent 10 years trying to find something else like it and nothing has even come close. You can call me crazy but all I want is to be with you, because something is telling me that you’re the one that I’m supposed to be with. I know how much of a mistake I made and how much that hurt you, so it doesn’t matter to me how long it takes for you to feel comfortable again, I’ll be here beside you the whole way.”

As Scott talked, Cat could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes, the wild emotions of the day finally catching up with her as the incredible man beside her poured his heart out, telling her all the things she realised she had longed to hear since they'd met up again. Now that she had started listening to her heart instead of her head, she had absolutely no doubts that they were supposed to be together either.  As he scooped her up in his strong arms and held her to him, she knew that they could finally put this period of misunderstanding behind them and move forward.

Together.

#Scott Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015

[gripefroot]

Scene You Later

Bucky’s scream echoed through at least three floors of Avengers Tower. 

Had he known it elicited only chuckles and sniggers from his so-called friends lounging around elsewhere, his embarrassment would have been a thousand times more burning - or is that the pain throbbing in his ear? But regardless, his teary-eyed sniffles are contained behind the closed door of his girlfriend’s bathroom, where her eyes glint with glee as she wipes a courtesy antiseptic wipe around the new piercing, despite there being no chance whatsoever of Bucky getting an infection. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” 28 says with a fond pat of his cheek, turning away to refill the piercing gun lying on the bathroom counter - and it gives him a deeper shudder than any rifle or shotgun. “Thank you for letting me practice on you.”  

“Did I have a choice?” Bucky's eyes are still watering, and his voice comes out more strained and cracking than he’d like - it’s a good thing he’d been able to glower Sam and 41 away from watching at the door before this had started.  

“Sure!” A beaming smile as she turns, wielding that gun in a way that would make him laugh any other day, but as the nerves continue to cry with pain - this is as bad as a gunshot! - he just cringes, and clenches his fingers into fists on his knees. And though the sight of her pretty, though mildly terrifying face, would lend some comfort - Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, too, and holds his breath as he feels the piercing gun align with the next marked position in the top cartilage of his ear.  

Thunk.  

“Ahhh!” 

She’s trying to be sympathetic - really, she is - he can see the tremoring sympathy in her eyes through blinked back tears. But he can hear her suppressed snicker, too, as she quickly whisks a tissue towards him, which he takes to dab at his watering eyes.  

“I’d rather be stabbed,” Bucky says woefully.  

“Technically, you are being stabbed,” 28 chirps. “But on purpose.”  

“Maybe that’s what makes it worse.”  

“We can study that sometime. I’m sure that’s the scientific data Stark would love to see.”  

Bucky wants to laugh. Really, he does - he even tries, but the noise strangles in his throat before he blows his nose, and lobs the crumbled tissue right into the garbage can. A clean shot. But he’s too miserable to gloat. His ears feel as though they’re on fire.  

“Last one,” 28 tells him, and her smile is a little rueful. “Won’t be so bad. Just in the lobe.”  

No, it’s not so bad. He doesn’t yell. Just gritted teeth and a grunt, and a scowl at the shining silver stud, and she hums happily to herself as she cleans that with a smile, and backs up.  

“They look good,” she muses. “Turn towards me.” 

He does. Tries to smile, but grimaces.  

“It’s not enough,” she decides, nose wrinkled and brows knitted. Arms crossed as she studies him - and he studies her back, for distraction - those glowingly bare legs from a pair of shorts, a slip of black lace against her shoulders peeping from a loose shirt. He forgets the pain.  

“Are we sure these are going to heal?” Bucky asks.  

“Steve’s did, a few years back,” 28 says brusquely. “Took less than a day, if I remember correctly.” 

“Really? How many did he get?”  

She shrugs, indicating a forgotten number. “We did his nipples. That was fun.”  

“You did what - ” 

“But don’t worry.” A winning, feral smile. “That’s not for you. Not tonight, anyway. Yours will be covered. Mostly.”  

A small comfort - especially when she turns to rummage through a small box of piercings in various sizes. Some are genuinely frightening, though Bucky isn’t about to voice that fear. Though he does gulp, when she picks out two matching studs, and starts to put one in the gun.  

“How bad is it going to be?” he asks in a squeak.  

“Bad. Gird up your loins, buddy.”  

Her gentle fingers using a pen to mark two even spaces beneath his bottom lip isn’t so bad. Feels good, actually. But he knows what’s coming, and so he swallows hard. No more shouting, Barnes. This is nothing compared to what you’ve been through, you coward. No shouting. No -  

“Ughhh!”  

Not a shout. Just a groan that echoes in the bathroom, and he tastes blood.  

“One more,” 28 tells him bracingly, and he peeps open a glaring eye to see her smile. “One more, and we’re done for tonight.” 

“For tonight?”  

“Just one more!”  

Bucky hopes, in his heart of hearts, that Sam hadn’t suggested to the others that they listen at the door.  

“Done,” 28 announces, and he breathes through his mouth as she starts to clean up the mess on the counter. “Hopefully they’ll heal enough to look like they’ve been there a while by the weekend. And tomorrow we can do your tattoos and hair!” 

“My hair?” Bucky chokes. “Tattoos? Babe! What kind of mission is this?”  

“A sensitive one.” But she’s grinning over her shoulder, eyes raking over his face and lingering on his new...holes. “And you’re the only one that can take the lead. Steve’s done the grunge undercover before, but I’m telling you - it was not good.”  

“I’m not sure if that’s very complimentary,” he grumbles. Then stands, blood rushing to his head, and he bites his tongue as he folds up the chair to put away.  

“You’ll do great,” 28 promises, and arms full of things to take back to the underground costuming department, her hip bumps into his back end, and he forgets the pain again as the jolt brushes warmly against him through the thin fabric of his gym shorts. Now that the threat is over (for now) he can remember the sultry promise she’d whispered in his ear after the team meeting that morning, after he’d been assigned to this mission with only Agent 41 as backup (and maybe that’s part of his apprehension) - and he has a feeling that promise might be coming to pass sooner rather than later. 

Yes, he can get over the stinging pain of his new ear and lip decorations. He wonders if the lip piercings will affect...ah, his performance in certain activities.  

“I’ll be back.” And the door is left swung open as she wanders for the elevator, humming her song.  

Be back. She’ll be back. Bucky stares after her for a minute more, and then rushes down the hall to put the folding chair away in a well-known (and thoroughly desecrated) storage closet. He’s even cheery enough to whistle, on his way, thinking of lighting some candles and maybe a spray of that cologne she likes so much… 

But his whistling falls flat, and his tongue finds the inside stud of the piercings below his lips. With a grimace he shoulders the door shut, and brings up his fingers to touch the cool metal.  

He can already imagine Sam’s laughing face. Now you’re even more tin, Tin-man!  

To distract himself, he brushes his teeth (gingerly), and without looking in the mirror. Then finds the few candles 28 keeps in a dresser drawer to spread out and light to flicker gently around the room. She’s still not back by then, so Bucky doffs his shirt to throw into the laundry for good measure. Stretching out on the bed, he stifles a yawn, weaving his hands behind his head. Then he flops onto his side to face the door, hoping he looks as seductive as she does when she lays out like this.  

A knock at the door crawls pleasantly over his skin - wondering why she’s bothering with this unnecessary formality, Bucky calls out a warm, “Come in!” before threading his fingers through the loose ends of his hair in some attempt at casual sexiness, like he’s seen movie stars do.  

But it’s not 28 that peeks through the door, and his gut plummets to his feet.  

“Whee!” Sam is howling, his wrist snaking through the crack, phone in hand, and Bucky’s heart nearly stops in horror as he hears a tell-tale click! Beneath Sam’s face is 41, staring with her eyes wide and mouth open, and then Clint in the lowest position of this totem from hell, looking gleeful in a way that Bucky knows he’s going to have his work cut out for him regaining his reputation.  

“Get out!” he shouts, but it’s too little too late. The damage is done, and the door already snapped shut as the pillow he launches from the bed bounces harmlessly off the wall, a sad trophy of his indignity. Unfortunately the enormous scowl on his face has pulled painfully against the new piercings, and his mouth throbs - tenderly he touches them again as he falls back against the pillows, all hope of sexiness gone.  

It’s to that pathetic scene 28 returns: sliding through the door with a whiff of perfume, and after locking the door she pauses to pick up the fallen pillow, fluffing it with a solid punch.  

“I brought supplies for tomorrow,” she tells him, and Bucky grunts as the pillow is thrown into his gut. Meanwhile, the sound of boxes and other things being dumped in the bathroom, and how on earth can she still be so happy when he feels so miserable?  

Silhouetted in the candlelight, she draws his attention: arms crossed, that same studying expression that she’d worn earlier - but now it’s softened and sweetly sly, and her lips are twitching.  

“Go on,” he sighs. “Go ahead and laugh.”  

“I can’t laugh at you,” 28 tells him. Maybe a little rueful. “Oh, Buck - you look so miserable!” 

“Sam got a picture,” Bucky admits grudgingly.  

“Oh, dear. Should we hack into his phone tonight to erase it instead of…?” 

That piques his interest. Propping himself on an elbow, a flutter of life in his chest, he stares at his lover with growing eagerness. “You know...” he drawls at last, and he feels a grin coming on. “Bet we have time for both.”  

“What should we do first?” 28 asks, and her question is coy and taunting.  

“Hmm,”  Bucky pretends to think. “Sam could save it or send it before we get to it.” 

“True.”  

“But…is he really as important as this?” Waggling fingers between them, with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 28 bursts out laughing, and the sound is music, and her movements are music, too, as she saunters over with those eyes reflecting the light of a dozen candles.  

“Glad you think we’re important,” she coos, and leans over like a shadow. But her eyes are on his lips, and then her thumb is there, tracing the curve - and her eyes narrow. “I wonder what it’ll be like to kiss you.” 

“Only one way to find out. C’mere, babe - let me pay you back for the stand-up job you did on my face, crazy girl.” 

~

All the buoyant happiness and confidence, on lend from his other half, disappear within ten minutes of the mission.  

It’s the itchy fishnet sleeves of his shirt - if it can even be called that - and the sweltering, too-tight strain of his leather pants. It’s the stink of perfumes and bodies and alcohol and fried food. It’s the music playing so loud and with bass so deep that Bucky’s sure his bones are going to be rattled out of his body. And it’s not knowing the reflection he catches sight of above the bar - teal hair and thick eyeliner, absurd clothes, but at least his scowl is in character - or so 28 had said, laughing her pretty head off before he’d stalked out of the Tower.  

At least 41 is having the time of her life. Then again, with her cotton-candy-swirl hair and bouncing along to the music on the dancefloor, eyes closed in bliss despite that she’s likely deaf already - she seems to be fitting in perfectly.  

“Target just entered the building,” says a voice in his ear - Bucky isn’t sure he’d heard right at first - so he taps the comm device for clarification, and with a sigh Clint says, more loudly, “The target, Barnes! Your four o’clock. Get her.”  

Get her, Bucky grumbles to himself, but swivels on his barstool to glare out moodily (but casually!) in the direction he can see the target approaching the bar - red and black hair, heels that look like they could kill someone (and according to reports, they have), and a nose ring that reminds him of a Spanish bull. Go on and get her, Barnes. I’ll just stay out here in the Quinjet with my ears still in working order and tell you what to do. Hey, don’t go through a metal detector! 

And just his luck - the target sits in the stool next to him, with an interested once-over, and trying not to sigh aloud, Bucky turns back, casting her a smile as sly as he can manage.  

She returns the smile with another appraising flicker of the eyes, and then looks away to wave over the bartender.  

“Can I get you something, Beast Boy?” 

“Huh?” 

“Something to drink.” Then to the bartender, more loudly to be heard over the pulsing music, “Cosmo.” And the target’s eyes go back to Bucky, waiting.  

“Uh, whiskey, neat.”  

The bartender nods, and goes.  

“Is that how you picked up 28?” Clint asks in Bucky’s ear, and his hair stands on end as he licks his lips, the target turning slightly to face him with a smile that radiates ferality, but not in a good way. “Dude. I thought she had higher standards than that.” 

Bucky files away a determination to give Clint a good, old-fashioned bloody nose. But later.  

“I saw the way you were looking at me.” The target leans close, ruby-red lips too close to his ear for comfort - oh, that’s his personal space - but he doesn’t recoil, and forces himself to smile back.  

“Didn’t realize I was being so obvious,” he rasps back.  

“Oh, you were.” Her eyes glitter. They look black, but not a cozy black. And not the kind of glitter that he knows from you - this woman is all the lethality that 28 has, but all wrong. Out of time. Crooked. Dark. Corrupt.  

“Wow, she’s playing you like a fiddle,” Clint observes. “Let her keep playing. The FBI is on their way.”  

Idly Bucky wonders if 41 had even noticed the target. He doubts it. 

Scarlet-painted fingernails curl over his knee. He doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close call. Instead lets his own gaze drift over the target’s face (without shuddering, because her rap sheet is easy to recall when he’s within arms-reach), and her lips curl into a deeper, more frightening smile.  

“Here are your drinks!” chirps a voice.  

Bucky nearly falls out of his chair, vice-like grip on his knee or no. Because sliding two drinks on black napkins across the bar, absolutely beaming with plum-purple lipstick and a nose ring - is the only woman he wants to let touch him.  

The target slides a bill to 28, who takes it with a wink and a snap of bubble gum before disappearing around another bartender.  

“So,” the target says, and lifts her drink to her lips for a sip, and Bucky remembers that he has a whiskey. “A bright fella like you got a name?”

“Tom,” Bucky tells her.  

“Tom.” Her eyebrow quirks. “I like it.”  

“Thanks, it’s from my mom.”  

“You’ve been spending too much time with 28,” Clint complains. “Target’s not gonna take you seriously if you keep - ” 

“My name is Nova,” the target leans close again, with fruity breath. “My daddy gave it to me.”  

Bucky hears Clint gagging, and wishes he could do the same.  

“He’s over there,” she continues, nodding her head towards the door - Bucky turns, a knot of apprehension in his stomach, to see a massive, balding man staring stonily in their direction. As soon as he sees he has Bucky’s attention, he lifts the corner of his blazer to give a peek of a gun holster.  

Just one gun? He’d laugh if he could feel a shred of humor in the circumstances. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Nova purrs, and Bucky shivers - but thankfully, she mistakes his revulsion for interest. “Let me go to the little girls’ room for a minute, and I’ll take you home. I want to play.”  

He manages to nod, sipping his whiskey but his throat is already dry - and some instinct in his head is screaming at the top of its lungs: Get out of there!  

“ETA ten minutes,” Clint reports, as Nova winds her way through the crowd. Bucky doesn’t miss that she appraises several other clubbers - it’s a wonder that he’d gotten her attention, really.  

“Not soon enough,” Bucky grunts for Clint’s benefit.  

“Tough night?”  

Oh, that’s a pretty sound - and a welcome one. Tension dissipates from his shoulders as he hunches over the bar, catching sight of 28, just a step away, cleaning out glasses with pursed lips and laugh lines. But her gaze is tinged with sympathy, at least. And what is she wearing - more fishnets? A choker necklace? And a violently-violet wig that suits her better than he would have expected... 

“It’ll be over soon,” Bucky sighs. “Who let you come here, anyway?” 

“Steve and I had a chat,” she smiles, and sets a clean glass back in a neat row behind the bar. “He felt sorry for you. I was bored. We struck a deal.” 

“Deal?” 

“I come to keep an eye on you and Tiny Dancer,” 28 nods towards 41, but appears more amused by that situation than anything. “And...Steve gets to take all four of us on a run tomorrow morning.” 

“What!” Clint’s outburst over the comm makes it squeal, and Bucky flinches at the noise. “Why am I part of the deal?” 

“Because you, Robin Hood, have been watching 41 instead of the exits,” 28 tells him sweetly, tilting her head to address him in her own comm device. “The FBI won’t be getting in here alive.” 

Bucky’s stomach sinks. And he glances over towards the bathrooms - no sign of Nova. No sign of - of her daddy, either. He cringes.  

“But,” 28 adds, with a bright smile, and the next time she leans over to pick up a glass Bucky can see - there’s a fake tattoo beneath that choker necklace. Far below. Wait, is she just wearing a bra -  

Temptress, the tattoo says in bold script. How apt.  

“I will be heading out for the pregame,” she tells them. “As soon as your girlfriend is back from the potty. Just be aware, in case I don’t come back alive.” 

“I think it would take more than a couple backdoor thugs to take you out,” Clint says dully. 

“Why thank you, Clint, that’s very sweet of you.”  

“Five minutes ‘til the Feds show.”  

“And here’s our main star now,” 28 says brightly. “Wish me luck, fellas.”  

Bucky tries not to watch her go - drags his eyes back to the nefarious Nova, instead, but the retreating back of his actual girlfriend, and the love of his life, is like a magnet. But, because he wants to go home, he forces himself to play the part, and doesn’t shiver too badly when Nova wraps herself around him upon return with a grin that frightens him.  

“Wanna dance first?” Her breath is hot in his ear, fingernails raking dangerously across the back of his neck beneath his teal hair, and he swallows. 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

That’ll give 28 time to clear the exit, at least... 

As bad as forced flirting at the bar had been, dancing is worse. Evidently Nova is quite the handsy type, as Bucky suppresses his every instinct to run away to help 28 with her objective - and he can smell alcohol on the target’s breath, and how does she do anything with fingernails this long? And how is she still interested in him after beholding firsthand how he can’t even move his hips to the music correctly, as Clint gleefully points out (multiple times) over the comm. At least, that’s what he thinks Clint said - with the music thumping, it’s hard to be sure.  

“Clear!” comes 28’s panting voice, not nearly as soon as Bucky would have liked. “FBI just turned up, too. Wanna bring her out, Buck?”

Bucky leans forward with as sultry a smile as he can manage, and half-shouts into Nova’s ear, “Let’s head out.”  

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”  

“I hope Bucky isn’t too sad that his date is about to be arrested,” 28 goes on mournfully - probably for Clint’s benefit, as Clint starts to cackle, but Bucky just slings an arm around Nova’s shoulders to steer her towards the back, where he explains to her he has a motorcycle waiting. She seems to like that, with her hand pawing at the front of his chest as she lets him lead.  

“Seems to be plenty of other fish in the sea, as it were,” Clint says, wheezing slightly. “Bucky can just head back inside and find a new date. Did you see the girl in head-to-toe nylon?”  

“I did!” 28 chirps. “I stopped to ask her where she bought it. Very nice lady.”  

Bucky disguises a choke. Past the bar, past the bathrooms - the dingy, rust-colored door to the back alley is quiet, blooming under red lights with smears of paint on the walls. Tries to appear as though he’s enjoying the target’s teeth sinking into his ear, but he’s already planning a long, hot, and soapy shower.  

“Your place or mine?” Nova’s voice cloys in his ear.  

“Um - ” Bucky shoulders through the door, dragging her along by her waist -  

And into a waiting circle of FBI agents, flashing lights, and an unmarked van. Beside the van, Bucky’s happy to see, is the man termed Nova’s so-termed “daddy,” kneeling, cuffed, and bleeding slightly from a head wound. 28 stands smugly above him, arms crossed - and Bucky goes limp, staring at those fishnet stockings and - and - are those garters?  

Nova screeches, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Swarmed with officers, and coming out as tightly cuffed as the other man, and led away (despite that her screaming gets louder and louder) to the van, which is promptly opened, and she’s taken inside.  

“Not bad.”  

Now that’s a saunter Bucky will always love - he smiles at his girlfriend, who beams back before winding her arm through his - a much gentler, much more desired touch, as she leans her head against his shoulder, and the FBI agents start to mill away into their trucks and cars to head out of the alley.  

“I’ll never be the bait again,” Bucky vows.  

“You did good, though.” Eyes peer up at him, reflecting the flashing red and blue, but her smile is all sweet serenity, and he can’t help chortling, just a little bit.  

“We were lucky she took it.”  

“Well, I enjoyed the show,” Clint chimes in. “Now, which of you is going to go back inside and get 41 for me? She’s about to jump into a kiddie pool of glow stick juice.” 

[gigslist]

Burning Man Department of Public Works

This morning I went for a walk down Haight Street to get some tea and coffee beans from Gus’s. At the moment the San Francisco city utilities are digging up Haight street to replace pipes. Old Gas pipes are very dangerous, because pockets can form, which become land mines. As I’m strolling down Haight street I pass a young woman wearing brand new hard hat and a brand new yellow work vest. She was strolling in a prancing kind of way kind of “look at me”, not in that straight forward “I’m at work” way.

When she passed me something made me stop and turn and look at her walking away. The large patch on the back of her vest said “Department of Public Works” on a white panel with blue writing. Something about what she was wearing struck me. Her vest and hard hat were all brand new and her vest didn’t have the orange bits like all the other workers. Also the other workers didn’t acknowledge her.

She was also wearing black leggings, sooooo not appropriate work wear for a hard hat. One of my creative gigs is fashion and costuming. So it’s a thing I take notice of out of habit, to get costumes correct. There were women working with the men in a managerial capacity. Dressed like the men in scuffed work vests, jeans or pants, and scratched hard hats. Their stance and aura looked like they were at work, that no nonsense look.

I was scratching my head wondering what was up with the other chick. There was something about the black leggings and spotless new hard hat and work vest. Got my coffee and had a joke about it with the barista. The chick in the new hard hat wasn’t a scammer or anything, she was just weird. In Haight Ashbury weird is normal, which is why I live here.

I strolled back to the loft with my cappuccino, box of Darjeeling tea and Guatemala pale roast beans. Took cat for a walk to the back garden, dropped a vintage tea set from Goodwill off to my neighbor. We both love high tea. Then sat at my imac and it hit me. The chick in the new vest and hard hat and inappropriate pants was a first year alumni of Burning Man’s Department of Public works. It was the fine desert white dust on her boots, not chunky brown sand like the other workers.

Everybody who is a Burning Man virgin comes home with that look and prance of “I’m so cool”. I had it too after my first time at Burning Man. It’s kind of like a cult feeling, been in one of those too. But you do eventually get over it. You think your tiny house village is cool and weird? Wait till you are amongst hundreds of tiny house villages that are totally bent.

DPW Burning Man are the backbone of the festival who take care of all the hard work and icky bits. Rather than me try to describe them I included their info sheet and contact links for you to apply. Adventurers and those wanting a crash course in tiny house village management read on…

Department of Public Works - DPW

Black Rock City’s Department of Public Works (DPW) is the workforce dedicated to building the physical infrastructure of Black Rock City, the place Burning Man calls home in the Black Rock Desert. The DPW works side by side with all of the departments within the Burning Man Project. We also work with Burning Man participants, cooperating agencies, and our worldwide community to ensure that Black Rock City becomes a reality, and then vanishes without a trace. You can check out a full list of our mandate here.

It’s long hard work, and we have a damn good time doing it. Each year we bring together more than 700 people — some new folks, some returning crew — to build our team. We look for electricians, plumbers, heavy equipment operators, licensed truck drivers and bus drivers, carpenters, welders, auto mechanics, office assistants, dispatch operators, and Depot staff. We also look for unskilled, hard-working individuals who are eager to learn and who have a strong desire to help create the temporary city in the desert we all call home.

The DPW work season is a fast-paced, chaotic, large-scale event production environment. To work well with us, and to create a place for yourself within this aspect of the Burning Man event, you’ll need to have the skills necessary to function and thrive in this type of workplace. These skills include dynamic problem-solving, self-sufficiency, flexibility, emotional intelligence, and a generally proactive approach that keeps things moving forward. Solutions ensure that the show goes on.

You’ve also got to be able to deal with the setting. The Black Rock Desert is one of the harshest environments in the continental U.S., and it takes a conscious effort by the individual as well as the group to ensure everyone’s health and safety. Slackers, whiners, and exceptionally needy people need not apply. It’s tough enough out there, and if you cannot toe the line, we will have to ask you to leave.

The DPW Work Season runs from early August to early October, and has four distinct phases: set-up, the event, tear down, and playa restoration.

Set-up is where we ask you to show up in Gerlach, Nevada, in early August and work with us on putting the city together until the event starts. Working two weeks of set-up will earn you a ticket to that year’s Burning Man event.

The event is when most DPW crews are on call. However, if everything has gone according to plan, you will have the week off to enjoy the Burning Man event. If you WANT to work during the event, there are some DPW crews that keep working, and many other opportunities to volunteer with other departments and projects.

Tear down starts Tuesday morning after the event. Tear Down lasts about two weeks and involves taking apart everything we put together during set-up. The buildings come apart, the fences come down, and everything gets packed up and shipped away.

Playa restoration is the last phase of our work season. Throughout the DPW work season, you will have many opportunities to sign up for playa restoration. You can also sign up any time by emailing [email protected]. If you are selected, you will join an all-star team of professional environment-restoration specialists, dedicated to leaving no trace of our event in the Black Rock Desert. Playa restoration usually lasts for just over two weeks and brings us into the first week of October. 

You can sign up to do set-up, or tear down, or both. Playa restoration candidates will be selected during tear down.

We will provide for your basic needs while you work for us: three meals a day, water and electrolyte drinks, access to laundry, kitchen facilities, and our own Rec. Center / Social Club, complete with internet access, a pool table, and a phone so you can touch base with the outside world now and then. Working with us for two weeks will earn you a DPW T-shirt, identifying you as one of us, for better or worse.

If all this sounds good to you, and you’d like to be involved, please go here to apply.  We will add you to the list of potentials for the DPW crew, and keep you in the loop as things go forward. We do our best to select and notify crew by late May / early June each year. Please keep in mind that we don’t have room for everyone and that out of the hundreds of applicants, only 30-40 new people will be asked to join our team each year. 

You can read much, much more about our operation in our current DPW Handbook. 

https://burningman.org/event/volunteering/teams/dept-of-public-works/

https://burningman.org/event/volunteering/teams/playa-restoration/

#things to do at Burning Man #volunteer at Burning Man #how to manage a festival

[terabitweb]

Original Post from Rapid7 Author: Bri Hand

Pen testers rely on a variety of methods to compromise their clients during penetration testing service engagements, but none are quite as fun as when they must don a disguise to blend in with their surroundings. So, in honor of Halloween, we thought we would celebrate by sharing a few of our Rapid7 pen testers’ costumed crusades. Did they trick employees into doing their bidding, or were they treated to proper security protocols? Read on to find out!

‘The Boy in Blue,” by Trevor O’Donnal

I’ll never forget the time we were penetrating a police department. We had finished our pillaging and left the building, but once we reached our rendezvous point, we realized our good friend Ross was missing. We tried to reach him on our two-way radios, to no avail.

As we started to panic, in walks Ross in full police uniform, including a police radio! He had to raid the clean laundry in the basement dressing room to get out of the building. We bowed before him because we weren’t worthy.

And yes, this was all in scope. The police chief had said, “Anything goes, short of killing or kidnapping someone.” He had a great laugh about it in the end.

‘Here Are Your Flowers,’ by Robert Stewart

I once did a physical social engineering engagement where I didn’t see a clear path into the customer’s office space. The receptionist was behind a locked door and used a remote speaker to talk to guests and let them in. All of the other doors into the office could only be accessed by a badge, and my attempt at cloning badges was unsuccessful. But I wasn’t giving up.

I did a ton of recon on the employees and after finding one woman on LinkedIn first, I tracked down her Facebook page using her name, location, and profile picture. Her Facebook page was public, which meant all of her personal details were available. I learned about her family, her habits, her hobbies, and her husband.

I devised a plan to show up as a flower delivery guy to surprise her with a dozen roses from her husband and a song to serenade her with in the office. I worked up my costume to appear like a delivery guy would, and got the receptionist to let me in. The employee was called from the back to the front desk, which was a bummer because I wanted to be at her desk, but I rolled with it. I gave her the flowers, sang, “You Are My Sunshine,” and finished with, “Love, Tony!”

Her response was a confused, “Tony? Who is Tony?!”

“Uh … I don’t know, that’s what the order said!” I replied, and promptly booked it out of there. As it turns out, the woman I found on Facebook was not actually the right person, despite the fact that they had the same name, lived in the same city, and looked very similar. Totally crazy.

Though I failed at getting into where I wanted to go, this is still one of my favorite engagements because of the way it ended.

‘Pizza Delivery!’ by Aaron Herndon

On a previous red team operation, we had recently completed our objectives remotely. Access to the network had been obtained, servers were compromised, and loot was exfiltrated. In the twelfth hour, our point of contact had an idea. He wanted us to infiltrate the physical security operations center (SOC) with either a plant or some type of attack. This operations center had its own entrance separate from the rest of the main facility entrances, making it possible to knock on the door and gain entry directly to the lobby attached to the SOC room.

Assuming the SOC facility would require badge and PIN access (which turned out to be correct) and that tailgating would not be feasible due to the center being a single room with a small number of employees who all knew each other, we decided to take a new approach: enter as the pizza man.

Using a uniform from a large pizza chain, we dressed the part. Then we ordered the SOC some lunch. The odd request was that we asked for an empty pizza box from the pizza chain, which they did provide. Inside this box was our laptop, equipped with a CrazyRadio PA device running the MouseJack firmware. On loop, the device would scan for vulnerable USB mice and keyboards to remotely inject keystrokes (a surprisingly common vulnerability due to the wide adoption of Logitech peripherals in the workplace). We configured our MouseJack payload to quickly open the run prompt, download a payload from the internet, and execute it, giving us remote access to the machine.

On the day of our attack, we approached with four pizza boxes and a bag with some two-liter bottles of soda. The top three boxes actually contained pizza, while the fourth housed our payload delivering machine. With our hands full, we banged our elbow against the door of the SOC room to get their attention. An intercom buzzed, and we were asked to identify ourselves. After saying we had a pizza delivery, the door quickly opened to reveal an excited employee.

We indicated that we weren’t sure who had ordered the pizza, but were told to come to this room for delivery. The SOC employee directed us into the room, allowing us to set the pizzas down. We spent a couple of minutes making small talk, letting our mousejacking attack go to work. Then, we mentioned that the bottom pizza was actually to be delivered to another individual at the company, and reclaimed our payload box, making a smooth exit.

Returning to our car, hearts racing from excitement, we quickly contacted one of the red team operators to see if the attack was successful. Sure enough, we had received a connection to our payload server and the attack launched. Unfortunately, the connection died four minutes into being used. Had they discovered our pizza Trojan horse? Did the employee shut their machine off to go indulge themselves in the food provided? We still do not know.

‘The Construction Worker,” by Leon Johnson

I was once part of a Red Team of three tasked with testing an energy company with three locations in three different cities. My assigned location was surrounded by an 8-foot barbed-wire fence to guard most of its service and Cat heavy equipment vehicles.

I started by driving by the site on the first day of testing, watching people arrive for work and leave to get an idea of what sort of activity this location had. I went to dinner, and when I came back around 9 p.m., I realized there was a business next door that allowed for cover after hours. I decided to jump the fence and walk around the property in the shadows as much as I could. My goal was to avoid getting picked up by any cameras and getting caught.

As I began checking the commercial vehicles for unlocked doors, I found that one had a laptop on the armrest inside. I got excited, as I was thinking of all the possibilities for what I could do with a laptop if I got my hands on it. The vehicle’s locked doors stumped me for a while until I realized the quarter window was unlocked. I was able to push it open, unlock the truck, jump in, and grab the laptop.

I sat there for about five minutes waiting to see if anyone had spotted me. When nothing happened, I tried to get into the laptop but struggled because I didn’t have any tools on me. I made a call to my point of contact and asked for permission to take the laptop, which was granted. I then slid it under the fence, jumped over to my rental car, and headed to my hotel. I worked on the laptop all night, getting past the login first with Kon-Boot and adding a local administrator user. Later, I mounted the hard drive with Kali, as the drive wasn’t encrypted. I pulled up the local admin hashes off the PC and set up some malware so that when the box was booted up, it would call back to me and give me access when it was on.

The next morning, I broke back in and returned the laptop before employees’ shifts started so no one would suspect anything. I got a local administrator shell, but it died before I could do anything with it. So, I had to go back the next day and do it again. Once more, I briefly got a shell I was unable to do anything with.

I decided to go to an office of theirs and attempt to see whether I could clone some RFID badges so I could use them to gain access to the facility without having to jump the fence every night. It turns out, the location I cloned badges from was a shared office, and I was unable to tell who or where the cloned badges I obtained came from. In the end, none of them worked at the location I had been given permission to test.

At this point, it was the second-to-last day of the assessment, and I didn’t have everything I wanted. So, I decided to do it again but just keep the laptop and use it to get into the corporate network. This time, I got into a truck and put on a uniform someone left inside. I used this uniform to walk around the property and gain access to more trucks. I figured if I were seen on camera, I would look like a legitimate employee just doing some maintenance or say that if I were somehow found and questioned.

I also knew the laptop would now be reported stolen in the morning, which meant I didn’t have much time to work with, since they could have had a way to shut off access to it. I started taking a forensic clone of the system and decided to take a shower while it was cloning. When I came out, I saw the mouse cursor was moving and closing things! It became a fight for the mouse and keyboard at this time, and I ended up just disconnecting the network connection. I eventually got on the corporate network and gained local admin access on some other systems, which led to domain admin access. With that, I was able to do whatever I wanted on their network and systems.

That was fun.

Interested in learning more about how Rapid7 pen testers conduct their assessments? Check out our 2019 Under the Hoodie report.

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Go to Source Author: Bri Hand This One Time on a Pen Test, Halloween Edition: An Ode to Our Favorite Pen Tester Disguises Original Post from Rapid7 Author: Bri Hand Pen testers rely on a variety of methods to compromise their clients during…

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