transporting trucks

rowana-renee  asked:

How many cookies would it take to bribe you into telling me a story, Bucky? They're homemade, and any story will do.

all of them. i will tell you the story while i wait for all of the cookies.

once upon a time, a little shit decided to go fight nazis. 

usually when i start a story that way, its a steve story. but this time its a me story.

i too fought nazis, my friend, and it was not fun at all.  it turns out nazis dont like being fought, and will fight back. this caused us a great deal of stress and trenchfoot. 

as you may or may not know, my nazi fighting buddies were called the howling commandoes. we had a reputation as being ‘howling mad’ which most people assumed is where our name came from. 

it is not.

so shortly after we’d signed up as steves unit, we got sent out on a sort of breaking-in mission. it was supposed to be a pretty routine just-behind-enemy-lines gig, mostly to see how we’d do as a team. at that point, we were the first ‘integrated’ squad under american command, so they wanted to be sure we were up to snuff. basically they sent us a few miles into a relatively lightly-fortified occupied area to blow up a few supply trucks. it went pretty smoothly. we were still getting to know each other, a bit. we’d met in the hydra camp in austria and bonded pretty well there but it wasnt like we were sitting around doing icebreaker questions. so on that first mission we spent a lot of time chatting, getting a better feel for each other as people. like summer camp, but with more potential for death, and shooting of nazis, explosions, and overgrown science experiments in spangly pants. 

so maybe not like summer camp at all.  i wouldnt know, i never went to summer camp. 

anyways, we blew up the supply trucks and we were headed back towards base when we came across a nice little stream. most of us were pretty dirty, so we agreed to take a few minutes, strip down and wash up. the area we were in was supposed to be secure; it was a slightly disputed border area, but it had been safely in allied hands for months. probably it wasn’t the smartest call, but sometimes you get dirt places you never wanted dirt and are willing to literally risk death to get rid of that dirt. 

we left our gear in a little stand of trees on the far side of the stream and washed up. 

at this point, dumdum dougan was establishing his reputation as the Toughest Guy Ever, which was a rough gig when one of your squadmates is captain america, who literally walks off bullet wounds like a moron. nevertheless, dumdum had the mustache and was determined to be the manliest man around, so when the rest of us got in, clean, and back out as fast as we could manage, because the water was freezing, dumdum decided to prove how macho he was by pretending he wasnt cold at all, and the rest of us were wimps. 

naturally, the rest of us thought he was ridiculous. we were all pretty much dressed and good to go, and dumdum was still sitting in an ice-cold stream in april, bragging about how tough he was. i, being a little shit, covertly suggested we play a little prank. 

so the rest of us finished gearing up, then grabbed his things and started running. his pack, his gun, his boots…all his clothes except his hat, which was hanging off the handle of a knife he’d stuck in the tree. we knew he’d stop to get the hat, and that gave us a head start.

as soon as we started running, dumdum came out of the stream after us, and as expected, stopped to get his hat and knife. we had a decent head start, and he was yelling at the top of his lungs after us. we were all laughing our heads off, because he looked like a complete idiot, running after us brandishing a knife, in nothing but a bowler hat. 

unbeknownst to us, a nazi squad had been sneaking through the woods ahead of us, and were setting up an ambush on one of our transport trucks. they were all tucked away in the underbrush, waiting for the transport to get close enough, and had just popped out of the shrubbery and fired their first couple shots.

which was approximately when a ragtag-looking, still-wet group of cackling maniacs led by the bastard child of paul bunyan and lady liberty burst out of the treeline, being chased by an angry naked man in a bowler hat with a knife. 

there was a very long moment when everyone stopped shooting at everyone else and stared at us. 

and then everyone went back to shooting at everyone else.  but the ambush was angled to ensnare the transport coming up the road. we came from behind them, and they had pretty much no cover from our angle. as soon as we realized we’d run into a combat zone, we dropped the gear and started shooting. steve used the dinner platter of justice and cleared out about four nazis at once, and dumdum got the worlds unluckiest nazi with his knife. poor guy. there’s not a whole lot worse than your last sight on earth being a naked dumdum dougan.

 we’d unintentionally provided a perfect distraction, and the transport had time to regroup and return fire. between us, the ambush was taken care of in a few minutes. 

but the thing was, we’d broken protocol by stopping to wash up, and as a shiny new unit still on probation, the last thing we wanted was to tell anyone what had actually happened. 

so instead we told them that we’d known about the ambush and had decided to provide a distraction, and were just crazy enough that we thought the best way to do that was run howling straight into it. dumdum’s nudity was explained as a personal preference: the man just likes fighting nazis naked, sir, and you cant say it wasnt effective??

naturally, the story went everywhere and got bigger each time it was told. probably we should have gotten in tons of trouble but the story was such a morale booster that they let it slide. 

and thats why we were called the howling commandoes. 

michael scofield be like: i will use this single stale cheetoh to feed the dog that roams outside the east wall of the prison at precisely 4:36 pm on the third wednesday before the 5th full moon of a year a corpse flower blooms after which the dog will take a shit which will be stepped on by the prison guard’s cousin’s financial advisor, causing him to be late for work, which makes him throw his recycling in the garbage by mistake, which will then be transported on a garbage truck traveling at 22 miles per hour driven by a man whose father just landed in yemen yesterday and dropped a napkin on the floor which was carried on the wind through our window and landed in my lap exactly 1.7 seconds ago which i am now folding into a lockpick so we can escape

Seven things carried in passing trucks

1. That medium-sized tanker in a fetchingly sensible shade of silver. This is a shipment of very fine dream sand, as you would be able to discern if you could get close enough to read the hazard notice. I would not recommend getting quite that close, because if the tanker were to suffer a spillage everyone within a three-month radius would end up furiously sleeping for at least three months.

2. The small grey truck with a conspicuous ‘speed limiter installed’ sign. This is not actually a truck. It is two elephants on a specially-modified bicycle. You are only seeing it as a truck because that is what you expect a large grey object to be on a road of this size.

3. The large green truck with a stylised smiley face logo on it, heading West. This truck is full of spies. Literally full: they are stacked some seven deep in an ingenious spy stacking system which cannot be patented on account of being top secret. They are conservatively-dressed and have very serious faces, apart from the one at the bottom who is making fart jokes and being ignored.

4. That red shipping container, glimpsed briefly in traffic in the other lane. Contents: a slightly smaller red shipping container, containing a slightly smaller red shipping container, containing another, slightly smaller red shipping container, and so on. The source of so many shipping containers of non-standard dimensions is not obvious. In the smallest container is a miniature safe, locked, key nowhere in sight, emitting a furious buzzing noise.

5. The small orange shipping container, marked with a logo in a language you do not read. This is a shipment of fruit, primarily silver moon apples headed for the perilous realm, where they will form part of the fairy world’s seasonal fruit baskets. If you are offered one of these fruit baskets, do not accept it.

6. A small-size black and white horse carrier, no horse visible inside. This carrier was once used by one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and as a result has become a place of pilgrimage for ghosts. At the moment it is being used to transport the ghosts of Arthur Sullivan and W. S. Gilbert. They have obtained some highly sought-after permits to spend the night haunting a theatre in which Hamilton is being performed, and are making their way there right now.

7. Half a house, as transported on a special truck for the carrying of large things. This is a witch-squashing house, as popularised by the film the Wizard of Oz. These days, they are usually remotely controlled; essentially, they are the drones of the mystical world. This one has been damaged by being dropped from a great height onto a particularly rocky coven. It is being sent for repair in Swindon.

A Bed for the Night

A creepy encounter by reddit user tufted_wisdom

When I was about twelve, my great-uncle John came from Ukraine to visit us in Canada.  He had a lot of stories, but this was the one that stood out.

In the late 1960’s, John was traveling by train from his village to another to visit family.  He had to change trains at one point, and was dropped off at what amounted to a platform and a hut in the middle of nowhere.  There was no one else at the station, and other than a dirt road that led off into the surrounding woods, there was nothing there.

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The documentary Eight Days a Week really opened my eyes a LOT to why the Beatles stopped touring.

It’s become so accepted that they stopped touring because they were sick of it, but the fact that there were bomb threats at their shows in America and they had to be transported in steel meat trucks is so inhumane.

For people that were regarded so highly at the time, it’s so surprising that they were treated like items.

It was honestly getting out of hand. This is not what Tasha had in mind when she had the airport evacuated. It was more to make sure Barnes doesn’t accidentally hurt someone and maybe avoid people snapping pictures and tweeting about Avengers arguing with each other. And what the fuck was Clint doing here? Admittedly, she could have left a more detailed explanation with Vision as to why Wanda was confined to the compound though she thought that Wanda was intelligent enough to draw her own conclusions. Apparently she wasn’t.

“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked after Tasha helped her up.

“No, this definitely was not part of the plan. Damn Rogers and his ‘punch-the-way-out’ mindset. Want to switch it up?”

“Sure.” It was with practiced ease that Iron Woman had Black Widow in tight but safe grip, flying short way across the landing strip in order to land in the path of Cap’s team.

“Captain Rogers… I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good…you must surrender now.” It pained her how incredibly like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision sounded sometimes. But the good captain apparently was not listening if the advancing was anything to go by. Well fuck.

“They are not stopping.” She could have gone without kid’s comment. In a matter of seconds they were beating each other again. It was insane. And she had run out of patience. “Vision, take out the quinjet. It seems they won’t stop until they reach it.” Tasha instructed, dodging the shield Rogers threw at her.

The android disengaged his fight with the newcomer with the suit that could apparently enlarge as well as shrink; and turned his attention to the open hangar where the powered down quinjet was waiting. Iron Woman’s instruction was sound. Taking out a way to escape reduced the probability of prolonged fighting. Checking yet again if there was someone around the hangar, short beam of yellow energy burst from the gem on his forehead and the quinjet was reduced to a smoking pile of scrap. It was a shame really, for Tasha Stark took great pride in designing and building it. The resulting explosion served as a short moment of pause as the realization of no escape settled on Captain America’s team.

“I will say it one last time!” There was no restraint in anger that boomed from Iron Woman. “Stand the fuck down!”

Spider-man used the distraction to shoot copious amount of webbing at Hawkeye, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, effectively pinning them to the ground. It was after all the reason why she brought him to Germany in the first place. The close contact combat was not it. Black Panther had Barnes pinned as well, Black Widow was eyeing the man in giant form with all the suspicion of the world whilst War Machine was hovering near him as well, ready to act at any sudden move. For the first time since this whole shitty mess started, Captain America looked indecisive and unsure. It was more than likely because his only effective way out was blown up. Looking at his now subdued teammates, he let the shield he retrieved fall from his hand. “You’re making a mistake Tasha.”

“Then it is mine to make. As it was your mistake in deciding to not contact me before this fight went down or even to listen to me back at the task force.” She turned to Black Widow. “Please inform Everett Ross to send a transport for everyone.”

The giant man finally shrunk down to the normal size, hands raised up in surrender. She would find out exactly what his name was later. “Stay put Rogers.” Tasha ordered when he moved to follow her approach to Barnes, reinforcing it with a raised gauntlet waiting to fire off an energy blast. The helmet collapsed when she kneeled in front of Barnes. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“Sergeant James Barnes, serial number 32557038.”

“It’s nice to meet you at last Barnes. I believe I have something to help with your conditioning problem.”

“Steve didn’t mention that.”

Tasha snorted. “Yes, I am beginning to learn how elective he is with words. We’ll discuss it later.”

Black Widow returned with small caravan of SUV’s and prisoner transport trucks in tow, gear was taken away, handcuffs were slapped on and everyone made their way back to Berlin. Tasha was already having a headache just thinking about conversations that were to be had in about two hours. Making sure Spider-man was safely on board her private jet with Happy, Tasha slipped into the backseat of the black SUV; content to find out that there was no one else in it. She just needed a quiet minute or two.

***

“You know you are not obligated to talk to them any further. That is actually my job at this point.”

Why did she stop drinking? Because she could fucking use one right now. “I like you much better than the other Ross. So if you could just let me deal with this shit please? I promise you can hash out all the details on them later because frankly I am just about done.”

The shorter man eyed her, finally shrugging his shoulder and pointed to the heavily guarded conference room where the rogue Avengers as media was already calling them were being kept. He made it crystal clear that they should be in cells already but he was not going to go against the higher ups. And seeing the plain exhaustion of her face, he decided that the woman should have some sort of satisfaction out this entire clusterfuck. “You look ready to keel over.” Nat commented bluntly, matching her steps with Tasha’s.

“Let’s just get this over with, okay? I really don’t want to talk about anything else.” Two women already found Rhodey, Vision and T’Challa sitting at the same table, facing the other team with expressions varying from unconcealed anger to pensive curiosity. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?”

“I’m not here for chit chat, Rogers.”

“Where’s Bucky?”

Rhodey snorted loudly and Tasha rolled her eyes. “You have unbelievably single track mind, it’s amazing. You people collectively broke more international laws than most terrorists do and you keep yapping about your best friend. He’s fine; I negotiated with Ross to have him transferred to one of my facilities under heavy guard just in case the other Ross had any bright ideas. We-” she motioned to her team. “Are here to talk about the supposed Winter Soldiers.”

“Oh, so now you care?” Clint shot out, not even attempting to hide his discontent.

“Mr. Barton.” T’Challa cut in before Tasha could speak again. “The entire defense of your team sits on this supposed threat. Make no mistake; your position is very precarious.”

“Barnes already gave us some intel, we just want to corroborate that he told you the same thing.”

“And then what?”

Vision leaned forward in his seat. “And then captain Rogers, we are going to go and investigate the validity of those claims. I believe they will be taken into account when joint counter terrorism centre brings up the charges. I believe Mr. Ross has far more detailed explanation of how things will proceed from here.”

“And the Russians are just going to let you waltz in their backyard?” Sam sounded guarded and doubtful.

“Considering they have to deal with public backlash of Barnes being used as KGB’s assassin and likelihood that they have been storing several more on ice all this time after everything that happened, yes, they will let us just waltz into their backyard.” Rhodey ground out.

“Look, we will check this either way Rogers. You cooperating might do you some good. Time to start using that head of yours for something other than punching and thinking about your war buddy.”

“You mean compromise?”

Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not this again Rogers. I am not talking about this with someone who has not even read the Accords. None of you did, I bet.”

“You owe it -” “Enough Captain.” T’Challa was on his feet now. This was not how they discussed making their marriage public knowledge but he could not stand to watch any longer to his wife’s former team mate look at her like she was ultimate disappointment in his life. “My wife does not owe you or anyone here anything beyond the common curtsey of civil conversation.”

One could hear a needle fall in the room that is how silent it was. Steve noticed that aside from Rhodes, everyone was sporting various degrees of surprise on their faces. And Tasha looked uncharacteristically pleased with it. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I assure you Mr. Barton; I would never joke on the matter of our marriage. You have never inquired if Tasha was seeing anyone, you just made assumptions. Besides, we preferred our privacy.”

“So it was another secret.” At best, he sounded like it was something he believed to be completely in character with her and was therefore disappointed that she did not learn from past experiences.

Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Rogers…my marriage is of absolutely no importance to the events that have transpired in last few days. So fuck you for trying to use it as some sort of springboard for your moral crusade. I’m done.” T’Challa wasted no time in following after her.

“Tasha slow down.” It was not that he could not catch up with her but it was the way she was gripping her left arm while she was marching away that had him concerned. “I am sorry for blurting it out like that but I could not watch him step on you any longer.”

“It’s fine, really.” Her breathing suggested otherwise.

“What injuries did you sustain in the fight?” His eyes tried to asses her condition but aside from the black eye, she had no visible injuries.

“None. But uh, my left arm is kind of numb. Is that normal?”

No, it was not normal at all and the panic he experienced seconds before the bomb went off returned with full force. “You need to see a doctor straight away.”

“What? No, I’m good.”

“Please, intanda, do not argue with me. Not now.” Her acquiescence after his plea was short lived because not ten steps later; she collapsed and would have kissed the floor face first were it not for his fast reflexes. With relative ease, he scooped her up and called for help. He lost his father; he would not lose her too.


@queenyavengers So you wanted a secretly married IronPanther, yes? Here’s a short thing plus angst.

This may surprise you, because it surprised me when I found out, but the single biggest thing that an individual can do to combat climate change is to stop eating animals. Because of the huge, huge carbon footprint of animal agriculture. I was shocked to find out that animal agriculture directly or indirectly accounts for 14.5% of all greenhouse gas emissions, compared to all transportation – every ship, car, truck, plane on the planet only accounts for 13%. Less than animal agriculture. So most people think that buying a Prius is the answer, and it’s certainly not wrong, but it’s not the biggest agent of climate change.
—  James Cameron, from an “Ask Me Anything” session on Reddit; as quoted in “Director James Cameron on Vegan Diet: Like I’ve Set the Clock Back 15 Years”, in Ecorazzi (12 April 2014)
You love me? Chapter 1 - All About Having Fun

Summary: Requested! A female version of the Joker who he falls in love with can be a chaotic duo but a fun one at that.

Thank you so much to @stimahagen for requesting this. Sorry for me taking so long to post the first part.

Words: 817

You love me? Masterlist

Masterlist

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