#IT HAD TO BE USED TO PROP UP MELVIN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bvccy · 2 years

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Forbidden thoughts | 20. Eternal silence

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: For one of his last missions to make amends, Bucky tracks down the daughter of a man he killed when he was the Winter Soldier. He follows her from a distance at first, then slowly gets to know her. Affection turns to love which turns to lust which turns into something darker. Bucky tells himself he’s stalking her with good intentions, but he knows that isn’t true anymore.

— CHAPTER NOTES: Here we are. We've finally reached the end. It's the last chapter, and the longest one. Bucky confronts his demons and learns something about himself that he did not expect. He also manages, finally, to make his amends. Warning for a bit of violence.

Thank you so much for reading, my dears! And for sticking with me through this fic. I hope you enjoy the ending!

— WORDCOUNT: 8.5k

⸻ [MASTERLIST] [AO3] [PLAYLIST]

Everything was falling apart around him. Sitting at the Morfran for a lonely breakfast, then walking through town, circling around to kill the hours until evening, Bucky saw fewer and fewer familiar faces. Mr Daimon had gone, as had Mrs Aster, and Melvin was probably busy. Winter kept people inside and all the parks were empty.

He decided to have lunch at a little place across the street from the bookstore where he first met her, throwing longing glances out the window, hoping somehow to see her there — but she had better things to do.

That question from his shrink came back… He didn't plan to stay there, did he?

"Not without an invitation," he chuckled sadly, downing a glass of whisky while waiting for the bill.

He used the day to go through the parts of Ixum he hadn't seen before. From the town hall to the farmer's market, with worn-down cinemas and fashion stores between, lawyer's offices and jewellers, flower shops and pet stores, and residential areas more elegant than the one she lived in. The entrance to the under-city that Melvin had once talked about was still locked up. Bucky stood outside of it and wondered what it would be like if they could break through, go inside, navigate through those old forgotten tunnels — where would they end up?

The idea of escaping was coming on stronger lately, but it was always with her by his side.

He went back to the hotel and skipped dinner to spend his time packing. It didn't take long, he'd barely taken out most of the things he brought with him, although he did take out a few more of the money he'd reserved and put it in his wallet. The suitcase was packed and propped against the wall by the time he left.

Bucky's hair was brushed back nicely, his shoes were clean, his suit was fresh, his hand was shaking. The Morfran's corridors seemed darker and more breezy than before, every step echoing as he stepped through the long hallway of his floor, stiff and straight like a funeral march, then down the steps like through a hole, and finally out into the lobby. The light inside was blinding, but there were no other guests.

He checked his phone again for the hour and address and saw he had enough time to walk there. The Ava Deva it was called, or Heavenly Bird if he tried to translate directly. Bucky scarcely felt the cold as he walked across the city at that hour, long after the sun had set. There were a few more people out now, mostly youngsters going places, but everyone avoided him. Maybe it was the constant scowl he had, or the determined way he walked, or the firm set of his shoulders as he marched across those grey cobbled streets.

The area the bar was in was far from Ixum city centre, in every way: cheap and slightly dirty, with graffiti in faded colours decorating some of the buildings nearby; trash cans were overflowing and there was the specific scent of wet dog in the air; the occasional empty tree stump did little to enliven the place.

The Ava Deva's small doors opened glowingly right at the street corner. It was painted in forgettable black and brown, with its windows half-obscured by the large letters of its name pasted on top in thin faux-cursive font. A pizzeria sat across from it, a wine shop further down, then a closed pawnshop… Bucky stood at the end of the street and his nose curled in disgust at the sort of bar her "friends" had chosen. He didn't mind it too much, but it was not the sort of place he'd take her.

"You're here!"

He turned around as soon as he heard her voice, hands still in his pockets where his fists were clenched. His frown immediately uncurled when he laid eyes on her. She walked faster to catch up to him, a smile lighting up her face.

"Of course," he said, smiling back. "You were pretty persuasive."

She preened at that as she slowed down beside him, their elbows almost touching.

"I wasn't dead set on going either," the girl shrugged as they started walking together. "But having you there should make it easier."

She looked away from him as soon as she said it, sensing that it was too much — too close to flirting. Bucky smiled down at her and kept his pace deliberately slow, hoping they would never reach the bar.

Memories from the past two days and all his filthy thoughts about her surfaced, guilt bubbling away at the base of his throat. Seeing her beside him helped, somehow, though that was the last thing he expected. She was the same and yet a different person from the one in his fantasies — but he'd never dream of hurting her. Bucky sighed and looked ahead, walking close enough to feel her elbow knocking into his every now and then, just to remember she was there.

He opened the door and let her step through first, then walked inside and looked around. Cramped, dark, wooden, stained, the place looked oddly enough like some places he remembered from New York back in the 40s. There was a mix of sounds and smells, with instrumental music and smoke prevailing. The place seemed arranged in a circle that went around the bar, with rows of narrow tables set along the walls. All of the ones on their side seemed full, the other disappearing in the other half, but a dark stairway to the side hinted at a lower level.

Just to their left, on the far end, he spotted Melvin waving to them. He was sitting at one of the longer tables, accompanied by two other people he didn't recognise: a boy and girl seeming to be in their mid-30s.

"You're here early," the girl said as she took off her coat.

"That just means you're late," Melvin grinned.

"We're not late. Hello," she then said to the pair, going on to introduce herself.

Apparently, they knew Melvin and Berit, but not her. They were a couple from the Netherlands — perhaps they were brother and sister, it was hard to tell seeing as they looked so much alike, both pale and blonde and thin but with wide, solid faces. The girl's name was Kune, and the boy was Bent. Bucky smiled politely as he introduced himself too before taking a seat.

Before their drinks arrived, another two girls came: the old classmates she'd mentioned, Silvie and Sabrina. Like all other Cathonians, they had a cold air about them, a sallow tint to their complexion and deep, tumultuous eyes. They each sat at the heads of the table and got to know the rest.

Bucky might have felt out of place, by far the oldest one even compared to the Dutch couple, if not for the girl by his side. Her hands were on the table, curled around a glass of wine, but he couldn't help but feel she'd placed them deliberately close to where his hand was holding a mug of beer. And she was fairly quiet too, just like him, listening to Kune and Bent talk about their trip, or Melvin talk about his research.

Berit was next to arrive, with an older boy in tow. The whole table waved them over; she was probably the only one who knew everybody there.

"Sorry!" she said breathlessly. "I'm sorry we're late."

They took their coats off and sat down as Berit explained — bus not working, snowed in somewhere, so on. The boy, a full-faced red-cheeked tawny creature who introduced himself as Reimer, took a seat right across from Bucky's girl. Although the bar didn't seem very well heated, everyone warmed up once they got their drinks and they could all toast together.

Bucky and the girl sat back as Berit led the conversation, with the Dutch twins being very talkative and Melvin stepping in with his usual dry banter now and then. It was the anniversary of their graduation, apparently. Berit and Reimer were old university friends, albeit from different classes, and she'd met Kune and Bent when they were just finishing their Master's.

"So you came out here just to have a drink with Berit?" the girl asked, smirking.

"I'd go anywhere for a drink," laughed Reimer. "No, but really, I was just in the area."

Bucky instantly disliked him, if not for his strident voice then for his inability to be serious about anything.

"I told him it would be a nice, cheap place to have a mini-vacation," said Berit.

"Did you have to travel far?" asked Kune.

"Only from Germany," he said. "You?"

"Holland. But Germany's pretty far too."

"Guess we're lucky," grinned Sabrina. "We were already in the area."

"And you?" he asked, nodding his head to Bucky's girl. "You look like you're from around here."

"Do I?" she asked coldly.

Bucky tensed at the insult in his tone, and felt her tense beside him too, like a spring ready to snap right in that haughty grin. She put on a polite smile regardless.

"Yes, I'm from here."

"So, what do you do for fun in these parts?"

"I guess the same sort of things you do for fun in your parts," she answered calmly.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky could tell her jaw was clenched behind her smile, and her eyes had a hard stare in them, almost daring the boy to keep going with his impertinent array of questions.

"I'm not so sure," Reimer laughed.

"Anyway, I work here, so I'm not the best person to ask about having fun," she said, tilting her head away to dismiss the conversation.

"Melvin too," said Silvie.

"Really? You work here?"

"At the university," he said, glass halfway to his mouth.

"And what are you?" Reimer then turned to Bucky, his wide cheeks filling up with a grin. "James, right? You're his boss or something?"

"No," he said, then paused to sip his beer. He added with a tepid smile, "If anything, I'd say I'm his assistant."

Melvin's chuckle echoed in the beer glass. Everyone but the three of them who knew about the expedition seemed slightly confused and looked at Bucky for what seemed like the first time. The answer was vague enough that it gave Reimer pause, and he was soon distracted by another conversation. Berit had spent many years abroad, it seemed, and they were all comparing Cathonia with other places.

When he caught another flash of white, Bucky looked down to see the girl chatting with Berit on her phone, and he knew enough Cathonian to understand what they were typing.

«Why did you bring this asshole here?»

«He's fun, I promise! You just need to get to know him.»

«Can't believe I wasted an evening for th—»

She deleted that last sentence before sending it, then put her phone back in her pocket with a sigh. Berit sent her a look across the table but tried to put on a brave smile. Bucky wished he could have comforted the girl, hugged her and taken her away, but it was hard to even turn toward her in that cramped corner they were in. Conversations flew above the table and the mess of noises from the rest of the bar filled the space with strident sounds. When he dared to look at her, just to see how she was feeling, he caught her already looking toward him.

"Are you having fun?" she asked in a quiet voice, leaning so that their shoulders touched as they leaned back together.

"Yeah," he nodded, then looked down from the corner of his eye. Her teasing, disbelieving smile was what made him finally laugh.

"Yes, I want to stab myself through both ears too," she chuckled.

"Don't talk like that," he whispered. "It's not that bad."

"Believe it or not, I feel just as out of place as you do," the girl sighed. "I have almost nothing in common with these people. I don't even know half of them."

"We haven't got a lot in common with each other either," he said, keeping his voice kind, but frowning, almost pained by the admission.

He hated being reminded that his dreams meant nothing. All the time they spent together in his head, however intimately he explored her body and imagined what it felt like to lick the sweat off of her neck, her breasts, what her heartbeat sounded like as he was thrusting into her, or the way her voice sounded as she was undone by pleasure in his arms, none of it counted for anything. He wasn't that much closer to her than on the day they'd met. She must have thought the same.

Bucky looked down at her body. She was wearing a cream-coloured sweater with a white shirt underneath, the sharp points of the collar coming to rest over the rounded neckline. She had the sleeves pulled down past her knuckles and held the glass of wine much like someone would hold a cup of cocoa — perhaps that's what she really wanted but didn't dare to drink in everyone else's company. Her face looked fresh, almost without any makeup save the hint of berry-red across her lips. The hair fell over her shoulders, bending in waves like shadows that disappeared behind her. Before his thoughts could once more veer off the path and take him to another world where, after this dull get-together ended, he could take her home and they could warm up and cuddle as they fell asleep, she said something that surprised him.

"I think we do."

"What?" he asked with genuine surprise. "Really?"

"Yes," the girl said as she tilted her head. "I have to remind myself we only met a couple of weeks ago. But sometimes, it feels like I've known you for a long, long time."

Bucky took another sip of beer to soothe to knot that got in his throat. Her voice sounded far away and hollow, however close her whispers were, and if not for the noisy people all around him he would have put aside his plans and fears and just confessed to her right there: that he did know her, he knew her since before he even realised, and his actions, although not of his own will, had touched her life in a way that today broke his heart — but beyond that guilt, he was grateful. He was grateful that he got to know her.

"I feel the same," he said instead, his cold hard eyes travelling quietly between her own. "Sometimes…"

She hugged herself with one arm and drank a bit more wine, thinking to herself. Bucky's heart beat frantically until she said, at length:

"When did you say you were leaving?"

"Soon," he answered. "Why?"

"I guess I envy you," she giggled, but didn't even pretend to hide the notes of sadness in her voice. "You get to escape."

He was on the verge of… something very careless — asking her what she meant, inviting her to come with him, forcing her to come with him — when all of a sudden, Reimer stabbed himself into their conversation.

"Did you ever notice?" he asked.

"What?" she said, looking around the table as she tried to figure out what the rest of them had been talking about.

"The prostitutes on Faron road. The place is crawling with them."

"Oh."

Melvin was awkwardly burying his face into his glass, slinking in his seat away from the conversation, while Silvie and Sabrina watched coolly from both ends of the table. They each had a pleasant smile as they looked on but both their jaws were set. Kune and Bent were taking it quite seriously, going back and forth with Reimer in pragmatic, impersonal ways, drawing comparisons to Amsterdam and Berlin like it was nothing, while Berit seemed to laugh it off.

"There was actually a big scandal in the news recently," the boy continued. "A human trafficking ring was found in Dresden and over half the girls were Cathonic."

"Cathonian," she corrected him.

"Right. They were all minors too, I mean, the youngest was 9 years old. Did you hear about it?"

"I don't read the news much."

Bucky hid his smirk behind his glass, knowing how blatantly false that was, but the boy didn't seem to get the hint from her firm tone.

"What does your government plan to do about it?" asked Reimer with a wide smile, almost on the verge of laughing. "I mean, it's a big problem for Germany, you know."

"I don't know, what does your police plan to do about the human traffickers?"

Reimer didn't seem affected by the biting remark. He kept smiling dumbly, probably from having drunk too much already, and looking at the girl as if he hadn't even heard her. Berit, ever watchful, distracted the young man with another question before the tension between the two snapped. Beside him, Bucky could hear the girl deflate with a deep sigh.

Melvin stretched his lanky frame across the table, fingers tapping on down to get their attention.

"How much longer are you staying?"

"Not long," she said, leaning in as well with her hands sprawled in front of her.

"Me either," said Bucky.

"I think I'll be here maybe an hour more, then —"

"An hour?! I can't last that long, Mel."

"It's only 10 o'clock," he said. "Have another glass of wine. James?"

"I guess…"

And so they lingered in the smoky, noisy bar as a new round of drinks came, then another. Everyone else was either more mellow or more agitated, depending on what they had, while Bucky was left watching over all of them. The girl had abandoned her wine for a sliver of Cointreau, and although she took it slowly, he could feel her lose her focus, melting in her seat beside him. Feeling her lean against his arm made his insides tremble and tense, but he knew he couldn't put his arms around her, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"I think I'll go," she whispered. "So sleepy..."

"You want me to come with you?" he offered in a heartbeat.

"No, it's alri—"

"I'll come with you."

"What, you're leaving?" asked Berit once she saw her friend start to get her things.

"Oh no!" said Kune

"Stay a while!" begged Silvie.

"It's still so early!" said Reimer, his tongue by now stiff with drunkenness.

"Sorry guys, it's been a long day."

"You're no fun," the blond boy said with an insipid smile.

"Yeah, well…"

"You too?" he asked once he saw Bucky getting up as well.

"I'm leaving in the morning, got to be up early," he mumbled.

"What bullshit," the boy laughed.

"No, James…" — "Stay," begged the twins, even though they'd barely exchanged a few words with him that whole night.

He smiled and shook his head politely, and got out first to make way for his companion. They put the payment for their drinks down on the table and waved their wailing friends goodbye. He went out of the stuffy bar first while she stayed to hug Melvin and Berit. The air outside felt colder than before, and with every sigh, a puff of smoke came out in front of him. Bucky frowned as he looked up into the black and starless sky. He'd toyed with the thought of staying on another day, but now he wondered whether he really should… What was there to stay for? What more could he accomplish? No. He'd apologise, and tell her the truth, and slip out of her life for good.

There was a faint commotion coming from inside, even on top of the incessant clink of glasses. He turned around in time to see the girl storm out the door, head in the ground and frowning.

"Let's go," she mumbled.

He wasn't about to argue… He stepped aside for her to walk beside him and barely took a few steps forward when the doors of the bar burst open.

"Oh come on, don't —"

It was Reimer's voice again, his words slow and slurred.

"Let go!"

"I'll be nice, I promise," he whined.

Bucky turned. The boy had caught her from behind and tried to lift her off the ground, laughing stupidly but frowning as she struggled. She seemed more upset than scared, but it didn't matter. It didn't take Bucky two steps to reach them.

One quick fist to the side of his head was enough to make Reimer drop her, and she regained her footing fast enough to step aside. The blond leaned against the wall and shouted, but the shapeless noise was cut off with another punch and he slipped right to the ground. Bucky stood above him, heaving, lifting his right arm for another blow, then reconsidering and used it instead to grab him by the collar as he readied the left metal fist.

"Hey, hey hey!" the boy slurred. "I didn't mean anyth—"

"James!"

The sound of her voice was all that kept him from punching the jerk right in his teeth, so he aimed for the abdomen instead. Every vile instinct he had, every disgusting desire he'd harboured all those days, was suddenly reflected in this pathetic drunken lout and all the horror of what he'd thought of doing to her came to the fore. Bucky grit his teeth as he held back and felt his eyes burning with anger, not even seeing the boy in front of him anymore. The wretch heaved in his grip and seemed on the verge of throwing up.

"Stop!" she said. "You should really stop…"

The blond spluttered and coughed and tried to steady his feet against the ground, hands weakly trying to hold onto the wrist that grabbed him, but the hits had disoriented him too much. Bucky raised him slightly higher, letting him tiptoe for a while before he let go and dropped him to the ground. He looked down at Reimer and resisted the temptation to kick him one last time.

"We should go," she said, and when he looked up, he saw her looking toward the bar. A few people inside had already noticed the commotion.

"Alright," he breathed out. "Alright, let's go..."

To his surprise, she didn't shrink away from him, even though her eyes were wary, and for a second he allowed himself to take her hand as they walked quickly away. The girl held onto her purse tightly, but it was just a way to hug herself, and he could feel how firmly she was gripping his hand too. He felt guilty to even touch her now…

'So much for rule number 2,' he thought.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes," she said absently, staring ahead into the night.

He forced them to slow down once they went around the corner, and although he didn't speak again, he kept his eyes on her.

"I'm ok," she said more calmly, looking at him. "Thank you."

Bucky swallowed hollowly and nodded.

Should she be thanking him? He knew why he had done it. Sure, Reimer was a pain in the ass and he had no right to touch her, but the instinct to beat away at him until he was raw pulp wasn't directed just at that stupid boy. It had finally come home, how disgusting he'd been. How disgusting his thoughts and dreams had been. How selfish his desire to keep her for himself, to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her so tightly even though she didn't want to be held. Like a flash, those horrible fantasies he'd been indulging in came back — gripping her body, tying her up, forcing himself into her, pleasuring himself with her for hours... He wasn't any better than Reimer, and had no place to feel heroic about what he'd done.

"I'll take you home," he muttered, letting go of her hand and looking down in shame as they reached the better lit main streets of the city.

She didn't say anything for a while and kept walking silently beside him, still a bit huddled into herself, seeming ashamed — of what had happened? of having to be saved? of him seeing her in need of rescue?

After a few minutes, she spoke once more.

"Did you go to see those houses you were looking into?"

"What? Er, no," he said.

"Do you still want to?"

He slowed down and looked at her. "Now?"

"I want to," said the girl, unflinching.

Her face was soft and steady like a quiet sea, but in her eyes, he could tell there was a trembling, a shiver waiting to come out. He'd felt a thing like that so many times before when the earth seemed like it was about to collapse underneath his feet and he had nothing, nobody to hold on to.

"It's pretty late…"

But maybe he could be that somebody for her tonight.

"I don't feel like going home. I want to be… elsewhere."

"Alright…" he said, sounding for the first time that night sure of himself, of everything. "Alright, let's go."

Within 15 minutes, they reached the train station, with another 15 minutes to go until the train arrived that travelled north. The place was utterly abandoned at that hour, except for the ticket booth and that little shop where they'd once bought coffee and croissants.

They stood in front of each other, not even feeling the cold, and the girl barely looked up. Bucky traced every angle of her face, her awkward posture, the frown stuck on her brow… She kept looking down, her eyes blinking and moving every now and then as thoughts ran through her head. When she finally remembered he was there, her gaze flashed up to his, and she even mustered a smile.

"Thank you again, really," she spoke.

"It's nothing."

"He was such a jerk."

"Yeah."

"You know, if you're tired, we could canc—"

"I'm not tired."

Deep down, Bucky was relieved that his icy reservations weren't putting her off. Fortunately, the train arrived not long after that.

Its long corridors were as quiet as a grave and just as narrow, but walking through them seemed to calm her down. By the time they reached a cabin they both liked, the girl seemed more awake and cheerful than she had been the whole night. They settled into the same seats they took on that ride to Urte once before, both beside the window, facing one another. The faint light from outside, a sickly yellow, painted half her face, the other staying shadowed, but more than anything Bucky was struck by the warm look in her eyes as she gazed at him through the silence.

He must've looked guilty, he knew he did, but he didn't dare say why — at least not yet. The train jerked forward as it started moving, and then began the familiar rattling as it picked up speed. Stripes of light and darkness flashed beside them in the window as they drew away from the station, and soon the darkness overtook everything in view. The glass seemed painted black with nothing outside but endless fields as they left the city, and a sky empty of stars or clouds on the horizon.

"I'm really sorry, you know," the girl said, still smiling softly as she leaned her head against the wall.

"What are you sorry about?" asked Bucky with a frown.

"I should have just come with you this morning. I shouldn't have dragged you to that boring bar. I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"You didn't," he said shaking his head. "You have nothing to apologise for. In fact, I…" He clenched his teeth for half a second, then with a sigh he allowed the words to finally leave him. "I'm the one who should apologise to you."

"Why?" she frowned, smiling at him as if he'd just said something silly.

"I…"

He couldn't look at her, couldn't even think where to begin.

"I didn't really care about the cottages. I just asked you to come because I wanted to spend time with you," he said, breathing out now that that first small step was taken.

"I like spending time with you too," she said.

Bucky looked at her and saw her smile turn into a cheeky grin. He might have enjoyed seeing it, if he wasn't feeling so low right now, but it died when she heard what he had to say next.

"And I'm not here on vacation. I came here to find you."

She didn't move and hardly blinked, and were it not for the loud noises of the train he might have thought time froze.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked, a thread of fear slipping in her voice.

He frowned and bit his lip. Making her nervous was the last thing he wanted right now, but there was no better way to go about it. A darker side of him was aware that there was also no place for her to run to if she didn't want to be around him by the time he finished what he had to say. And there was no good time to say it, but having her trapped with him on a train, away from everyone, was as good as it could get.

"The reason I came here is… Well, you're the reason. I had to speak with you, I had to tell you that… I'm sorry."

"W-what are you sorry about?"

"I wanted there to be a better way to say this. A way to make it worth your while, but the more I got to you know you, it…"

He sighed and measured his next words, forcing himself to look into her eyes and breathe, let her know she was still safe with him. But it got harder by the minute, and he could see dread grip her body, tensing all around her like death — his dark, soft, innocent girl painted with honey, wine, and tar.

"It's obvious you don't need anything from me," he said. "There's nothing I could give you, anyway, that would make up for what I've done. So the least I can do is just tell you."

"Tell me, then," she said, sitting primly in her seat by now but sounding more frail than ever, even as she tried to laugh, and added, "Don't scare me, now. What is it?"

"I am James 'Bucky' Barnes," he recited, fulfilling rule number 3. "I am no longer the Winter Soldier…"

Something set in her eyes then, a passing recognition, but there was no sign of the horror it implied.

"And you're part of my effort to make amends. I came here to apologise to you. Your father," he said at last, "I… I know what happened to him."

The girl looked him up and down, measuring the sight of him against what she'd just heard.

"Were you a friend of my father's? You don't seem that old…"

"No," he said. "I killed him."

She didn't react at first. Then, she looked to the side and moved backwards in her seat, as if his words just now had reached her. The girl looked again at Bucky and, seeing he was serious, began to smile. That died quickly, to be replaced by a frown, a scowl, a gasp that left her mouth half-open, and then a quick clenching of the jaw.

He waited for her screams, her accusations, her tears, quietly in the surrounding mechanical noise of the train and its swaying chains and wheels — the sound of death, for him.

"That's not possible," she whispered, eyes staring at the empty table between them. "Why would you kill him? How?"

"I shot him," he confessed. "In the forest, at the edge of it. He was out watching nightbirds and… I didn't mean to do it."

The girl looked at him with a strangely settled storm brewing in her eyes, waiting for him to finish.

"I was an… an assassin back then."

"You were the Winter Soldier?" she softly said. "I've read about him, but I never…"

"You never got word that they found out who he was."

"I never looked into it more than that. But if they know who you are, why are… why did…"

"Why am I not in prison?" he sighed. "Guess a lot of people are wondering the same thing back home. But, I didn't mean to do it, any of it. I was being forced to." Bucky always had trouble admitting to being enslaved to that extent, a toy for Hydra to handle, but he didn't need to elaborate it for her. The girl seemed to understand. "Your father was just at the wrong place at the wrong time..."

She nodded as she slowly accepted what he said, and stared out at the nothingness that passed them by, letting his words and their meaning sink in. Bucky watched her face and tried to catch every emotion, readying himself to answer anything she wanted to know, console her in every way he could, however she would let him, but she was admirably impassive now. Her face was as still as the glass and carried the same chill calm. Only her breath that raised her chest in high, panicked inhales, showed what she was feeling.

The train creaked as it slowed down, approaching another quiet, empty station.

"So that's why you came all the way out here?" she finally asked, looking once again at him. "That's why you spoke to me? To be able to admit to it? Maybe get me to forgive you?"

Now it was his turn to stare and be left gasping dumbly with no words to say. There was no part of the truth, beyond what he'd just mentioned, that he could admit to. Yes, he came there just to make amends. No, that wasn't why he spoke to her — at least, not why he kept coming back. He wanted her in every way a man could ever want someone, and no shadow of shame could keep him away, nothing did, except his pity for her suffering. He couldn't acknowledge it until this night, until he heard her scream and struggle in the arms of someone else.

"It's a condition of my pardon. I have to do this," Bucky simply said. Grating iron sounds filled their cabin as the train began to move again. "I tried to find a better way to apologise to you, but I realised there's… there's nothing I could offer you, nothing I could give, other than just telling you the truth. But I wish there was. I enjoyed every minute I spent with you. I just wish I had a better reason to know you," he sighed. "I'm sorry, for everything."

She clenched her teeth and looked down between them, swallowing the bitterness of his admissions and her own misunderstandings. If he had to guess, he'd say she looked jilted. He was getting ready for an outburst of anger from the girl, but the moments passed in silence and she collected her thoughts. When she next looked up at him she seemed, more than anything else, at peace.

"You don't have to apologise," she said, managing to smile. "I'm not upset about… about what you did."

"You're not?!" he frowned.

She shook her head and smiled, one trembling hand coming up to dab away at a lone traitorous tear.

"I'm shocked, but… I'm honestly not angry with you for what you did."

"But…"

"I didn't like my father much," she shrugged, saying it quickly before the courage left her and looking down in shame. "Mother's honestly more upset about it than I am. Can't see why…"

The mother. He remembered looking into her, finding her living more fully than her daughter was, and seeming between the two of them to be the least affected. Bucky wondered whether he'd ever trust his first impressions again — but he couldn't fault it now, because he was alone with her and she knew the truth about him, and although he'd been terrified of this moment for weeks, it wasn't going in the direction he had feared.

"I'm actually grateful," the girl continued, shocking Bucky into silence. "I shouldn't say it, but I'm grateful that he's dead. It was the best thing that could have happened. I know I sound horrible, but…"

"I understand," he said, and he really was beginning to. Sounds like the old man wasn't all he was cracked up to be...

"If anything, I should be thanking you," she laughed. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another, and before she could hold herself back, a choking sob gripped her whole body. She leaned back in the seat and covered her face, shaking with past fears and regrets, waves of misery washing over her at once, the years gathering up in one sharp moment of remembrance, and the coiled shame of being, at last, happy.

Without thinking, Bucky got up and went over and put his arms around the girl, letting her bury her flushed face into his shoulder as he rubbed her back with the steady metal hand. He rested his cheek over her head and breathed in deeply, willing her to calm together with him. The soft patter of rain began to beat against the windows and a strange shapeless light brightened the horizon — an early sunrise, maybe. But they hadn't been travelling for that long... It didn't matter. He closed his eyes as he held her and pressed her to his side until the sobs quieted into little tears.

And through it all, he didn't feel any of those impulses he feared, any of the evil thoughts that plagued him at night, and now that she was in his arms, weak and alone and fragile, Bucky wanted nothing more than to protect her. He was almost afraid to let her go, as if the magic of this tenuous peace within his heart would break.

Eventually, she pulled away on her own, head bowed and bashful as she wiped tears away with the heel of her palm and swallowed a few hiccups. Bucky's arms stayed around her, thumbs moving in soothing motions across her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she laughed. "I didn't want to do that."

"It's alright," he smiled, looking at her face in anticipation of her looking back at him. "I know it's a stupid question, but, are you alright?"

"Yes," the girl nodded, and finally raised her gaze to give him a weak but sweet warm smile. "I'm alright now."

The wind picked up outside, howling against the walls and windows, and the rain beat hard as hail against the glass. The pair turned to look toward it but could barely make out anything, the whole landscape being a haze of white and grey.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's… 1:25," he said after checking his watch.

"We've passed that town…"

"So where are we going?"

"I don't know," she said with a strange serenity.

Bucky smiled down at the girl and held her face in one gloved hand. Her cheek filled his palm as she smiled.

"You said you wanted to be elsewhere. How about we keep going?" he suggested.

"All the way to the end?"

"To the end."

She didn't seem to know how long the tracks went on for, she'd never been that far, and neither had he. So they leaned back together, her arms slipping around his waist, and they travelled together against the ghoulish storm outside.

He thought about the strange calm that conquered him when he held her, how different it was to his invasive dreams — as if those belonged to a completely different person. Meanwhile, the girl fell quietly asleep against his shoulder.

Bucky was half-way fallen into a dreamless sleep as well, countless minutes or hours afterwards, when he was woken by a sudden crashing sound. The girl jumped in his arms as well, and they looked at each other as they felt the train slow down.

"What's going on?" she asked groggily as she leaned over to look out the window.

"I don't know. Do you see anything out there?"

"It just looks like… wind and rain."

On unsteady feet, they got up and started to walk toward the exit. There was nobody else around them but the train was getting slower, its wheels creaking violently against the tracks. By the time they reached a door, it was just gliding forward on the remnants of inertia. Bucky walked ahead and the girl tried to see over his shoulder.

"I'll try to open the door," he said as he gripped the handle.

He had to pull a few times but managed to open the rusty old thing. Outside, everything was calmer than before. He could feel the girl's fingers curling around his shoulders as he stepped down, and she followed. The train seemed to have stopped in the middle of nowhere. Bucky's arm held onto the girl's waist as they looked around, and they marvelled together at the strange sight that surrounded them.

The fields were flat and black, like everything they'd seen before outside the city, and by now the rain had stopped. But just a bit beyond, where they had come from, a strange downpour kept battering the earth in a grey curtain of incessant rain. On the other side, ahead of them, a fog extended as far as the eye could see, so thick you could cut it with a knife, but resting in a firm and unmoving shape like a globe cast over them.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Figured you'd know," he said. "What the hell is going on?"

"I've never been this far away before, not by train that is."

"Ok, let's find out together, then…"

They went up to the front but could spot no conductor through the high windows. If there was a shape or shadow sitting on the seat inside, it didn't move. The tracks themselves kept going, and the pair decided they might as well follow for a bit and see if they went anywhere.

"What are we going to do when we reach that fog though?" she asked.

"We'll figure it out when we get there," frowned Bucky.

They walked together hand-in-hand, and slowly through the deathly silence brand new sounds began to break the closer they got to the mist. Looking behind, the land looked dead, cold, caught up in winter, but in front of them, they could hear birdsong and feel even feel a gentle breeze.

He held the girl's hand tighter and felt her gripping back, and before they knew it they had stepped into the fog. It eased the pair in and then enveloped them, covering their bodies and their vision in pure, soft white effusion like a shrowd. Neither of them spoke, and he wasn't sure if they even could anymore. He focused to take each step forward in a straight line, suddenly afraid of getting the both of them lost as they lost sight of even the train tracks that were beside them, but the girl's steady grip emboldened him.

Soon, he felt her walking by his shoulder, although he couldn't see her and didn't dare to try to look — he didn't know what gave him the idea, but he sensed that something horrible would happen if he did. He didn't even check his watch, he just kept walking, and after countless silent steps through the wall of earthly clouds, they started to see it all fade away before them.

Once his boot stepped onto something hard, Bucky looked down. The cold wet earth from a few feet before was gone, and stretching out in front of them were vast green fields peppered with red and yellow flowers. The sky above was a soft dark blue, and far on the horizon, a red line stretched out to announce the sunrise. Even the air smelled different. On their frozen cheeks, the same pleasant breeze they felt before washed now over them in full, a warm and gentle breath of spring.

"We've crossed the border," she said, looking all around in wonder.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "It's like… like we're in a completely different world."

"Yes," she said, looking down but still not daring to look behind her shoulder. "That was Cathonia. We've left it."

Bucky looked at the young woman by his side and waited for her to look back. Her eyes, once they reached his, seemed scared but with a thread of boldness in them. She knew more than she was telling him, and as he searched her face he started to put two-and-two together.

"That wasn't your run of the mill country, was it?"

"We never think about it, but… no."

It all came rushing back, all those things he'd noticed but laid aside as ordinary: the deathly pallour of the people, the cold smiles like on a corpse, the name of Charon on the train just like the ancient boatman of the dead, the tombstone feeling of the streets and walls and buildings, their celebrations, their dance and costumes, like a funeral procession, with death-masks and laces like spilt blood... Even Eugene Daimon and Lucille Aster's names seemed, in retrospect, suggestive of things demonic.

Melvin's strange theories came back to him then. The siege, the fortress defended from the outside, the odd markings on the ground — when put together with the peculiar masses of Cathonians that lived there, it painted a more lively picture than he'd given the boy credit for. There was never an invasion of the place. If anything, the ancients probably tried to lock them in, barring off the gates of their old citadels with thick wood trunks to stop them from advancing on the living. It was almost too crazy to consider...

"What were you doing there, then?" he asked, feeling the girl's hand in his. She seemed as alive as he was, although in the fresh daylight of new land her cheeks had lost their faded shade.

"We're all dead there," she said. "It's easy to forget about it… It's just another way to keep on going."

"Well, it's not the only way," he said, chuckling at the absurdity of what just happened.

His other hand came up to caress her cheek, then paused. Without thinking twice, Bucky took his gloves off, and finally touched her and felt her with his skin. Like a love-famished pet, she purred and closed her eyes, tilting her face further in his palm. She sighed and reached out for him too, her hand travelling down his arm until it got to the cold end of the metal. Opening her eyes, she stared down at it. Bucky watched her face for any sign of apprehension.

"So, the Winter Soldier… You know, I never gave too much thought to the prosthetic."

"I'm lucky you didn't figure me out sooner," he grinned.

She laughed lightly, looking at him more kindly than he ever had expected. Nothing about that night had gone the way he thought it would, and he was grateful for it — impossibly grateful that he had neither her wrath nor her disgust or fright, and she was instead looking at him with dreamy, soft delight.

His hand stopped its caressing of her cheek and cupped her face, holding her for him to look at in the pure light of day. She bit her lip and his eyes traced it, then like a lazy wave she brushed up against his chest, looking upward at him fearfully.

Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat and tilted his head toward her, moving slowly to give her time to turn away, but she never did. He felt the light puffing of her breath against his face and kept on going, tilting her head toward him as he lowered his and, at last, he felt the touch of her lips.

They were soft and dry, and very warm, and felt so rich and full beneath him. He saw her eyes closing slowly in delight as he caressed her mouth, and he closed his as well to sip her into his soul. It wasn't anything like his dreams, where she felt foggy and abstract and he was left with nothing by the end. It was complete and gentle, echoes of her tender affection running beneath his skin through his whole body, entering his heart, his mind, settling deep inside his spirit and finding there a mirror of herself, his patient waiting for her, his readiness to hold her and never let her go.

Each peppering of love he left on her fleshy mouth was met with a soft trill, a giggle he felt right against his chest, a smile that found its way onto his cheeks. Once he felt her pull away, panting, out of breath, Bucky let the young woman go but leaned back in to kiss her cheek, her brow, her forehead, eager to make her feel all those things that burned inside of him for her. She giggled underneath his touches and wrapped her arms around him for a hug. He buried his head into her hair, pulling the real scent of her in his lungs and keeping it for as long as he could. Bucky held her to his chest as they rested against each other, speaking in this wordless way about all those nights of longing, the hollow hopes and deathly fear — and, underneath it, their need for one another. She loved and needed him too, he knew that now, could admit it to himself and put the guilt and want for punishment aside. When she was ready, if kisses somehow became not enough anymore, she could tell him, and he could tell her too.

As the sun rose and lightened their path, the pair started walking again. They didn't have to go far before they reached a road, and a sign showed that they were not far from a town. They were in Italy, judging by the name of it — Carlazzo. The refreshing air of a spring day and birdsong carried them along, still holding each other's hand as they discussed what to do next.

"I'm sure the hotel can mail your things to a new address if you call them. And I can call Berit to pack some things for me and send them over. I'm not sure what I'll tell my boss…"

"Tell him that you took a vacation," offered Bucky. "Tell him that you'll quit."

"And how am I going to live?" she laughed. "With you?"

"Yes," he said, looking at her hopefully. "Why not?"

She said nothing, but her smile grew.

"We can keep travelling around for a while. I've got nothing to tie me to New York, not anymore… You were the last one on my list."

"And how will we live?"

"We'll figure it out," said Bucky, letting go of her hand to wrap it around her shoulder and pull her into his body, flush against his side, as they walked on. "Together."

#Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #mcu #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bv;fanfiction #soft!Bucky Barnes #dark!Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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luverofralts · 3 years

Text

Post Arkhelios

This was all too much for Wanda to process. She had to call Melvin! Finally some justice could be found for at least one Arkhelios murder. Kamalani had shot Roman. If the bullets matched, it was reasonable to assume that she had killed Abraham as well. Her motive was still unclear, but Wanda had practically overheard a confession, and one that incriminated her mother in law as well.

Wanda grabbed the phone in the room she was hiding in and dialed her brother's number. Cell phones weren't allowed in the hospital for safety reasons, so she would have to whisper on the phone rather than text.

Melvin answered his phone, and Wanda hoped the landline phone would be quiet enough not to carry out into the hall.

"Melvin, you need to get to Oriana's immediately," she whispered. "Abe is the next victim, you need to get him to somewhere safe right now."

Wanda was immediately cut off by the sound of screaming. She slammed the phone down and took off towards Roman's room, followed by several nurses, and the no longer sleeping male Bellamys.

What Wanda saw broke her heart. Roman was awake in bed, trying desperately to inch further and further away from Malika, who was trying in vain to comfort him.

"Roman, it's me, Grandma." Malika said sweetly. "It's okay now, I found you. You're in the hospital."

Roman's eyes were wide and full of fear. He looked exhausted from the combination of pain and all the pain killers he'd been given. He tried to speak but the words slurred together making them unintelligible.

“Roman, you probably don’t remember things clearly right now. That’s sometimes how trauma works. Your brain is trying to protect itself, but you’re safe here.”

Kamalani stroked Roman’s hair in a loving, motherly way, and Roman froze in place at her touch, terrified to move. Wanda pushed the two women aside, earning her death glares from both.

“We’re all here to support you,” she stated firmly. “My brother will be here soon, and we’ll get a statement from you when you’re ready, so we can find who did this to you.”

Kamalani’s face revealed nothing at this, while Malika was looking paler than usual. Wanda took Roman’s hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“We’ll all stay here with you until Melvin arrives. We won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe.”

True to her word, Wanda and Malika stayed at Roman’s side. The nurses had come in to request that some people leave to not overcrowd Roman, so Kamalani, Omar and Salem had gone home to get some sleep and eat.

Malika hadn’t acknowledged that Wanda was in the room with her. She flipped through an old magazine, while Wanda watched Roman sleep. He had succumbed to unconsciousness long before Kamalani and the others left, but he had moments when he would briefly wake, look around in terror, and tremble before losing consciousness again. Wanda hoped that her presence was comforting to him, knowing that he wasn’t alone with the grandmother who was trying to gaslight him into forgetting her part in his shooting.

An hour after Wanda called Melvin, he showed up to the hospital, looking very much like the determined detective he always wanted to be.

“Everyone vacate this room immediately!” he announced, waving the women out with his hands. “This is police business now, and I need the room to collect evidence.”

The last thing Wanda wanted was to go home and try to fit in with the Bellamys and their (mostly) fake grief. While Melvin was with Roman, she decided to visit Elaine and Abe to follow up.

Elaine looked exhausted. Abe sat on the couch in the living room, propped up with pillows, and surrounded by empty glasses of what looked to be water still left on the bottom of the cup. Everyone looked at Wanda with clear apprehension. Once she explained that she was there to see how she could safeguard Abe, and not to spy for the Bellamys, the Helios family seemed to relax. Wanda explained everything from the weird text message that had lured Roman away, to overhearing the plot to kill Abe. If the Helios’ had looked tired and stressed before, this news had multiplied that.

“Can I see him?” Abe asked cautiously. “If you’re there to prevent anything from happening, I’d be safe to see him right?”

It couldn’t hurt. As long as the Bellamys are at home. Otherwise, this is their exact plan to get to Abe.

“I think so,” she answered. “But not for too long. Melvin should be able to keep them busy for a while.”

Wanda grabbed Abe’s hand and teleported them from the house to the hospital. She was accomplished enough to teleport two sims, even one who was pregnant. Abe didn’t know how Ulyssa or Roman handled teleportation. It made him more nauseous than the morning sickness. Wanda had filled her brother in on Abe’s short visit, and sent him on his way to interview the Bellamy family to get statements. He would take as long as he possibly could.

Wanda looked at Abe, who stood spellbound staring at Roman. It had to be upsetting to see Roman like that. She would be devastated if it were Hunter.

“He’s been sleeping a lot, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you when he wakes up,” Wanda explained. Abe looked nervously at his unconscious boyfriend, taking in the evidence remaining of tubes and wires that had been used to keep him alive. He was still so pale, but Abe could see Roman’s chest rising and falling steadily. He really was alive.

Abe sat next to the bed, and reached for Roman’s hand. Roman began to stir.

“Roman? It’s me, Abe.” He rubbed his hand gently, and Roman’s eyes began to open.

“Abe?”

Wanda smiled and went to leave the room.

“I’ll give you some privacy to catch up,” she said, pulling the door closed behind her. “I’ll be in the hall the entire time, so don’t worry.”

As soon as the door closed, Roman weakly pulled Abe onto the bed with him, hugging him as tightly as he could, and then wincing when he did. There was an awkward shuffle of arms and legs, and bending to avoid bruises but eventually Roman was holding Abe in his arms and all was right with the world once more.

“You’re here,” Roman murmured, running his hands all over Abe to confirm it. “I thought you were dying. I thought....” He trailed off so softly, Abe wondered if he’d gone back to sleep. He squeezed Roman’s arm reassuringly.

“I’m here,” he replied. “I’m not going anywhere ever again. Every time I let you out of my sight you end up doing something stupid or reckless. What kind of example are you going to set for our kid if you’re always in some kind of trouble?”

Roman started trembling at this, for reasons Abe didn’t understand.

“I was just teasing you,” he said. “It’s okay. I know you thought I’d lost the baby, Wanda told me everything. Everything is completely fine.”

Roman shook his head groggily. This was important to say, but the painkillers kept dragging him back to sleep.

“They...they want...Helios...shouldn’t...they want....”

Abe brushed the loose hair from out of Roman’s eyes and watched him struggle to get out the words he was desperately trying to say.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “You can tell me later, I’m not going anywhere.”

He shifted to a sitting position and leaned Roman’s unconscious body against him for support. Abe could feel the rising and falling of Roman’s chest against his shoulder. He closed his eyes knowing that Wanda was safely near by to protect them, and for the first time in days, began to relax.

#ts2 #sims 2 #arkhelios #post arkhelios #Abe Chun #Roman Bellamy #wanda hydes

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cowboisadness · 3 years

Text

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 15

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Canon typical violence but we finally get to see some action!!

.....

The parlour wasn’t as busy as I expected. The tables and booths accommodating a few men each, all of them drinking and chatting amongst themselves after a day of hard work. I had a feeling that was soon about to change.

Hosea called out for the attention of the room, introducing himself as Melvin and Arthur, who was behind the bar at this point still looking sour, as his brother.

The whole space erupted into cheers at the mention of free drinks for the next thirty minutes. Every man and his dog now making their way to the bar at the mention of something too good to be true.

“Don’t get him mad, though. His momma made him mad and we buried her. Poor thing.”

I stood beside the bar, welcoming men over with a smile and hoped no one wondered why these strangers are just giving away shine. Not suspicious at all.

Hosea called for the music to continue loud and clear and Arthur began pouring for the punters.

Hosea made his rounds, encouraging them to drink more with his cheery smile and rousing words.

Shot after shot was poured. The reserved chatter now nothing but a memory to be replaced by blaring laughter and men slowly but surely losing their feet.

These folks will regret this by morning, that’s if they even remember what happened but it sure was easy money for us.

“You make this fine shine, Miss?” A man sneaked up beside me at the bar, his words starting to slur.

“It’s our pleasure, sir. Would you like another glass?”

Might as well go along with it “I had a hand in it for sure.” I smiled at him, leaning against the bar with one arm propped up upon it.

“Well, it is mighty kind of you to give it out like this.”

“Hmm, I sure would like a taste. Ain’t nothing better than a workin’ woman that likes to g-get her hands dirty.” He shot a toothy grin and leaned in towards me placing a hand on my arm that was at my side. I shook him off and moved back slightly but he wouldn’t give up, taking a step forward and replacing his hand, this time on my hip trying in his drunken state to pull me towards him.

Grabbing onto his arm I pulled him off, staring straight into his bloodshot eyes.

“I see you have met our dear Alice. Ain’t she something?” Hosea smiled at the man

“Touch me again and that glass will be imbedded into your face,” His brows furrowed in confusion but with the sudden crinkle around his eyes, he took it as a challenge.

Before either of us could say another word, Hosea came up beside us, replacing my hand with his and dropping the man’s arm to his side.

“S-she sure is. She your sister?”

“Sister-in-Law.” Hosea kept his smile but turned his gaze to behind the bar, me and the stranger following his eye-line. The three of us looking towards Arthur, now ceased his pouring and glaring daggers right at our new friend. I felt my cheeks begin to heat up but couldn’t stop the grin from seeing the man's reaction to this new information. His head snapped back to Hosea with a dumbfounded look. Hosea just nodded slowly.

“I’d be careful if I was you. She’s the only one he listens to and she just needs to give the word.” Hosea gave a beaming smile with his threat. Mess with her and you will have a man twice your size and with a willing thirst for violence that would do anything for his wife to deal with.

The drunkard was definitely uneasy on his feet now, his head bowed down with a quiet nod he took himself and his empty glass away from the bar.

Thirty minutes had been and gone, the quietness of the night now upon us but the parlour was as lively as it has probably ever been. Men dancing with each other like lovers weaving through tables and fallen chairs. The piano man with one leg perched upon the stool playing like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. One man passed out at the bar, another on the stairs up to the second level. Laughter and shouts bordering on deafening that you couldn’t hear yourself think. A fight was breaking out on the upper floor, one man being tossed by the other. It was chaos.

The merriment amongst these men was soon halted at the opening of the doors. The men entering with their weapons drawn brought silence. All eyes on them, some putting their hands in the air.

Hosea began speaking from his spot on the stairs looking down at the unwelcome visitors.

“It’s the Lemoyne Raiders.” I heard one man say.

Never heard of them. This another gang we are enemies with? I looked over to Arthur, he ushering me to get behind the bar with him.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Quiet libation?”

“You,” the frontman said, pointing his pistol at Hosea.

“Me?”

“You’re the bastards who stole the liquor we was gonna buy.”

“Gentlemen, we’re in advertising, come on in have a drink.”

“That’s our goddamn liquor!” The man shouted, anger brewing.

“An honest mistake”

“Boys, get ‘em!”

With that everyone began running for cover or an exit. Arthur pulled me down to cover behind the bar, hat and pipe now nowhere to be seen and both his weapons in hand. Telling me to get my gun, stay at his side and shoot if I have too.

I just nodded wildly and fumbled at my side. Bringing the gun up level with my chest with a shaky finger hovering over the trigger and watching ahead of me.

Upstairs was a bombardment of bullets, glass and broken wood. Keeping my gun in front of me ready to pull the trigger if anyone got insight.

Shots ran out between the raiders and Arthur and Hosea. Bottles shattering above the bar and glass raining down as shots thankfully missed their mark.

I realised I had a tightening grip around Arthurs’s leg when he pulled away, pulling me up beside him and over the bar towards the stairs. Keeping me behind him as he shot anyone coming through the door.

He kept me behind him, shielding me from the onslaught, men dropping all around us.

Arthurs steady hand on my back pulls me out of my sudden hesitation, prompting me to climb over and jump down. Landing with a thud in the back of the wagon and my knees throbbing with the hard contact.

“Arthur help!” Hosea calls out from the other side, in battle with another man. I raised my pistol without thinking but before I could think of my aim the man dropped, his head nothing but a spray of blood and tissue.

We made our way towards Hosea who was calling us out to follow. Arthur with his back turned facing the doors now behind us. The doors ahead, beyond the poker table, opened to a man aiming straight at Hosea.

I didn't hesitate, I couldn’t. My body in flight mode but my brain decided on fight. I shot. Two rounds hitting the mark causing him to falter and stagger back. Hosea turned at that, finishing him off with a shot to the head.

Arthur pushed me forward from where I was rooted, urging me to keep moving no matter what.

We make it out onto the balcony, Hosea already down and on the wagon.

Arthur followed right behind me not even pausing before climbing up to the front.

We were maybe a few steps into the safety of the woods when he broke the silence.

Hosea spurred the horses to move as fast as possible to get out of there as more raiders came out of the shadows. Hosea passing me one of the rifles that were at his side.

Arthur didn't hesitate, aiming and taking down three men within seconds like he was in some kind of trance.

My heart was in my throat, trying to steady my breathing as I aimed over the side of the wagon to shoot at those getting closer. Not like I was doing a grand job of it but I was able to hold them off while Arthur finished them off.

They kept coming as we travelled further out of the shitty little town. One bullet hit the few bottles of shine left at my side erupting them into flames. The intense heat meeting my skin had me pushing myself up and away but I was being dragged back too. We couldn’t stop for a moment so I quickly reloaded with whatever ammo I had left in my shirt pocket and started shooting again. A few men falling off their horses at my doing.

It began to quiet, the last few stragglers being dealt with swiftly before we turned off the road. My and Arthur left Hosea to take whatever was left of the liquor back to Mrs Baraithwaite as a peace offering, leaving me and Arthur to walk back to camp through the cover of the trees.

“You alright? Sorry about that whole mess, I shouldn’t have let you come with us.”

“I’m fine. Wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting something to happen, but almost being on fire was a surprise.” I giggled sheepishly. He stopped me then pulling on my arm “Shit i - you sure you’re not hurt?” He checked my arm and down my side, looking for any signs of burns.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’d say if I wasn’t.” I smiled at his concern, looking at him then. His eyes met mine with one of concern but that soon melted away once he realised I was truly okay.

After a few moments, he looked down, his trusty hat now covering his face. His hand still on my arm.

“Good shootin’ by the way.”

“Well, I had a good teacher. Could do with a few more lessons I believe.”

“Give me a time and place darling,” he said as he lifted his gaze from his feet and back to me

I beamed up at him then, seeing something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. I thought back to our last shooting lesson. His hand on me, his breath fanning over the back of my neck. What almost happened as we sat under the shade of the tree. I could feel the relentless wings of the butterflies in my stomach as I looked up at him then, his hand still on me that seemed to burn my skin more than fire.

Might as well take my chance.

“I don’t say it enough but...thank you...for what you have done for me. I don’t know where I would be without you and - you and your kindness means the world to me.” I stood up on my toes then, reaching to place a kiss on his cheek, lingering longer than necessary. My hand now gripping his arm holding me and my free hand coming up to cup his other cheek before letting go.

I was ready to let that be that and to walk back to camp. But the look in his eyes when I didn’t move away had me frozen in place. My breath becoming shallow and my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. Calculating our next move.

My breath hitching as I felt his free hand on my waist.

Then his lips were on mine. Kissing with such hunger that our grip tightening on each other, like we were running out of time. But time was nothing but a distant idea at that moment.

@kashasenpai

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x fem oc #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan

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mojowriterblog · 3 years

Text

The Melvin Plink Incident

Melvin Plink sat with his face frozen in an attentive, respectful posture while the company’s CEO droned on and on, blah blah blah, talking about having to save and reuse paper clips and do away with free coffee or the entire corporation would collapse on itself.

Inside his mind, there was a Salvador Dali painting of an arid, brown and red landscape, and numerous wooden sticks were used to prop up Melvin’s false expression from the inside, and every single piece of wood was trembling with the pressure of maintaining its burden.

Melvin had seen the payroll files. He knew the bloated, over-inflated figure that described this man’s paycheck, nearly as much per month as Melvin himself made in an entire year.

Paperclips, the man was saying … save the paperclips.

To Melvin’s horror, one of the Dali prop sticks holding his facial expression snapped under the pressure. Snapped like a twig, and each of the others thrummed with the vibration of imminent doom. Another broke, and then another.

Some stray signal was sent from a corner of his brain, pulsing down his spinal column and causing his legs to straighten. It was as much a surprise to him as it was to anyone else that he suddenly stood, rudely interrupting the CEO. His hands, working of their own accord, pulled his ugly red and blue striped tie from around his neck.

As the CEO stood looking at him with a quizzical expression, Melvin snapped his tie like he would a towel, smacking the CEO right in the face and knocking off his glasses.

Like in a dream, seen from outside himself, he watched as he recharged his tie for another strike, but horrified co-workers grabbed his arms, man-handling him out of the room, delivered to the uniformed security men as they came trotting up. He heard yelling from the board room, and people shouting at him, but the words had lost meaning … it all sounded like animal noise … and his only desire was to get outside, into fresh air and sunshine.

The uniformed men didn’t speak during the long ride down the elevator. Another joined them in the lobby, holding a cardboard box full of familiar items. Pens, a clock, a small stereo … a box of paper clips. Melvin moved willingly with them out the revolving door and didn’t even mind when they shoved him to the ground. The blue of the sky was so beautiful.

The sunshine, so warm.

#flash fiction #humor #flash

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starfiretheninja · 4 years

Text

BBRae- Shaking Off the Dust

This was originally a piece for the BBRae Zine, but that got cancelled. Regardless, I was proud that I got another piece done for these two and still want to bring it into the world. Enjoy!

Despite being part demon, a creature associated with darkness, Raven had a standard sleep schedule. The headaches induced from staying up too late tended to aggravate her powers and often required a longer meditation session to alleviate. On this particular night, however, the trilogy Raven was close to finishing was simply too much of a cliffhanger to leave until morning. Her extended reading session paid off, as the book ended on a surprisingly non-cliché and satisfactory note and she was only suffering from mild thirst.

Nothing a little tea can’t cure, Raven thought as she stood up, stretching her tense legs.

Leaving the quiet of her room, she noticed a dim light down the hall. Shuffling past Beast Boy’s room, she blinked wearily at the light that peeked out from under his door. Only unintelligible mumbling sounded from inside. Raven shrugged, figuring he was up late playing a tough level of Mega Monkey: Apes Rising on his GameDude console again. He hadn’t done that in some time, but old habits die hard.

With that, Raven continued on her way. Having made it to the kitchen and satisfied her parched throat with warm herbal tea, she came back past Beast Boy’s room. This time, she heard a yelp, followed by the crashing of Beast Boy and what sounded like a stack of comic books hitting the floor.

Raven sighed. She couldn’t let that go uninvestigated. At the very least, she felt she had to know if Beast Boy had managed to break a toe tripping over his massive collection of nerdy treasures again.

Opening the door, she spied Beast Boy rubbing his face. Around him were his possessions, pulled from his closet and tossed around the room in what, to her eyes, was a haphazard mess. The garbage can in the corner was stuffed well past the brim with dolls—action figures, as he insisted—that Raven was certain he had had since the Tower was first built. Beast Boy caught sight of her. Surprised, then sheepish, he attempted to stand amidst the scattered pile surrounding him.

“Care to explain what you’re up to on this once peaceful night?” she inquired as he morphed into a hummingbird, flitted over the pile, and returned to his human form right in front of her.

“I’m, uh, cleaning up a bit,” he said, clearing his throat.

“If by ‘cleaning’ you mean ‘purging your room of all of your cherished comics and collectibles’.”

“If you’d like to help, then it would get done quicker. Heck, you could pick it all up with your powers.” He gestured towards the remaining work. Raven didn’t take the bait.

“I’d rather not be partially responsible for the post-cleaning regret you could have.” She took a pointed look at his belongings, as if to emphasize just how much he was suggesting tossing out.

“Aw come on, Raven.” He picked up a random comic by his feet and waved it. “Do you really think I’ll miss Goo Goblins #37? I think I’ve moved on past that one.”

Raven shrugged in slight agreement. The admittedly campy-looking comic was certainly goofy enough to make a seventeen-year-old question if he was engaging in appropriate level material. Still, Beast Boy was always one to cling to childish endeavors.

“If you insist,” is all she could comment. If he was truly ready for such an adjustment, she wouldn’t be the one to stop him.

Grinning satisfactorily, Beast Boy took to scooping up his disheveled comics and setting them in lumps just outside his room. Raven stepped further into his room to allow him through the open door.

“I’ll just set these out here for now. Then I can get them into boxes and maybe even pass them out to some kids at their schools. I know a few Dirty Dan fans who would kill for some of these issues,” Beast Boy thought out loud, already beaming at the thought of making a kid’s day.

“Just as long as their parents don’t object,” Raven snarked, hoping that Dirty Dan wasn’t about a kid who refused to take a bath. The last thing Robin would want was a surge of complaints from parents claiming they were bad influences on the youth.

Watching Beast Boy’s slow progress, Raven’s curiosity got the better of her and she leaned down to investigate what kind of reading Beast Boy had invested himself in for all of these years. There were plenty of brightly colored covers of fictional superhero groups. Why these were written when literal superheroes saved the world was beyond her. Beneath that was a handful of light horror, with cartoonish monsters chasing hapless teenage victims. Perfect for a demographic who hadn’t witnessed literal demons in their lifetime. Next was . . .

Raising it up for a closer look, it dawned on her just what she was holding.

“Wait, is this-?”

“Crud! My bad!” Beast Boy rushed over to carefully take the book from her hands. “This must have been mixed with my Deranged Daredevils collection. I wasn’t going to throw this one out, promise.”

Beast Boy reached over her to place the book on the singular chair in the room. So far, the supposed ‘safe’ pile consisted of childhood classics, Insect Care for Dummies, 1001 Drop Dead Puns, and a few wildlife encyclopedias. The newest addition was gifted to Beast Boy by Raven for his first birthday after the team had formed. Back then, she hardly knew him, but didn’t want to deny him the joy of receiving a gift from someone he always reached out to. So, she decided on something that could either come across as a gag gift or a genuine appeal to his interests, despite her complete uncertainty on whether or not he would appreciate it.

When he ripped open the packaging and read the title, The Essential Calvin and Hobbes, he lit up.

“Oh, cool! I’ve read some of these before! I don’t know half the words that come out of the kid’s mouth, but the tiger is pretty cool! Thanks, Raven.” He gave her a classic toothy smile and Raven was admittedly relieved that he didn’t reject the gift or feel any disappointment.

That was years ago, though. Was he still so attached to that particular book? Raven had given him far more personal gifts since getting to know him on a more familiar level.

“Why is that one an exception?” she posed the question as he squatted next to the pile she was looking through.

“Hmm?” Beast Boy looked back for clarification, and a light bulb went off.

“Oh! That’s easy. Because you gave it to me. You probably knew I wouldn’t get half the jokes, but you took a chance anyway. Maybe I’d get it eventually, you know?” His voice trailed off at that last statement.

There it was. Something truly was nagging at him, then. That something had pushed him to embark on a spontaneous cleaning spree to either distract or remedy. While Beast Boy was, oddly enough, the toughest one on the team for her to read empathetically, he was normally easy to understand by his actions alone. However, she had noticed a pattern with him over the years. He was the best at wearing a mask. Robin attempted to remain stoic, but one could still tell what he was feeling. Beast Boy, on the other hand, played pretend. Concealing aggravation and hurt with a stream of jokes was his fallback. This left him with buried sadness, which was never good for the long-term psyche.

Considering how to approach the situation, Raven supposed prodding him a bit would perhaps bring more clarity as to the cause of his distress.

“Hmm. I figured your vocabulary would expand.”

“When, though?” Beast Boy let slip out. He asked so sullenly, the way that a child would when they were seeking approval. Raven recognized this tone from her time spent with Melvin as she began her early teen years. The girl wanted more independence, but a part of her still sought to know that Raven was proud of her in everything that she did.

Upon realizing his slip-up, Beast Boy’s eyes darted around the room. He nabbed a toy from the pile before him and held it up.

“Does this one bring back memories or what?” he chuckled, beaming a large smile. It was the singing monkey with the cymbals that sounded while Raven’s manifested fear chased the Titans throughout the Tower.

Raven sighed softly. That was a poor diversion and he knew it.

“Beast Boy, why are you doing this?” she queried, gesturing around the room. “This ‘spring cleaning’ is too out of character to come out of nowhere.”

“Can’t a guy want a little more walking room?”

“Not when it involves pretending that nothing’s wrong.”

Raven’s eyes met his. He held contact for mere moments before the façade cracked.

Beast Boy’s false smile slowly dropped. He knew he shouldn’t be hiding from her. Raven was one of his best friends, after all.

“’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, looking away.

“It is if it’s bothering you,” she responded, gently touching his shoulder to get his attention. Beast Boy turned back to her, setting the monkey down.

How would he start?

“It’s kind of complicated.”

Raven had the time for him.

“Then start from the beginning.”

With that, Beast Boy sat back, leaning his cheek on a propped-up knee. Raven lowered herself into a crisscross, fully facing him. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts, memories reflecting clearly in his eyes.

“Back, ah, with the Doom Patrol, I was just a kid when Mento started training me. He saw that my powers could be controlled and used for the greater good. And I wanted to be a hero! I wanted to help others. But I wasn’t used to getting shot at or transforming so much I passed out. It was rough for a while. And I messed up. A lot.

“Mento never let me forget any of the mistakes I made, even long after I learned from them. Sometimes, it took longer than it should have to learn, but I eventually got it. But that wasn’t good enough for him. It was for Rita, but Mento was the one in charge, so there was never an end to it.”

Beast Boy exhaled, stopping for a moment to likely push away memories that were crawling out of unpleasant depths of his subconscious.

“And that’s part of why you left?” Raven prompted.

“That was a big part of it. Just one day decided that I had enough, and I thought I could grow stronger if I became the sidekick of someone who could actually help me build on when I did something right. And when I met you guys, things were finally different, and everyone could rely on me in a fight. That felt good and I thought that maybe I wasn’t a total screw up after all. But today, with the mission I just- I messed up really bad and I knew what I did wrong right as it was happening.”

Oh.

Raven and Starfire had split off from the boys to tend to another emergency and didn’t hear back from them until after their mission was complete. Robin had seemed somewhat frazzled, but otherwise they had been successful as well. She hadn’t heard about any particular difficulties on their end.

Beast Boy continued on, his frustrations spilling out at this point.

“I mean, Robin and Cyborg were able to fix it, but Mumbo almost got away. We had him, but I slipped up and he did a lot more damage before we nabbed him again. That’s the kind of dumb mistake I made when I was just a kid, except back then, people died.” He nearly choked on his last words.

Raven’s thoughtful expression instantly morphed into a mixture between solemnity and shock. She had no idea he carried such a weight.

“Beast Boy . . .”

He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes unfocused and unwilling to meet hers.

“Do you ever just . . . get frustrated that you haven’t changed at all? Sometimes I still feel like the kid that can’t follow an order without screwing something up. I’m trying to get better at my job, but that’s not enough when lives are in danger,” he agonized, reaching up to grip his hair in his fist.

His emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. Beast Boy was so used to holding these demons in that he didn’t know how to handle them when they reared their ugly heads. And he hated himself for dumping his worries on Raven. She didn’t need to be dragged into his problems; he should be able to handle them on his own by now.

However, one fact that Beast Boy forgot was that Raven was a healer. She knew that part of the healing process included recognizing the hurt so one could fully recover.

“Beast Boy, you’re right to feel frustrated over this.” Raven began gently, so as to properly acknowledge his despair. “But you have grown up through the years that I’ve known you.”

“Today might prove you wrong,” he sighed defeatedly.

“One bad day doesn’t always indicate a pattern. Failing to react well under pressure happens to even the most disciplined of people.”

“Does it happen to you?”

Raven blinked. Where did that come from?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always so in control and know what to do. I just don’t know if I can ever be as level-headed as you are.” Truthfully, though he complained about her supposed standoffishness when they first met, Beast Boy always admired her ability to remain calm. She could be cranky at times, but Raven was the Titan to turn to when you needed sage-like wisdom and a calming presence.

“. . . Not always.”

Beast Boy paused. He met her earnest and somewhat hesitant eyes. Where did that come from?

Raven pressed her lips tightly together, then, ever so slowly, began to speak.

“Sometimes . . . I think that I’m still as much of an isolated shut-in as when the team formed. You guys understand my snark, but I still go too far at times and I can tell the others don’t want to tell me that I hurt their feelings. We all struggle with insecurity, Beast Boy, no matter how well we hide it.”

Beast Boy leaned toward her, resting a hand in the space between them.

“You’ve grown so much though, Raven. I’ve noticed how much more you smile nowadays, and you actually talk to us about what you’re thinking about. I don’t think you would have been caught dead in my room like this when we first met,” he cracked a small smile, realizing just how intimate their situation was.

Raven relaxed, quietly grateful that the Beast Boy she knew was reemerging.

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

Now it was her turn.

“But the same goes for you. You take initiative when it’s called for and frankly, some of your strategies are the reason we make it through rougher battles.”

“Name one time,” Beast Boy held up a finger, still not entirely convinced.

“The initial charge against the Brotherhood. Morphing into a jellyfish to filter Scarecrow’s fear gas. Disabling that bomb as a cockroach so you wouldn’t be detected or incinerated,” Raven listed off confidently.

Beast Boy looked down, pondering her words. His shoulders relaxed and a soft smile slowly crept up onto his cheeks.

“Huh. I guess that was pretty mature of me,” he chuckled.

“You know,” she started, peering her head down to catch his eyes once more. “If you’re so worried about making mistakes, maybe talk to Robin about changing your training routine. Having variety might help your ability to react appropriately to any situation.”

“Yeah. That’d probably be a good place to start.”

“Also,” she began, gesturing to the mess around them. “Growing up doesn’t mean getting rid of your childhood joys. It just means you step up without being asked to.”

“I suppose you’re right. But I’ve been meaning to clean up for a while. Kind of hard to stay focused with so much clutter in your room.”

“Maybe leave it until you get a good night’s sleep,” she suggested.

“Eventually, but first there’s something I want to try.”

“And that would be . . .?”

Beast Boy reached back and grabbed the treasure that had sparked their night of revelations.

“Giving this book a try.” He waved the Calvin and Hobbes compilation before her. “You’ve granted me so much wisdom just now, I must have aged a few decades mentally. That is, if you’re not too tired.”

His hopeful expression was too much to pass up, especially at a time when he had opened up so much to her. It was out of character, but Raven was willing to give it a shot.

“I think I’m up for a little humor.”

Beast Boy mock grabbed his heart.

“Such an anomaly only comes once every other blood moon, so I’ll have to cherish you discovering your sense of humor.”

“The anomaly will pass faster the longer you talk about it.”

“Got it.”

They sat on the floor together, each holding one end of the book. Page by page, Beast Boy laughed outwardly at Calvin’s incessantly precocious dialogue. His eyes lit up as he brushed Raven’s shoulder, giddy to share the joke with her. Raven, in return, chuckled at Hobbes’ playful antics and allowed Beast Boy to see her rare carefree expressions.

What happened next truly made their night. The punchline was perfectly worded and timed for the both of them and they shared a singular moment of genuine laughter. Raven’s only a brief chortle and Beast Boy’s a lengthier guffaw, but the laughter of two friends nonetheless.

Raven could have denied the moment and blamed her increasingly delirious state. But she wasn’t about to deny Beast Boy the rare opportunity to have made her laugh. After all, sharing this moment with him was the best feeling she had all day.

#bbrae #beast boy #raven #teen titans #fanfic #i write

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jwoodarts · 4 years

Text

Response #3

After reading “Projection: Vanishing and Becoming” written by Sean Cubitt, Cubitt argues that light and projection was the first art medium to be used. In the article he says “ The world we see is but a reflection of a reality that escapes its reflections. . .”* In multiple mediums of art we primarily use reflections to depict what image or story we may want to share. By implementing reflections we can start to imply time. By twisting or projecting exactly what we see onto any medium of art, that implied time and be fused with motion. The motion that is then wanting to be center of attention relies on light. The origin of what medium was used first are different between the Tibetan and Buddhism. Cubitt claims that “The Tibetan myth of origin includes color where the Greek omits it. . . the Buddhist version is about reflection and concerns the whole figure, not just its outline”... also “The Buddhist version does not distinguish line and color.”* Regardless of which myth came first, both the Tibetan and Buddhism myth still revolve around the idea of using light and reflection. Colors use different tones to represent different levels of light, and in order for anyone to mix the levels of light there would need to be a refection of sorts to reference from.

Before videos were invented artists wanted to capture the moments, and as time went on, we have found a way to capture multiple moments to be a reflection of what they might have seen right at the moment. Videos allowed us to manipulate implied time and be able to share art through light, sound, and reflections all in one go.

* https://www.academia.edu/574423/Projection_vanishing_and_becoming

Examples:

1)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8yzt5AmpJU

( I love metal and Batman. I came across this YouTube channel ArhyBES and they mashed up a few of my favorites. This video is a time laps of them creating Nightwing and just watching it makes me give a lot of props to a lot of animators because I never think unless I am watching a behind the scenes of how long it takes to create a few seconds of work.) The animation videos are Batmetal.

2)http://daviddelossan.com/timelapse/

( Artist, David de los Santos does time lapse of different landscapes and flowers. His work was used in the National Geographic YouTube page. The work was a time lapse of different flowers blooming.) I chose to share his website to where it has all of his completed lapsed videos, and I liked the video titled “ 5 days in Norway.”)

3) https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/nauman-mapping-the-studio-ii-with-color-shift-flip-flop-flip-flop-fat-chance-john-cage-t11893

(Artist Bruce Nauman created “Mapping The Studio II”. Nauman had a mice problem in his summer home and didn’t know how to handle it. The mice kept coming in to the point that his cat didn’t want anything to do with them. With his frustration, he set up a camera in different spots of the home to see what the mice did at night when no one was watching.)

4)https://empac.rpi.edu/event-types/filmvideo?q=event-types/filmvideo&page=7

(Artist Melvin Moti created “The Vision Machine”. It is a kinetic light sculpture that produces a 20-minute film based on the behavior of light in prisms.)

5)https://empac.rpi.edu/event-types/filmvideo?page=6

(Artist Rosa Barba created White Museum at The Hirsch Observatory, 2014, 70mm film installation.)

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thevioletjones · 4 years

Note

That 100k hits tropes prompt sure makes a person want to slap together some absolutely WILD combinations.....however, I would like to present you with a relatively tame #67: time travel and #39: accidental eavesdropping. (PS--congrats!)

Thanks! What I came up with for this one is a little weird, and may not be at all what you had in mind, lmao, but anyway…. Rather than do a time travel scenario pertaining to IxM’s lives, I decided on them traveling to a historical event, and I also made the “eavesdropping” bigger and more purposeful. Lol. Hope you like it anyway! Shout out to @grumblesandmumbles for the time period/gangster idea.

July 22, 1934, Lincoln Park, Chicago, IL

“This was such a dumb idea, Mickey. There are feds everywhere!”

“Yeah, and they’re all busy tryin’ to nab literal Public Enemy Number One, so what’re you so worried about?”

“Um, I’m worried about the fucking time machine in the alleyway five blocks away, and how we’re gonna get near the fuckin’ theater since it’s surrounded by G-Men anyhow.”

“You read the damn biography, Gallagher. You know they set up a shit perimeter full of innocent bystanders. Coppers didn’t know what the hell they were doin’ back then.”

“You mean back now.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Whatever. This is gonna be so fuckin’ cool.”

Ian’s face scrunched up. “Your murder boner kinda disturbs me sometimes, you know that?”

“Well, you followed my murder boner all the way to the 1930s, so maybe you shoulda protested sooner.”

Ian flicked him in the ear as they kept walking. The Biograph Theater was only a little over a block up to the left now.

“There’s gotta be a spot we can stake out and see it all.”

Mickey scoured both sides of the street as they approached. They still had almost two hours to kill before anything would go down, but surely the rooftops would be occupied by some kind of rudimentary version of a SWAT team, right? Procedural details were always hard to pinpoint when it came to the past, and neither Ian, nor Mickey were exactly scholars with expertise on historical criminal law enforcement. Still, they’d never trust a man in uniform. Not after all the shit they’d seen and dealt with growing up where they did. Back in Future Chicago where the Depression was over in name, but might as well still exist for them and theirs.

Ian caught sight of an apartment building sort of catty-cornered from the theater that had balconies cut out from the brick. He nudged Mickey and motioned toward the building with his head.

“One of those balconies would be perfect. As long as we don’t get hit by a ricochet. Could be dangerous.”

“Dude, we found out we can’t change the past. We woulda known if someone in that building caught a deadly bullet, right?”

Ian shrugged. “I guess, but we’re still new at this shit. Anything could happen. I don’t wanna be stuck dragging your corpse back to the future.”

“Settle down, McFly, we’ll be fuckin’ fine. I could break into one of these places easy. Shit, it’s the 30s, people probly leave everything unlocked anyway.”

“If I’m McFly, you’re Biff, asshole. And we’re not breaking into shit. If someone calls the cops, they’re literally right at the doorstep. I’m not getting fucking arrested in 1934.”

“Why not?” Mickey asked amusedly. “Could be fun to break out. Dillinger and Baby Face did that shit not long ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just go watch your fuckin’ hero get shot up without the incarceration part. I got an idea.”

Ian’s idea involved knocking on doors near the front side of the building until he was greeted by a little old lady, to whom he then spun a yarn about how he used to be sweethearts with a girl who lived in the building, and how he came back for her, but she doesn’t live there anymore, and did she know the young lady? And it was a good thing they’d procured some era-appropriate clothes and props, because suddenly, there were Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich, sipping tea and sharing a piece of bread and butter in the kitchen of some random lady born in the middle of the 1800s, listening to her tales, which were frankly way more boring than you’d expect given the space and time traveled.

As the clock neared the hour they knew shit was about to go down, Ian slyly requested permission to take the air on the balcony and have a cigarette with his friend, Mick, if it wasn’t too much trouble, and then they’d be on their way. She agreed, and his boyfriend giddily made his way outside with Ian at his heels.

“Jesus, firecrotch, cuttin’ it close with that old windbag.”

“Whatever, I got you a front row murder seat, baby. I deserve a reward.”

“Oh, you’ll get your reward later, big boy.”

They pushed each other around good-naturedly and Mickey pulled out a fake silver cigarette case and a box of matches. They had a perfect view of the street in front of the cinema where Manhattan Melodrama was displayed across the marquee.

“Can’t believe we’re about to witness this shit,” Mickey continued as he lit his smoke. “So badass.”

“Whatever,” said Ian, snatching the cig, “I still say we shoulda gone to the 1860s if we were gonna do the assassination rubbernecking. Seeing Lincoln get shot would be a million times more significant.”

“No way we woulda gotten into a fuckin’ play with the President, man, not even back then. This is way easier, and way cooler. This dude is one of the most notorious gangsters of all time, and we get to see him eat lead.”

Mickey positively radiated excitement, and now Ian really was really concerned.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever agreed to do with you.”

“Ain’t my problem,” Mickey groused, snatching back the cigarette.

Suddenly, there was activity across the street. The movie was letting out.

“Oh shit,” said Ian.

“This is it,” said Mickey.

Within a few minutes time, all hell broke loose. There was scuffling, yelling, screaming, and suddenly gunfire. Like a lot of it. Everyone was ducking and running, but they could clearly see John Dillinger followed by Melvin Purvis and the other feds, and the way the infamous fugitive’s body dropped to the floor as the shots still rang out around them.

They’d traveled all this way, and it was over in seconds.

Ian kinda grimaced, but Mickey… Mickey looked almost gleeful. It was a little frightening to Ian that he was so in love with someone with that true tinge of a psychotic edge.

“Holy shit!” Mickey exclaimed. “People really are swarming him to get blood samples.”

And to Ian’s total horror, Mickey took off on a tear out of the apartment, just as the little old lady ran toward the balcony.

“What on earth happened? What’s going on?”

“Oh, well, it looks like the police shot a man outside.”

She gasped and hustled toward the railing. As they watched the scene below, Ian eventually saw Mickey emerge from the large crowd to wave a scarlet-soaked handkerchief at him, then take off down the street toward the park.

“Shit,” said Ian. “I’m sorry, ma’am but I’ve gotta go. Thank you for the hospitality.”

She nodded in confusion and stuttered a goodbye, then Ian went after his batshit boyfriend. At this rate, he’d have to stop him before he tried to join up with what was left of the Dillinger gang before the rest of them got shot up later on in the year. He’d probably try to make himself the kingpin of the remaining operation.

“Crazy motherfucker,” Ian muttered as he took off running.

#ficlet #trope challenge #ian x mickey #gallavich

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petrashappyplace · 4 years

Text

RIOT

By Gwendolyn Brooks

A Poem in Three Parts A riot is the language of the unheard. —Martin Luther King, Jr. John Cabot, out of Wilma, once a Wycliffe, all whitebluerose below his golden hair, wrapped richly in right linen and right wool, almost forgot his Jaguar and Lake Bluff; almost forgot Grandtully (which is The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Scotch); almost forgot the sculpture at the Richard Gray and Distelheim; the kidney pie at Maxim’s, the Grenadine de Boeuf at Maison Henri.

Because the “Negroes” were coming down the street.

Because the Poor were sweaty and unpretty (not like Two Dainty Negroes in Winnetka) and they were coming toward him in rough ranks. In seas. In windsweep. They were black and loud. And not detainable. And not discreet.

Gross. Gross. “Que tu es grossier!” John Cabot itched instantly beneath the nourished white that told his story of glory to the World. “Don’t let It touch me! the blackness! Lord!” he whispered to any handy angel in the sky.

But, in a thrilling announcement, on It drove and breathed on him: and touched him. In that breath the fume of pig foot, chitterling and cheap chili, malign, mocked John. And, in terrific touch, old averted doubt jerked forward decently, cried, “Cabot! John! You are a desperate man, and the desperate die expensively today.”

John Cabot went down in the smoke and fire and broken glass and blood, and he cried “Lord! Forgive these nigguhs that know not what they do.” THE THIRD SERMON ON THE WARPLAND Phoenix “In Egyptian mythology, a bird which lived for five hundred years and then consumed itself in fire, rising renewed from the ashes.” —webster The earth is a beautiful place. Watermirrors and things to be reflected. Goldenrod across the little lagoon. The Black Philosopher says “Our chains are in the keep of the Keeper in a labeled cabinet on the second shelf by the cookies, sonatas, the arabesques. . . . There’s a rattle, sometimes. You do not hear it who mind only cookies and crunch them. You do not hear the remarkable music—‘A Death Song For You Before You Die.’ If you could hear it you would make music too. The blackblues.” West Madison Street. In “Jessie’s Kitchen” nobody’s eating Jessie’s Perfect Food. Crazy flowers cry up across the sky, spreading and hissing This is it. The young men run. They will not steal Bing Crosby but will steal Melvin Van Peebles who made Lillie a thing of Zampoughi a thing of red wiggles and trebles (and I know there are twenty wire stalks sticking out of her head as her underfed haunches jerk jazz.) A clean riot is not one in which little rioters long-stomped, long-straddled, BEANLESS but knowing no Why go steal in hell a radio, sit to hear James Brown and Mingus, Young-Holt, Coleman, John on V.O.N. and sun themselves in Sin. However, what is going on is going on. Fire. That is their way of lighting candles in the darkness. A White Philosopher said ‘It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness.’ These candles curse— inverting the deeps of the darkness. GUARD HERE, GUNS LOADED. The young men run. The children in ritual chatter scatter upon their Own and old geography. The Law comes sirening across the town. A woman is dead. Motherwoman. She lies among the boxes (that held the haughty hats, the Polish sausages) in newish, thorough, firm virginity as rich as fudge is if you’ve had five pieces. Not again shall she partake of steak on Christmas mornings, nor of nighttime chicken and wine at Val Gray Ward’s nor say of Mr. Beetley, Exit Jones, Junk Smith nor neat New-baby Williams (man-to-many) “He treat me right.” That was a gut gal. “We’ll do an us!” yells Yancey, a twittering twelve. “Instead of your deathintheafternoon, kill ’em, bull! kill ’em, bull!” The Black Philosopher blares “I tell you, exhaustive black integrity would assure a blackless Amrica. . . .” Nine die, Sun-Times will tell and will tell too in small black-bordered oblongs “Rumor? check it at 744-4111.” A Poem to Peanut. “Coooooool!” purrs Peanut. Peanut is Richard—a Ranger and a gentleman. A Signature. A Herald. And a Span. This Peanut will not let his men explode. And Rico will not. Neither will Sengali. Nor Bop nor Jeff, Geronimo nor Lover. These merely peer and purr, and pass the Passion over. The Disciples stir and thousandfold confer with ranging Rangermen; mutual in their “Yeah!— this AIN’T all upinheah!” “But WHY do These People offend themselves?” say they who say also “It’s time. It’s time to help These People.” Lies are told and legends made. Phoenix rises unafraid. The Black Philosopher will remember: “There they came to life and exulted, the hurt mute. Then is was over. The dust, as they say, settled.” AN ASPECT OF LOVE, ALIVE IN THE ICE AND FIRE

LaBohem Brown In a package of minutes there is this We. How beautiful. Merry foreigners in our morning, we laugh, we touch each other, are responsible props and posts. A physical light is in the room. Because the world is at the window we cannot wonder very long. You rise. Although genial, you are in yourself again. I observe your direct and respectable stride. You are direct and self-accepting as a lion in Afrikan velvet. You are level, lean, remote. There is a moment in Camaraderie when interruption is not to be understood. I cannot bear an interruption. This is the shining joy; the time of not-to-end. On the street we smile. We go in different directions down the imperturbable street.

#RIOT #Gwendolyn Brooks #poetry #words #bbp #black lives matter #blm

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gaycrouton · 5 years

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Please please please because you are so good at smut and also at Msr humorous exchanges write the prompt #34 “During 'Three of a Kind' drugged Scully thinks she is a stripper dressed as an FBI agent. The Gunmen keep her from stripping by telling her the bachelor of honor hasn't arrived yet. Mulder then arrives, and they leave him to deal with a stripping Scully” if I have to beg let me know I’ll do it!! You are my favorite writer on here! Thank you for existing 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

DEAR ANON, thank you so so much for your kind words! You’re too kind! ALSO, I apologize this literally took me like eight months to answer. I hope you’re still here.

This was in response to the @xfpornbattle ‘s battle in December I think? I wrote a different “Three of a Kind” story then, so I tried to make this one as different as I could. Here’s a link to the other story, but I hope I did this justice you kind kind anon! Illicit Desires Link Here

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“I don’ wanna wear this costume anymore,” she pouted with a playful lilt, smiling after successfully undoing the third button of her shirt after twenty minutes of struggling.

A chorus of ‘No’s and ‘Jesus Christ’s erupted from the three men before Byers grabbed her hands and gently dragged them away from herself. “Scully,” he stated like an angry parent. “Stop trying to take off your clothes.”

“But isn’t this wha’ you want?” she teased, leaning forward to kiss Beyers who let go of her like she was on fire.

“He’s going to kill us. Simple as that. Mulder is going to get here and murder each and every one of us,” Beyers moaned, rubbing his hands over his face as Scully giggled and fumbled with her fourth button.

Byers had ended up calling Mulder shortly after they lured Scully here, he just was too afraid of what the redheaded agent’s reaction would be that he felt it imperative that Mulder come to act as a barrier. He could tell Scully was beginning to tolerate, maybe he could even dare to say like, them, but he knew for a fact she wouldn’t blow up on them as much if Mulder was here to talk her down.

But that was before she was drugged.

Now not only did they have to deal with a drugged up Special Agent Dana Scully whom seemed to think her work attire was an outfit for a strip tease, who undoubtedly would tell them all off in the morning, but Mulder was due any time now. However mad Scully would be about her situation was eclipsed by the hellfire her short tempered partner was sure to enact on them when he saw the state she was in.

“I thought the shot would counteract the anoitic effect or whatever,” Langley stated while they all watched Scully struggle to pull herself upright on the bed.

“That’s what Suzanne said,” Beyers exclaimed as she continued struggling with the button that would turn a disheveled appearance into an indecent one.

“Where is she anyway? I think a feminine influence would be better for this type of situation,” Frohike asked nervously, trying to avoid gawking at Scully.

“Oh no, I broke it!” Scully whined from the bed, holding the button out for Beyers to take from her.

“Scully, please,” he pled, taking it from her as she used his arm as leverage to stand up.

“But issa party!” she proclaimed with a giggle.

“Scully, scully,” Langley repeated, trying to get her attention and ended up inadvertently holding her in his arms, careening his head away from her attempt to snuggle him. “You have to wait to take off any of your clothes until the guest of honor gets here, okay?”

“What are you-” Beyers started, stopping short as Langley shot him a look.

“Who’s that?” Scully asked, kicking off her shoes haphazardly.

“Your partner, Fox Mulder. Tall, broody, and comley,” he told her.

“Oh Muldey!” she exclaimed with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, do you know who he is?” Langley asked slowly.

“He’s my favorite person in the whole wide world,” she confessed dramatically.

“You’re his favorite too, which is why you need to stay dressed okay? When he gets here you can strip as much as you want,” Langely replied, trying to direct her to sit down with no avail.

“Langley!” Beyers chastised. Last he’d heard, Mulder still hadn’t made any sort of move on Scully nor her on him.

“What? Like he’d care,” Langely replied, watching as Scully slipped out of his grasp.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly before focusing on Frohike who was sitting in a chair trying to track the data they’d gotten. She took a few lazy steps towards him until she was close enough to sit on his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. “But can we have some fun before he comes?” she asked, hugging Frohike’s head against her breasts.

“What the fuck is going on?” an angry voice shouted from the entryway. They all turned in time to see one fuming Fox Mulder standing in front of Suzanne.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was your friend,” Suzanne apologized as she walked behind Mulder’s thunderous footsteps.

“He is,” the three replied in unison.

“Muldey, you’re here!” Scully beamed from her seat on Frohike. Her enthusiasm caused Mulder to falter and shoot Frohike a look of pure confusion. They all stayed still in rigid anticipation of what was to happen next. Scully, oblivious to it all, raised her hands towards Mulder and exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

“What the hell did you guys do to her?” he asked, taking one of her hands in his own and helping her off of Melvin’s lap and into his arms.

“She was drugged,” Frohike responded, trying to conceal his blush.

“She was what?” Mulder exclaimed, jumping in surprise when she leaned up to press a kiss to his throat.

“It’s a long story,” Beyers sighed. “But she was given an anecdote, so it should wear off relatively soon,” he explained.

“I missed you sooooooo much,” Scully whined, drawing his attention away from the three men and back to the petite redhead swaying in his arms.

“I missed you too,” Mulder reassured quietly, moving his hands to stabilize her before looking back at Beyers. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Suzanne spoke up. “The drug will wear off relatively soon, she just needs to sleep it off. Anoitic histamine impedes higher brain functions. It promotes suggestibility which is why she’s acting different.”

“Different? She seems completely out of it!” Mulder exclaimed, trying to keep his voice neutral for Scully, but his worry permeating through nonetheless.

“Anoitic histamine is often used for mind control. Brain washing,” Suzanne explained.

Scully giggled and held tighter onto Mulder, burying her face in his chest which he acknowledged but only seemed to get more anxious about. “And why the hell was someone trying to get her in this state?” Mulder seethed.

“Well not everyone who is inflicted turns into a bimbo,” Frohike responded. “It’s not what you’re probably thinking.”

“What did you just say?” Mulder barked, turning around with Scully attached to him.

“Oh no, Muldey’s mad,” Scully proclaimed with a mock expression of anger that was too cute to be in anyway intimidating.

Mulder let out a frustrated sigh before putting a hand on her back to get her attention. “No-no I’m not mad, Scully. I’m just worried about you,” he mumbled sweetly, obviously only wanting her to hear that, but the room was too small for it not to be broadcast to everyone else.

“What Melvin meant was that whoever did this didn’t mean for her to get in this state to take advantage of her. They probably wanted to get her in this state so she would be too airheaded, sorry,” he added at Mulder’s glare, “-to finish the autopsy.”

“Autopsy?” Mulder repeated.

“Wait, you mean-?” Frohie said at the same time.

“Yeah. I don’t think she was jet lagged like Langley thought. I think they injected her sometime around then so she couldn’t determine cause of death.”

“Beeeeeeeeep,” Scully exclaimed from her position on Mulder’s chest.

Mulder let out an aggravated huff as he figured out his next move. “Listen,” he demanded, looking at Beyers. “I want to know everything that went on, but taking care of her is my first-” he got distracted as he looked down and saw Scully unbuttoning his shirt. He reached up and grabbed her hand, halting her motions, much to her dismay. “-my first priority. She will be okay right? This is only temporary?” he asked.

“She just needs to sleep,” Beyers nodded.

“Not that that’ll be happening anytime soon,” Langley joked.

“Do I need to do anything?” Mulder asked, trying to back away from Scully who was still trying to undo his shirt.

“I’d just make sure she didn’t escape to the bar downstairs. There’s a line of men dying for her to come back,” Frohike said severely.

“What-” Mulder started defensively before getting distracted by Scully’s hands on his face. “Wh-what do you need, Scully?” he asked in a much gentler tone, giving her his full attention.

“I don’ wanna wear this anymore,” she whined, pulling at her shirt.

Mulder’s gaze followed down to her partially-exposed breasts before shooting back up. “Oh yeah,” Langley added. “She thinks she’s a stripper for some reason.”

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, grabbing her hands in his own again to prevent her from taking off a fifth button.

“Long story, but she’s been excited to see you,” Langley responded, holding in a laugh as Mulder turned red as Scully loudly proclaimed words of affection at him.

“You’re so han’some Muldey. I missed you so much. I’m so glad y-you’re here. Can we go han’ out?” she rambled, swaying back in forth in what looked to be an attempt to get Mulder to dance with her.

“O-okay, Scully. We’ll go,” he reassured, wrapping an arm around her middle and walking her to the door.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Mulder said severely, walking out the door Suzanne was propping open for them.

“Good luck,” Langley shouted out as the door closed before turning to the remaining people in the room and stating, “He has no idea what he’s in for.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Scully, please,” he begged for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d entered his room all but five minutes ago.

“Aw come on Muldey, I jus’ wanna have some fun with you,” she cooed, tantalizingly swaying her hips side to side like a drunken metronome.

For some damn reason, she was under the impression she needed to give him a striptease. He’d tried unsuccessfully in the elevator to button her shirt back up, but one of the buttons was missing and she’d just kept pushing her chest out so that his fingers would end up grazing her breasts.

Now that they were in his hotel room, she was insatiable.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed she’d pushed him on and was watching with fascinated anxiety as she continued unbuttoning, more accurately - ripping, her blouse. Scully didn’t wear undershirts. Noted. Each undone button deepened the ivory line that was as dangerous as it was tantalizing, the only break was a thin black strip in between the valley of her breasts.

It was a Catch 22, if he got up to stop her, she’d be all over him, but if he sat here and watched her, he felt like he was taking advantage of her. He was going to have to ask Frohike what exactly happened in the hotel lobby, because when he tried to ignore her, she’d threaten to go down there. Short of trying her to the bedm which he was not going to do, he was at a loss.

“Scully, can we watch a movie or something?” he asked as she ungracefully pulled her shirt out of her skirt to gain access to the remaining buttons.

She shushed him before taking a few stumbling steps towards him, now making her close enough for her perfume to waft towards him. When she’d pushed him on the bed earlier ‘to get a front row seat’, he immediately grabbed a pillow and kept it on his lap the whole time. Having her all over him and acting so affectionate was having more of an effect on him than he cared to let her know.

She managed to get the last few buttons off and with a squeal of excitement, she shed the blouse to the floor, leaving her in a black skirt and a matching black lacy bra. Fuck.

“Scully, I have some spare clothes in my bag, you can use one of my shirts as a nightgown,” he offered, suddenly taking great interest in the painting of a poppy field on the wall.

Ziiippp

He glanced over just in time to see her bending over and trying to step out of her skirt. However, her balance was shit right now and he saw her careening over right next to the sharp edge of a countertop. “Scully, hey,” he shouted, jumping off the bed and grabbing her upper arms to prevent her from hitting her head or falling.

She used his support to stand up fully and look up at him with a beaming smile that made his throat clench. “Awwh, are you tryin’ to sweep me off my feet?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body flush against his own.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he replied honestly, trying to reign in a groan building at the back of his throat from how good her abdomen felt against his erection.

“You’re funny,” she snickered. “You don’ wanna hurt me but you’re stabbin’ me.”

He cocked his head to the side before realizing what she meant. He grabbed her arms and gently pushed her away at the same time he concaved his hips away from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Noooooo,” she whined uncharacteristically. “I liked it.”

He let out a slow breath as he realized she was now clad in only her bra and underwear. She wore cheeky, tiny underwear. Duly Noted. “You won’t like it in the morning.”

She took a step towards him, and he took a step backwards. This pattern continued until his legs were flush against the bed and he fell on his ass on it. Scully used this opportunity to step in between his spread legs and reach behind her back, pushing her breasts in his face. “I think I will,” she nodded.

It took him a moment to realize what she was struggling to do, and his hands instantly shot out to still her movements. The last thing he needed was for her bare tits to be directly in his face. “You’re killing me,” he exhaled, not knowing what to do.

Scully pouted her bottom lip at her worry and let her hands fall. “Do you need a hug, Muldey?” she asked.

Before he had a chance to say no, she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him to her chest, effectively smashing his face in between her breasts. Her creamy smooth breasts that felt pillow soft against his cheeks and lips and smelled torturously like her. “I loooooove you,” she beamed, swiveling in place so that her chest kept rubbing against him constantly.

“Mpfhsully,” he mumbled against her skin, placing his hands on her hips in an attempt to get her to still. Oddly, in this moment he was reminded of what Clyde Bruckman had told him all those years ago. Would suffocating in Scully’s breasts count as auto erotic asphyxiation?

“I don’ want you to be sad,” she confided in a comically sad voice.

He was able to pull back enough to say, “I’m not sad, Scully. I promise.” His affirmation seemed to make her happy because her frown quickly became a smile. At the same time he smiled back to placate her, he noticed the straps of her bra slide down her shoulders. Shit.

She hadn’t stopped earlier because she was distracted, she stopped because she’d unclasped it. He leaned away in an attempt to get away, but the movement only resulted in the bra straps coming to rest in the crooks of her arms, revealing her rosy tipped breasts to him. His cock ached at the sight and he had to close his eyes to tune out the sensory overload going on. “Do you not like them?” her sad voice asked, so much vulnerability coming through despite the drug that it broke his heart.

“They’re very nice, Scully. I just don’t think you really want me to see them,” he replied. They’re perfect, Scully would’ve been a more accurate response, but he’ll keep that to himself.

“I always wan’ you to look at them,” she argued.

He felt a hardened nipple graze his cheek and he jumped violently in response, opening his eyes and seeing she’d managed to get closer. He’d always pictured being in this position before, but usually he got to put her mouth on her rather than careen away. This was the ultimate cruelty, Scully was finally making a move on him and he couldn’t do a damn thing. He’d never forgive himself if he took advantage of her while she was vulnerable.

While he was looking around for something else to pay attention to while he lectured her, she’d reached down and grabbed his hand and had pulled it up to her chest, resulting in him cupping one of her breasts. The weight of it in his hand felt amazing, but he pulled away immediately. “Stop doing that,” he chastised lightly, not wanting to hurt her feelings. He was learning drugged Scully had a tendency to pout and openly declare her sadness - two things sober Scully never did. Thank god for that too, because he was quickly learning it was his weakness.

“Why?” she asked, sliding one leg onto the bed next to his so that she was half-straddling him.

“Because you aren’t you right now, and I won’t let you do anything you’d regret,” he replied. Too late.

“I am me right now,” she argued, trying to get her other leg up but not having the energy to do so, resulting in her swaying and grabbing Mulder’s shoulders for balance.

“You’ve been drugged, Scully,” he told her sternly, trying to jostle her leg back down so he could stand up.

She made an exaggerated gasping sound as if this was news to her. “That’s awful!”

“I know,” he responded with just as much enthusiasm, as if confiding a secret with her.

“S-so,” she started as he stood up fully and switched positions with her, sitting her on the bed so he could grab his bag. She seemed to be struggling with her words and he could see a line of frustration wrinkling her forehead. “So, we can’ have any fun?” she asked sadly.

“We can have fun, Scully,” he replied, tossing the bag next to her on the bed before unzipping it. “Just fun that involves us wearing clothes.”

She whined and fell backwards onto the bed, letting her arms splay out at her sides. Oh how he’d imagined that exact visage so many times. She rolled her head to the side so she could look at him over her breast. “Can I see your penis?”

He let out a huff of shock as his eyes widened. “What?”

“We’d be even. You got to see my boobs,” she explained, lifting her arms up to squish her breasts together in emphasis as if he could have ever possibly forgotten what they looked like.

“I told you not to show me your boobs, so that’s on you. Besides, my penis wouldn’t be nearly as pretty, so it’s not an even trade,” he replied, barely believing this was an actual conversation he was having right now.

At that, she sat up and scooted closer to him, so she was flush with the bag. “Hey,” she declared, trying to get his attention.

“Yes, Scully?” he deadpanned, wishing he’d packed some sleeping pills or anything that might calm her down.

“Look a’ me,” she demanded.

With a heavy sigh, he stilled his motion in the bag and looked directly in her eyes to appease her. She had her face set in the most stern, no-nonsense Scully look he’d ever seen, but it was like a caricature version of herself that was so endearing he had to bite back a smile.

Pleased that she had his attention, she reached up and grabbed the sides of his head carelessly. She leaned forward and he wanted to laugh at how seriously she wanted him to take her words. “I don’ wan’ you to doubt yourself,” she demanded. His forehead crinkled in confusion, but before he could as what she meant, she added, “You have a very pretty penis.”

Jesus Christ.

“You’ve never seen it,” he retorted. “And no penis is pretty.”

She nodded her head exaggeratedly. “Yes I have. Well, not like that,” she said, pointing to his erection. “But I’ve seen you fl-flaccid and it was very nice. I don’ like hearing you be down on yourself, Muller. Everythin’ about you is pretty,” she reassured.

Dana Kathrine Scully giving him a drugged lecture on body positivity, Vegas really was as wild as people said. “Okay, thank you, Scully. I appreciate that.”

Accepting his statement, she nodded and let her hands fall into her lap. Now that whatever that was had passed, he was able to find one of his nicer t-shirts for her to wear and he pulled it out of the bag. It was barely visible fpr all of three seconds before Scully whined, “Noooooooo.”

“Scully, you need to wear something for bed,” he stated.

“Not that one!” she demanded.

He sighed and set it back in the bag. “Okay, which do you want?”

“The Oxford one,” she replied almost immediately.

He quirked a brow in surprise, but looked for it regardless. “But it’s worn out and got holes in it.”

“But i’s my favorite shirt of yours. You-” she broke to hiccup. “You wear it when we hang out an’-an’ it looks so good on you.”

The statement made him curious as to how much of sober Scully was actually coming through in this conversation. Deciding not to give it too much thought, he found the shirt and passed it to her, only to have her raise her arms over her head. He decided to indulge her and rolled up the shirt so he could drape it over her with minimal touching. When it fell down on her, he brushed his hand across her neck so he could untuck her hair from underneath the shirt.

She smiled sweetly at him before yawning and turning around to crawl up the bed. He’d never been so happy to see someone yawn before. “Hey!” she called as he set the bag on the ground. He turned to look at her and she violently patted the bed next to her.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Find something on TV okay?” he told her, hoping to distract her while he changed into his pyjamas - which was just his undershirt and boxers. It luckily worked and he was sliding under the covers within a minute, free of any sexually suggestive comments from the peanut gallery.

She left it on Die Hard and snuggled into the bed, turning so she was facing him. “Thank you for taking care of me Muldey,” she murmured, succumbing to her exhaustion with heavy lids.

“Of course. It was about time I tried to repay the favor,” he laughed.

Her lips quirked and he felt like he could finally enjoy looking at her. Her hair was spilling out onto the pillow and the reflections from the tv were casting shadows on her serene face. Somehow this felt even more intimate than when he was defacto motorboating her earlier. She mumbled something but he couldn’t quite hear. “What was that Scully?”

“You really are my favorite. You know that right?” she mumbled a little louder, reaching her hand out to grab his.

He let her fingers interlaced in his as he watched her nose twitch. He had no idea what she was talking about, but felt touched nonetheless.

“You’re my favorite too, Scully,” he replied to her sleeping form, placing a kiss to her temple before watching her for just a while longer.

Much like she’d watch him when she woke up, a smile tugging at her lips at the endless ways her partner managed to make her fall for him.

#x files fanfiction #three of a kind #msr #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #prompt #dana scully #fox mulder

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tornrose24 · 4 years

Text

Thoughts regarding the Interactive special.

Ah that was fun. I still haven’t done ALL the choices yet and I wish there was more ways to make Krupp suffer... but considering what some choices lead to for him, it was good.

I’ll put this under ‘Keep reading’ for those who haven’t done all the choices yet:

-I’m guessing the ‘creativity was inside us all along’ ending is meant to be the canon ending. However I adored that following along with CU’s antics ALSO leads to a good ending, via the mini golf course route and I want to regard that as canon too.

-Also the boys being so proud of him and just overall happy in the mini golf ending.

-One of the routes I went with was the ‘make a show’ route and the mini shows were amusing, but I loved that CU was there to help out and just have fun with the kids. It also lead to more of Krupp suffering, which was a bonus. But apparently that was the wrong path to take.

-So I tried to choose the comic that i thought wouldn’t piss Krupp off too much, but it was one that STILL had him. And I’m amazed at how much of a risk the boys took with having BOTH CU and Krupp in the same comic AND in the same panels. (Please tell me this will foreshadow a future where they will meet at last.)

-So much for Jennifer being a proper new character.

-Why would the martial arts guy still make George and Harold pay for the treehouse for that huge amount of money, even though... ugh forget it.

-You know, I think Krupp would NOT have won in the end, because there really was no way in hell he’d have got that part of the tree house due to the fact that he not only didn’t have that amount of money, but that gadget he tried to make was going to fail any way. And Melvin not helping him with it cemented that fact.

-The ‘True love’ route was hilarious. Like, holy crap was it weird and I was laughing over it. I’m trying to figure out how drastic the age difference is between Anthrope and that one guy, but it was funny and the fact that it was supposed to lead to a good ending was even better.

-I had a feeling Krupp was going to try to take the statue on the treasure hunt route, but I loved that it didn’t end well for him due to his stupidity yet again. I’m wondering why the boys didn’t turn him into CU to dig for the statue.

-So Krupp’s lunch made me think back to George and Harold’s lunches from book 3... I guess he’s a hypocrite since his tastes are just as weird.

-Oh god, Krupp’s ‘commercial.’ Just... wow. I instantly regretted my choice, but the boys’ reactions was worth it.

-Mention of him being single just reminded me of our lack of Edith again... sadly it’s looking like it wouldn’t be a loss if he’ll be the way he is for the rest of the show.

-I have to give him props for having some SLIGHT creative thinking–despite that he’s supposed to be against it–via that ‘invention.’ I’m amazed Melvin didn’t help him... but then again, he found it stupid for a reason.

–To how Krupp tried to nab the treehouse but had to buy it from a neighbor for an INSANE ton of cash answered a lot of questions for me. But the fact that any chances he had of getting rich was going to be spent towards one petty act of spite was... yeah, it was stupid.

-But Legal rights/property ownership rules stopped him! Heck yes!

-Which now adds to the irony of CU actually WINNING that exact amount needed.

- Oh god that ‘flip o rama,’ just... why?

-Apparently CU was wearing two earrings for that ‘musical’ and not one. Speaking of which, does he need any cast members?

-The wizard of Oz joke was Obvious after all.

-CU uses the word ‘Benjamin’ as a word for cash and I just... irony of using your real name there buddy, am I right?

-CU talking about his mother... was that Krupp bleeding through again? Because that was an interesting thing about perseverance.

As fun as this special was, and that a lot of effort went into it, I was still waiting for season 4 to show up in February. And now we have to wait until June again before we get anything. Then again, I think there was some stuff from one of Todd Grime’s videos that didn’t show up (or at least from what I saw) so I’m hopeful for what’s to come.

#captain underpants #the epic tales of captain underpants #cu epic tales spoilers

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scoopsohboi · 5 years

Text

i’m not going anywhere

Pairing: Robin Buckley/reader

W/C: 1937

Summary: you're with Robin having a fun night of drinking at one of her band friend's houses. after a little beer, you and Robin care less about hiding how attracted you are to each other. setting is basically like Steve's party in ST1, but we're pretending it's not Steve's house. can be set anywhere in timeline, doesn't mention upside down.

-more robin readers-

-st readers-

It was unusually warm for an autumn night in Hawkins. The full moon illuminated the large backyard in a bright, pale blue light, making it easy to see even though it was well past midnight. You were at Andy Melvin’s house, one of Robin’s band friends, along with a few other of her “nerds,” as she lovingly referred to them. You were all sat around the pool, some sharing chairs and getting cozy as the light beer filled their systems.

You were sitting on the edge of a plastic layout pool chair, with Robin laying back fully behind you. She groaned as Andy and a girl you’d just met, Susan, argued over whose D&D character would win in a fight, and you looked back at Robin as she leaned over to where a cooler sat on her other side.

“I’m way too sober for this,” Robin said as she fished out a can of beer, but she shoved it into your hand instead. “And so are you.” She took another can from the cooler before she flicked it open and clinked it to yours, making the sound effect herself. Robin tipped back the can and downed half of it before wincing at the flavor of shitty beer. You smiled and opened yours before taking a smaller, but still healthy chug.

“You’re going to get drunk like last time, aren’t you,” you said with a knowing smile and Robin scrunched her nose, though you could tell she was already at least buzzed. “Classic Robin,” you continued as you leaned back against her legs, draping your arm over her thighs. She shivered slightly as your cold can made contact with the skin just below the hem of her shorts and you snickered.

“This is only my second one,” she protested, and you rolled your eyes. Robin was notorious for being plastered by her fourth beer. And by how fast she was drinking them, you knew she’d be tipsy by the end of her current can. “Besides, you love taking care of drunk me. And you’re, like, scary good at it. I think we’ve found your calling.” You laughed and shook your head before taking another drink.

“You’re lucky I like you, Buckley,” you said and tried to ignore the way Robin blushed. It was probably the beer. You’d only known Robin for two months, having met her at the beginning of the school year when you two were assigned as lab partners for science class, but you two became easy friends and started hanging out after school. You’d only been in this kind of setting with her a handful of times, though. The kind that was late at night with alcohol.

You had learned that alcohol made Robin more affectionate, vulnerable, like she didn’t care who saw her. You’d been to their ‘Weekly Beer-Induced Friend Hangout at Andy’s House’ before, but only twice. The other two times you two had snuck into your parent’s liquor cabinet. Drunk nights then meant sleepovers, because that’s just responsible, right? Robin typically wanted to cuddle and spoon in bed, after you’d done your job of feeding and hydrating her. And she would talk about her family and her plans for the future and ask you about your deepest thoughts.

Though you’d never told anyone you liked girls, you had a major crush on Robin. You weren’t sure how she’d feel about it, but your brain liked to imagine her feeling the same. After all, you didn’t see her snuggled up with anyone else. That had to mean something, right?

Robin propped her elbow up on the arm of the chair and rested her head against her fist as she watched you with a small smile. God, you wanted to kiss her so badly, it was really unfair. She was so close, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, cheeks pink, lip reddening as she bit the bottom one, still staring-

You broke eye contact, looking down at the can in your hand for any kind of distraction from how hot your suddenly felt. You took a long swig, thankful that the drink was still cold as it ran down your throat. You could feel Robin’s eyes on you, but you didn’t trust yourself to look at her again and not to do something stupid. You barely knew Robin, or her friends. They could’ve been huge homophobes hellbent on destroying the gay population of Indiana and this was all some elaborate test to see if you were straight. Okay, that was a bit much, but still, there was a lot at stake.

“I can’t believe you actually think that!” Susan cried and you looked over just in time to see her push Andy into the pool. Susan laughed as he surfaced but another guy, Josh, pushed her in as well before jumping in after her. Everyone was laughing and splashing each other when you felt Robin nudge your back with her knee.

“C’mon,” Robin said, and you sat up as she slid off the chair. You watched as she unbuttoned her shorts and slid them off her waist, revealing a pair of black underwear. You blushed as she glanced over at you. “You going to join, Y/N, or are you just going to watch?” She asked as she tossed her shorts onto the chair beside you and started to pull off her shirt, leaving her standing there in her bra and underwear.

You knew you were red as a tomato and jumped up, quickly tugging off your shirt before sliding off your pants and throwing everything on the chair as well. You glanced over at Robin who was slowly looking you up and down, lips parted and eyes slightly wider, your heart pounding in your chest. You ran a hand through your hair and Robin seemed to suddenly realize how openly she was checking you out as she quickly looked away. You smiled and reached over, a rush of confidence filling your veins as you took her hand and pulled her with you the few steps to the pool, and jumped into the water.

As you resurfaced a few moments later you heard Robin’s laugh and looked over to see her grinning widely. Everyone around you was so happy, laughing and splashing and cheering. You couldn’t help but join in. You still felt a little bit like an outsider in this group of friends, but everything was going so well that you decided to let go and relax, too. It was time to stop waiting for rejection and judgement. You could be yourself, at least here in this pool with these nerds who were kind of cool.

You kicked up your legs and floated on your back, smiling as you listened to the noise around you until you bumped into something- or someone. “What’re you thinking about?” Robin asked as you opened an eye and looked over at her. Her wet hair was plastered around her face, deep blue eyes as mesmerizing as the night sky above. She was bobbing in the water beside you, close enough to count every freckle on her soft, smooth skin. You wanted to reach out and touch her.

“I’m afraid to tell you,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. You’d learned alcohol lowered your inhibitions as well. Robin’s brow furrowed.

A drop of water fell in your eye and you blinked as you looked up, seeing dark clouds forming as bigger droplets began to sprinkle the pool. A few of the other teens screamed and squealed as they quickly swam to the edges of the pool, talking about going inside to watch a movie. You flipped over as Robin began to make her way out of the pool and you followed.

When you climbed out, Andy ran into the house to fetch some towels, coming back a few seconds later with a large stack before handing them out. You graciously took yours and hugged it tightly around your body as everyone else quickly grabbed their things and dried off as best they could before they ran safely inside. You followed a little slower, waiting for everyone else to go in the house first. You were still feeling brave, probably liquid courage or adrenaline from the oncoming storm, but you decided not to fight it.

Robin waited for you near the back door and turned to go inside as you got closer, so you reached out and gently tugged the back of her towel before she could go in the house. She turned around to face you, hugging the towel around her and you reached out again, thumbing the edge of the pilled material between your fingers. You thought about what to say, a million options flashed through your brain in a second: You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. I like you. I’m gay. I’m can’t stop thinking about you. I like girls. I want to date you.

You felt like your brain was short circuiting and frying under her wide-eyed stare. Instead of saying anything your dumb brain could come up with in the moment, you wrapped your arms around her waist, enveloping her in your towel as you pulled her closer and pressed your lips to hers. Robin’s hand cupped your jaw as she returned the kiss and your hands snaked to her lower back and you held her tighter. She wrapped her arms around your neck, letting her towel fall her as her fingers laced through your hair.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” you breathed against her lips and Robin pulled back to raise a brow at you.

“Just tonight?”

“A lot of nights,” you admitted, voice lower and Robin leaned in to bite your bottom lip softly before kissing you again. “Most nights,” you corrected. Robin smiled and kissed you again, making you feel lightheaded. “Okay, every night,” you said between kisses and after a moment Robin began to pull away completely. What just happened? You thought. You started to feel anxiety build up in your chest, but Robin smiled sweetly and leaned in to give you another peck on the lips.

“Don’t you dare move,” she said, looking into your eyes seriously before smiling playfully. “I’m going to tell them we’re leaving. I need us to be somewhere private, like, immediately.” You felt excitement pool in your stomach as your heart stuttered in your chest.

Robin grabbed her shorts and pulled them on before she picked up her shirt and tugged it over her frame. Thank god she lived just down the street because her clothes were soaked and hung awkwardly to her body. She stood there for a moment and watched as you shrugged off your towel and grabbed your own wet clothes. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said with a laugh. “Promise.” She waited another beat and then smiled, seemingly satisfied as she dashed into the house to say a quick goodbye.

She returned just as you finished getting dressed and waved an object in her hand. You stared curiously before Robin opened it and you realized she had an umbrella. “’So we don’t get wet,’” she said in a mocking tone as she rolled her eyes. You laughed a little as Robin held up the umbrella and stood beside you before pulling you close to her side. You took the handle of the umbrella and held it between you two as Robin kept her arm tightly around your waist.

Under the shelter of the water-resistant fabric, the two of you walked side by side to Robin’s house, stealing quick kisses in the darkness as you huddled closely to keep warm.

A/N: also posted on my ao3 [scoopydoo]

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley/reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley/you #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley reader #robin buckley fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #scoopydoo #robin

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bave-de-crapaud · 5 years

Text

Forbidden

Part Two

Sirius x reader Post-azkaban Sirius Lives Word count: 1400+

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, smut, 18+

Disclaimer: all characters are assumed 18+ Please do not read if you are under 18+

A workplace romance cannot possibly go awry, can it?

———————————————————————————————————

“Y/N! How was your Christmas?!” You jumped as Antheia approached your desk. “ I didn’t get a chance to wish you Happy Holidays at the staff party.”

“Oh? I was there until the end?” You replied fidgeting. “And then…and then I went home.” Not strictly a lie. You did go home after the Christmas party…just via Sirius’ bed first.

“Oh, You should have stayed!” She exclaimed sitting on your desk. “We carried on the night at Soho in central London. Apparently, according to the Muggle Liaison Office, it is where all the good clubs are!” She paused looking behind her, then lowering her voice “I ended up kissing Melvin from Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.”

“Did you?!!!” Maybe this Sirius issue wasn’t going to be problematic anymore?

“Yeah, but I wish it was Sirius.”

Ah crap.

“Did you see where he went afterwards?”

Eyebrows raised, flashes of you sitting up on your knees, a pair of hands; one holding your left breast, the other rubbing sweet circles on your clit while Sirius’ chest pressed against your back as he thrust up into you, ~”Oh Godric you feel so good Y/N!”~ breathing into your neck at each thrust.

“Well…” swallowing hard and preparing to admit to your betrayal. “Actually…”

“NEW YEAR MEETING STARTS IN TWO MINUTES! COME ON Y/L/N, PERENNA! CHOP CHOP!” You were saved by your boss shooing you into the Ministry entrance lobby where all first meetings of the new year, AGMs, and Evacuations were held; largely because it was the only space capable of fitting all Ministry employees in one room.

As you made your way to the first floor, Antheia was jabbering on about her Christmas. It was hard to pay attention as your looming confession swirled round your brain, taunting you.

You had thought about how you would tell Antheia, a lot over the holidays and each time you formed what you considered the ‘right words’ flashes of your tryst would play before your eyes…Stumbling into the hallway of Grimmauld Place, Sirius’ mouth devouring yours, throwing clothes left, right, and centre as you climbed the stairs before somehow breaking the kiss to find yourself in your underwear on Sirius’ bed.

“…so, I said no presents over 10 galleons!” Antheia continued not noticing you not noticing…Sirius kissing your inner thigh as he buried his face between your legs and giving you the best orgasm you had ever had…

“…a teapot! That’s what he got me!”

Scrapping your fingers down Sirius’ back as he entered you telling you how long he has wanted you, placing his forehead on yours as he steadied his breathing before sliding out of you and rolling his incredibly hard cock back in, hitting you just where you needed.

“…and then my Great Uncle Archie said he liked my gift but I could tell he was lying!” Antheia finished while you both perched on a bench at the back of the meeting.

“Mhmmm, that’s great.” You responded lamely.

Antheia turned to you, “Y/N, were you listening? You…”

“GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!” The Minister of Magic’s voice boomed over everyone cutting Antheia short.

“First of all, I would like to wish you all a happy new year. I hope that your holiday break was relaxing and rejuvenating…” As the Minister continued you once again became lost in your thoughts:

-Just tell her -She’ll hate you -You’d deserve it -But why? -Because she likes Sirius! -Yes, but you like him too, you just didn’t voice it before she did -Doesn’t matter -Does it? All’s fair in love and war -She’s still going to hate you -What if it was just that one time? Does it still matter? -Well…technically two times. You had sex twice that night.

Maybe it would be best not to tell her? It’s not like you would be dating Sirius, it was just one night and you wouldn’t see him again…

…come to think of it neither would Antheia. Maybe you could just chalk this up to a lesson learnt in the past: never get drunk at the Christmas party again. The whole night is a farce for lust and debauchery and bad decisions.

For the rest of the morning briefing you half listened to the new policy plans, objectives of the Minister’s Office.

Thoughts of the Christmas Party still leapt through your mind but instead of making you anxious they gave you a pleasant unsettling fluttery sensation in your abdomen.

The scraping of seats and increase in volume of general mutter brought you back to your senses. Getting up, you and Antheia turned towards the lifts to head back to your office, not noticing Madeye Moody striding swiftly towards you.

“PERENNA, Y/L/N!” Moody called not bothering to stop as he made to stride by.

“Meet me in my office in half an hour. Got something to discuss with you.” He growled passing you on route to the lifts leaving you both confused and looking at each other.

“Oh Godric, what has he done now?” You exhaled. Antheia shrugged her shoulders and made to follow Moody.

“I’ll meet you there.” You called after her. “I need a coffee before this I think.”

— ——

Walking down the hallway of the second floor towards Moody’s Office with a warm coffee in your hand, mentally preparing yourself for the mountain of writing you no doubt had to do thanks to Moody’s work ethic, you caught yourself wishing for the months when Sirius was here and you were able to focus on your other tasks without being overwhelmed by the Auror Office.

Shaking your head slightly, you knocked and then opened the door to Moody’s office.

It was a strange office. Large but packed with a plethora of dark wizard detectors; a collection of sneakoscopes on the windowsill, dark magic repellers lining the walls, propped up in a corner a long wooden wing shaped relic used years ago to find concealment spells on inanimate objects much like a muggle dowsing stick used to find water in the 16th century, bookshelves full of books on dark magic, wizard law, Defence Against the Dark Arts as well as a board complete with moving documents displaying photos of tracked or wanted wizards, their statuses updating in front of you in real time.

“Y/L/N, come in and sit down.” Moody called from behind his desk gesturing to a chair in front of you.

You were caught by Antheia, sitting to your right, wearing an expression of Incredulity and elation…that was strange?

“Happy New Year, Y/N.” You started. You knew that voice. A deep soft voice which caused a swarm of butterflies to take flight in your stomach and all the blood in your system rush to your head and display on your cheeks.

Sirius Black was standing to your left, taking a seat in the chair next to yours.

As his grey eyes locked with yours a tingling pulse crept up your body freezing you in position.

He looked good. Better than good. He looked handsome, and sexy, and you felt a pull to him immediately.

What was he doing here?

Answering your thoughts while pointedly indicating to your chair for you to sit, Moody explained. “The extra skills Sirius has added to our ranks as well as the relief to your workloads has been very successful. The Minister has extended Sirius’ contract for a whole year.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Antheia burst out.

“However, because we, the Auror Office, still have some…” he paused “some ‘adjustments’ of our processes to do, the Minister has suggested Sirius be the direct line of contact with you – this may help to cover any ‘errors’ the Auror Office makes in the line of duty.”

“Hrumpf!” Moody laugh-huffed. “Errors VITAL to obtaining CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

“What about you, Moody?” You added hurriedly trying to avoid a lecture on how catching bad wizards is more important than unsettling the muggle population. “Do the Aurors still take direction from you?” Surely Moody wouldn’t let Sirius usurp him?

“Yes of course Y/L/N! I am still in charge! This way I can focus on catching dark wizards and not public perception.”

“So that means, any and all issues of public relations pertaining to the Auror Office, we are to speak to Sirius now not you!?” Antheia could not contain her glee.

“Correct. Sirius will liaise with you on my and all Aurors behalf.” Moody nodded while simultaneously and surprisingly gracefully, lifting his bad leg onto his desk before turning to Sirius.

Oh Merlin’s saggy y-fronts.

“Thanks Madeye. I’m looking forward to working with you Y/N.” Sirius’ deep voice did things to your nether region as he looked at you intently before correcting himself quickly, “…with you both.”

Tag List: @evyiione @belladonnarey @virgilwrites @emmamass24 @sirius-lysad @mylovelykelsifer @riddikuluslypotter

#Sirius Black #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius imagine #sirius fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #mad eye moody #hp #Harry Potter universe #imagine #fanfic #Smut #older sirius #mature #post azkaban

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purplebenjy · 5 years

Text

1997-Part One

It’s summer, Benjy’s at the skatepark, and he hasn’t been in a fight for over 48 hours. All in all, it’s shaping up to be a pretty decent day.

The sun makes the hair on the back of his neck warm. When Benjy works on scooping it all up into a ponytail, his skateboard propped up by his foot, he catches the eye of his friend Ollie and grins at him over the half pipe. They’d met out here a few weeks ago, and there was something about him that made him different from Benjy’s other friends, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. After his hair is out of the way, he glides over, stopping inches away from his friend.

“Fall on your face yet today, fucker?”

Ollie rolls his eyes. “No I gotta keep my face pristine for your mom to sit on.”

“Fuck you, dude. My mom has taste.”

Benjy laughs and shoves his shoulder, forgetting he’s on wheels and almost falling over in the process.

“Fuck.” Benjy catches himself and steps off, worn out red vans securely on the concrete. He scratches at the sunburn on the back of his neck, his hair and the scratchy fabric of one of his dad’s old flannel shirts irritating it.

“You okay?” Ollie’s voice has gotten softer as he looks Benjy over, and something about the shift makes Benjy’s heart beat faster. He laughs, though it’s a bit higher pitched than it was a second ago.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ollie gives Benjy a half smile as he steps off his board, holding it with his foot.

“Benjy-”

“You two fuck yet or what?”

Benjy feels his jaw set, knowing the voice before he turns around. Dave. He’d been a year behind Mack in school and, according to his sister at least, had always had a Thing for her.

And he seemed to have a Thing for Benjy too, though this particular thing seemed to be to make Benjy’s life a living hell. He was backed, as always, by his bigger and stupider friend who went by Tito--though Benjy was pretty sure his name was Melvin.

Benjy raises himself to his not at all impressive full height, glaring up at Dave in a way he hopes is at least sort of intimidating.

“Why, Kesler? You wanna watch if we do?”

He hears Ollie laugh beside him, and Benjy’s knuckles crack as he forms a fist. There’s a few other groups at the park, but they’re far enough away and too caught up in their own bullshit for Dave shenanigans. They all treated Dave the way Dave treated Benjy, so at least, even if it wasn’t going to be a fair fight, it would be two on two.

“Do I look like f*ggot to you, Fenwick?”

“I don’t know, you look like the kind of bitch Tito would like-”

Being ready for the punch doesn’t make it hurt any less, but Benjy’s more than familiar with the stinging sensation behind his eye. Quickly, viciously, he lands three blows in rapid succession to Dave’s mid section, followed by a swift knee to his stomach. The victory of Dave crumpling to the pavement is short lived as Tito approaches. He’s easily twice Benjy’s size. Benjy laughs, hoping his fear isn’t obvious in his voice.

“You hit like a bitch too?”

Tito, in fact, doesn’t hit like a bitch, he hits like fucking Rocky Balboa. The force of it knocks Benjy backwards, and the taste of blood fills his mouth along with something sharp. He catches himself, doubled over, and spits without thinking. He stares at his own tooth on the concrete instead of trying to stand.

“Don’t take another step, motherfucker.”

For a second, Benjy thinks this is directed at him.

“Okay-”

When he finally glances up, Ollie has an impressively large butterfly knife pointed very close to Tito’s throat. Tito looks something other than menacing, so Benjy’s going to take that as a sign of fear. Dave’s back on his feet, glowering at Benjy but eyeing the knife warily.

“What are you gonna do, cocksucker? Stab us?”

“I might.”

Something like admiration fills Benjy as he gathers himself and stands next to Ollie and his big fucking knife. He tilts his chin up, more blood seeps into his mouth.

“You wanna find out?” Ollie’s voice is soft again, but it’s different now. Darker. Scary. A thrill shoots through Benjy despite everything when he glances over at Ollie. He might actually fucking stab one of them.

“It’s not worth it, man.” Tito says, in what has to be the second time Benjy has heard him speak in almost six months of this fuckery. He spits at them before turning and walking towards his dropped board, skating away before Dave can say anything.

“You want a taste, Davey?” Benjy asks, his voice a bit more nasal than it should be on account what he’s fairly sure is a broken nose.

“Fuck you qu---s” Dave snarls, though a bruise is already forming on the side of his face from where he’d hit the ground

“You wish, baby.” Benjy shouts after him as Dave flips them off and skates after Tito.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Benjy feels his knees start to give.

“Shit-”

Before he can say anything else, Ollie, who was at least six inches taller than him if not more, has already roped Benjy’s arm around his neck, supporting him.

“You need to sit down, come on.”

The skatepark is at the end of a block, facing the back of a few random chain restaraunts and the little mom and pop connivence store. There’s an alley sandwiched between the McDonalds and the Starbucks that’s littered with junkies during the night, but almost always abandoned during the day. Ollie leads Benjy to a bench beside an cigarette waste bin and sets him down gently, making sure Benjy is situated before sitting himself.

“How fucked up do I look?”

Ollie puts his fingers up as if he’s framing Benjy, appraising him.

“Only slightly more.”

“That’s a relief.”

His jaw was pulsing now. He’d lost a fucking tooth. His mom and Curt were going to be so pissed at him.

“The big fucker knocked one of my teeth out. Is it obvious?”

He grins manically at Ollie, who laughs.

“Only if you’re looking at your teeth.”

Benjy groans, hunching over and covering his face with his hands dramatically.

“You’re still cute though.”

Ice water manifests and runs down his spine as he sits up straight. He spreads his fingers and peaks at Ollie. His face is about as red as his t-shirt, the strawberry in the blonde of his hair becoming more obvious with his blush. Benjy’s mouth is so dry he’s surprised he can even speak.

“What?!”

“I mean-I don’t think you’re cute or anything like that I’m not gay or anything I was just trying to make a fucking joke or something man, I don’t know, it was stupid-”

“Ollie.”

Benjy drops his hands and smiles softly, ignoring the pain even that movement causes him.

“-Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Ollie’s lips are tentative against his, but firm. His hand cups the side of Benjy’s face with the least amount of cuts and he lets out a sigh as his kiss grows bolder. More eager. It’s way different than kissing any of the girls he’d kissed-Benjy had only found out three months about what ‘bisexual’ meant and with Ollie’s lips on his, all of the comparative differences in their friendship make sense. Such as, Benjy had probably no other friends he’d bite the bottom lip of. No other friends whose arms would make their way down his back to grip just above the curve of his ass. No other friends to pull away from him, breathless and giggly, before going back in for one more chaste kiss.

“I uh, don’t want to break your face any more than it is.”

Benjy takes Ollie’s hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it. It’s easy, being like this with him. Almost easier than being with any of his previous girlfriends, cause he already knew a lot about Ollie. Plus they had shared interests, like skateboarding and kissing each other-it only makes sense that it’d be easier with someone who has so much in common with him.

The kissing grows almost feverish and they only come up for air when Benjy cries out “ow!”

“What’d I do, What’d I do?”

“You just hit my nose.”

Ollie grimaces, running a hand through his short buzzed hair.

“My dad is still at work for the next few hours. I could uh, patch you up at my place?”

Benjy grins.

“What, like a date?”

Ollie shrugs. “Well I mean...yeah.”

Benjy nods once, his face sliding into neutral.

“I mean, I’d love to, but you know, there’s the moral dilemma at play.”

Ollie looks so crestfallen Benjy almost wants to ruin it a second early just to get his smile back.

“What’d you mean?”

“Well if you’re also fucking my mother, as you’ve said hundreds of times before-”

Ollie laughs and shoves at Benjy playfully.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Mmm, but you like it. I would love to come over.”

Ollie stands and pulls him to his feet. Their hands linger together before Ollie pulls away, not wanting to be spotted and add more fuel to the fire. Except now, the fire that Dave had been so sure existed, was very much real. Benjy leans up for a quick kiss. Incidentally, Ollie tastes vaguely of cinnamon gum.

“Hey Ollie?”

He says softly before dropping his hand, walking a pace behind his friend so it didn’t look as obvious. Though based on where they were, if anyone saw they’d probably just assume the two of them were after a fix that couldn’t be solved by your first incredible kiss with your first boy.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for kissing me. And thanks for having a knife.”

#drabble #self para #too tired to edit but #yeah #ollie

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aabaker1 · 5 years

Text

Just finished Harvey Girls season 2

First spoiler-free Version. Season two of Harvey Street Kids or Harvey Girls Forever call it what you want, was...uneven. The season started and ended in good places, but there was a block of three episodes towards the middle that just fell flat. Good new characters, though only a few of them got developed. And I am really hesitant about the cliffhanger, it could easily go wrong in a lot of ways.

Okay time for the full rundown after the break.

Hoo boy this series had some highs and lows. I’ll break down by episode and then final thoughts.

Raiders of the Lost Park:

Okay does anyone else notice that the episode titles Netflix presents aren’t always the same as the ones on the title card? It’s not that big a deal, but come on, it’s Dreamworks and Netflix. A little consistency would be appreciated.

Nice way to start the series. This was a risky move, introducing brand new characters was one thing, but giving Audrey and Melvin, two established characters, brand new siblings? That was taking a risk. If I had to complain about something the tension and strife Dot caused in the season 1 finale was brushed aside way too quickly, but that’s a nit pick at most.

Dottie Rocket/Weekend at Audrey’s:

Good Dot episode, nice to see her obsessive compulsiveness get the better of her sometimes. But, Dot sill came back down to Earth in the end, even if it took a sugar-induced hallucination to do it.

Digital pets kicking the bucket, sigh, I can relate. But Audrey was just a bit out of character here. Not her recklessness, but her attempts at covering up. Audrey is not the type of person to hide mistakes, get frustrated by them, sure, but not hide them. Okay, she didn’t want to disappoint Lotta, but Audrey just doesn’t have that kind of deception in her.

Boy Story/ Puzzle, Puzzle, Toil and trouble.

And this is what I meant by character development. It’s nice to see that even the Bloogie Boys have limits, and legitimately like more than stereotypical boy hobbies. Also, nice touch remembering Dot and Pinkeye are friends.

Frufru, getting character development? Didn’t we already do this in season one? Okay, I know, people don’t just change overnight. But, for being so eager to be recognized for her brains, Frufru was a bit too quick to cheat. Though nice callback to Audrey Parkour. And I seriously don’t want to know why there’s an old well full of butter, that is just leads to several nasty implications.

Treasure of the Sierra Harvey/ Babies Day in:

And the character development continues, this time for TIny. Also not all old toys are dangerous. The treasure trove of old toys idea has been done before, but this wasn’t a bad example. Though I thought for sure Tiny was going to leave his action figure behind in the storm drain.

And a nice way to show that Lotta’s compassion can get out of hand some times. Also nice way to show that raccoons aren’t always jerks. Just gonna say it now, ninja pajamas, just ninja pajamas. Also, Dot, running bare-foot, outside, in the park? What kind of bizzaro world is this?

The Lice Storm/ Mission Impossibow:

This one kinda fell flat for me. Audrey over reacting is expected enough, but everyone going along with it, including Dot, that was a bit too far. But, the big letdown was the Harvey Avenue Kids. Okay we’ve seen them before in season one, but this was there chance to shine. And most of them came off as background filler, just like before. Penny was the only one who got any kind of development. But, she and bald Audrey did just enough to save this ep for me.

Decent episode and it shows Dot’s possible great weakness. She’s creative, but in a scientific, A, to B, to C kind of way. Imagining fantasy scenarios on the spot is just not in here wheelhouse, props to her stepping outside of her comfort zone. Bow initiated the plot here, but didn’t get a lot of character development. But, I’m okay with that. The Bow doesn’t really need development. She’s the bow, the weird kid who does her own thing, sometimes you don’t need to add more to make something good. My only complaint is that there just wasn’t enough of her this season, but I guess there can be too much of a good thing. Did I mention Bow’s my favorite character? Could you tell?

Fandom Menace/Moby Dot:

This one was a meh for me. It didn’t do Lotta any favor. I know she’s the trusting type, but she’s not dumb and certainly not the type to willfully delude herself. I think this was a bit of a miss step. Thankfully they didn’t do the cliche of scamming Zoe out of the ticket she sold. Lotta’s online appeal did fit her character and kudos to Crush4you to being stand up guys and respecting their fans like that.

The Cheer Hunter: Dot’s entertainment:

And more character development in an unexpected direction. So far Zoe’s two appearances had her solidly in the antagonist role, but here we she she’s actually a person, not just a stereotype. Also Maria feeling generally dissed by Zoe fast-tracking Lotta felt genuine. It’s nice to see them do plots that don’t involve someone getting their comeuppance. And everybody coming together to cheer Lotta up was a perfect touch. Also, Dot and Stu being completely (whatever) to the whole situation was funny as hell.

And once again we have Dot at her Obsessive Compulsive best. She discovers a new side to herself and like Dot, naturally takes this to the extreme. Also, nice to get a glimpse of how Dot’s brain works. Also, Fluffy’s still around, what? You do remember that was just a rat covered in garbage can fuzz, right?

I wanna Crush Your Hand:

And this is where the dip in the season started. I’m just going to say it now, I’m not the target demo for boy bands, not by a long shot. But, that wasn’t the problem I had with this episode. No the main problem was Lotta’s obsession taking up the whole spotlight. It felt like Audrey and Dot just got shoved into the background. Plus this episode just dragged. I’ve gotta say it, I think the two stories an ep format works best for this series. The double-length story just doesn’t fit, here.

Beyond Thunder Dot: Ten things I hate about Ew:

And this is where the season hit the valley for me. Seriously, you’re doing the “Let’s shove the environmental message down kids throats” Thing in 2019? I thought that went out of fashion in the 2010s. But, the most galling thing for me was all that character developing they were doing came to a complete halt. Frufru’s character development? Nah, let’s just turn her into a low rent Captain Planet villain. And since when did Dot get that preachy? I’m sorry but this got so painful for me I had to stop the ep and walk away. Ten things I hate about Ew might have been a decent episode, I don’t know. And I never will if I have to sit through this outdated, anvilicious garbage to get to it.

Something’s Glotta Give/Afernoon Contrite:

I think the main thing with this story is it made no sense to me. I thought Gerald and Lotta got together in season one, now Lucretia’s trying to hook them up, what?

This is where the season started to pick back up for me. It’s nice to see that even after the previous character development Melvin can still be Melvin. It’s nice to see that Lotta tries to fix things, even if she did it by accident, but naive Lotta is back and I just don’t know how I feel about that. Still seeing Melvin get a bit more character growth saved this one.

Can’t Hardly Wait/Bring it Prawn:

Ah that’s more like it. This touches my fanfic-writing heart. It’s nice to see Lucretia stretching her active imagination. It’s also nice to see the Audrey Girls and Tiny encouraging her self confidence. Plus in short order we got return of Audrey the Destroyer, Sci-Fi Dot and Lotta Moon, what’s not to love?

Thank you! Thank you for showing that cartoon siblings can do more than just fight with each other. This almost makes up for the environmental debacle, almost. In one fell swoop we see Maria and Melvin get along and Zoe and Audrey put their differences aside and work together for a common cause. Bonus points seeing Zoe stick up for Audrey. Audrey may be an annoying twerp, but she’s Zoe’s annoying twerp, damn it! Also, anyone else imagine buff Zoe and Audrey when Dot kept saying aabs.

Hover, may I board with danger/free Gilly:

And here’s Stu’s character development. Stu always seemed the odd man out. While Zoe and Maria have Audrey and Melvin to play off of, Stu was just sort of there. Now we see his too cool for school attitude is really a front for him being sensitive and a little insecure, that’s a nice touch. Also Audrey gets to grow as a person. First she was just legit conning Stu for time on the hover board, which was really just a Segway without the handles, but then she genuinely gets into the contact juggling. And one of her plans actually works for once, what? Also, what is up with Bobby this season, last season he was the older kid who doled out sage advice and could be a little jerkish sometimes. Now this season the sage advice stuff is all but gone and we just get the jerk, everyone else gets character development, but Bobby actually backslides a bit, guess they had to cut corners somewhere.

Finally a payoff to the running gag of Audrey’s goldfish issues. Nice to see that finally wrapped up. But, was it strictly necessary to give the animals voices? Okay, I admit it wasn’t so bad for Bobby the skunk, but every freaking animal? Yeesh, I mean there is such a thing as subtlety.

That thing you Dot!/Where the streets have no games:

You know, at first I thought I was going to hate bring Chevron back, didn’t she and Dot make peace back in season one? But, then I found that I really didn’t hate it. Dot used the wrong word. Chevron is not a frenemy, she’s a competitor and that may actually be a good thing. Dot and Chevron are very similar, they like to take hobbies to the absolute extreme and there’s nothing wrong with that. They two drive each other to succeed. In fact if they didn’t have each other they probably wouldn’t do half as much as they do. And Kudos bring Penny back and giving her a voice, she’s going to be the lead Harvey Avenue kid, I just feel it.

And here we are, okay, I’ll go through ep first before getting to the diamond-studded elephant in the room. Nice commentary on mobile games and how their designed to addict you. And yeah they really are just excuses to gather data. Also, nice touch Lotta and Audrey being the only ones who weren’t suckered in. Sadly Dot’s obsessive compulsive tendencies made her an easy target. But, then we go into that cliffhanger. Yeesh, that cliffhanger.

Finale Thoughts:

I’ll just say it. I know they were going to pull Richie in at some point. But to quote the Bow, not this way. The entire idea behind Richie Rich is that in spite of being the richest kid on Earth, Richie was a normal, average kid, who just wanted to make friends and have fun. He was never portrayed as being snobbish, sheltered or clueless.

Only now it’s clear Richie set up the mobile game and the contest to try to figure out how kids have fun. Not only is being clueless, he’s using money to try to solve his problems, which Richie never did.

And worse it’s predictable. I can tell where this story is going. The Harvey girls together maxed out the fun-o-meter, so Richie’s going to take them off to his estate to be his new friends and the Harvey Girls are going to bring him down to Earth.

But, they shouldn’t have to. Richie has always been portrayed as already being down to Earth. Now they’re going out of their way to portray Richie as a clueless rich kid who doesn’t understand how the real world works, and that is just wrong. That’s not Richie. Although nice touch with the Irona reference.

But, there’s something that worries me even more. Now that you’ve pulled the pin on Richie, where do you go with him from here, does he become a regular? I hate to say it, but I hope not.

You have to remember, that by default, Richie is the biggest presence in the room. If you over use him he could quickly over shadow Audrey and the others, in fact, he already has once before.

I’m taking about Harvey Comics. For over ten years, Audrey, Lotta, Dot and their friends ruled Harvey comics. Then Richie, Wendy and Casper came along. And within a few short years Audrey and company were all but forgotten. I just hope to go they have enough sense not to try to make this the Richie Rich show. I think they do. I think they understand a way to use Richie right and they already done it in the same episode, with Chevron.

Chevron is a big personality, so they don’t overuse her. So far she’s shown up once a season and that’s just right for her. It’s all she needs. If she were on regularly she’d drown the others out too much. But, this way when she shows up it’s a big deal. I think that’s the perfect approach to take with Richie, less is more. Just don’t turn him into a clueless rich kids, please?

#harvey-street-kids #Harvey-Girls-Forever

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