#fellas is it performative to call a duck a duck?

[professional-rat-eater]

What I look like on the outside when internally I am having to physically restrain myself from publicly dunking on Marius de Romanus for the fifth time in less than a week:

(He just makes it so easy. All I have to do is quote his actual dialogue. He’s lowkey becoming one of my favourite characters to analyse. The drafts are piling up. It’s becoming a dissertation.)

[cjsinkythoughts]

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

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

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink. 

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you.  Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

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

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

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

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing. 

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

[be-gay-do-heists]

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

[icecreamkink]

watched all of the untamed / cql in two weeks after my friend 1 told me abt mdzs a hundred years ago and my friends 2 and 3 tried to get me into cql for like two whole years and there are.

feelings.

very first scene is a very dramatic death in the middle of nightmare battle on sith planet land . i will forget abt it in the next tenish episodes and then will be very surprised when it becomes Extremely Painful

anyway magic flying gays and possession and human sacrifice! we are off to a great start

in retrospect, chaos goblin wei wuxian must have had a blast pretending to be so cRaZy and be as disruptive as he could as mo xuanyu lbr

listen. why is fire always evil coded. cant a magic clan wear red, black and orange and have flame motif while being wholesome?

For Legal Reasons These Are Not Zombies

i wish the politics of the sect were a bit clearer, especially at the beggining when the wen clan had sm power, was wen ruohan the chief cultivator? is that why they were so slow in responding to the attacks? im v confused by the pre yiling patriarch politics

fighting in the roof by the moonlight as way of flirtiiiiiiing. as i understand this is a wuxia/xianxia trope and honestly...... thank u for ur service

slight bullying and being a nuisance in general, as a way of flirting we love to see it

wwx: if i drink on the rooftop, thats not inside the cloud recesses! hmmm check and mate :D lwj: i will fuck u up so help me god   wwx: :0

i lov them

through hell or high water (quite literally) wei wuxian rem ains a trashfire gremlin till the end and i love him with my whole heart

in the pt subs wei wuxian calls jiang cheng a stubborn duck and i dearly wish that had come back

my opinions on almost every character goes from love to hate u - Hmm Me Like U - BABY. ILY. and i am Very Pleased w that. its been a while since i loved such a complete cast so much i think

no really. i WONT go into a detailed rant abt what i love about each of these characters and each of their relationships to each other. but i COULD. 

some lan disciples in the loudest whisper ever: YEAH THATS THE JIN BASTARD MENG YAO HEARD THE GOT SUPER HUMILIATED BY HIS DAD LOL SURE HOPE HE DOESNT TAKE SLIGHTS TO HIS CHARACTER TO HEART

lan xichen, immediately: i must Love him 

being into problematic ppl is in the Lan genetics, we come to realize

wen qing deserves so many awards for so many things but not snapping and just stabbing wen chao is at the top 

that scene at lan qirens class where wwx talks about using resentful energy to fight a violent spirit. exquisite.

 It establishes Good Student lan wangji, wei wuxian as curious and questioning and not afraid of taboo,  lwj sees that wwx is not, in fact, a dumb ass hes just a Dumbass,  shows us the audience (esp. a western audience) how shocking the idea of disrupting the dead/dying and controlling resentful energy actually is,  the theoretical foreshadow arguing, everyone else like ‘shUT UP’,  “and how could you ensure that the resentful energy would obey you and not hurt other?” “well i havent thought that far” and of course, lan qiren just straight up lobbing a hard object at wwx head,. chefs kiss

fellas is it gay to bother the hot rule obessessed nerd from ur school and make drawings of him with flowers in his hair and then hide gay porn in his book to antagonize him and ask him to hold ur hand and be ur friend and talk to him all the time and get him drunk and give him bunnies bc you know he likes them and give him a lantern and always want his attention and dedicate yourself to getting him to smile-

and after all of that wwx rly said oh i Admire him, aksd like yeah we all were there in high school buddy

i have Learned. caves = gay.

 accidental marriage +beint physically tied together with the sacred married ribbon+ gay panic+foreshadowing+bunnies! in the cave (1)

the story abt lan yi and baoshan sanren tho. i would like to see it

early days wen bros pull my heart strings like a guqin 

EVERYTHING about the lantern scene; disaster hets jiang yanli and jin zixuan; how wwx made lwj a bunny lantern. how soft and touched lwj was. wwx gleefully pointing out he was smiling and lwj IMMEDIATELY PULLING HIW SWORD ON HIM LMAO. tragically foreshadowy promises to do right by pepople, living without regrets. lwjs 'oh no do i love him??' face. just. all of it. 

i have it on good acc that in the novel lwj is explicitly Repressed Gay Panicked Big Horny which is delightful and rly Adds to the performance

 baby lwj is really just conceal dont feel dont let them know u have EMOTIONS (derogatory)

jiang cheng rly went "why dont.u go play with HIM if u like him so much"

jc and wwx have big BIG annoying sibling energy dont think too hard abt it or youll cry

lotus pier is soo pretty :((((((((((((((((

up until episode 13 you could think this could be a magical ancient chinese gays pride n prejudice w swords and shenanigans ................youre just not prepared for the game of thrones of it all

seriously ha ha ha i cried so much w this show my eyes genuinely swelled up . like. physically. fun timez fun timez

that being said, its hilarious that wen xu goes to cloud recesses like 'come out or ill kill all these hostages' and then DOESNT WAIT FOR AN ASWER AND KILLS THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY. do u know how blackmail works sir

 would like to make it recorded that from day one i was like 'CALL A GODDAMN CULTIVATION G20 THIS ASSHOLE SECT IS LITERALLY MASSACRING YALL!!' and it took them like 3 or 4 massacres to do anything and they STILL sent their heirs into their territory  LIKE

when wwx cites the gusu lan rules to wen chao tho. that rebel/attention whore/cutie pie 'look lan zhan i DID memorize the rules after all' ‘also a big fuck you to the wen sect :D :D’ sweet spot that scene achieves . delicious

all the cultivator young masters being petty af even though they are practically prisoners at the cave is hilarious and i love them

hurt and comfort + gay mistunderstandings + watsonian gay declaration music + accidental evil acquisition! at the cave (2)

its like where do i start? the fact theyre both trapped and kind of heavily injured inside an isolated cave with a murder turtle? wwx gay panicking lwj into coughing up bad blood? lwj being jealous as wwx babbles abt mianmian? telling him he shouldnt play with people and wwx saying he never played him? wwx going Oh. I See what is happening. YOU like mianmian, and lwj absolute done face ??? (iconic) wwx touching the sacred married ribbon Again? the telepathic communication? the sword? WEI WUXIAN ASKING LAN WANGJI TO SING TO HIM AS HE IS PASSING OUT AND LWJ SINGING HIM. THE SONG. HE WROTE. FOR WWX. AND THAT HE CALLED. THEIR SHIP NAME????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

they are SO insufferable pleeeeease

in the words of my friend 1 : “CQL is so gay we were all amazed how it got past the censors Ofc unfortunately it can't be novel level gay But they did their best And we love them for it”

in the theme of songs THIS OST. WUJI HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I FIRST HEARD IT the whole ost is so so sO beautiful.

 the costuming in this is also soooo exquisite. the embroidery? the fabrics? the details? how every sect and clan has a distinct style and architecture? (also ik they based each off of dif periods in chinese history which is REALLY fucking cool) just chefs kiss

the direction too!. i enjoy the unusual camera movements and i think they give it that Vibe, also their composition is PARTICULARLY good when it comes to telling the subtext through position of camera/position of character (like nhs off to the side in scenes he at first glance doesnt need to be/ how lwj is often centered when hes Jealous Yearning at wwx being affectionate w other ppl, wwx return from burial mounds etc)

ik madam yu is like Badass Milf Check and shes not getting any mom of the year awards but im delighted at how messy she is. IMAGINE that woman on tiktok

you better have enjoyed gay cave (2) bc its Just Pain from here on out! 

jiang fengmian and madame yu win the Most Dramatic Way to show they do care about each other, actually ..... ever :)

i thought jiang yanli jiang cheng and wei wuxian forcing themselves to escape yunmeng barely holding on after their parents are killed was going to be the height of pain in this show. ha. 

the family dynamics in general on this showwwww, both blood/ adopted/ found families, brotherly bonds and lifelong friendships just. rly. truly. fucked me up. theyre all so important and complicated and well rounded and beautiful and tragic

and beyond being a Win For the Gays im so glad the relationships w wwx and jiang yanli/ wen qing were NOT changed from platonic bc they are so much better like that imo. like maybe if we didnt Live In A Society it wouldnt be so, but the fact wwx and others can love and value them so much and theres nothing romantic or sexual abt it is like. so refreshing. especially @ jyl, with the way he and jc are overprotective of her and shes such a nurturing/care taker figure for them, it would just not vibe as well if they made it romantic

i love that this is a story abt Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch aka Actual Satan/Boogey Man/Village With/Public Enemy Number One , my dude is literally a necromancer who only dresses in black and has evil smokey black tendrils wafting out of him, but the really edgy one is still jiang cheng, pastel purple fashion icon

and speaking of best/worst siblings wei wuxian and jiang cheng *immediately starts crying* 

The Golden Core Transfer i just. no thots only tears 

wen qing and wen ning putting themselves in so much danger just.... to help them. wn saving jc from wen chao. wq finding a way to get wwx to transfer his core. like thinking about the monumental work these two did to help wwx and jyl and jc... jyl trying so fucking hard to be strong and keep on moving and giver her little brothers comfort after losing everything... jiang cheng. losing his parents and his home and his ability to do anything abt it and his complete desperation and lack of self worth and turning on them with agression  when he didnt realize all that they did for him ... hhhhhhhhhhhhh

me, pointing at the whole cast “i just LOVE them mom!!!”

its sad tho, that BARELY ANY of the women have like.... actual important conversations let alone relationships with each other at all in the story. and like wq and jyl have stayed at the same place for extended periods of time, where wq actively took care of her TWICE,  and still! not one measly convo, nothing! ................ .𝓌ₕᵧ

everyone in this show need a good sip of Self Worth and Stop Sacrificing Yourself juice 

ngl the sword flying looks very dumb 

“a-cheng, please bring a-xian back.” “i will, i promise.” ;-;

the whole calling each other by the More Intimate Version of the name, first as teasing and later as true intimacy. mmmhmmm yes

untamed where everythings the same but wwx evil flute song is eoeo

related that scene when wwx comes back from the burial mounds for the first time w demonic cultivation and he acts all formal and calls lwj hanguang-jun and keeps being evasive and distant and mean and soooooo................. facetious 

and how hes kind of desperately trying to keep intense lwj at bay (A FIRST) and avoiding actually talking to either of them and its all tension ughhh and then he MOCKS his and lwjs relationship, he jokes w him in this like... mean echo of their usual ~banter~ oof 

 and like!!! uncertain but so relieved jc who just HUGS him w no reservations for once and its not like he isnt just as worried as lwj abt wwx and what hes doing, but he chooses in that moment to enjoy getting him back first and mmhmMMMmMm yes (maybe my favorite scene in the whole show? MAYBE SO. ) 

highkey hurt me but also. i might be into mean wwx. i will take no criticism.

lan zhans sad eyes tho :((((((((( 

on one hand i wish we could have seen what happened at the burial mounds but on the other the timeskip adds so much flair to his return so im hnnn

also i love that hes been missing for 3 months reappears kinda melancholic and bloodthirsty and knowing malign tricks and jc is like 'so. are u sad bc of lan wangji'

when ur bae survived the war but he thinks ur evil/ might be evil so you cant kiss :///

hmmm talking at the rooftop under the moonlight not mentioning everything that stands between usssss

they are the two jades of lan and we’ll be the two heroes of yunmeng is the type of line u dont even need to know whats gonna happen to know thats gonna be sad

when they fight wen ruoshan at the nightless city i thought that was the battle we see at the first ep and its not and its so easy and theyre all like ‘yayy we won go wwx!’ i was just. SCREAMS WHAT is gonna HAPPEN

so like. post burial mounds/sunshot campaign pre yiling patriarch wwx is like. ultra arrogant, ultra mocking, peak lil shit and it gave me e v e r y t h i n g i wanted

even tho having the wen prisoners at the targets at phoenix mountain and still having wwx and jzx shooting the arrows was???? so.... tone deaf 

wwx: fucking w demonic energy   jyl: he has never done anything wrong in his life, ever <3 <3 (mood)

the parallels between meng yao/wei wuxian (and even xue yang a bit?) are Seen and they are Valid

wwx post burial mounds: can yall SHUT UP abt the goddamn sword (suibian left the chat)

LIKE truly, we talk abt the angst and yearning with wangxian. but what abt wwx and suibian. xianbian / xianqing angst and comfort 100k

take a shot everytime someone coughs up blood

zidian is simply the coolest spiritual weapon rip to suibian and chenqing and bichen and sendou and baixa........ but tis the truth 

cons: everyones families died in a nightmare war! everyones homes burned to the ground! everyone is traumatized! pros: everyone gets cooler clothes and weapons!!

wen ning and a-yuan and yanli bestest babes squad dont touch me rn

everyone: brooding and fighting                                                                wq and jyl: why dont you try some acupunture/drinking some soup and calm down huh? how abt that bitch?? 

showing the battle/massacre at the nightless city first was genius actually bc then everytime we have a cute scene w yunmeng bros and theyre like 'we'll be together forever! uwu' youre like oh. oh no. oh no no no. 

justice vs lawfulness vs means and ends 👁

jc: stay in the right path and practice the art of the sword                        wx: yeah thats not gonna happen chief

my reaction to wwx renouncing to the sect politics to help the wens was just that elmo burning gif in succession

the dramatic rain. wen qing desperately calling out to wen ning. the ghosts/puppets killing the guards. how terrifying wn actually was while wwx was controlling him :( lwj goeing after him to try and stop him and then he just; he Sees him and understands him even if he cant actually do anything about it other than let them go. 

“there must be somewhere in this earth we can go to :(((((((((”

"IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THEM, I'D RATHER IT BE YOU. DYING BY YOUR HANDS WOULD AT LEAST BE WORTH IT." oh my god oh my god oh my goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooddddddd

also lwjs umbrella is white w black smoke.. .  . nice

yiling patriarch / demonic farming burial mounds settlement is like one of my favorite concepts. they an "EVIL" FARMING COMMUNITY LED BY THE VILLAGE WITCH COME ON

they planted TURNIPS and LOTUS FLOWERS and ONE (1) baby and made lanterns and a common hall :(((((((

wen qing and wei wuxian, baddest bitches and genius science best friends i absolutely LOVED to see it. they rly went ‘is anyone gonna sibling/project partner that’ and didnt wait for an answer

both wwx and jyl getting lotus ponds at the burial mounds and in lanling bc they miss lotus pier ;;;;;;;w

;;;;; wish jyl had actually gone into the burial mounds. we were robbed of jyl and wq meeting again and jyl meeting a-yuan and seeing the settlement and the homes and all ;w; at least jc did go, stab wounds and broken arms and all

wwx like... having thrown his whole life away to help the wens (yeah the sect leaders and jin guangshan in particular wanting his stygian tiger amulet was an Element but still) and not.... necessarily regretting it, but grappling with all of the consequences of it... becoming moody and drepressed at times, missing his family and lotus pier and his friends and probably simply missing being around people and causing trouble, extrovert that he is, lashing out at the wens and at a-yuan, just in general the whole messiness of that experience

the way the resentful energy does affect his temperament is rly nice bc its not too in your face,(i mean outside of the Shaky Hands of Rage) but like he clearly has a much lesser control on his anger and impulsivity (tall order) than both before bm and after hes ressurected

on that note A-YUAN BABIEST BABY BOY BEST BOY

lan zhan being like oh hey there wei ying fancy meeting u and our son here. just passing by u know how it is hmmmmMm and then PLOT TWIST having defied orders to go see him and being punished for it. oof;;

 they habent seen each other in like? a year? and now theyre tgt 10 seconds and are already parenting a child together

also lwj rly kneels down in the snow way too much to be healthy

wwx: calm down guyssss i wont lose control of demonic cultivation omgggg  .   spoiler alert: he loses control of demonic cultivation

did u enjoy cute children? good bc now the Real Pain Begins

jiang yanli and jin zixuan rly out there APROPRIATING both disaster gays AND bury ur gays huh ;w;

i KNEW jin lings birthday was gonna fuck something up but the GASP that left my body when wwx lost control of wn and killed jin zixuan .. . . 

im sorry and thank you aaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaAAAAA 

when wen ning and wen qing were telling wwx their plan i was saying NO NO NO NO NO NO out loud in despair 

also can we talk abt how wq is definetely talking about only the both of them surrending themselves but then? everyone else just surrenders w them? IT MAKES NO SENSE LIKE WHY WOULD THEY what would be the Point

 sometimes there are some pretty gaping jumps in logic and continuity that are just like                     ?          ?

wwx: oh so when you try to murder me its justified but when i survive through dark magic and murder all of you its a "war crime"

unsurprisingly, his most feral, most spiraling moment talking to the sect leaders on the roof and attacking them and even fighting lan zhan is among my favorite scenes... its like, so painful to watch but also   so       thrilling   (and maybe my wen bbs dying arose some resentful energy in me what can i say) 

and its JUST, all they ever wanted was to do good but then... war. and trauma. and hubris. 

jiang cheng on the ground clearly thorn between what to do and feel is a Mood, lets just say

i was already crying when jyl showed up, but if i wasnt-

 i suffered SO MUCH through this series trying to figure out WHY jc would kill wwx. and when i understood. its somehow not as bad as i thought and also MUCH MUCH WORSE

a look into my group chat during the last flashback episodes:

SO ANYWAY. after the BLOOD BATH and RIPPING YOUR HEART OUT and FEEDING IT TO YOU  the untamed goes ‘ayy back to the present!! tu du dud ud du’ 

literally it ends a quarter into an episode and then KEEPS GOING i had to pause and stare blankly at the ceiling for an hour

babie cultivators and detective soulmates . i do need some cute after All of That 

(not that the pain is over LOL)

lwj is significantly less emotionally repressed in the present and its delightful. hes just ALL IN with wwx. and not just in the ‘i would and have killed various men and risked my reputation for you’ but also ‘ur tired here have a drink i brought it up cause i know u like it and it want you to be happy, always’

“when everyone praised me and wanted my power, you were the only one that challenged me. now that everyone hates me and wants me dead, youre the only one that stands by my side.” hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 

and just filling in the blanks how lan zhan searched for him. for all of those 16 years he searched for him and was punished for it and raised a-yuan, the only survivor of the burial mounds settlement, as his own in gusu......

and jiang cheng.  being the tough love uncle . having raised the yunmeng jiang clan from the rubble all alone, his whole family dead, some of it on the blame of his own brother, his siblings, his closest friends gone.......and only jin ling there needing his guidance. 

THE PARALLEL BETWEEN JIN LING BEING A LIFELINE FOR JIANG CHENG AND A-YUAN FOR LAN WANGJI AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY  

great now i made myself sad

and like . the fact! that lwj and jc dislike each other!!. jc projects blame onto him for wwx both “leaving” him and indirectly causing their families deaths and when hes so consumed by it he makes wwx an enemy, lwj is there now? trying to protect him?? and lwj, who can never understand the pain that wwx , indirectly or not put jc through, but who was right there when jc tried to kill him and will never allow him to hurt wwx again. and how they like. in a way project blame of their tragedies onto each other while dealing with some type of survivor guilt and in their own way still loving wwx through it all???  amd in way its kind of fundamentally selfish but also tragically understandable? and like when u put it against the fact that after he disappears during the sunshot campaign they were looking for him together and fought together??

JUST. THE CHARACTERS. AND THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS. MAN. UGH. GOD. 

and like i think thats what makes it so good? its such a sad and painful and violent story, edgy even, but its compelling bc at the center of it there are all of these relationships and different types of love and hope and. :( i love it

enough crying lets talk abt wwx sleeping at the jingshi with lwj and wearing his under garment for a minute 🙏

 jin ling just has that Was Raised by JC energy tho lmao i love him

babie cultivator squad is the perfect ammount of cute and comedic relief while still bearing the weight? of the narrative in a way, both from sizhui and jin lings existences, and also. like. how do i put this. they feel hopeful? they were born after a war, they came of age at a time of relative peace, they dont hold on so closely to the resentments of their parents/father figures, they are specifically shown as more accepting and open minded. and its like.... Hope for the future  

one of the ?? things  i love the most is the fact that the main cast are often in situations where theyre hunted/running but they like. never wear disguises... just going around in their gorgeous expensive clan clothes and hair ornaments and distinctive spiritual weapons.... maybe w a straw hat on, just for kicks

wwx teacher 🥺🥺🥺

so this is why its called Yi City Misery huh

a-qing is such. an icon. im so sad. my girl even knew to leave xys dumb self rotting by the road but no one listens to her thats why theyre all dead or sad 

her and xue yang measuring each other up was so entertaining lmao

 its the funniest thing when hes like. HERES MY SAD STORY. FOR WHY IM A SADISTIC MURDERER. I BROKE MY HAND ONCE. 

like ok someone broke his hand in a horrible way, and like Poverty, i get it but also like.......... that lost the brunt of a proper sob story like, 50 sadistic murders ago bby

and i love that xingchen does not entertain that for a second hes like ‘not ?????? good enough???’ and the best thing is he wasnt even like 'u hadto be the bigger person' or sth but ' well then break that dudes hand back, rip his arm off for i care, what do the rest of us have to do w anything???” 

anjo sensato :(

xue yang is like..... the sexy sadistic evil version of a himbo..... a meanbo...

the fucked upness of xy’s feelings for xxc/ xxc and sl feelings for each other... like my dude literally gave his bf HIS EYES. and xy getting so attached to xxc .... the fucked up fake domesticity.... having him hurt sl..... then desperately trying to bring him back ...................... oof

song lan........... literally had his eyes AND tongue removed, his bfs eyes put in place, was almost killed, turned into a puppet by his bf unknowingly, manipulated by xy, sees his bf killing himself in despair.... and STILL finds the strenght to get up from there, and keep on traveling and helping people and attempting to fix xxcs soul.......... like, my man. damn. 

wangxian looking at songxiao and seeing an Actually more painful parallel for themselves. ft. that Color Coding. 

THE A-YUAN/SIZHUI REVEAL PUNCHED ME IN THE HEART but in a good way for a change

should have know that he would be the Best Boy the cute one w all the braincells

the butterfly AND the bunny lantern. i see how it is

u know is very convenient that no one can see the stark black veins on wen nings neck, ever 

BAT WEN NING 

wns face when lwj comes into wwx room like ‘:0 omg did u two finally get your shit together? good for you master wei good for u’ 

(they didnt) (yet)

DISASTER DRUNK LWJ. JUST. THRUST SOME CHICKENS TO SHOW UR RESSURECTED BAE THAT U LOVE THEM.

i have absolutely no idea WHY they gave lwj the same punishment for fighting his own sect/allies to protect the burial mounds as when they got drunk on cloud recess class days.... like? its such a ... emotional continuity error again

also is lwj gonna get an actual friend besides wwx , ever

mianmian marrying and having a family and a cute life after saying FUCK U AND UR SYSTEM TOO in a much less unhinged and dramatic way than wwx......... fills me w joy

also lol the idea that like. her husband not knowing that shes friends w satan/the boogey man/the village witch is hilarious

i love nie mingjue bc hes the resident Though Guy but also the most dramatic bitch in this show and thats Saying Something

jin ling cant have one uneventful relative can he

the fact that everyone present already knew “mo xuanyu” was wwx at the stairs is so funny, their faces are like ‘oh............ wow. that. sure is a development. shock” 

in the tradition of extremely loud whispers wwx tells lwj with twelve guards standing like one meter away from them: HEY PSH LAN ZHAN PRETEND IM FORCING YOU TO STAY W ME DO IT

oh my god oh my god

the absolute Yearning on his face when he leaves wwx and a-yuan at the burial mounds and refuses to stay for dinner was already Enough but the fact?? they brought it back?? to this declaration of love?? their expressions??????? strike me dead right now just go ahead

lFor Legal Reasons We Cant Kiss but we will have a very sappy declaration of love and trust and look at each other in way that is the actualization of 💞💘💗💖💓💘💞💗💖💘💗💖💕💞

also icb all the sect leaders and guards are standing there watching them say they like like each other with a dozen swords pointing at their neck

i enjoyed the depiction of the fickle public perception and how easily it can be used to scapegoat people. when the sect leaders turn on jgy and wwx knows thats its more for convenience than anything else...

poor lxc is literally like 'oh so when YOUR problematic boyfriend gets called evil its a misunderstanding but when its MY problematic bf-'

ok like i cant get over nmj let jgy play a song that messed with his temperament at all, like maN u KNEW he might be shady wth

wwx: “hey dont say anything bad abt lan zhan hes not an arrogant dick, thats just his face. 

ME ON THE OTHER HAND"

the cultivators as wwx is poking holes in their narrative is literally *nazaré meme*

"wei wuxian-!" "what did i break your leg, too?" not to be problematic but i laughed so hard

not as hard as "you dont have the rank to talk to me " tho

i Enjoy that, over the course of story, wwx sees that... theres nothing truly to Do, but move on. he saw how his arrogance and his mistakes hurt others, and hes trying to fix what he can, but he already did die for his mistakes and there are things he cant fix and that's. just how it is. even towards jgy, the narrative doesn't go gleefully and completely with "lets make THEM pay bc theyre the big bad" bc its not that simple, and it wouldn't lead anywhere but more pain...

re him and jiang cheng and the wens and kinda. isnt that what nhs did? scheming to displace jgy out of revenge more than any justice and doing so in the most painful way?

idk if that actually makes sense im truly just babbling

i thought the scene at the lotus pond would be CUTE but the context was PAIN again

jiang cheng finding out about his golden core and his conflict with wwx at the guanyin temple .... destroyed me but in a nice way kinda.... same way it destroys him look at his face oh god

and. the fact??? he sacrificed himself for wwx?? first?? and he'll probably never tell anyone much less wwx???? keeps me up at night

i havent decided if the neckbreak transition between jgy does sth super Evil or does he he does OR Does He yes he does O R does heeeee is sth i dislike or not

jin guangyao and wei wuxians most interesting parallel is that... theyve both seen 'hmm hey this system is fucked up' and wwx went 'so fuck it all i will renounce it and challenge it' and jgy went 'so fuck it i will use all of it to my advantage and manipulate it to my goals and whims'

the fact jgys mom was actually great and he loved her and his whole issue w it was more than simply being ashamed of being a bastard kinda got me ngl

never trust a dude with a fan.

nhs and jgy: the first rule to a convoluted and decades spanning violent revenge plot is to have fun and be yourself! 

when a-yuan finally FINALLY remembers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; wen ning has someone in his family back and a-yuan has someone to talk abt his wen family and wwx has him back bc he survived and lwj raised him anD HES THEIR SON. THEYRE MARRIED AND HAVE A SON. UGH.

and theyre allowed to heal. everyone is allowed to try and recover and be happy

netflix put all of the 3 endings on top of each other and it looks kinda weird actually BUT I DONT EVEN MIND :’’’’’’’’’)

the gasp that left me when lwj says ‘wei ying’ and wwx turns.........

there was also a screen with ‘thank you mxtx for creating these characters, we hope their wishes come true’ and i might. have cried then too. maybe. 

that was . a ride. as is proven by this behemot of a ramble clearly i just really needed and Outlet. i am currently trying to convince dumb monkey brain to not consume the other medias of mdzs immediately bc i REALLY need to like. live. a life. and take care of real responsibilities.  *longest oh boi ever*

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, could you do 11 for sternclay? sfw please :) I love your prompt fills!

Thank you so much! Here you go. The prompt was “royalty” and I based Barclay on a basking shark and Joseph on a mimic octopus.

For the last two weeks, Joseph has been hearing what a difficult assignment he’s taken, and how most bodyguards wouldn’t take it even with the handsome pay. That the princes of Sylvain are impossible to guard, that they’ve gone through more security staff than sharks go through teeth (this part he knows to be true from the records he’s found). 

Two days in, he’s starting to wonder if there’s been some sort of mistake. 

Now, had he received Duck’s assignment, he’d understand the warnings. Prince Indrid, seer to the court of Sylvain, has already shown himself to be a strange mixture of aloof, demanding, and spoiled.

But Prince Barclay?

When Joseph was shown into his chambers and introduced, the instant the servants left Barclay swam over to him with a nervous smile. He asked if there was anything he could get him, was he hungry, would he like something to drink? Joseph accepted that last offer, curious to see how the prince would react if called upon to perform hospitality rather than simply offer it. 

What happened was Barclay swam into an anteroom and came back with a carved coral platter with mother of pearl pitcher and goblets, pouring Joseph’s first before taking a glass for himself. 

That set the tone for his behavior, and it hasn’t changed in the week since he’s arrived. The prince, charcoal tailed and a little shy, seems to view Joseph as just another mer to talk to. When in the castle, Barclay will ask him his thoughts on the historical and political scrolls his tutors assign him as part of his preparation to one day inherit the kingdom. Out in public, Joseph shifts into the background, watches everything with care while the prince swims behind his parents or, more often, their advisors. 

“Do you think there was some kind of misunderstanding with his previous guard?” Joseph asks Duck over a late night dinner in the hall, which allows them to keep their eyes on their charges rooms. 

“I mean, he seems like a nice enough fella to me. But nice fellas can still be sneaky; from what Ned told me, Barclay’s an escape artist. Think he might be lurin you into a false sense of security.”

“And I think trusting what Ned Chicane tells you is a terrible way to gather intel.”

Movement from Indrid’s room and Duck stiffens, listening, then relaxes.

“Shouldn’t you go check on that?”

“Nah, he’s just pacin, does that a lot, especially at night.”

“He really should get some sleep.”

Duck shrugs, “He should. But treatin him like a child is the wrong way to go. He knows he oughta rest, my remindin him will just annoy him. Besides,” Duck raises an eyebrow, “maybe you better be more focused on your prince.”

“He turned in an hour ago.”

“You sure?”

Something in Duck’s voice sends worry bubbling through his guts, “I’ll check now, just to be positive.”

The bed is empty, the prince nowhere to be found. 

“Shit!” He darts back into the dim hallway, “he’s gone, I’ve got to find him and fast. How, how in name of the deep did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. Indrid likes to play the ‘I know somethin you don’t’ game, but if I let ‘im play it long enough, he let’s somethin important slip out.”

“Shit” Joseph says again, “I, if anyone asks-” 

“I’ll say I ain’t seen you or Barclay since dinner. Ain’t a lie.” Duck winks and Joseph flashes him a quick smile before swimming back into the prince’s rooms. There’s only one door and no secret passageways, (he checked for those himself), so the windows it is. His tentacles can sense Barclay’s trail, faint but unmistakable, and he follows it until he’s almost at the shore. Then it’s gone. 

He spends the next three hours feverishly tracing and retracing his path and keeping his panic to a minimum. When he spies a figure swimming towards him, he backs against a rock, planning to hide until they pass. 

This plan changes the instant he registers who it is. 

“Gaahfuck” Barclay catches his yell quickly and muffles it down to a hiss, “what the hell Joseph, you scared me.”

“And you just made me spend three hours swimming around and wondering if my charge had been abducted. I’d say that makes us even.”

“Didn’t make you do anything.” Barclay grumbles as Joseph turns them towards the palace. 

He sighs, “No, I guess technically you didn’t. But I take my job very, very seriously. If this past week hasn’t demonstrated that sufficiently, maybe tonight has. When you disappear into the night, it’s my duty to follow.” He catches brown eyes studying him warily and adds, “I’m not doing it to be punitive or steal your freedom, or even because their majesties told me to; I’m doing it because you’re under my protection.”

The prince nods but says nothing else until they return to his rooms. 

“Joseph? I’m uh, I’m sorry. For scaring you. You got farther than anyone else did, none of them ever tracked me that well, if they noticed I was gone at all. I figured you wouldn’t notice, so you wouldn’t worry. So, yeah. I’m sorry.” 

Joseph knows a false apology when he hears it, and this is as far from one as a desert is from the deep sea. 

“Apology accepted, my prince. But Barclay” he levels the other mer with a stern gaze, tries not to notice his cheeks tinging pink the longer he holds it, “don’t do it again.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“Are you certain we cannot trade?” Indrid’s fin ripples with agitation as he draws. 

“Nope, Joseph is a good bodyguard.”

“And your crush on him is not governing your answer in the slightest?” Indrid smirks but doesn’t look up. 

“No idea what you’re talking about. Besides, Duck seems nice.” Barclay stretches his other arm, then pauses, “wait, fuck, is he hurting you or something?”

“No. On the contrary, he is annoyingly concerned with my wellbeing.”

“That’s his job.”

“It was the job of all his predecessors as well, but all it took was ordering them around or demanding things in the right tone before they were letting me do as I pleased. I wanted to go to that bar on the edge of town last night and do you know what he did? He told me no, because word had gotten around that it was a spot I frequented and someone there might try to take me hostage.”

“...And?”

“And, and then when I tried to leave anyway he blocked the door with that blasted muscular tail and obnoxiously charming face and wouldn’t move! Then he told me he would if I looked at the future told him we’d both be safe if we went. It turns out he was right, the chances of violence were high.”

“I mean, you don’t like places that loud anyway-”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Indrid sighs, “so we stayed in and I made him read to me as penance but he was very good at it and I fell asleep within a half hour.”

Barclay is trying hard not to laugh, only because he knows how hard it is for his brother to admit such things. And because, given what else he knows of Duck, the mer might be exactly what his brother needs. If nothing else, Barclay hopes Duck might be observant enough to notice what’s there, not just what his brother tries to toss up like so much sand in hopes of obscuring the truth. 

Indrid goes back to his drawings. Barclay can remember the first time their ministers caught Indrid capturing the futures this way and scolded him, saying the futures to look at were only those the court asked him to, nothing else. Indrid had explained, in a number of different ways, that this was how he could keep the images from overwhelming him, but still they insisted he stop. It wasn’t until he drew on his status and threw a near fit that they relented. That was a lesson he never forgot. 

Barclay hopes todays lessons will be more enjoyable. One of the jobs of a royal bodyguard is to train the princes in self-defense. When Joseph and Duck enter the gym through kelp curtains, Barclay can’t help but be mesmerized by the poise with which his tentacles move across the ground. 

“Good morning, your highness. And to you as well, your highness.” Joseph bows to them each in turn, “Barclay, today you and I will be working with swords while Duck and Prince Indrid work on hand to hand combat.”

“What?” Indrid looks up, red eyes wide, “Barclay is the one who trains hand to hand, not me.”

“Which is exactly why we gotta mix things up. You need all the modes of defense you can get. Unless of course you’re, uh, afraid you can’t take me.” Duck raises an eyebrow at Indrid. 

His brother says nothing, simply grabs his bodyguard and pulls him towards the designated room, calling, “I’ll see you after lunch!”

He and Joseph trade an amused look, then swim to the shelf of blunted training weapons. They’re still bone or sharks tooth, but they’ve been sanded down so no one can get hurt. 

“Now, you mentioned you’ve done some sword work, so am I right that you know how to hold this safely?”

“Yep.” Barclay takes the sword, swimming over to one of the Xs on the floor. 

“Good. To keep things fair for now, I won’t use my tentacles for anything other than swimming.” Joseph takes his position on the opposite X and lifts his sword, “ready?”

Barclay nods and then immediately parries as Joseph lunges with a burst of speed. He recovers quickly, and they begin an elegant back and forth, bubbles and stray sand swirling through the air as they spin and dodge around one another. Joseph keeps up a steady stream of commentary, either positive or instructive, and Barclay is having a hard time ignoring the the thrill he gets every time Joseph pulls off a graceful maneuver. 

When they break, both a little winded, there’s a crash from the next room. 

“Fuck! You okay, your highness?” Duck sounds concerned. 

“Yes, now try that again, I am going to get this right.” 

Joseph glances at him, “Should we-”

“Nah. He kinda sounds like he’s enjoying himself.”

The other mer studies him, “Are you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to stop holding back. I can’t train you effectively if I don’t know what your skill level actually is.”

He’s learned not to insist Joseph is mis-observing things when he’s actually observing them perfectly; the other mer is too sharp for that. 

“I...I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Joseph swims close, sets a hand on his shoulder, “For starters, these are fake swords, and I’m not a bad fighter. But more than that, I suspect there’s a very impressive swordsman under those scales.”

They take their positions and when Joseph gives the signal Barclay attacks with all the force his tail can muster. Joseph dodges easily but makes an approving noise. Then he grins, the expression downright rakish, and attacks with such precision and speed that Barclay barely manages to counter him. 

His focus narrows down to the fight, to watching Joseph’s body for every sign of movement, every twitch of muscle and tentacle. Finally, he sees his opening and drives the other mer backwards until he’s trapped, back to the rocky grey wall. 

“Well” Barclay pants, images of finishing the fight with a kiss banging about his mind, “what do you think of that, Joseph?”

Two tentacles rise, plucking both swords from their fighters hands as his bodyguard murmurs, “I’m impressed.”

-------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a month and a half since Barclay slipped out of his room, and while he’s tried twice more, Joseph has been ready each time. Tonight, however, he’s opting for a new strategy.

He bids the prince goodnight, well aware he’ll swim out the window around moonrise. Then he waits just across from the window, skin and tentacles camouflaged with the rocks. Right on time, Barclay emerges, swimming quickly and quietly towards the shore. Joseph follows at a safe distance, forces himself to focus on the prince’s likely path rather than on how handsome he looks in the moonlight. 

When they reach the shallows Barclay pauses, slips a woven bracelet onto his wrist, and kicks towards the surface. 

Who in the name of the wide ocean gave him legs?

Joseph’s physiology allows him to crawl across the tidepools, keeping his eyes on Barclay as the prince retrieves a set of clothes hidden behind a rock and walks into the small town of Kepler, turning towards a restaurant on the pier. 

Someone had to enchant that bracelet for him, has to know where he’s going while using it. And that someone has to be a mer he trusts. 

------------------------------------------------------

“Yes. I made him the bracelet. What of it?” Indrid says coolly. 

“Indrid, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Joseph throws his arms and several tentacles in the air. 

“Hold up” Duck turns to his prince, “Indrid, I’m guessin Barclay probably asked for a reason, right?”

“Indeed, but if I say what it was, you will reveal it to our parents and ministers and take it away from him.”

“I won’t. I promise. I, I just want to help.”

Indrid narrows his eyes. Then, remarkably, he turns to Duck and cocks his head. Duck nods. 

“Very well. And yes, I will grant you that favor you’re about to ask for…”

----------------------------------------------------------

How do humans manage with these things? His tentacles tell him so much more than these useless feet do. 

Joseph makes his wobbly way into Kepler, following Barclay’s trail down the pier, the one he’s walked the last two weeks while Joseph intermittently clung to the nearby wooden supports or fencing to make sure his prince wasn’t in danger. 

Even with Indrid’s explanation, the room he enters is a surprise. Several counters with what he knows humans call “stoves” sitting on them, each manned by one or two people. 

“Hello there” An affable older man in a multi-colored shirt approaches him, “you here for the class?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Hmmm, since you’re new, better pair you with someone, just to be safe. Follow me.”

Joseph isn’t afraid of much. But when he sees who the man intends to pair him with, he almost jumps out the window and flees back to the sea.

“You’re in luck, gonna pair you with my best student. Barclay, this is…”

“Joseph”

“Joseph’s first class with us, so I’m handin him over to you. Make me proud.”

Barclay isn’t blinking, but he manages to say, “sure thing, Thacker.” 

The older man nods, pleased, and makes his way towards the kitchen set-up at the front of the room, greeting people as he goes. 

“What the fuck, Joseph?” Barclay keeps his voice low, “did Janelle give you legs just so you could come drag me out of class?”

“No, no not at all. Indrid did this.”

“What?”

Joseph takes a deep breath, “Barclay, I told you that first week that I’m here to protect you. The way I see it, I’ll do a much better job if I come with you to something that clearly matters to you, rather than force you to hide it from me. No one knows about this but Indrid and Duck.”

Barclay seems stunned, doesn’t say anything as Thacker opens the class and instructs them on how to make something called “marinara” to go on “pasta.” The prince stays silent until they’re working on the cookies the human is also having them make.

“Here, it’s easier to cut them out like this.” He sets his hand atop Joseph’s, pressing and shaking it so the dough comes away from the stone slab in the shape of a heart. 

“Thank you.”

Barclay smiles at him, and the kitchen grows hotter. 

When everything is done cooking, they sit on stools at their station, eating the fruits of their labor. Barclay is animatedly describing the pie they made last week, occasionally stopping to chat with some of the other students. He looks so happy, and Joseph decides he will not tell their majesties about this even if they torture him. Or fire him. 

As they walk back along the beach, Barclay explaining all the things he’s learned about cooking and how much he wishes they’d let him cook at the palace rather than insist it’s beneath his station, the prince takes his hand.

“Humans do this when they’re waling on the beach together. I think it’s to keep them from getting separated if they get hit by a wave.

Joseph is pretty sure that’s not the reason, but he’s not about to say so now. 

They dive back under the waves, removing their charms and swimming side by side in the dark water. Once they’re safely inside, Barclay turns to him, beaming, “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Even if I wasn’t invited?”

“Yeah. It, uh, it means a lot to me that you wanna learn about the stuff that matters to me. That you wanna know the real me.”

“Of course I do.”

Barclay swims dangerously close, “You, uh, do you wanna know another part?”

He nods. Barclay leans in and presses their lips together. Joseph manages to keep his hands himself, but his tentacles have other ideas, curling protectively around the prince’s tail and waist. The instant Barclay pulls back with the most adorable sigh in the sea, Joseph forces them to return to their normal position. 

The prince gives him a final, shy smile and whispers, “‘Night, Joseph. And thanks for everything.”

[lakemojave]

Land of Falling Sun 4

It wasn’t dust after all.

The smoke formed a thick haze that rendered the travelers blind to the horizon ahead. Flakes of ash hung in the air, carrying a thick and foul odor of fire and decay. Somewhere in this flat, lifeless wasteland, something was burning in a great and terrible mass. Chipper had a sharper nose, and guessed it was likely a brush fire, and a big one. The wanderer briefly and privately entertained the notion that if there was enough plant matter to burn out here, then there was likely a great deal of life which he simply hadn’t given thought to.

He didn’t give Chipper much thought for most of the way; they were talented at spotting desert critters to refill their rations, and their magical talent was invaluable to their water supply. In this moment though, he had never been more grateful than to have his winged companion beside him, clearing the smoke with every beat of their wings. Dog was being pleasantly quiet as well, but still hadn’t taken to speaking only when addressed.

It was midnight now. The full moon shone bright in the sky which enveloped the landscape in brilliant shades of red and orange. It was hard to see through the smoke, as was the setting sun itself. In fact, around this time the travelers noticed how hard it was to see anything at all. It was dark, almost uncharacteristically so. The smoke was thick indeed, but not enough to blot out the moon or suns. A great shadow hung over the travelers, but they hadn’t the faintest idea what cast it.

The wanderer turned his gaze up slightly, up and towards the distance. “Hey lil’ fella,” he asked, “How big does the fauna get out here?”

“Hmmm...well the sand rats can get pretty big.” They gestured their talons to suggest the size of the largest sand rat they’d seen. “But I’ve never seen anything I’d call...colossal, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is.” The wanderer eased up a bit. “I’ve seen big, nasty things in other country. Would hate to run into some of them out here.” Chipper looked to their companion with trepidation, disturbed by the image of whatever beast he could be describing.

“Might be a cloud? Really big mountain?” They spread their wings and deepened their voice. “Really big bird?” They chuckled and resumed flying, clearly amused with themself. The wanderer hid his smirk. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Wait,” he asked, “You’re not actually from this country are you?” He shot Chipper an inquisitive glance, who returned it with a bashful, withdrawn look of their own. The wanderer grew concerned. “How’d you wind up out here?”

“I got chased,” they said. They looked straight ahead. “Can we focus?”

The wanderer shrugged and looked on as well. No need to pry.

The pair traveled in silence for a while longer. Dog remained silent, its nose keen and attentive for any signs of life it might pick up through the haze. The shadow that spread over the desert completely enveloped their surroundings, shading them from the heat of the sun. Soon, the smoke gradually cleared up ahead. Past the layer of fog, the pair could see a wall of solid rock, rising far above the desert floor. They looked up, and couldn’t see an end, but it appeared to be a sheer cliff face.

Up ahead, there was a trail.

----

The trail was narrow, barely enough to fit Dog’s six hooves. Chipper would perch on Dog’s hind to rest their wings, which they wrapped around the wanderer’s stomach for safety. Dog’s hoof would sometimes trip along the trail’s edge, dislodging small rocks and sending them plummeting to the ground.

Chipper and the wanderer came to a turnaround, putting the cliff face to their left. The trail was slightly steeper now. The wanderer ducked to avoid a branch that protruded from the cliff, and leaned forward to avoid its swipe as he passed. A few paces later, he looked back curiously. Chipper looked up at him much the same. “You alright?”

“Funny,” he said. “They’re showin’ up more often now.” He kept his gaze behind him, furrowing his brow, as though attempting to decipher some mystery he desperately lacked the information needed to understand.

“Yeah, so?” Chipper asked.

“I dunno. Just more plants than I’ve gotten used to.”

“Think there’s more at the uh...top?” They seemed to question whether there even was a top. By now they were so high that the smoke had thinned significantly, and the stench had mostly passed.

“By my guess, and by our luck,” the wanderer answered, “There will either be a bounty of plants and fertile ground and paradise and whatnot--the likes of which we’ve never seen--or an even shittier desert.” He spurred Dog on a little faster, who then picked up its pace slightly. “Either way, we’ll be there, and everything behind us’ll be long gone. That’s gotta do.”

“It will do, until the desert itself becomes yet another regret.”

“Can it, Dog.”

“When do I get to talk to him?”

“It. And you don’t.”

“Give them time, sir. Give them time.”

The wanderer groaned, and then coughed after groaning a little too hard.

----

The next day, as the traveling sun rose from the northern horizon, the travelers spent time resting in a small cavity in the cliff face, wide enough for all three to sit comfortably. The wanderer rested his back against Dog’s body, and Chipper lay flat on the ground, stretching out their back. As they stretched their wings and cracked their sore back, the wanderer pulled out some clippers and a mirror, and began trimming his beard.

Dog had picked up the scent of a cliff hound the day before. Following the trail brought them to the source: this cave. Dealing with cliff hounds was straightforward, as long as you could track them to their dens and corner them properly. Chipper and Dog approached the cave entrance quietly, then blocked it while the wanderer went in with his knife. He knew to close the distance quickly, stop short of its tail stinger, then dodge right, since cliff hounds are dominant to their right legs and will attack with them first. After dodging towards the attack, it’s best to attack below the jaw, as the skin is easy to penetrate, and a proper stab will go directly into the brain.

The wanderer skinned the feathery creature, then cooked the meat over a fire circle. This relieved him significantly; his arm was beginning to ache severely, and if he didn’t perform any Work soon, the pain would be debilitating. Chipper continued to hold off questions about the state of the wanderer’s arm, or the rest of his skin he neglected to reveal. Yes, it tortured Chipper’s curious mind not to investigate, but they wished to respect their mutual privacy. The soot--or tar as it looked in the circle--was connected to his talent, and that was sufficient.

Their food, water, and shelter accounted for, the travelers enjoyed the first true respite of their journey. The smoke was still rising up the cliff in light wisps, but the smell had passed. The wanderer heard a breeze, but felt nothing when he stepped outside of the cave. “The sound of wind across the desert plain,” said Dog, “But above us. I know the sound well. We are climbing a great plateau, and will soon be at the top.”

The wanderer looked back to Dog, saying nothing, but nodding once. Dog still upset him in a way he couldn’t quite describe, but he understood and respected the beast’s intelligence.

Chipper was feeling good enough to fly again, and sat down to untangle their hair. The wanderer kneeled behind them and brushed their hair in his hands.

----

That night, as the traveling sun set, the setting sun gingerly hung low in the sky, and the moon shone bright, the travelers approached the apex of their climb. Their spirits were rejuvenated, pleased to be out of the valley; yet, they were anxious and on guard, undetermined whether this would be the end of their journey or its beginning.

The trail curved inwards, towards the top of the plateau and easing significantly. There was room for the wanderer to spur Dog to a gallop, and it happily picked up speed, kicking a cloud of dust in its wake. Chipper flapped their wings and tucked in their legs, flying at full speed alongside their mounted friend. Their hearts raced.

They came to the top of the plateau. It was vast, dry, painted in a vivid red and orange soil. The landscape stood dotted with cacti and desert trees, and in the distance they could hear the sounds of birds. The travelers could finally see the setting sun again, and felt the kiss of its warm rays from all the way across this new world. It was another desert, but full of life--and unlike the valley below, it was life they could see.

Up ahead, close on the horizon, Chipper saw what looked like buildings. Rising up among them was a tower of smoke.

[whoisbxcky]

Soldat Ex Machina

request: Hi lovey! I have a request for a Bucky imagine if you want to write it: on a mission Bucky gets turned back into the winter soldier and is super protective of the reader and he’s like you are my mission and won’t let anyone near her until he’s back and then he admits he loves you?

pairing: Bucky x Reader

word count: 4500 +/-

warnings: angst, descriptive violence, mild language warning, fluff as heck at the end, teeeeeniest tiniest bit of nsfw if you squint

author’s note: Now, I know what you’re thinking. 

“Toria, why has your one-shot request turned into 4500 words?”

And all I can say, is I’m weak for Bucky Barnes and natural selection is coming for me.

I loved this fic request. I didn’t know I needed soft(ish?) Winter Soldier until now. I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much to anon for excellent prompting. Peace and love. ~ Toria <3

“Alright, south-west corridor is clear, Buck. How’s the auditorium looking?”

You glanced behind you to do your fifth head count of the minute, confirming once again that all seven of the captive scientists were with you. The poor guys had been Hydra’s prisoners for weeks now, and your intel suggested they’d been forced to work on a new version of the super soldier serum during their time here.

Obviously, since two super soldiers were more than enough for you to deal with on a day to day basis, you’d been the first to volunteer to shut the operation down and rescue the hostages. As expected, Bucky was hot on your heels with an offer to assist, not solely for the opportunity to screw with Hydra, but also because together, you were a force to be reckoned with.

With a self-assured nod and a quick, reassuring smile at the weary men behind you, you turned your head once more, awaiting Bucky’s response.

“Auditorium’s clear.”

Bucky’s voice did not reach you over the coms, but instead, you found his head rather comically poking out from between the double doors leading to the room in question, a roguish grin plastered on his face on seeing your expression.

“Dumbass.” You muttered quiet enough that you were sure only Bucky could catch it.

You flashed him a grin as he winked at you, while the two of you guided the scientists into the room, scanning the perimeter for hostiles.

Satisfied the coast was clear, you let yourself drop rather dramatically onto a nearby table, checking the magazine of your Beretta nonchalantly as you called out to the scientists, who were huddled in the centre of the room, Bucky at their side.

“The medevac will be wheels down in two minutes, once on board it’ll take you fellas to our… Base of operations, if you will, for a once over. You’ll be back with your families before you know it.”

You glanced up, offering them yet another reassuring smile and meeting Bucky’s gaze, when suddenly, a loud crackle echoed around you in the vacant hall. You were on your feet again in seconds, eyes scanning around for the source of the noise.

“I wouldn’t count on that, Miss Y/L/N.”

A thick German accent came over the intercom system in each corner of the room, the voice practically reverberating in your skull it was so loud. You grimaced, stepping towards Bucky and the now even more terrified hostages as you responded in a bored tone.

“I find it exceptionally hard to take threats from a hunk of plastic. Why don’t you come on down here, and we can talk about it.”

You smirked then, cocking your pistol and spinning it thrice in hand. You glanced across to see Bucky staring incredulously at you, and you shrugged. A wheezing cackle followed over the speakers.

“I admire your spirit, Miss Y/L/N, and you and Mr. Barnes have performed, exceptionally, so far. But I think now it is time to… Raise the stakes… A little bit.”

You could hear the cockiness in his tone, too self-assured for a man armed with a karaoke kit.

“We’re leaving. Now.” You murmured to Bucky.

He gave you a subtle nod in agreement as you both turned on your heels, guiding the scientists hastily towards the exit.

Suddenly, the way was blocked by a team of nine men all in black, armed to the teeth with automatics. No sooner had you turned to tell Bucky to cover you while you went on the offensive, than a loud crack resonated around the room, and before you could react, a small metal dart had lodged itself in Bucky’s neck.

He let out a grunt of discontent, yanking the syringe out and staring at it, dumbfounded for a moment, before it fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

“Bucky!”

You cried out, running towards him just in time to catch his weight as he lurched forward, eyes glassy and dazed expression fixed on your face. You gave a start of despair, rounding on your assailants with a snarl.

“What the hell is this? What have you done to him?”

A grating chuckle came over the speaker once more, and the voice from earlier was all around you, mocking, inescapable.

“Allow me to demonstrate… Žilánie.”

You stared at Bucky incredulously for a beat. This wouldn’t work, all the training Bucky had done in Wakanda had given him control over his Winter Soldier state.

“Ržávyj.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror and he pushed you away with a cry, hands gripping his head furiously. You could only watch in sheer terror as the unknown assailant continued to list off his trigger words, and Bucky, despite his best efforts, seemed to be submitting to their effect.

The dart.

Somewhere in the back of your panic-stricken mind, clarity rung through the chaos like the chime of a bell. Whatever concoction that dart contained, must have done something to his mind, made it… Accessible.

You fought back a retch, staring at Bucky with a look that was as much an apology as it was fear. Even on your best day you couldn’t beat Bucky. You were good, but you weren’t a super soldier. Right now, all you could do was get the seven men under your care to safety, and hope Barnes wouldn’t kill you in the process.

As the final words of the cycle were upon you, you looked around the room desperately for an escape. In the panic of watching the Winter Soldier reanimate before your eyes, you’d failed to notice the arrival of three more agents, blocking the door you had entered from. There was no way out.

You moved closer to the now-despairing hostages, muttering to them in a low tone, as calmly as you could muster.

“When I give the signal, you guys take cover. If I d-… If something happens, the medevac will be on the East side of the building-”

“Gruzavój vagón”

Your eyes snapped up in horror, fixating on the man who stood where your partner had once been. Cold, unfeeling eyes stared back, and for a moment, you dared not breath.

Bucky…

Settling your resolve, you gripped your Beretta. You may not make it out of here, but you still might get these men home to their families, at the very least. You’d barely uttered the word “go” to the men behind you before you were taking a shot at the nearest Hydra agent on your right, getting off as many rounds as you could before gunfire rained down on you like a hailstorm. You ducked for cover under a metal table, wincing as shots flew just centimetres from your head.

“Get the scientists, I want each of them brought back ALIVE.”

That damn voice again. You cursed, peaking around from your hiding spot to see a few of the armed men abandon their post by the door to surround the scientists, who had only made it as far as an overturned table, some ten metres away from you, in the ensuing chaos.

Crap.

You made a break for it, taking out a two more assailants with some strategically placed gunfire as you went. You were almost upon the five that were closing in on your targets, when suddenly you were thrown to the floor with a rather undignified clatter. Rolling into a crouch, you looked up to find a man the size of a bear towering over you, a gleeful yet sinister smirk on his face.

“Going somewhere, little mouse?”

You snarled, launching yourself to your feet and aiming a jab at his solar plexus. The man chuckled as your fist connected, apparently not at all phased by the assault, and proceeded to headbutt you, sending you flying back to the ground.

You groaned, gripping your head as you scrambled to get back on your feet. Before you were up however, terrifyingly strong hands gripped your throat, pulling you up off the group and hanging you there like a rag-doll.

You let out a strangled cry, frantically scratching and kicking to find some reprieve from the man’s monstrous grip on you, but every time you landed a punch, he’d simply smirk, obviously enjoying your struggle.

Prick.

Just as you thought your number may be up, you were forced to stifle a scream and a knife whizzed past your skull, embedding itself deep into your attacker’s eye socket. As the man dropped to the ground, his hold on you going entirely limp, you gasped, spinning on one heel in search of your saviour, and almost passed out yourself when your eyes connected with Bucky’s.

Except, that wasn’t Bucky. That was the Winter Solider. So, what in the hell was he doing taking out Hydra agents and saving your life?

Holding your gaze in those steel blue eyes for only a second longer, the Soldier turned, taking out two approaching opponents with unnerving precision and efficiency. You were vaguely aware of shouting off to your left, and you turned just in time to see one of the scientists you were supposed to be rescuing get taken down, the other six trying, but failing, to make a stand behind him.

You shot a last, weary glance towards the Soldier, who was currently in the process of disarming and… Oh… Dismembering… The three agents who had been guarding the entrance to the back corridor.

With a grimace, you took off running. Realising in dismay that your pistol had been lost in your earlier struggle, you grabbed a nearby stool, bringing it down with all your might on the head of the agent closest to you. As their comrade went down, in unison, the four others turned to you, eyes gleaming with furious blood lust.

“My bad.” You muttered.

You shot them a smirk, your eyes twinkling with malice as you prepared yourself. However, just as the man furthest to your left moved to shoot, a knife lodged itself into he back of his hand with a dull thump. Before anyone could react, including the man himself, the Winter Soldier was upon him, metal arm lashing out to strike him in the jugular, causing the man fall uselessly to the ground.

You scowled, as the other three sprung into action, and you moved to take on the assailant directly in front of you. But before you could get within striking distance, the Soldiers grip was on your arm, tossing you backwards. You rolled over your shoulder, landing in a crouched position just behind him, shooting him an affronted glare. However, he was not looking back at you, and had already resumed his one man-wrecking crew assault on the Hydra agents that remained.

Uttering a few, choice expletives under your breath, you glanced around, gaze coming to rest on the seven terrified men huddled behind an overturned table to your right.

Oh, yeah. Your mission.

You took the opportunity to close the distance between you and your targets finally, dragging each of the men to their feet and guiding them towards the now-unoccupied exit.

“Alright, fellas. This party’s getting a little boring. What’d’ya say we blow this joint?”

The captive scientists nodded fervently in unison, helping each other to their feet as you ushered the towards the exit. As you swung the door open, you came face to face with one of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents in charge of the medevac team, staring dumbly at him for a second.

“Uh… We just thought… You guys were taking a while.” He glanced down at you warily as you raised a brow.

“Ran into some trouble, better later than never, hey?” You murmured in a honeyed tone.

The agent nodded curtly, and cleared his throat, nodding towards the men huddled behind you.

“If you’re ready, ma’am.” He muttered, turning on his heel and gesturing towards the helo, freezing as you caught his wrists in your steely grip.

“I’m not finished here. Take the hostages back to Fury, we’ll find our own way home.”

And with that, before the S.H.I.E.L.D agent could object, you gestured for the exhausted group behind you to follow him, sprinting back into the building without a moment’s hesitation.

Once inside, you surveyed the scene in front of you, tallying the bodies that littered the floor.

You counted all twelve hostiles, noting with mild apprehension that some had bullet wounds in their foreheads where none had been before.

It was at that moment that movement in the shadowy corner of the hall caught your attention, and you froze, body trembling with both adrenaline and exhaustion. You took an instinctual step back as the Winter Soldier materialised out of the darkness, his merciless gaze fixated on you.

“We should leave. More will come.” He spoke in a tone entirely void of emotion, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge.

“Why should I go anywhere with you, soldat?” You challenged; arms crossed as you narrowed your eyes at the man.

Yes, he had just saved your life. But this was still the Winter Soldier, and you were anything but an optimist.

The Soldier didn’t reply. Instead, he closed the space between you so rapidly that you barely had time to flinch as he took your arm in his cold, metal grasp, dragging you after him as he moved towards the exit.

You struggled against him, frantically trying to tug your arm free, but to no avail.

“What the hell are you doing?”

No response.

“Bucky.”

Nothing.

With a growl of discontent, you opted for a new tactic.

“Zachem ty eto delayesh'?” (“Why are you doing this?”) You snarled at him venomously, causing the Soldier to stop dead in his tracks.

When he said nothing, you tried once more, your voice softening substantially on seeing the confusion in his face. It almost looked like your Bucky when you hit him with a pop culture reference.

“Kto ya dlya tebya?” (“Who am I to you?”) You whispered.

You fixed him with a pleading stare, finally ceasing your incessant attempts at escaping his grasp. The Soldier turned to face you completely, his flesh hand coming up to grip your free arm as he looked you dead in the eyes. You swore you saw a flicker of something in their inky depths.

“Vy moya missiya seychas.” (“You are my mission now.”)

His voice was still entirely expressionless, and yet his words hit you so hard you might have stumbled backwards had he not had a vice-like grip on you.

There was a moments silence as you found yourself trapped in the Soldier’s gaze. Your mind whirled to make sense of his words, and your mouth hung open uselessly, unable to muster a response.

With a sigh, your companion muttered something about finding shelter, dragging you once more behind him.

However, despite his brutish mannerisms and the fact he was still, in fact, the Winter Soldier, this time, you found yourself complying.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Forty-five minutes and a lot of awkward silence later, the two of you were held up in a small, abandoned barn on the outskirts of the next town over. Bucky, or rather, the Soldier, stood in the doorway, lifeless eyes scanning the horizon relentlessly. You, on the other hand, were sat a healthy distance away, lent up against a metal trough, your whole-body trembling from a combination of the dropping temperature and furious trepidation.

What in the hell were you supposed to do with this situation?

Obviously, something had gone wrong with the Soldier’s programming, and as far as you could tell, he didn’t want to kill you. Which was good. However, he was still the Winter Soldier. That was less good. The real question, was how on earth were you going to get Bucky back in the driver’s seat?

You were brought out of your heavy thoughts by black-clad legs entering your line of sight, and your eyes snapped up in shock, your body instinctively tensing.

“You’re cold.”

The Soldier’s voice held no warmth as he made his observation, his vacant eyes fixated on you. You cleared your throat, running a hand casually through your hair as you shrugged.

“I didn’t plan on making this a two-day trip, if I’d known we were camping out I’d have brought my sweats.”

His expression did not falter for even a second, and you frowned. Not that you’d expected him to break into a fit of giggles, but, geez. Tough crowd.

Instead, you watched attentively he pulled his leather jacket off, carefully ignoring the way his muscles rippled under his shirt as he did so. Without a word, he dropped the jacket over your knees, which were currently curled up to your chest. You practically purred as you tugged the jacket tighter around you, the ghost of his body heat still present on the material.

“Thanks, comrade.” You murmured, eyeing him tentatively.

He turned on his heel to return to his post but stopped short when you cleared your throat once more. By the time he turned back to face you, your arm was extended, offering him a bottle of water you had stashed in your tactical gear.

“Consider it a peace offering.” You said matter of factly.

He gave you a dubious look, the most expression you’d seen on his face all night, you noted, as you settled down against the wall to rest. Nevertheless, he took the bottle with a curt nod of appreciation, before making his way back to the doorway, taking a drink of the water as he went.

Ten seconds later, and you found yourself wincing as the Soldier’s body dropped like a sack of potatoes to the ground, water bottle discarded at his side.

You didn’t feel great about using the sedatives you kept in your medical kit on the guy. Really, you didn’t, but…

You shakily got to your feet, draping Bucky’s jacket back over him as you gave him a once over for injuries. When you were satisfied that he was unharmed from the fall, you moved a little way off, leaning against a hay-bale as you watched him through bleary, sleep-addled eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. But I can’t risk losing you.” You whispered into the darkness, shuddering as the howling wind sent a chill through your bones.

This was going to be a long night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning, you woke from a sleep you’d never meant to have. You’d been dutifully watching over Bucky’s body all night; in case he woke from his drug-induced slumber. However, it was becoming increasingly apparent as consciousness returned to you, that at some point, you yourself had passed out.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze slid over to the pile of hay on which you’d left your teammates unconscious form. A pile of hay that was now unquestionably vacant.

Crap.

Within seconds, you were sprinting out of the barn, rounding off a list of expletives so colourful it’d make Cap’ blush.

Please don’t be gone, please don’t be gone, please don’t be-

You skidded to a halt as you approached the brow of the hill on which the barn was stationed, stifling a sob of relief as your eyes homed in on a familiar form sitting on the grass, his body silhouetted by the rising sun.

“Bucky?” You uttered in a breathy gasp.

His head snapped around to face you then, and as you tentatively made your way towards him, you could just about make out the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his forehead. That was Bucky alright.

“Y/N…” He murmured as you came to rest, knelt by his side.

You could see the confusion in his eyes, the worry in his clenched jaw. How long had he been out here, torturing himself over the blank pages in his memory?

“You’re awake…” You spoke slowly, almost as if in a dream. “How much do you remember…?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from you to focus on the ever-rising sun, far off in the distance.

“I remember the words. Then… Nothing. What did I do?” His woeful tone made your heart ache.

You sucked in air, rubbing the back of your neck as you offered him a cautious explanation.

“Uh… Well… You kind of sort of, took out the entirety of the Hydra forces and saved my life…?”

Bucky’s head snapped back around, wide, curious eyes practically burning through your own as he processed your words.

“I… Didn’t hurt you?” He whispered, so low you had to strain to hear it.

You smiled, unable to mask the light pink hue in your cheeks at the memory. At the time, you’d almost crapped your pants. But now, after the fact, the realisation that Bucky, even under the control of Hydra, had chosen to protect you, made your chest stutter uncomfortably.

“Ah… No. The opposite in fact.”

Bucky’s face cracked with relieved, a soft smile playing on his lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his profile looked, highlighted by the first rays of morning light. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, in which you both lost yourselves in your respective musings, you broke the stillness with a shy cough.

“Hey… Buck? When I asked you if you knew me, while you were… You know… You told me that I was your mission, what do you think you meant by that?”

Even in the blinding light of the sun’s rays, you noticed Bucky going an unmistakably bright shade of red, unable to meet your gaze. He turned his head away from you, studiously focusing on the scenery in front of him in mutinous silence. You let out a breath of dismay, scooting your body around his tensed form to kneel in from of him, crouching on the balls of your feet and forcing him to look at you.

“Bucky?” You called to him in a gentle, yet insistent tone.

You’re not shutting me out, Mr. Barnes. Not today.

He grunted in response, still unable to meet your incessant stare, but you noticed his features soften as he let out a sigh of defeat.

“I… Guess I wanted to protect you. Even then.” He confessed in a barely-there whisper.

You swallowed. Hard.

“But how? Why? With your mind under their control-”

“There’s forces stronger than Hydra’s science in this world, Y/N.” The uncertainty in his voice had all but vanished as he cut you off, replaced by candour that made your heart do that strange, fluttery thing again.

He finally brought his eyes away from the view behind you to meet your gaze with such sincerity, such intensity, that you found yourself unable to move, unable to speak, or even think. In that moment, there was only Bucky.

When you finally forced your mouth to summon an admittedly limited choice in words, your voice was distinctly horse.

“Like… What?”

Bucky held your gaze, his metal hand tenderly moving to grasp your flesh one, his cheeks flushed crimson. Despite his obvious reticence, there was no hesitation in his eyes as he spoke in a low, gravelly tone.

“Like being madly in love with the best person you know.”

After a beat, your mouth dropped open, eyes wide. All you could do was gawk at him then, totally floored by the declaration.

Surely, he didn’t mean you?

Surely Steve was more qualified for the moniker of ‘best person Bucky knows’?

Surely-

“I’m talking about you, dumbass.”

Bucky flashed you a wry smile, apparently reading your thoughts. You remained stock-still, your mind struggling so hard to process what you were being told, you could have sworn you heard the dial-up internet noise from within its depths.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you. Bucky. Your mission partner. Your best friend. Your… Your…

Almost as if under a spell, you found your body lurching forward of its own accord, your lips crushing against Bucky’s so hard you were sure you’d bruise. It would not have surprised you if fireworks had appeared on the horizon in that moment, for the joy, passion and sheer bliss that exploded in your core at the sensation of Bucky’s lips against yours.

After a moment of stunned pause, Bucky’s senses seemed to return to him, as he eagerly caught your waist in his sturdy grasp, pulling you weightlessly into his lap so that your legs straddled him. The hand that had been holding your own trailed up your arm, coming to rest tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer into his embrace, and you responded by snaking your arms around his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his back as lips gave way to tongues, and you and Bucky lost yourselves in each other.

When you were finally forced to pull apart for need of oxygen, you were both lightly panting, lips swollen and bruised and eyes heavy-lidded with passion. You rested your forehead against his own as Bucky rubbed light circles into your back, a warm smile crossing his lips.

“What was that for?” He whispered to you, his voice thick with desire.

You grinned, pulling away ever-so-slightly to meet his tender gaze.

“Well, I could have just told you I love you, too. But you know, actions speak louder and all that…”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, leaning up to press a light kiss to your forehead, making you grin as your cheeks reddened. This was crazy, to be sitting like this, doing this, with Bucky. And yet, nothing had ever felt more natural to you.

You gave a reluctant sigh, clearing your throat as you murmured to him.

“You know we should probably start heading back-…”

You trailed off, losing your sentence in confusion as Bucky slid one hand easily under your thigh, holding you against him as he stood and began to make his way back towards the barn.

“Uh… Bucky… What are you doing?”

He smiled then, the way Lucifer might have smiled before being cast out of heaven, before he playfully landed a kiss on your jaw, making your stomach flutter deliciously.

“If actions speak louder, then let me show you just how much I love you, every inch of you, inside and out, in fact.” He murmured against your ear, the warm tickle of his breath making your spine tingle.

You bit your lip, tangling your hands in his hair as Bucky’s teasing lips trailed from your jaw to your neck, and back up. After a moment of divine torture, storm blue eyes found yours, and you and Bucky gazed adoringly at one another. A silent promise was uttered between you, as the dimness of the barn consumed you both, that this marked the first day of a new beginning.

[adultswim2021]

Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law #24: “Bird Girl of Guantanamole” | August 14, 2005 – 11:45PM | S03E04

Okay! Here it is! The first time I’m seeing Bird Girl in a thing! This is HUGE and IMPORTANT because she’s gonna be a big part of the series and get a spin-off, you know.

In this one Phil’s daughter comes to work with him, only to have her duck away and dress up like Bird Girl, forcing her assistance on Harvey. She’s a bit nutty as Austin Powers once said, and a lotta the fellas are eyeballing her as if to say “shall we shag now or shall we shag later?” But I just got one thing to say, “YEAH, BABY!”

I mean, this episode is alright. I laughed exactly once and it was the grappling hook gag where Bird Girl attempts to scale down the side of the building from Harvey’s office and the chair she’s grappled with is just effortlessly sliding towards the window’s edge. That’s good.

This episode’s main plot, I guess, is Morocco Mole is arrested for being a terrorist, and did time at Gitmo. Photos that parody the pointing woman I dismissively called Lindy West a few posts back? Yes, those are here. There’s also a higher number of callbacks than usual in this one; we see Doggy Daddy leashed in the aforementioned sequence, we see Inch High Private Eye get skewered, and Secret Squirrel, Morocco Mole’s confidant, has the details of his episode rehashed. Fred Flintstone shows up for a Family Guy/Kool-Aid Man style reappearance. We also see the reappearance of X’s calendar, which has “Victoria Principal’s Birthday” noted on there; a gag I THOUGHT I saw in a previous episode but didn’t feel like rewinding to make sure. Thank god these idiots reuse all their jokes so I could see it this time around.

There’s a creepy runner where Phil wants to fuck Bird Girl, not realizing it’s his daughter. Also Colbert as Reducto calls Jon Stewart a “tiny tiny man”. They worked together! That’s fun! Just thought I’d give Colbert his time to shine in his own little paragraph :)

Bird Girl is voiced by Paget Brewster, and her performance is pretty good. I have mixed feelings about Bird Girl as a character, but it’s probably personal baggage on my part. I think I mentioned this before, too, which will enrage some of you. Please, save your complaints. Instead, why not go buy a gun, find out where I live, and shoot me in the fucking brain when I leave the house for work in the morning? You’ll be doing me a fucking favor. ANYWAY: I remember when I was a young message board user there was a guy on the forums I posted on who was very proud of his drawing ability, especially his ability to draw sexy cartoon women. But he’d always try and make the drawings “funny” and he had a cloyingly wacky sense of humor. I remember a sexy redheaded woman in a bikini, but she had robot armor on her arms and legs and was holding up a sign that said “I <3 PORK”. It was one of the most embarrassing things I’d ever seen.

Bird Girl, without ever having actually seeing her, came off to me like that. Again! This is without me seeing a second of the Bird Girl show or movie or whatever this was. I think it had to do with the promos showing her be wacky and then other promos that played up her being sexy (Bird Girl, in this episode at least, is not an inherently sexual character other than she’s very attractive; she is only sexualized by the men on the show and has no sex drive to speak of; I hope I made the right call explaining this to you right here) And if I really wanted to, I could stick to my guns and say Bird Girl sucks. But the truth is, her character is very fun and cute. She’s wide-eyed and goofy and relatively innocent. She seems almost engineered in a lab to make the most likable character possible. Her performance sells the lines. I didn’t laugh at them, but you can’t deny that her character adds life to the show. I like her.

The end of the episode is a parody of Batman and Robin. That’s the one with Bat Girl and ends with her, Batman and Robin running towards the camera. I remember it to this day from the sole viewing I did of it with my dad, silently, on our home VCR. I was at the exact age you usually are when you realize that your dad is just some guy you got very little in common with, and you wonder why he wants to spend time with you. So we made an appointment to watch Batman and Robin together. This awkwardness forever cemented certain scenes from this movie in my memory. But they are joyless memories. I sat in awkward silence with a man I didn’t really care to know, except for the fact that he’s my dad and you’re supposed to love your dad. To think of all the wacky scenes in Batman and Robin force me to also think about this. It forces me to think about our current relationship, which is even worse. Birdman parodying it has caused me to think about this. Huh.

EPHEMERA CORNER:

MAIL BAG:

Whatchu think about 05 adult swim so far? I kinda consider this year a nadir for the net but i wanna know your perspective

That’s pretty apt, yeah. Adult Swim was basically a Tim & Eric delivery system for me roughly starting around here and cruising into the next few years. Sporadic seasons of certain shows would catch my fancy. I was extremely not regular at this point. But I’d make a few attempts to record the whole block and at least fast forward through it. I actually got obsessed with recording bumps for a not-insignificant stretch there. Those are all languishing on DVD-Rs in a storage unit that may have gone moldy. I need to start digitizing stuff again.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

show me your boobs

Pairing: Pale/Reader

Word Count: ~1200

A/N: haunted house shenanigans, PDA, exhibitionism (does it count if there’s no sex??), sexy but no sex because they get SPOOKED

Pale doesn’t really like Halloween. Aside from making sure his kid’s gonna have an okay time, and the sexy costumes, and the fun cooking, and the couple’s costumes, and the late night scary movies, and the echoes of kids trick or treating down the hall, and the way you sit on his lap to do his makeup for this one night a year, and the haunted houses, and the-

Pale likes Halloween.

You’d never expect it from him though, a guy who bitches about kids holdin’ out their buckets all expectant and stupid fuckin’ movies and teenage guys all pressuring their girls into the teeniest thing they can still legally wear in public. Yet, here you are, on the subway to Brooklyn, where he’s been told there’s a haunted house attraction worth the trip out.

Someone’s glammed up their townhouse, the yard and everything covered in decorations. Now that it’s after dark, there aren’t many kids around, so you and Pale and the other freaks will have the place to yourselves. 

Your heart picks up a little, seeing the performer in the doorway, how convincing her costume is, even if she’s wilting a bit after a long afternoon of hosting screaming teens. 

“Alright, if you’re pregnant or have heart conditions or anything like that, I don’t recommend heading inside,” She listed, bored.

Pale nudges you softly, raises his eyebrow.

You laugh and nudge him back. “No chance, fella. Sorry.”

He holds his hands up playfully. “Just checkin’.”

“Okay then, it’s a dollar each then you can head inside, turn left.”

Pale dropped two bills into the pumpkin-shaped bucket on the chair beside the door and took your hand. “Ready, doll?”

You shrugged your shoulders up and down, loosening up, then nodded.

As you entered and turned left, you were greeted with an old fashioned factory set; a conveyor belt, some pipes, theatrical fog. 

“They say he died here,” Someone whispered from behind you, causing you to jump slightly and move closer to Pale.

“Who?” Pale asked, teasing.

“Ol’ Nelson. Fell into the conveyor belt.”

Pale kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear. “You’re alright angel, ain’t nobody ever died on a conveyor belt. How the fuck you fall in one of those anyway?”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up,” Pale called, ushering you forward.

He whispered in your ear again. “If you wanna leave, we can tell ‘em and they’ll let us out.”

You squeezed his hand, telling him you’d heard.

Someone leapt from the next doorway, wearing a bloodied apron, and screamed.

You yelped and Pale swore loudly. 

“Jesus fuck what you yelling for? Huh? You Nelson’s missus or what?”

The performer sneered down at you, tilting her neck at an odd angle and laughing.

“Alright,” Pale chuckled. He squeezed your hand again and you squeezed back.

The next room was more gory, filled with admittedly plastic-looking remains. Nelson, you presumed. The light was an eerie white, coming down through the skylight in the ceiling. It was a long rectangular room, and at your cautious pace, it would take you a while to get through.

“Jesus, doll, you look so pretty,” Pale squeezed your hand. “When you’re breathing all heavy like that it pushes your tits out, didn’t notice earlier.”

You blushed and adjusted your corset. Pale swatted your hands away.

“Nah, nah. Let a man enjoy it,” He smiled. You rolled your eyes playfully and waited for the next scare.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anyone in here,” You breathed.

“Think you’re right. Wanna show me your tits?”

“Pale!” You scolded, hitting his chest softly. 

You peered into the dark, hoping your eyes would adjust and you’d be able to spot anyone before they got the chance to scare you.

“C’mon, angel, I’m serious. Wanna kiss ‘em.”

Cautious, you shifted your top down slightly. “In here, really?”

Pale hummed and ducked down to kiss your neck, still continuing to walk as he did so. Gently, he sucked a mark onto the side of your neck and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, Pale-”

Someone lunged from the pile of limbs, screaming. Once you’d cried out and even Pale had jumped a foot away from you, they began to mumble, chanting something under their breath.

You hurried to the next room, the office of the factory it seemed. Papers were scattered everywhere and two hands sat atop the desk, as if filling out paperwork.

While you were still catching your breath, Pale cracked a joke about death and taxes and you huffed a laugh.

“Geez, I wonder how much that guy heard before he decided to jump,” You breathed.

Pale stroked your back. At least, you hoped it was Pale. 

“Reckon he was waiting to see if we’d-”

Dozens of eyeballs spilled from somewhere to Pale’s left, rolling across the floor to where you stood.

“Pale?”

“Hm?”

“Your hand is on my back, right?”

“Mhm. Just wanna make sure you ain’t gonna freeze in place or nothin’. And now you gotta dodge the eyeballs so you don’t sprain an ankle. Want me to carry you?”

You laughed and kissed Pale’s shoulder, the room too dark to aim for anything more specific. “I’m okay.”

You made it out into the fading daylight and you found yourself relieved. It had been fun, especially with Pale’s commentary, but you felt yourself shedding layers of tension now you were out. 

Pale draped his coat around your shoulders. “You okay?”

Offering a smile, you nodded. “Yeah, just a bit spooky.”

He nodded. “So... Can I see your booooobs?”

You shook your head with a smile. “We’ll see once we’re back home, huh? You’re looking a little scared yourself.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh. A little Pale.”

He laughed and nudged you playfully. “Jesus, walked into that one, didn’t I?”

You peeled the collar of Pale’s coat from your neck, and tried to spot any bruises. Pale swept in and caught your lips with his own. You obliged and draped your arms over his shoulders as he dipped you low.

He pulled away with a satisfied smile and ran his hands over the bones of your corset. “Think you should wear this dress more often.”

“Mm, honey you keep talking like that and I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you either.”

Pale held his hands above his head with a grin. “Go ahead, baby, all yours.”

Smirking, you glanced over your shoulders to check there was nobody nearby. You dropped to your knees and pressed a single kiss over the fly of his pants.

Quickly, you stood up again and kept walking to the subway entrance, leaving a slack-jawed Pale behind you. You glanced behind you with a wink.

“C’mon honey, think it’s best if we make it home before we’re fuckin’ on someone’s lawn.”

“You don’t think we’d pass as an ornament?” Pale threaded his fingers through yours.

You shook your head. “Animatronics ain’t that good yet. Besides, I think you’ll wanna see the matching garter belt, am I right?”

Pale sped up, tugging you along behind him as he chuckled.

“Easy tiger,” You smiled. “We’ve got all night.”

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Two

Ao3,   MasterPost,   C.1

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, platonic logicality (and mentioned platonic relationships)

Warnings: swearing, mild body horror, negative self-thoughts/mental state, guilt. 

Word Count: 2,822

Patton woke up the next morning to find not a single disgusting token hiding away in his room, and that was after half an hour of semi-paranoid investigation. While he did find a patch or two of what looked like shedded dog’s hair and a snapped nail, they were scattered on the carpet as though left by accident. He already knew that Remus’ body was naturally more of a debris-machine than that of a scrappy pet, occasionally shedding off parts of his body like a constantly regenerating zombie. He decided then that Remus hadn’t been secretly trying to prank him, after all.

Now, being the embodiment of emotions, Patton was almost always spot-on identifying which emotions were which. That was why he could say, with perfect certainty, he had never quite had this mix of emotions before. And if he was honest, he didn’t really want to think about it enough to learn; he didn’t want to think about the night before at all.

Pushing the events out of his mind (not repression! He argued to himself, just thinking about something else for a while!), Patton carried on with his morning routine. That always took exceeding amounts of time, anyway, thanks to the numerous distracting things littering his room. What could have taken fifteen minutes was usually closer to an hour or so, but that was why Patton got up early! 

Well, that, and the fact that he usually didn’t sleep very well, but he preferred to not focus on that. 

That day, Patton decided, was not to be one for focusing on anything bad. He’d had a rough night, oh sure, but he’d woken up more refreshed than expected and was still riding the high of physical affection (despite its questionable source). He could feel that good, excited mood he had on occasion lifting him, and such an energy was just what he needed to go downstairs, start his day, and try to convince Logan into finally letting him help cook. 

Logan never agreed, of course, because he was the only side that had any skill in preparing food. But Patton never stopped trying, his fiery history with the kitchen notwithstanding!

Patton rose up in the living room, instinctively at his usual place. He took a second to appreciate the trinkets, odds and ends, and personal effects littered around the room. That kind of personality-infused mess always made him feel strangely fond. Reflective, even, upon how and why each item had come to lay where it was just then.

The smell of fresh food and the crackling of a skillet got him quickly back on track, though. Grinning, Patton made for the kitchen. 

“Morning, Logan!” He greeted him in cheer.

Logan startled, spinning on his heel a bit too fast. He didn’t share Patton’s positivity, no, he looked worried. 

“Patton! How are you ‘holding up’, as they say, this morning?” He said softly, like if he thought a loud voice could break something now. Patton cringed.

“Oh, I’m doing fine!” Memories of the night before pushed against his skull, and it was everything he could do to beat them back. But he was good at that sort of thing. “How are you?”

It was an obvious redirection. Logan pressed further:

“You sank out so abruptly last night. The others were- we were all concerned for your wellbeing,” he glanced away, chewing the inside of his lip. “That, and… Virgil informed me that, before he went to bed, he saw Remus leaving your room,” Logan’s voice dropped, “He didn’t upset you in any way, I hope?”

“No!” The exclamation burst forth from Patton with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. It was defensive even to his own ears, and he flushed in embarrassment. “I mean, no, he didn’t upset me! We were just-” cuddling? “-talking.”

Logan tipped his head sideways, disbelief obvious on him.

“...Talking?” 

“Yup, talking!” 

“You were talking to Remus?”

Patton pouted performatively, setting a hand on his hip as he doubled down.

“Of course I was, Logan! He’s an interesting fella, you know.”

“I know that,” Logan rolled his eyes, “I didn’t know you got along with him at all, however.” 

Patton- to both his own and Logan’s surprise- didn’t say anything at all to that. He barely nodded before he left the kitchen, calling out an excuse that he forgot as soon as it was out anyway. It was almost rude, and he knew he’d be dreadfully ashamed of it later. What was another little regret on the pile after all?

Logan had things to attend to, and Patton didn’t want to hang around and distract anyhow. At least, that was a good enough excuse for him to use as he sped out of the kitchen to find his next distraction. 

 Patton put the talk with Logan out of his mind without any trouble. His plans for a good day would not be so easily foiled by one concerned friend- who really had no reason to be concerned in the first place, in Patton’s humble opinion. Besides, breakfast with everyone was still nice! He’d gotten roped into a very enthusiastic conversation with Roman- one that got as increasingly loud, as was usual for the two- and when Remus joined in, it wasn’t too terribly awkward anymore. 

The rest of the morning was inoffensive, if a bit slow-going as Patton got all his work done. The afternoon was much the same, but he did get to spend a while with Virgil! (Who must’ve heard from Logan not to ask about the night before, mercifully). 

Evening rolled around, though, and with it Patton found that he’d made short work of his jobs. With the deficit of busy-work, it really couldn’t be helped if his mind started to wander- and what a dangerous thing that could be.

It was hard not to think of Remus. To not recall the… the softness with which he had treated Patton, something that the intrusive side hadn’t even seemed capable of before that. He’d been downright empathetic, and Patton still didn’t know how to take that. He’d done nothing to earn that kindness, not really, and certainly not from Remus of all people. He wasn’t sweet, or considerate, and calling him sentimental sounded like a joke more than anything.

‘Sounded like’, there was the key word, Patton mused. However long he spent thinking it over, it became more and more clear that this was yet another thing he’d misunderstood. 

Months ago only, he’d honestly believed that none of Remus’ suggestions could be genuine attempts to contribute, and now he helped them balance almost all their creative works as part of the team. He’d proven at every turn that he was honest, yes, but he was not shallow, and Patton knew he’d only just scratched the surface of Creativity. 

But that was besides the point. It was besides the point and Patton didn’t want to think about how little he knew. 

The point was, he wanted to learn. He had to. Even if it proved him wrong about everything- especially then!

So there Patton stood, shifting from foot to foot, Remus’ door staring him in the face. He was stalling, he knew, but his fraught thoughts also knew his intentions were not for self-improvement alone. He wanted to repay Remus, repay him for the strange and gentle and impossibly amazing comfort he’d given to him. He’d given him what he’d been missing- affection, willing affection- but what did Patton have to offer in return?

That was the scary part. Thinking of what he’d be asked to do.

But he still had to reach out and risk it. He had to know. 

Patton raised his hand, shaking, tilted back to knock. And there the hand hovered, untouching the splintering and algae-covered wood. It was almost like the underside of a boardwalk, stinking like ocean and stained green from years of salt water exposure. Would it hurt to touch, Patton wondered? Would the wood break off into his hand, or would it come away slick, slimy?

He ducked his head with a huff; that kind of disgust was completely unfair to the creature he was trying to reach out to, and he knew it. He didn’t have the energy for this; Patton wrapped against the door thrice in quick succession despite the nagging of his instincts (it was slimy, and rough as well. His head ticked to the side at the disturbing texture). The knocks rang out, and then there was an abrupt stillness in the whole of the hallway, like all life had stopped at once. This was true for Patton, at least; he held his breath, balled his fists, and it seemed he was standing stiller than he ever had before. 

From the other side of the door, there was muttering. It was frantic, but not upset, and one voice alone. A lot of things happened very quickly after that:

First, the door slammed inwards, no one on the other side of it. Naturally Patton leaned to look inside, and as well as he had- ragged claws sank into his shoulders, a shrill noise rang in his ear, and he was spun around. Screaming, Patton toppled backwards and landed flat in the threshold to Remus’ room.

Speaking of Remus, the creature himself was looming over Patton, his skin rippling with bumps and ridges and colors like a continual shapeshift. He had his arms raised, his mouth opened hugely; it looked like a soundless laugh. 

But he glanced down at Patton, then- trembling, whimpering Patton- and his eyes widened in recognition. At once his skin smoothed over and returned to its usual color, his jaw snapping back into place. 

“Oh!” Remus reached down and hauled Patton back to his feet with a strained huff. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Logan’s the only one who seriously knocks for me, cuz he’s all polite and shit.”

Patton righted himself, trying very hard to stop shaking. After a deep breath, he said:

“Oh, haah, it’s okay!” He pulled his sleeves taut, with a smile to match. “I just wouldn’t want to interrupt you, if you were busy.”

Remus shrugged, cocking his hip. 

“Oh, I bet you wouldn’t,” a smirk then split his face, and he winked. “But you should know I don’t mind anybody walking in on me, Daddy.”

Patton nodded quick, having no idea what (if anything) he was agreeing to, when in reality he was Very Uncomfortable with All of those words. He tried for a laugh, but at the same moment a deeply horrifying growl decided to erupt from behind him. He realized that he did not want to have his back to Remus’ room for even another second. 

“Uh- could we-?” 

Remus caught his meaning, stepping deftly around Patton and into his doorway. It was almost a twirl when he switched their positions, aided by the fact that he always moved like water.

“Right!” He clapped his hands together, “What was it you wanted, Pops?”

Oh, yes. That. 

Patton didn’t meet the Duke’s eyes at all, the words lumped together on the tip of his tongue. Why did this feel so embarrassing?

“I was wondering if we could spend some time together?” 

Remus’ eyebrows went way up on his forehead, and his face split in a downright sultry grin that had Patton red-faced and abashed.

“Not like- I’m not- I meant, like, an activity-” Remus’ smile widened, “-No, um, something fun! Not that that wouldn’t- well, I just don’t like-” 

Remus erupted in laughter, throwing his head back not unlike a shrill bird.

“Oh, I’m just fucking with you. No, really, what’s up?” 

Patton frowned.

“I wanted to know if we could hang out. That’s what I was trying to say?”

Remus gave a derisive little sound, and his nose scrunched.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he propped his arm against the doorframe, his gaze boring into Patton. “You were being serious? I figured you needed me to help with, like, chores or something!” 

Before Patton could even respond, Remus snapped the door shut behind himself and dipped into the hallway. 

“So, what? You wanna bake cookies or some shit? That could be fun, but there will be fire and broken glass if I’m involved. Or- you like those zen coloring books, right? Although, the adult coloring books I use are much more emphasized on the adult, you know, and vulgar-”

Patton shook his head sharply, and- gathering some courage- placed his hand on Remus’ arm to halt him. 

“Um,” he said, “I was thinking that we could do something you like to do, actually.” 

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he’d been touched, looking at Patton like he’d sprouted another head. He tried out several different expressions, like he was trying to see what reaction they’d garner- first amusement, then happiness, then offense- but he finally settled on plain confusion. It looked the most genuine.

“Are you joking?” He asked, the question laced with a striking sincerity. Patton wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was dread or guilt, but either way he let go of the Duke’s wrist. 

“Of course I am!” He enthused- tried to enthuse. 

There was a beat. 

Remus, for once, looked uncomfortable; fidgeting his hands, arms, tapping his foot.

“Really?” 

“Really really!” And Patton really really hoped that this exchange could be over, so that he could get on with this- he meant!! Um! So that he could have a nice time with someone who had been nice to him. (Oh, what was wrong with him?)

Remus tipped his head to the side. He hummed.

“This is because of yesterday?” That hit the nail right on its head, yup. Patton winced. “I told you not to worry about all that. You don’t really want to do this, you know, and that’s obvious to both of us. My idea of fun isn’t nearly as conservative as yours, Pops.”

Patton felt a stab of offense at ‘conservative’. He dropped his smile.

“I- look, Remus,” a sigh, “You didn’t have to help me yesterday, but you did, and… I still don’t know why. And I don’t really know why I’m here right now, either, or what I’m doing with you. I barely know anything about you!” Patton shook his head, but an indignant conviction was filling up his chest. He met Remus’ eyes, steady. “But I do know that we never let you pick what to watch on movie night. I know we don’t always listen to what you suggest on really important projects, even though that’s your job. I know we- that I try so hard not to make things about you, even nowadays. That’s gotta get, um, disheartening, right?” Remus tilted his head, but Patton didn’t wait for an answer. “And that’s why I’m here. So whatever you like doing, you don’t have to do it alone- like how you didn’t leave me alone. And…” He knotted his hands together in front of him, shoulders low. “I can figure out the rest later.” 

He meant it. He was surprised by how much he meant it, having no idea where it had all come from. It didn’t erase his nerves, his discomfort, even his disgust, but he stood there and he honestly hoped that soon he wouldn’t have a reason to feel any of those things with the darker side of Creativity. He wanted to understand, if only he could know how. And maybe, that creature before him, smarter than he probably seemed, would show him how. 

Remus was silent for a long, long while. His face was blank, expressionless. He wasn’t grinning, and there was nothing glinting mischievously behind his eyes; his nose wasn’t bunched in a snarl, there was no show of huge and horrible fangs, and he wasn’t moving.

It was the most intimidating he’d ever been.

“You don’t have to do that,” and Remus’ voice was soft. It was almost unreal to hear it that way, his accent not fit for that kind of volume.

But Patton was emotions, and emotions knew at a glance what awe sounded like- what hope sounded like. It was shocking to hear them from Remus, but Patton knew the shock was good. He’d been right- right about initially being wrong, right that Remus had more to him than his outside. He was right, and now he needed to know more of him. 

 Patton smiled, sincerely, and for once he knew exactly what to say. 

“I know I don’t have to,” he admitted, “But I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Remus tilted his head one way, then the other, and back again. Slowly, he returned the smile, and it grew to look much more like his usual beam. He darted past Patton, swung his door open, and strode inside. 

“Watch your step,” he warned, “The floor isn’t entirely dead yet!”

Patton, amazing himself, hardly hesitated to follow.

Chapter Three

Taglist:  @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[lev1than]

10 Famous Inventions that were the particular culmination regarding other people’s work

An unclean (yet open) secret regarding innovation is most wonderful breakthroughs seldom happen due to a single only genius.

Whereas history is rife with stories with famous inventors, who are generally national game characters, in almost every event they were just the first reduce weight improve a preexisting system to your final level where the item achieved muscle appeal.

Imagine how research discoveries with hundreds of years in the past inspired the works for subsequent ages of professionals.

Or what sort of iPod changed personal song thanks to the actual combination of advancement in the despropósito fields about digital favorite songs compression, hard drive miniaturization, affordable ARM microprocessors and other sorts of technological innovations.

1. Galileo and the telescope

Even while Galileo is normally credited having devised the main telescopes, there was actually a good Dutch individual called Hans Lippershay who had been making addition devices making use of the ever bettering qualities of glassmaking at the moment.

Allegedly, Galileo heard about all these and chosen to build his personal, even generating some changes in the process. Having been also the first person to work with these brand-new optics being a scientific musical instrument, which is where his true value was initially added.

2. James Watt and the steam engine

While I was in secondary school, my scientific research teacher thought it was funny individuals “What was the name of the man who seems to invent the particular steam website? ” Very funny, because “Watt” was the reply, so the problem was a fashionable statement.

Merely steam applications predated Watt’s design just by almost 58 years. Brit Thomas Savery patented the very first steam serps design for 1698, to take out water from coal fosse. Subsequently, Jones Newcomen superior the design to function at atmospheric pressure, of which became the normal design for concerning 50 years.

Watt’s real advancement was building the program with an independent condenser, which made the full process now more efficient.

3. Eli Whitney and the cotton gin

During periods of captivity in the USA, Georgia predominantly expanded cotton that had quicker fibers. The didn’t are very effective with the products at the time which usually tried to take away seeds on the fibers (roller gins), plus required a great deal of manual job. So the point out of Ga sponsored a good engineering force to come up with an improved design.

Whitney improved within the roller gins by updating the sturdy rollers by using wire your teeth.

While this drastically improved manufacturing ability with regard to cotton, this also had typically the sad complication of increasing the requirement for slaves to a fella the career fields.

You may also interesting in invention ideas

4. Elisha Otis and the elevator

Equipment capable of working out with people straight into tall architectural structures has endured since the early Egyptians. And since the industrial wave and the regarding cities triggered taller homes being designed, people started to be tired of being forced to climb various flights associated with stairs. And so elevators had been invented, applying either steam or power engines which often pulled uplifts with ropes.

However, rules have a tendency to bust. And even having an elevator just one or two stories excessive, if the rope broke so you plummeted while using carriage it will result in no less than severe personal injury, if not the loss of life.

Otis truly invented the safety break, which will stop often the elevator through crashing when it was initialized by quick falling every time a rope got destroyed. This took off a major potential for death coming from buildings tall than several stories and even spurred around the building in the first skyscrapers.

5. Thomas Edison and the light bulb

It's perhaps the most popular invention in recent history, and its sign actually sums up the concept of a notion.

And yet, Youngsters Edison didn’t invent the sunshine bulb. Not necessarily the wine glass bulb, or perhaps the glowing filament inside it. They merely better the previous styles to the point that they can become otc practical, in 1880.

The initial electric light product, called a great Arc-Lamp, was made by Humphry Davy with regards to 78 decades before in which but did not last long together with was too bright. Throughout 1850, Ernest Swan has seen that carbonized paper was much better stuff for a filament and put to use them to help make light bulbs. But he could not get the design to be more effective or durable.

After furthermore experimentation, both equally Swan and Edison uncovered subsequently more beneficial materials, and ultimately their a pair of companies amalgamated to market most of their new improved upon design jointly, though most of the people only recall Edison.

6. Guglielmo Marconi and the Radio

In the 1890s, both Marconi and Nikola Tesla have been fighting to formulate the radio. Tesla actually got more of the beginning patents to the technology. Still, the initial treasure of electromagnetic radiation was actually made seven years earlier by German researcher Heinrich Hertz, who was capable to both broadcast and acquire radio swells in his research laboratory.

However, the guy couldn’t imagine any sensible applications regarding his knowledge.

It was after Marconi who has been able to acquire all these technological innovations and switch them perfectly into commercial merchandise.

7. Henry Ford and the car

Honda released the exact Model Testosterone levels in 1908, and it is the first auto to gain block market elegance and good results at a time any time many people nonetheless traveled through the horse.

Nonetheless, the car while powered simply by an internal combustion engine was really created by Karl Benz within 1885, and many other engineers, therefore, improved about the design for greater efficiency, coziness performance.

Precisely what Ford reached was improve production technique of the machine. Her assembly line advanced production productivity significantly, slashing the cost of every single unit for a price point in which people could possibly actually have the funds for it.

8. The Wright Brothers and the airplane

Teens have been hoping to see flight intended for eons. Via Leonardo Kc Vinci’s sketches of hovering machines to story regarding Icarus, many people desired to clear themselves on the shackles involving gravity.

And then the Wright Brothers were not really the only people of their time to try and establish a machine competent at powered airline flight.

George Cayley was the first person to move via designs regarding flapping similar to birds towards a “fixed wing” design. Yet another engineer referred to as Otto Lilienthal then implemented a lot of those models to create genuine gliders through fixed wings and examining them, putting together a lot of files which the Wright Brothers would likely subsequently usage.

Additionally, the very Wright Siblings were able to implement another the latest invention within the time: the internal combustion algorithm from vehicles. They were all-around at just the right age when this kind of became offered.

Their real innovation was a student in their patterns which authorized their planes to actually always be steered as well as controlled. And also rest is usually history.

Also, check out: invention help

9. Philo Farnsworth and the TV

An excellent sort of an invention that had been only probable thanks to quite a few other pioneering technological advances across market sectors.

Farnsworth had the ability to take the trends of the cathode ray tubing (by Ferdinand Braun) and also combine them with an approach to scan graphics using electrons which the person apparently started out thinking of inside high school.

This design likewise outperformed other competing TV SET technology at that moment: mechanical TELEVISION SET.

10. Bill Gates and the Graphical User Interface

Beginning computer systems were being primarily command-line driven, this means you had to know every one of the inputs for you to type right keyboard in order to the machine that which you wanted it all to do.

A lot of people credit Roshan Windows utilizing introducing the globe to the Gui (GUI), which you could use a rabbit to just click on-screen materials to tell it again what to do, making the whole course of action much more simple.

However, much of the progress throughout GUI growth happened very much earlier. Some sort of pioneer was basically Douglas Engelbart, who exhibited an Operating System which has a mouse pointer in 1968. This plan was subsequently taken up by simply Xerox, exactly who released their valuable Alto pcs which were the 1st with a duck and GUI.

As figures go, Apple’s Steve Work opportunities saw an Alto when visiting Xerox’s PARC study center along with inspired him or her to make sure the main Apple Macintosh personal computer would have some GUI, the initial mass-market GUI computers. This unique then flat the way to the even more business-focussed Intel Windows Main system, which got the idea absolutely mainstream.

[sauveur-de-lenfer]

I’m So Glad You’re Back - Chapter 7

chapter 1  chapter 2  chapter 3  chapter 4  chapter 5  chapter 6  chapter 8  chapter 9   chapter 10  chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  chapter 14  chapter 15  Epilogue

New York 2012

Once the 3 men had arrived in a street in new york, they split up, each with their own mission to collect a stone each. Together they decided that Bruce should go for the time stone since it wasn't near the tower, which means no one would question why there were two hulks running about. 

Tony would get the mind stone which was currently residing inside Loki's staff. Remembering reports from Shield after the battle, Tony knew that agent Sitwell had taken it to store at Shield. All he had to do was find Sitwell and take it from him and lucky for tony, the genius now knew that Sitwell had been hydra this entire time.

This means the space stone was now left to Scott. He was going to have to remain small so he didn't get noticed by the Avengers but with Tonys help it shouldn't be a problem.

…..

Carefully manoeuvring his large body, Bruce climbed his way up the building in front of him. Sticking to the roofs, he hopped from each one until he recognised the sanctum he had landed in. 

It took him a few minutes trying to retrace his steps from 5 years ago before he saw an orange glow in the corner of his eyes. Turning his head, the professor recognised the orange glow as the same spells doctor strange had conjured up. Following the orange circles glowing in the distance, Bruce jumped and climbed his way over to the building it was coming from. 

Spotting a figure on the roof bruce realised as he got closer that this person was not Doctor Strange. But in fact an older bald woman?

As he climbed over the wall onto the rooftop of the sanctum, Bruce carefully walked his large figure over to the woman.

“Hey, I'm looking for Doctor Strange.”

Having already been looking at him in curiosity since she'd seem him roof hopping, the woman smiled in surprise at the green man in front of her for asking her a question

"You're about… 5 years too early. Stephen strange is currently performing surgery 20 blocks that way." She replied, pointing over bruces shoulder at Metropolitan General Hospital. 

"What do you want from him?” the ancient one pushed. To be completely honest this was not how she expected her day to go. She knew of the attack and of course, let it happen, knowing that the Avengers would save the day. She’d seen this future many times but this conversation wasn't in a single future she had seen. 

"That actually” lifting his large green arm to aim at her chest, Bruce pointed his fingers to the necklace that laid on it. The Eye of Agamotto.

Huffing out a laugh, the ancient one couldn't believe her ears. Was this a silly little joke?

“Ahh! I'm afraid not. 

Straightening his face, Bruce adjusted himself to a more serious attitude.

"Sorry, but I wasn't asking." Taking a step forward, Bruce held out his hands ready to take the necklace off of her neck. But staying right where she was without even flinching she spoke back.

"You don't want to do this." She warned. And she meant it.

"Ah you're right, I don't. But I need that stone and I don't have time to b-” whipping her hand out as fast as she could, the moment Bruce stepped into her reach. The Ancient One conjured her magic and pushed his spiritual form out of his body, revealing the human man he had once been.

As he flew backwards, the human bruce looked at the woman in shock. Cocking her head, she looked at his astral projection with a smirk on her face.

"Let's start over shall we?"

…..

Making their way over to His old stark tower, Tony and Scott tried to keep themselves hidden so they could get past people and security without getting recognised. Knocking a nearby shield agent out near the tower, Tony stole his uniform and joined the rest of the shield swat team with a tiny Scott tucked away in his pocket. Thankfully they managed to get to the top of the tower, where the genius and his team of 5 had been with Loki after winning the battle. 

Watching from under his tinted visor, Tony followed the younger version of Natasha with his eyes as she placed the sceptre into a case and handed it off to a member of Shield. Jasper Sitwell. Tony shook his head at the sight of the man. He remembered finding out about shield, well, hydra, all those years ago. He couldn't believe it at first, and now here Sitwell was, acting like the good guy. Pathetic.

Taking note of Sitwell and Romanoff's conversation, Tony made sure to memorise the details of their plan to get the sceptre back to shield.

Tony watched as the man was getting ready to leave with his team and the sceptre, but then Scott spoke up, bringing Tony out of his thoughts.

“So, what's the plan?” his little voice sounded out through his coms.

“See that case over there? The smaller one? That's the case were gonna put the tesseract in. You need to get in there and shrink it down and take it. They'll take the case down in the elevator in a few minutes and then they're gonna hand it off to Alexander Pierce but I'm gonna have to go for the sceptre before that.” Tony whispered to the little man. Trying not to draw too much attention to himself.

“But then how am I supposed to get out of the case?” 

“After I've got the Mind Stone, I'll make my way downstairs to you, get the case and open it slightly, just enough room for you to get out but you'll have to be quick, you got that Thumbelina?

"Okay yeah, I think so.” 

Climbing his way of out Tony's pocket, Scott jumped onto his shoulder, preparing for their next move.

“Okay, you ready,” the genius asked him as Tony quickly ducked behind a wall, so no one would see as he got ready to launch Scott.

“Yes I am, Iron Man.”

Waiting for the right moment, Tony paused with his hand in position to flick the tic tac into the direction of the case. After a few seconds, Jasper Sitwell made his move, taking the larger case with the sceptre with him and his team towards the back elevator.

Then, PING.

Scott was flicked across the room, on his way to the Tesseract case, and Tony had headed in the opposite direction towards Sitwell.

Shedding the Shield uniform, Tony made his way down the corridor, running after the shield agents. After piling inside the elevator together, brock Brumlow went to press the ground floor button until he paused at the sound of a voice.

“Hey hold that for me will you?” Tony shouted out to the agents. Running towards the elevator doors, Tony acted as if he was out of breath at trying to catch up with them.

Two of the secret Hydra agents, Rumlow and Sitwell glanced at each other, hesitant to keep the doors open. But before they could react, the billionaire's arm shoved its way in between the metal doors, making them reopen before they closed.

“Mr Stark? I thought you were coordinating the hand over for the tesseract?” Rumlow pointed out to the room.

“Yeah well change of plans, I thought I'd come with you handsome fellas instead” Tony grinned at them, shoving his way through the small box filled with agents.

As he settled himself in the centre of the elevator, Tony saw in the corner of his eye one of the shield agents in front of him reach for his holster very carefully. As if he was waiting for a fight. Tony shifted his eyes around him, taking note of how many guys were in here with him. There's no way he could take them on or fight them. he didn't want to risk anything. He needed to be smart about this. Tactical. Letting out a huff as part of his act, Tony opened his mouth to talk.

“I just got a call from the secretary of state, I'm gonna be running point on the sceptre.”

Whipping their heads up, the agents looked at Tony in disbelief.

“Sir I don't understand.” The slimy little man called Sitwell said to him with a confused look on his face.

“Oh yeah I forgot to say, we got words there may be an attempt to steal it. So you know, obviously they asked me to take it. I mean who better to leave it with other than iron man right?” Tony said smugly. God, he sounded like a douchebag right now. He thought.

“Sorry stark, I can't give you the sceptre.” This time it was Brock Rumlow. Tony remembered this guy from Lagos. He wasn't there himself but he watched the surveillance footage back home. As Tony looked at the man he couldn't help but think he looked better burnt to a crisp.

“I'm gonna have to call the director.” Sitwell reached for his pocket, ready to pull out his phone.

“That's okay bud, trust me.” Tony could practically feel the eyes on the back of his head as he winked at the man. The small room filled with tension. One wrong move, one wrong word and this could all be over.

With a slight smirk on his face, Tony leaned closer to Sitwell and whispered into his ear.

“Hail Hydra.”

Taken aback in shock, Sitwell's mouth hung open at the genius’s words. There's no way, the agent thought. But to him, there was no other explanation. Tony Stark was Hydra.

Tony just leant back to his original position, smirking at Sitwell's reaction.

Next thing the billionaire knew, the elevator had stopped, the doors were opened right in front of him and he was walking straight out with the case in his hand.

Now he just had to get the stone out the sceptre, leave it in a place they could find later and avoid his past self and teammates as best he could so he could get Scott out of the case holding the Space Stone.

....

Even though he was prepping for it, Scott still didn't expect the force he was being flung at once Tony had flicked him off his shoulder. But alas, he was still focused on his mission.

Once landing on the table the case for the tesseract was on. Scott quickly ran over to it, hopping inside and waiting in between the foam that would keep the tesseract in place.

As he settled himself inside, Scott watched as the original Avengers handed the tesseract over to Black widow. The tiny man couldn't help but smile at the fact he actually knew these guys now. He knew the black widow! He knew all of them, he never would have thought all those years ago this would ever happen. Like, in a million years. In 2012, he had been on the verge of getting caught by Vistacorp and getting thrown in prison.

Walking over to the open case, Natasha held out the tesseract, placing it carefully inside the perfect cut out of foam. And then gently closed the case.

Then it went dark. But the blue glow of the Tesseract still gave him enough light to see what he was doing. 

Pushing his way through the tight foam of the case, Scott tried his best to get as close to the Tesseract as he could considering whoever was holding the case was juggling it around as they walked towards the elevator.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” Was that Thor? Wow, he sounded a lot deeper and posher than when he had met him. 

"What are you thinking? Maximum occupancy has been reached." This time it was 2012 tony that sounded out. He seemed louder than the others, Tony must be the one carrying him in the case.

“Take the stairs.” The God spoke out.

Suddenly all Scott could hear was banging and smashing and various protests from whoever was inside the elevator with them. Probably the Hulk he thought. 

Then the familiar ‘ding’ of the elevator sounded and the doors started to close by the sound of it. As Scott felt himself starting to descend down the building, he just faintly heard the sound of the hulk grumbling.

"Take the stairs. Hate the stairs."

Focusing back on his task, Scott turned back round to the tesseract. 

Reaching his hand down to his tactical belt, Scott brought one of his Pym particle disks up to his chest and threw it like a frisbee at the tesseract. Successfully shrinking it down to his own size ratio. 

Now all that was left is for his tony to come to get him from downstairs before he's passed over to shield.

….

“Hey, tic tac you hear me?" It was Tony. His tony, well not ‘his’ Tony but the older version from 2023. 

Shooting his head up at the familiar voice. Scott flew his hand up to his ear to keep the com steady so he could hear Tony properly.

“Yeah! Are you here? I've got the Tesseract.” 

"Yeah, I'm here, I managed to swipe the mind stone of Sitwell, easy as pie ha! Now just sit tight. I'll create a distraction-”

Suddenly a loud green Hulk burst his way out of a stairwell, cracking the walls and breaking the doors, and also throwing the redressed shield agent tony halfway across the room. Through the commotion of the Hulk barging his way through the lobby, the 2012 version of Tony dropped the case holding the tesseract, sending it flying across the room and opening right in front of 2023 Tony.

"I guess that works too" Tony barely got out. the wind being knocked from lungs from the impact.

Eyes widening at the sigh of the silver case in front of him, Tony focused his eyes on the little man that jumped out of the case and ran towards him. 

But once everyone in the lobby regained their footing from Hulk's sudden entrance, they realised that the Tesseract was missing from the case.

Pushing himself up from the floor, Tony stayed to the sides of the room, effectively slipping away from the crowd that was now in worry and chaos as they tried to look for the tesseract. Not knowing that the alien cube had been taken by a man the size of an ant and a future version of the billionaire genius.

…..

"Please, please, please..." The scientist begged the woman. 

"I'm sorry, I can't help you, Bruce. If I give up the Time Stone to help your reality, I'm dooming my own." She refused again as she turned away from him. She was the keeper of the time stone. With it, she protected her reality. There was no way she would give it up.

"With all due respect, I'm not sure that science really supports that." Bruce countered then in a quick flash she spun herself back round to face him, moving her hands in a dance to create a flow of magic in front of him, a display of a timeline with the stones.

"The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time. Remove one stone and that flow splits. Now, this may benefit your reality but my new one, not so much. In this new branched reality, without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness, our world will be overrun. Millions will suffer. So, tell me Doctor, can your science prevent all that?"

He watched as she removed the time stone and the solid orange line broke off into two, effectively showing bruce two timelines. One with the stone and one without. Realising what she was saying, Bruce let out a quick answer.

"No, but we can erase it. Because once we are done with the stones, we can return each one to its own timeline at the moment it was taken. So, chronologically, in that reality, they never left." His eyes looked brighter as he tried to get across his point.

Cocking her eyebrow, the Ancient One questions Bruce's plan.

"But you are leaving out the most important part. In order to return the stones, you have to survive." 

"We will, I will. I promise." Letting out a sigh, Bruce steps closer to her, wanting her to see the desperation in his face but alas, she still doesn't budge.

"I can't risk this reality on a promise. It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the time stone." Twisting his body in annoyance and frustration, Bruce threw his arms around as if trying to prove a point.

"Then, why the hell did Strange give it away?" He shouted at her in confusion. Why would strange give it to them and she won't? Taken aback at the scientist's words, its now her turn to be confused.

"What did you say?"

"Strange, he gave it away. He gave it to Thanos." Bruce turned back to her as she spoke. Hands on his hips in defeat.

"Willingly?" Why would strange do that? She thought

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. Maybe he made a mistake." Throwing his hands in the air, Bruce gave her an answer.

"Or, I did. Strange was meant to be the best of us." Looking down at the floor, the ancient one considered the future. She had seen it thousands of time and had no reason to doubt strange’s loyalty to the stone. Maybe she made a mistake? Or maybe...

"So he must have done it for a reason?" Bruce finished her thought. Lifting her head and eyes back at the transparent man, she nodded.

"I fear you might be right." Raising her arms, she allowed her fingers to move outwards as she opened the Eye of Agamotto, its green glow being revealed from inside the necklace. Using her magic, the Ancient One moved it in the air until it was caught by Bruce who was now reimmersed into his Hulk form.

"Thank you." looking at the stone in his hand, Bruce realised she must have come to the same conclusion as him. That strange had given them the stone for a reason. Clenching his fist tightly so he didn't lose the stone, Bruce thanked her. 

"I am counting on you, Bruce. We all are." Nodding at her once again in gratefulness, the giant professor took off, retracing his path back to the alley him Tony and Scott had landed in.

….

Arriving back at the alleyway, Tony and Scott got there first before Bruce, so to keep themselves hidden from the authorities the two got into a wrecked car and waited. A few minutes later the familiar green scientist showed up.

“Bruce! Did you get it?” Tony shouted. Immediately jumping out of the vehicle along with Scott. Both, the now fully sized tesseract and mind stone in their possession.

“Yeah, I got it!”

Letting out a laugh at his friend, Tony give him a big grin. 

“Okay, so we're good then? We all got our stones?”

"Yep!" Scott answered enthusiastically.

Looking at both Bruce and Scott, Tony nodded. They'd actually done it. Now all they had to do was get back and meet the others on the platform of the time machine.

Activating the glowing circles on the backs of their hands, the three men were suddenly covered in their quantum amour.

“Let's go!”

Then they jumped.

[heller-obama]

Operation Newsboy

I totally didn’t have time to publish this last night or this morning so I just decided to post both this chapter and the next one tonight. Also I start school tomorrow so these might be the last of the regular updates.

Oh, and when I was writing this story, the POV kinda sorta just changed from third person to first person and??? I think it works better??? So yeah sorry about that I was not about to rewrite the whole first part in first person.

Here’s the prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, and chapter four if you hadn’t read them

Chapter Five

Words: 2,086

Warnings: the author is a lazy little shit, no others really (just wait till the next chapter)

Editing: the usual grammarly and read-through combo

***#***

The day went on. No (possibly) magical time assassins trying to murder a kid. Nothing that special happened.

Except for the fact that I was really hungry. By the time all of the papers were sold, I was nearly swaying on my feet like I was tipsy.

I was standing with Davey, Les, and Jack, and the latter was trying to make plans for the brothers.

Honestly, I was completely spaced out, trying to figure out how to cover all the boys tomorrow during the strike. I overheard Jack’s voice, sounding slightly uncomfortable, surprised, and off-put. “Oh, youse got folks, huh?” I could tell he thought they were orphans.

Les, innocent Les, spoke next. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I saw Jack shift nervously, and Davey said something quietly to his little brother.

Davey looked at me and Jack, with something between pity and uncertainty. Of course, he thought I was an orphan because no one told him I wasn’t. Heck, I hadn’t told anyone anything, so I could say I never lied. I just omitted stuff that was semi-important.

“Our dad tangled with the delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work.” Davey explained, with his specialty mixture of pity and uncertainty clear.

Jack looked uncomfortable, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, ye-yeah, that makes sense. To-too bad about your dad, though.”

Davey had that look in his eyes that I was sure Jack saw a lot: the oh-you’re-poor-lemme-help-you look. “Look, why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Both of you. Our folks’ll be happy to have you.”

“Mom’s a great cook!” Les blurted.

I wouldn’t have minded it at all, especially if it involved food, but Jack looked like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, thanks for the invite. But I-I just remembered, I got plans with a fella! He’s probably waitin’ on me right now.” He looked at me, and it was as if his entire body screamed HELP!

I, stupidly, wasn’t looking for anyone suspicious. The only few minutes out of the day I wasn’t looking…

“Is that the guy you’re meeting?” Les yelled.

I looked to where the kid was pointing, and my (empty) stomach plummeted. There was a suspicious-looking guy, slightly resembling a mean pitbull with a mustache who was out looking for blood.

“Kelly!” Pitbull growled. Well, that rules out some anonymous time assassin, at least, I thought. It’s just your friendly neighborhood…pitbull…thug.

Jack’s face turned to one of terror. “Run for it!” He said to me and the two brothers.

We ran, me trailing behind to protect the boys who were so important to history. Sure, they might’ve gotten away originally, but with two time travelers on the table, all bets were off.

We kept on it, ducking and dodging through streets and alleyways, the early evening punctured with the Pitbull’s distant calls of “This way, officer!”, “Get him!”, or the insanely common “Jack Kelly!”

Finally, after ducking through a back door, Wally found himself in what appeared to be the backstage of a theatre.

“Slow down, I think we lost them.” Jack heaved. Davey and Les looked totally out of breath as well. I wasn’t that out of breath, because of my speedster reasons, but I pretended not to be that out of breath as to not raise any red flags.

“Does someone want to tell me why I’m running?” Davey protested, glaring at me. “I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy, anyway?” I shrugged. I mean, I honestly didn’t know.

“That there was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie,” Jack said, with a level of disgust he didn’t think was possible.

“I thought he was more of a pitbull,” I said. Les smiled, but Jack wasn’t having it.

“He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all of that money goes straight into his own pocket. Just do yourself a favor. Stay clear of him and The Refuge.” Jack looked almost haunted as well as disgusted, and I wondered if he had spent time there.

A lady walked by below us. “Hey, you up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!” I thought we were busted before Jack spoke up, all hints of Snyder and his unpleasantness gone from his face.

“Not even me, Ms. Medda?” He called charmingly.

She put her hands on her hips. “Jack Kelly?”

“Yeah!”

“Man of mystery! Come down here and give me a hug!” She called, clearly happy to see Jack.

He ran down and gave the lady, Ms. Medda, a hug. I made a mental note that, when he wanted, Jack could be really charming, inspiring, or threatening, depending on the person. You did not want to be on any side but his good side. Jack kept talking to Ms. Medda, charming her.

“Boys!” Jack said. “May I present to you Ms. Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint.”

“The only thing I own is the mortgage,” she joked.

When I turned around, I saw Les, bent over double, gaping at two of the dancers.

Davey tapped Les on the back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you blind?” Les retorted. “She got no clothes on!”

I hid a smile. I mean, I knew that 1899 fashion was a bit--scratch that, a lot--more conservative than 2018 fashion, but little Les was just so dumbstruck at the fact that the ladies were wearing just leggings and some kind of leotard. Oh, God, I thought, if only he walked around in the 21st century for even an hour…

“That’s her costume.”

“But I can see her legs!” Les sounded like he’d never seen a lady’s leg before. Although, in all honesty, he probably hadn’t.

“Well, step out of his way so’s he can get a better look.” Ms. Medda said. The performers struck a pose, revealing more of the tight leggings. Ms. Medda continued to say something about theatre being educational, but I wasn’t really listening, making sure no one was watching us.

Suddenly, a man with a mustache came running in. “Ms. Medda! You’re on!” He shouted.

“I am?” Ms. Medda said. “How am I doing?” She looked at the mustache guy, and then scoffed, and then looked at us, and we started laughing. “Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Ms. Medda now.”

We followed her to the curtains, Les and Davey watching from behind the curtain, but Jack and I snagged two seats. Ms. Medda continued to sing about being rich, but I wasn’t paying much attention to the words. Again. Oh, us millennials and our attention spans, I thought jokingly. But it was because Ms. Medda had an amazing voice. When the song was over, Jack gave a standing ovation, and I did, too. I mean, she did hide us from the cops. Well, I guess they weren’t cops. Abusive prison wardens?

“And now, gents,” she called, “let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties!”

“Hey, Wally,” Jack said, poking me. “Look who’s here.” He pointed up to what looked like a theatre balcony.

I looked up and saw a lady sitting inside. “Wasn’t that the girl you were hitting on earlier?”

“Oh, yeah.” He had a stupid grin on his face. He ran up to Ms. Medda, who was now off-stage. They conversed quietly, and then Jack ran up to the ladder to the little balcony and climbed in.

I couldn’t hear them, but as they talked, Jack’s face varied from cheeky to downright flirty, and the girl mostly looked either uncomfortable or mocking. I smiled. She’s gonna have fun with Jack, I thought.

I watched the two of them, not exactly sure how it was going to play out. Well, until the girl yelled: “Do you mind?”

Some guy in the audience rapped his cane on the structure. “Pipe down up there!”

“You got in for free!” Ms. Medda called. “At least pay attention!”

Jack whisper-shouted something down, probably something along the lines of I’m sorry.

And then he, of course, started serenading her. Of course, he did. And…was he drawing something, too? I shook my head. Jack Kelly, the romantic. Who’d have thunk?

The song went along…and so did my attention. I have issues, I thought.

When the song(both Jack’s and the ladies’) Jack snuck down the ladder, not before leaving something on a chair.

He practically skipped over to Davey, Les, and I. After the brothers left, on our way back to the Lodge, then he started to boast about his serenading epicness.

“Did’ya see that? I’s got her hooked!” Jack whooped.

“You sure did, pal,” I said. Suddenly, the smell of a bakery wafted into my nose. “Hey, Jack? What’s that smell?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, that’s the Cooks’. Yep, they’s called the Cooks and they cook. If you’re hungry”--I could’ve sworn he heard my stomach growling--“they sometimes gives us a loaf of bread.”

“Well, I think you know the answer to that question, Jack,” I said. I fingered the dollars I took from the Waverider before dragging Jack to the street. There was about $20, which was a lot in this era, especially for the newsies. It was for an emergency, but if this wasn’t, I didn’t know what would constitute an emergency anymore. Jack started moving into the store, but I put a hand out in front of him. “Lemme try. They don’t know me.”

Jack shrugged. “Have at ‘em.”

I walked into the store, slipping my cap into my bag. A newsie with 20 bucks would raise all kinds of alarms. I walked up to the front, where a young girl was sitting, looking quite bored.

“How can I help you today?” She asked, looking like I was the most interesting thing that had happened to her all day.

I looked behind her at the vast shelves of baked goods, breads and pastries galore. “Uh, can I have ten loaves of bread? And one of the pumpkin loaves?”

The girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You got money to pay for it?”

“Yeah.” She gave me a once-over, like ‘why can this kid afford ten loaves of bread?’ Then she shrugged. Business was business.

“$2.50.” She said, gathering the load of loaves.

I pulled out some money and gave it to her.

I just really hoped she didn’t pay much attention to the dates on the bills.

She handed me the loaves, and I put each in my bag. “Thanks,” I said, and flashed a smile at the girl. She just nodded.

I walked outside to where Jack was waiting. He looked at me and only saw the emptiness of my hands.

“Ah, youse struck out, huh? Well, sometimes they’s just want the Jack…” He trailed off when I patted my bulging bag. “No way.”

I smirked. “Yes, way. Ten loaves of bread, and one pumpkin loaf.”

“How’d you…?”

“She just was begging for business. I don’t think they sold a thing all day.”

“Good on youse! We’s’ll eat good tonight!” Jack whooped, patting me on the back.

We walked back to the Lodge, Jack’s arm around my shoulder. By the time we got back, the sun was nearly set. As soon as we opened the door, the newsies were on us.

“Where were youse?”

“We’s been waitin’!”

“We’s thought Snyder got youse!”

Jack held up his hands, and they all quieted down. “Now, me and Speedy was busy.” He took my bag of bread from my hands. “Seems ol’ Speedy ‘ere has got a bit of charm!” The shouts rang out again.

“Is that bread?”

“WOAH!”

“Did’ya steal that?”

“FOOD!”

“A’IGHT!” Jack yelled. “All of youse get some! Obviously!”

Jack and I distributed the some of the bread to the newsies, and only after we finished did Jack take any. I assumed that was normal, knowing Jack.

The boys all got a large chunk of bread, and against Jack and I’s protests, the boys insisted we share a whole loaf.

That night, all of the newsboys at the Newsboy Lodging House went to bed with full stomachs.

I hope that doesn’t screw with the timeline.

You know what? Screw the timeline. Just seeing the joy on those kids’ faces when they realized they didn’t have to go to sleep hungry was enough.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Matchmaker or stripper sternclay?

I chose the following: “I strip because I enjoy it and it’s good money, but I didn’t expect to be hired for your friend’s bachelor party. hello, professor“

Given the prompt and where it went, This is Not Suitable For you Workplace. It’s a lemon, in the language of the olden times.

Note: I have an additional part of this planned, if people end up being interested in it.

Most days, Lucky Stern likes this job.

Stripping isn’t what he’d imagined he’d do during college. But it keeps his head above water and the loans from overwhelming him. He likes most of his colleagues, and the place he works is in the gay neighborhood, which is relatively safe when he gets off at weird hours of the night. Plus it means he gets more exercise than he probably otherwise would as a student working two jobs.

So yeah, most days are fine.

Then there are days like the one he’s having now.

He’s one of two dancers hired for a bachelor party, a small one at a nice house in the fancy, woodsy part of town. He and his partner are doing one of their favorite routines (Scully and Mulder, with his partner doing the drag for Scully), so he’s feeling confident.

Until he turns around and sees a familiar face.

His professor.

Technically his former professor. Also, technically, the professor he’s had a raging crush on for two years.

Barclay, as he asked his students to call him, was an athro professor, but Stern had him for a folklore class (“Cryptids in American Folklore and Culture”) as he finished his depth requirements during his sophmore year.  It was his favorite class of the year, and that was only partially due to his professor looking like a lumberjack centerfold (he’s on the younger end of professors, that much Stern knows). Barclay made the material engaging and challenging and shared Sterns fascination with cryptids and their role in the world. And so Stern went to office hours, sometimes because he needed a clarification and (most times) to talk with Barclay about his theories or research  or the latest episode of the ridiculous Bigfoot hunting show they both watched.  They kept meeting even when Stern moved into the next semester and the semester after that. His life got busier, but he still made time once a week to drop in on his favorite professor (and time after to go somewhere private to jack off to the idea of having sex in his office).

Hell, he was in Barclays office five days ago, telling him he’d scored a paid internship after graduation that might, one day, get him a job investigating paranormal phenomena.

And now here he is, looking as surprised as Stern feels.

He can’t bolt, he can’t, they’d probably demand a refund and he’d screw himself and his partner out of a nights pay. So he goes through the routine on autopilot, though every time he hazards a glance at Barclay the other man is looking down. Except for when they finish, both down to what could be called a thong, if you were being generous. Then he’s staring, and Stern’s never felt more exposed.

They disappear back into the kitchen (their staging area) even as some of the attendees cheer for more. He tells his partner to go for it, then throws on an undershirt and pants so he can go into the garden and have a panic attack.

He’s doubled over, stress dry-heaving into some shrubs. It’s not that he’s ashamed, but he’s heard so many horror stories about people who stripped having a client who recognized them blab and cost them their job or their social circle or, or..

A water glass enters his vision.

“Thanks.” He rasps.

“No problem.”

He stands bolt upright, turns,  finds Barclay standing in front of him looking worried. For a moment an awkward pause fills the night air.

“Found a way to pay for school, huh?”

“Yes. What do I have to do to convince you not to tell anyone?” He sighs, tries to keep his shoulders from shaking with pent up panic.

“Convince me to-oh, Lucky, hey, you don’t have to anything.” A hand rests on his shoulder, the gesture familiar and comforting.

“Hold on, are there other people who know and are making you do stuff?” His tone is deathly serious.

“No, it’s just, I got a bit jumpy and went into damage control mode. I apologize.” He takes another sip of water, still can’t look Barclay in the eye (he may be the only man Stern actually has to look up to talk to).

“Listen, I know folks who did the same thing and god knows you’re not the only student at the school who’s landed on this as the best way to avoid money troubles. So no judgement or anything from me, okay.”

Stern nods.

“How’s your stomach?”

“Still feels like shit, but less so.”

“C’mon, lemme make you some tea, it might help.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Need a break from the festivities myself, you’ll be doing me a favor.” He smiles and Stern tries not to melt at the sweetness in it.

They head back into the kitchen and Barclay moves through it effortlessly as he grabs a kettle, a mug, and some tea.

“So…how do you know the groom? Or is it grooms?”

“Grooms. I know Ned better than his fiance, met him through friend of mine named Duck. I’m willing to bet Ned’s the one who hired you guys. He can never pass up a chance to be over the top. Plus I imagine both him and Boyd are enjoying themselves.

“Boyd?”

“Groom number two, guy with all the tattoos and muscles.”

There’s a whoop from the other room just as the kettle boils.

Barclay sets the mug in front of Stern before continuing to putter about the kitchen.

“You hungry at all.”

“Not really, what with panic and the puking.”

“Good point. Lemme know if you start feeling different.”

Stern blows on his tea to cool it, catches Barclay looking at him.

He’s blushing.

“Was the Agent Mulder bit something you picked, or just a happy accident.”

“I picked it as one of my go-tos. Everything said to choose things that made me feel confident and sexy and well, you know me.”

“Yeah, future special agent Stern. Can see why you picked it, it looks good on you.” He sticks a serving knife into a pan of brownies. Stern wishes he had an appetite, there’s some really good food in here.

Wait, does he smell buffalo wings?

Indeed he does. There they are, sitting on a tray, probably left over from dinner.

He loves buffalo wings.

“Help yourself.” Barclay grins as he slides the tray across the island to him, passes a napkin along behind it.

Sterns resolve lasts two seconds and then takes a bite.

“These are amazing.” He whispers and Barclay chuckles.

“Thanks, came up with the mix for the sauce myself. Took a few passes to get the texture right.”

“You made these?”

“Made basically all the food for tonight. It’s a hobby, and like cooking for my friends.”

“That’s very attractive.” He murmurs, taking another bite of the wing. Barclay arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

The kitchen door swings open and one of the guests comes in, a bigger guy wearing dark green.

“Hidin in the kitchen already?” He drawls at Barclay, before catching sight of Stern, “Oh, howdy, your friend out there said you were feelin sick all of a sudden. You doin okay? Barclay behavin himself?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for leaving you all with less than you paid for.”

“To be honest, think your friend’s got it covered. Only a few of the fellas are into the whole, uh, whole, y’know.” He gestures at Sterns outfit.

“You’re not dying to have someone cute and mostly naked in your lap, Duck?” Barclays tone is teasing.

“If I wanted that, Indrid is right there.”

“How’s he enjoying the dancers?”

“He’s had too many of those hard sodas, so he’s the kind of drunk where all he wants to do is stare at the lamp with the color changin bulb. Relatedly,” he grabs a water glass and fills it, “I ain’t drinkin anymore tonight so I can get us home safe.”

“Here, take Indrid one of these.” Barclay slips a brownie onto a small plate.

“Thanks, man. See you in a bit.” Then he disappears.

“He seems nice.”

“Yeah, Duck’s a good guy. He and Indrid got married about a year ago, think that man’s gonna be in the honeymoon stage for the rest of his life.”

“Is everyone here married or about to be?” Stern had assumed a bachelor party would have more, well, bachelors.

“I’m not.” Barclay shrugs and Stern nearly chokes on his food when the larger man gives him a suggestive look and sits down beside him.

“What about you? Anyone waiting at home to rub your…legs after a hard nights work?”

“That’s oddly specific, and no.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised. You’re the complete package, smart, hard-working, good looking, only a little messy.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fastidious-oh” Barclay reaches forward, wipes stray sauce from the edge of his mouth. Stern takes a chance, turns his head slightly and brings the tip of the thumb into his mouth and playfully bites it. Barclay inhales sharply, pupils widening, before slowly pulling his hand back.

“Easy, tiger, I’m not making any kind of move until you’re not a student.”

“I don’t have any classes with you, we’re not even in the same department.” Well, that came out as more of a whine that he wanted.

“That’s my policy, babe. I don’t date any students or TAs, period.”

“But graduation’s not for another month.”

“Gives you time to change your mind safely. And if you still want it, then it gives you lots of time to savor the anticipation.” His deep voice is almost a purr as he brings a hand around to rub Sterns neck, pulling them closer as a result.

“You’re a scrupulous man, Barclay, and right now I could kill you for it.”

“Believe me, it’s as hard for me as it is for you. But if we do, well, anything like that, I want to treat you right and on the level from the start.”

He presses a kiss on the top of Sterns head before sitting back.

“Oh HO!”

Stern jumps and Barclay groans

“Hey, Ned.”

“Here I thought you were simply preparing more refreshments and seeing to our under the weather guest.”

“I’m doing exactly that.”

“Barclay, there were specific rules I agreed to when I hired them-”

“So it was you”

“-and one was that there were to be no private sessions OR touching of the performers.”

Barclay is turning shades of pink never before seen by human eyes.

“It’s alright, really, Barclay was just helping me calm down.”

The man, Ned, look’s concerned.

“Did something happen?”

Stern racks his brain for a half-truth to explain the whole thing.

“Ned, this gentleman is a student at the college. He and I know each other, so you can imagine it was a bit of an unwelcome surprise for him to see me here, so I was doing what I could to help him feel better. And so help me, Ned fucking Chicane, if you ever repeat that piece of information about him to anyone, I will never let you near my cooking again.”

“You have my word. My real one.” Ned looks genuinely somber, “now that’s out of the way.” He bursts into a deep belly laugh.

“I’m so sorry, my dear boy, for landing you in such a difficult, but hilarious, situation. I will be sure to inform your employer that we were all extremely satisfied tonight and wish to add a considerable gratuity on top of what your friend out there has collected from my betrothed.”

“Thank you.” And Stern thought he knew academics with bloated vocabularies. This guy takes the cake.

“My pleasure.” He winks at them and heads back out into the living room.

Stern gives Barclay a perplexed look.

“That’s Ned Chicane? The guy who runs the Cryptonomica? How the fuck can he afford this place.”

“I’ve learned it’s best not to ask.” Barclay steps onto the floor, offers his hand, “C’mon, handsome, help me get the desserts ready.”

“Only if you let me lick whip cream off you.”

“Bold, but no. Not for another month.” He hands him serving tool and Stern takes it with a smile.

—————————————–

Stern has been a graduate all of two days.

Last night was spent with his folks, who were delighted and proud and took him out to dinner.

Tonight he’s working the club, and getting more distracted by the minute. Because someone special is picking him up tonight.

He’s changing into his street clothes when Ray, the most classic butch lesbian he’s ever met and the best bouncer in the city, taps him.

“Hey, there was a bigger fella who came in during your last number and watched like a fucking hawk. Saw him i the back parking lot with a car. Don’t recognize him as a regular. You need someone to walk home with you?”

“Was he taller than me and wearing plaid?”

“Yep.”

“It’s alright, I know him. He’s my date.”

Ray gives him a thumbs up as he steps out the back door.

Barclay leans against the side of his car and watches Stern as he approaches.

“Hey there.” He stands up straight, opens his arms and pulls Stern into a hug.

“I didn’t expect you to catch part of the show.”

“Curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see what it looked like when you weren’t dealing with a massive, unwelcome surprise. Gotta say, you looked pretty damn good.”

“Apparently you were watching me so intently I had to convince the bouncer you weren’t an unwelcome suitor.”

“Nope, nothing but pure intentions.”

“Is that so?” He rolls his hips and Barclay hisses with pleasure.

“I could see you were hard from the other end of the parking lot.”

Barclay grins, and then pulls Stern in for a kiss, mouth hot and hungry against his own. Stern rolls his hips again and Barclay growls, pushes him against the car.

“You got me, my intentions are fifty percent pure and fifty percent ‘if you don’t get in the car I’m gonna lose what’s left of my self control and fuck you over the hood.”

“Jesus.” Stern moans, one hand searching for the handle of the door. Barclay pulls back and grabs it, opening the door and gesturing for Stern to get in.

By the time they get to Barclays place, Stern is close to passing out from excitement.  Barclay is on him as soon as they’re safely inside the apartment, tossing keys and jacket haphazardly towards the kitchen counter even as he pushes Stern up against it. His kisses are only broken when he speaks.

“Goddamn, this is worth every time I had to lock my office door and fuck my own hand after you came to see me.”

Stern moans at the image, kisses his way across Barclays cheek while he tugs at this shirt.

“You’re one-of-a-kind, Lucky. Didn’t think I stood a chance with you.”

“Likewise. God, Barclay OHgod” The larger man grinds against him, hands digging into his ass.

“Where do you want to start? Assuming you still want to ohokay.” Barclay laughs as Stern drops to knees and starts undoing his belt, “hold on, got a condom in my jacket.” There’s a rustling above him and in a few seconds Barclay hands him the foil packet.

“Presumptuous.” Stern teases as he unzipps his fly.

“I wanted to be ready in case we didn’t even make it to the apartment.”

Stern smiles to himself at that as he yanks Barclays pants and boxers down; the man is exceedingly thoughtful and oh. Oh lord, he is big. He cock is thick and long and Stern needs it in his mouth right now.

As he rolls the condom on he notices Barclay looking down at him with just as much affection as lust in his eyes.

Before Stern can take him in his mouth, a hand grips his chin and holds him in a place.

“Something you want?”

“I assumed that was obvious.”

Barclay clucks his tongue.

“You want it, you gotta ask for it.”

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Close, but not quite. Need you to ask nicely.” Barclay uses his other hand to move his cock against Sterns lips teasingly.

“Please let me suck your cock?”

“Much better.” Barclay releases his chin, braces his hand on the counter,  and Stern gratefully opens his mouth, takes the first inch or so in. He shuts his eyes just as warm fingers ghost across his cheek.

Jesus, he can feel his mouth getting sore from the stretch and it’s been a maximum of thirty seconds and something about that idea, of there being so much of Barclay and it’s all his, makes him moan. He pushes his head forward, takes in more of the shaft and rolls his tongue across it. Tries for more, winces when it starts getting close to this throat.

“Easy, tiger.” Barclays fingers card through his hair, “don’t hurt yourself. Need that sweet mouth of yours in good shape if I’m gonna keep fucking it.”

Stern whines, brings one hand to cover the rest of his cock while the other traces zig-zags on Barclays ass.

“I know, you just want to please don’t you?”

The moan that leaves him is instantaneous and he nods. He’d fantasized about partners saying things like that, dominant and sweet all at once, but hadn’t worked up the courage to ask.

He’s kicking himself for not finding a way to practice deep-throating, he’s seen the bulge in Barclays jeans for months (years) and knew it was formidable.

The hand brushing hair from his forehead steers him from those thoughts.

“Don’t gotta worry about how much of my cock fits. I like it fast, with a lot of pressure. Think you can do that for me?”

Stern locks eyes with him as he eagerly nods, tightens his grip and works his hand rapidly, pre-cum and saliva helping him along. Focuses less on depth and more on sucking, pleasure pulsing through him whenever Barclays cockhead makes contact with his cheek.

“Shit, yeah, that’s it. Goddamn, look at you, wanna watch that  face bob up and down on my cock every night.” There’s a sharp thwack as Barclay slaps his other hand down on the counter and groans. Stern keeps his head still, moves his hand as fast as he’s able and sucks hard, tongue swiping at the tip

“I’m close, babe, so fucking close. Lemme hear you, I wanna hear how much you like sucking my cock.”

Stern moans from deep in his chest, lets a series of broken moans punctuate the small jerks of Barclays hips, the only movement he’s made in his mouth.

“That’s it, fuck FUCK, Lucky, baby, so good.” He cums with another groan, one hand dropping down to hold Sterns head in place. There’s a panting growl as he adds, “gonna keep my cock in your mouth for hours one of these nights” and Sterns whole body pings with interest both at the image and at the promise of this being an ongoing arrangement.

Barclay carefully pulls back, and by the time Stern gets to his feet he’s opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a napkin, which Stern gladly accepts.

“That was…damn.” Barclay chuckles, kissing his neck as he finishes wiping his mouth.

“Did I, uh..” Barclay looks at him curiously and he nearly chickens out, “did I do well?”

Something exceedingly hungry flashes behind the taller mans eyes and he strokes a thumb across Sterns lips.

“Yeah, you did. You were real good for me, Lucky.” The chasteness of the kiss that follows these words is in stark contrast to lascivious tone they take as he continues, “you gonna keep being my good boy tonight.”

Before Stern can respond, two things happen: his stomach gives an comically loud gurgle, and his thighs twinge from that nights work.

Barclay chuckles and Stern glares at the lower half of his body.

“How dare you sabotage the mood at a time like this?” He hisses, which only makes Barclay laugh harder as he pulls his underwear and pants back up.

“I’ll make you some dinner. Have a seat.”

Stern drops into a chair and watches Barclay root through the fridge, pulling out a few containers and tossing butter into a pan. His leg is still twinging, so he stands, swings it up and rests his heel on the table to stretch it out.

Barclay drops the wooden spoon he was holding, along with his jaw.

“The dancing helps with flexibility.” Stern shrugs, casually.

“No kidding.”

“The stove is beginning to smoke.”

“Shit! Ah, well, guess you’re having leftover risotto warmed in really brown butter.”

Stern does, and it’s delicious.

As he eats, he slips his shoes off and Barclay motions for him to put his foot in his lap and proceeds to gently rub it as he chats with Stern about the research he’ll be conducting over the summer.

“..So yeah, it’s mostly pouring through interviews and newspapers, but maybe there’s one roadtrip in the mix.” He glances down at Sterns plate, now clean, then smirks at him.

“Care to continue this conversation in the bedroom?”

“Very much so.”

Barclay takes his hand and leads him into a room down the hall. Like the rest of the space, it looks as though someone tried to cram an Appalachian lodge into one bedroom apartment.

“Legs still sore?” He murmurs, arms around Sterns waist and lips grazing the back of his neck.

“Yes, but it’s fine, I don’t want that to get in the way of whatever you had planned.”

There’s a soft laugh against his skin.

“Still trying so hard to be good me, huh?”

Sterns melts back against him with breathy “yes.”

“Then take your clothes off and lay on the bed. Facedown. Underwear can stay on, if that’s more comfortable.”

Stern whips off his t-shirt, tosses his jeans after it and flops onto the bed on his stomach. He can’t really see what Barclay’s doing, feels the bed dip after a few moments. And then something cool hits his thigh. For a second he thinks it’s stray lube and Barclay is getting right to the point, but then fingers begin kneading at his muscles and he sighs into the pillow.

“See, Lucky, here’s the thing; you wanna be good for me, you gotta accept that means I’m gonna be good to you.” Barclays hand presses down towards his calf, stopping to thumb at a knot, “don’t gotta try to give me the right answers or anything like that. Just gotta tell me what you want.”

Slowly but sure he works his way down one leg and then up the other before lightly tapping Sterns ass.

“Roll over.”

When Stern does, his breath catches in his throat; Barclay’s in only his boxers, his body otherwise bare and broad and so appealing Stern thinks this may be a dream.

Barclay runs a hand appreciatively down his chest, drinking him in.

“You act like you’ve never seen me in my underwear before. Which is demonstrably false.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t do this” the hand moves across Sterns hips, “or this” down to his thigh, “or this” it’s on his cock, gently stroking it up.

“Fair point, ohhhhh.” His back arches as Barclay adds more pressure and he frantically tugs his boxer briefs off, Barclay not missing a beat before taking his cock in his hand. The larger man shifts so he’s laying on his side, hand still working Stern over and lips kissing his cheeks.

“I want you to tell me when you get close. You gonna do that?”

“Yes, Barclay, I promise, I oh, oh fuck.” Barclays grip and pace turn relentless and Stern lets himself be carried away by the feeling until his orgasm starts building.

“Close, I’m, oh fuck you.” Barclays hand stills as he leans in and bites Sterns ear.

“What did I say earlier about being polite?” The growl in his voice makes Stern whimper and wriggle his hips.

“I, I, apologize, please, pleaseplease keep going.”

“Much better.” He starts stroking him again, panting against his ear, and soon Stern feels himself getting close. He could just not tell him. But where’s the fun in that?

“I’m so close again.”

“You wanna come.”

“Yes, please Barclay I want to so badly, I want to come in your hand, wanna come for you, I want, I want-” He’s babbling, he must sound absurd, but Barclay moans, kisses him hard.

“Then be a good boy and come for me.”

Stern bucks his hips, thrusting as best he can in time with Barclays movements and then he’s coming, Barclays name an obscene sound on his lips.

He lays, shaking, as it finishes washing over him, and then Barclay kisses his forehead.

“You did so well. You were so good for me.”

Stern turns his head, makes small, needy noise that Barclay correctly interprets as wanting a kiss. Then he slides of the bed, returning with a towel for the stray cum on Sterns stomach. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do now.

“Do I, should I go?”

“Only if you want to. Be glad if you stayed the night, but don’t want you to if it feels weird.”

“I’d like to, very much.”

Stern means to get up and get ready for bed, or at least ask for pajamas. But Barclay is there and warm and holding him and he’s so happy and so sleepy that he drops off into pleasant dreams, the feeling of Barclays breath slow and even against the back of his neck.

Some disastrous work days, he thinks as he dozes, have very happy endings indeed.

[jinterlude]

It’s Better This Way

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

» Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader (Female OC)

» Genre(s): Gang!AU & Angst

» Warning(s)/Rating: Mentions of infidelity | Swearing // PG-13

» Words: 796

» Based off the word: peripeteia // περιπέτεια (Greek, n.) - a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return

‣ 300+ Milestone Drabble M.List  

            “You cheating son of a bitch!” You yell, anguish filling your entire body. You grab a lamp off your nightstand and hurl it at the man, who you have dedicated almost five years of your life towards him.

A loud, shattering crash echoes throughout the dimly lit condo. Namjoon, ducks, ignoring the aching pain in his chest. He’s close to breaking his façade and telling you that he wouldn’t dare cheat on the woman that owns his heart but given some circumstances, he’d rather have you hate him then end up dead on the cold street. He’d rather have you alive and well, so he can catch glimpses of your smiling face than to visit your grave with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

He just wants you safe. That’s all.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he lets out a long defeated sigh and walks out of the room.

You scoff at his cowardliness. You can’t believe how long you’ve been so blind. Coming home late. The stench of another woman’s perfume. The red lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt. Just everything. You have given him the benefit of the doubt because you’re so in love with him that you don’t know what you’d do without him.

And that’s your problem. You lost sight of yourself. Who is Y/N without Namjoon? That’s the million dollar question and thankfully—you answered it correctly.

No longer will you be naïve to his excuses, hanging on every single word he says. No longer will you simply wave off things that you find unusual.

You don’t need him.

You deserve better.

With a confident smile, you grab your jacket and cell phone before walking out of the bedroom.

Namjoon’s ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps. Does he need to up his charade? He needs you to leave as much it hurts him for you to do so.

His jaw tightens. His hands curl into a fist. He stops in the middle of the living room and just as he turns to give one final performance, you brush by him. Your face blank. No tears of anger. No fiery rage. Nothing.

You feel nothing towards the man that broke your heart.

           “I’ll be back for my stuff over the weekend.” You say coldly, opening the front door. Your eyes stare out into the darkness as your heart gives you one final reason that can prevent you from walking out forever. However, you ignore it. You’ll always care for him, but you’ll never love him again.

With a heavy sigh, you step outside and slam the door behind you.

Namjoon’s body flinch from the loud bang. His gaze locks onto the door. He hopes that you’ll walk back inside but deep down he knows that it’s goodbye.

And again…he needs to be like this…

He’s honestly foolish to think that a cold-hearted murderer like himself is capable of keeping something so pure. Someone so warm in his dark world. Someone who’s able to love him like you used to.

Oh…how…you…loved…him…

With his jaw clenched, he walks over to the coach and sits. His eyes trail up to the ceiling and just as he becomes alone with his memories of you, his phone goes off.

He knows that familiar tone. He quickly fishes it out of his leather jacket and unlock it. Of course, his home screen is a picture of the two you smiling and completely in utter bliss.

It takes all of his remaining strength to open the messaging app. His thumb presses on the newly received message and opens it up.

His eyes read the text; this surge of anger flows through his body. It’s all because of this prick that he lost the love of his life. Now, the arrogant asshole is taunting him.

           “Wise decision Kim Namjoon…for a second….I’d thought my boys and I would have to torture and kill her right in front of you. Well…there goes my plan now. I was so hoping to spill her precious blood and watch you cry.”

A faint growl escapes his lips. His eyes burns with rage. That’s it. He has to kill this fucker once and for all.

He quickly scrolls through his contacts until he finds the person he’s looking for. He presses the phone icon and calls his right hand man.

Not even after the second ring, the person answers.

           “What’s up, Namjoon?”

           “Round up the fellas…it’s time we show this fool that he’s stupid for messing with BTS.”

           “Roger that.”

Once the call ends, he carelessly tosses his phone on the coach. He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling once more, alone with his thoughts before he meets up with his members.

           “Remember…this was all for her…”

A/N: Well damn...I don’t even know how I got this to be heavy. Like bruh... 

Side note: this is my first drabble for Namjoon! Hurray! And, I get to write one more! So, I’m excited!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/send in an ask on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

[silvergeek]

The Tale of Mister Robert “Bob” Gray.

Full fanfiction is located here.

At this time, dear readers, we must take a moment to break away from our narrative at hand. Because, at this time, we need to focus on a different narrative to understand the current story, the stories we've read, and the stories we will, someday, read.

Pennywise the Dancing Clown came from a story widely known – widely loved. But as it were, the words jumped off the pages of that book and landed in a collection of minds – a hive of thoughts. The named “Robert 'Bob' Gray” became a topic of focus, for so little had been officially written about him. The monster took the name, true as gold, and that was the word of God – or rather... that was the word of the monster's creator, Its author. Beyond that name, not much else was known about Mister Gray, and certainly nothing else was ever, or had ever, been explained.

Bob Gray became the start of a question. “Gray” was a query, a thing of mystery that so many desired to solve. Through readers' own suppositions they did conceive various tales about “Mister Gray” – who he was, what he did, and how he became an urban legend.

Mister Gray.

Bob Gray.

Robert Gray.

Each of those whispers, those quandaries, those theories, those amateur fictions... they led to arguments, debates,and essays – but none of them were one hundred percent accurate.

However...

None of them were one hundred percent wrong, either.

A good story is an amalgam of half stories. Tales pieced together like an epic foil ball, containing only the most compelling bits carefully cherry-picked from the bunch.

So this, dear readers, is the actual, true-to-god, story of Mister Robert “Bob” Gray. Would I lie to you? Me? Your storyteller? Why yes – that's what any good storyteller would do. So, as I'd said in the beginning: If you don't trust me... then stop reading. Are we ready? Let us begin...

  The Tale of Mr. Robert “Bob” Gray (better known as) Pennywise the Dancing Clown

 Gray was a man between the age of thirty and thirty-five, and he was a tall man with sandy-brown hair and striking blue eyes. True enough, his hands were large, his fingers long, and his legs put him around six and a half feet tall. He wasn't a heavy man, but by no means was he scrawny – not at his height and certainly not at his age.

Gray was indeed an immigrant from Sweden who had, at the ripe age of seventeen, sailed over to the northeasternmost region of the great United States of America. He did indeed come over to the land of the free with little else but spare change and a willingness to work – even if it broke his back. Now, understand this... his name wasn't Bob Gray back in the old country. No. His birth-given name was Robert Grå. Just like that, with the funny circle above it and everything, or so the Americans said. Hell, it meant the same damn thing between the languages, but those American types sure relied heavily on everything being spelled out in English. And so... Robert Gray it became – or Bob if someone was feeling particularly informal.

By his twenties, Bob had made a name for himself in the township of Derry, Maine. In so much that he was the man you'd call on if you'd needed odd jobs done. Some farm work here. Some machinist work there. And every year there'd be a carnival that rolled through Derry, as sure as rain. The event lasted through a long, summer weekend, and when it was over, those carnies packed up that carnival like stuffing socks in a suitcase. You'd better believe Bob Gray was willing to help out with the odd jobs at this event. It was only for a weekend, but the coin was good.

A carnie – a real leathery fella – by the nickname of Carnie Ron had been the one who'd personally tasked Bob Gray for the right wages. He'd set Bob to work on various chores like fixing things that went broke and restocking prizes, food, and refreshments as they'd been consumed (maybe once in awhile thieved) throughout the weekend. The downside for Bob was that this carnival only came once a year. A man needed to live the rest of those twelve months. Regardless, he took what he could, worked his duties, and collected pay from Carnie Ron.

It wasn't until Bob's third year that things had changed. One of the carnie hands, not Ron, asked Mister Gray to fill in as a clown – something to keep the younger kids entertained while their ma's and pa's drank themselves loose on cheap stout (which made them spend all the more coin for the rest of the night).

And that's just what Bob did. He put on the clown suit, which was little more than a dingy, old pair of men's pajamas, and caked some white pancake makeup all over his sun-soaked face. Then, Mister Gray took a bit of red paint and gave himself a big, merry smile from ear to ear. He looked just like the Cheshire Cat, if that wicked old cat was ever the clownin' type.

“Hand me all those balloons,” Bob had told that same carnie hand, and – boy oh boy – Mister Gray took to being a clown like a duck takes to water. The kids got a dance out of him, silly voices, crazy faces, and each one of them walked away with their own balloon after they'd begged their ma's and pa's (til they were blue in the face, no less) for the extra coin to buy their very own from the clown. Why, Bob even took a paintbrush to the balloons and signed each one of them, like he'd been peddling out his very own autograph. (As if he'd been anything to anyone at the time, but for that measly hour, to those kids, Mister Bob Gray was like a god.) Before he'd signed his first balloon, Bob had to think of a name on the fly. He saw those coins jingling in the youngsters' hands and it just came to him: Pennywise. Pennywise the clown. The clown that danced, even sang a tune or three, and handed off balloons with his signature and everything.

It wasn't long after that day that Bob Gray got to thinking that he could do this for a living. He could entertain, sing, dance, and overcharge for cheap balloons. (And he could do it more than once per year!) So, with the money he'd saved thus far, Mister Gray bought an old, worn down caravan off Carnie Ron. He'd fixed her up and painted a likeness of his clownin' self across her side. Then he wrote the words, as big and as grand as he could: The Great Pennywise – The Dancing Clown. And, sure enough, that had been Mister Bob Gray's modest source of income for years to come.

What Bob Gray hadn't known was ...that in all that time... he was being watched. (And interestingly enough, he'd been watched by two very different sets of eyes.)

The first, and prettiest, set of eyes that'd been watching Mister Gray from afar belonged to Miss Melody Sharp. She was a provocative young woman with a lean build and a face that could charm the skin off a snake. Her hair was thick and golden and often prettily decorated with some ribbons or another. Her eyes were deep and beautiful, like a pair of sparkling sapphires. One look from her and it could melt any man's heart. (Well... almost any man's.) It was true. Miss Melody was a lovely thing, and even lovelier was her soul. She'd help just about any person in need, no questions asked. Miss Sharp was a kind girl with a gentle touch and a soothing voice. Why, her tone was so pacifying that her own birth-given name didn't do it justice. Yes, just about any man in the Derry township could agree that listening to Miss Melody Sharp speak was like being serenaded by a warm, beautiful song.

Now... don't ask me why... but poor Melody, for some unholy reason, had her sweet heart set on Mister Bob Gray. One could theorize that she took to him because he'd been so engaging in his performances. Perhaps he amused her which had, in some way, bewitched the sweet girl. One could also argue that she took to him because, admittedly, Mister Gray was a handsome man with those unconventionally attractive Scandinavian looks. Oh sure – he was tall and strong and his eyes were piercing blue. So blue, in fact, you could swear that god himself plucked two pieces of the sky and stuffed them right in Gray's sockets on the day he'd come squalling into the world.

So, without a doubt, Miss Melody Sharp had fallen for Mister Bob Gray. Unfortunately – because life just isn't fair, even if you are as darling and as elegant as Miss Sharp – the man could have cared less. She came around after his shows while he'd been winding down back behind the caravan, and it was always the same sad story.

“Evening, Robert!” she'd say with the prettiest smile. “I baked you a shepherd's pie.” And little Melody would approach Mister Gray, often times while he was still in his clown makeup, offering the man some painstakingly handmade gift or another. Poor thing. She went a-courtin' after Bob, day in and day out, never quite getting the hint that he was dead set on remaining a lifelong bachelor.

“Thank you, Miss Melody,” he'd always say, without so much as looking at her. His tone was often quiet, unimpressed, perhaps with a hint of eagerness for her to just go away. Now, there was nothing actually wrong with Mister Gray. Nothing criminal about him. He simply wasn't interested. Some folk balked at his persistent indifference to Miss Sharp, and that's how rumors circulated, but – true as gold – Bob only cared about Bob.

Melody didn't see this for what it was. She persisted in her own way, in spite of his antipathy. “There's a dance at the local hall coming up...” That was her usual line when that time of year came around. “Gee, I'd hate to go alone...”

But of course, Bob Gray, with that thick head of sandy hair sitting on that prominent forehead of his would look down at the hopeful, young woman, clear his throat, and say, “I'm sure you'll manage.” Then he'd turn right back around and stare into that mirror of his as he wiped his makeup from his skin.

Melody had taken Bob for a coy man, which was part of her whole denial over the issue. In spite of his day to day vocation, she was convinced he was shy. And that was the long and short of their relationship, if you had the cheek to call it such a thing.

Then... there had been the other set of eyes watching Bob Gray. These eyes were much different from those of Melody Sharp. These had been the devil's eyes. Eyes from another place – a dark place – not anywhere bright enough to be considered another world. It was like an unworld. A void. Nowhere that any man or woman would willingly go. Perhaps it'd been a place that led straight to hell for all one knew. Hell or death. Or perhaps both.

What is known about the Derry township is that a great evil thrived somewhere at its core. This was an unfortunate truth, one that no citizen wanted to advertise, but a truth with which every citizen was all too familiar. Some said the town was cursed. Others said that the evil bore the town, itself. There was no true agreement on the matter, but, true enough, it had been the same evil that plagued Derry in its later years to come. It was the same evil that eventually caused the Ironworks Factory explosion, the same evil that burned down the Black Spot. Hell, it was the same evil that skyrocketed both the citywide death toll and the headcount of missing children at an alarming rate. This evil... It had a mind. It was conscious. It was self aware. And, regrettably, It took notice of Mister Robert Gray.

For a brief time, It merely watched him. It studied everything about Gray – his daily routine, his habits, his apparel, and his performances. It took to him, you see. It took to his likeness. In a way, It envied Gray – how easily he drew in crowds of people. Gray simply saw them as potential meal tickets... easy coin.

But It...

It saw them as potential meals. Plain and simple.

Bob Gray hadn't been too difficult to drive to madness. No sir. All it took were some whispers in his mind, driving his thoughts to dark places, forcing the man to slowly become unhinged. Gray had begun to question his sanity the night he'd seen himself eat a boy. The creature – It – took to shapeshifting into the very spitting image of Bob Gray. It had strut around, looking exactly like him, right before his eyes, causing the man's mind to snap faster than a stale twig.

“I'm you, Bob!” It had said, dragging around the half dead body of a bleeding and terrified boy. That same boy had earlier been part of the paying crowd that gathered to see Gray's dancing clown performance. Gray screamed, night after night, watching a nightmarish facsimile of himself gruesomely eat away at the flesh and bone of one horrified patron or another.

Tragically, Bob Gray – the man – had become convinced that he, himself, was the killer. Such a thing wasn't true, but try telling that poor son of a bitch that after the terrors he'd been forced to see. Becoming unhinged didn't take long. No sir. Gray's grip on reality had long since slipped clean away and he couldn't live with himself any further. After two weeks of watching the other Bob Gray, Mister Gray fastened a rope up to the branch of a tall tree, secured it snugly around his neck, and promptly took his own life.

The creature... It was delighted. With the real man out of the picture, It was able to take over his appearance, his caravan, and his dancing clown routine. It took over his life. It was the new Mister Robert “Bob” Gray, now. It continued to feed off the patrons who came to see Pennywise do his dance – oh yes – like shooting fish in a barrel. Easy meals – and these types scared real easy, too. It ...Gray... made their meat jump with flavor.

The creature went by Bob's name, who frequently introduced himself as Pennywise, just as his muse (now swinging from a tree) had done. Nothing seemed to be standing in his way to endless meals. No more hunting and starving. No more worrying that he couldn't fill his belly before his long sleep. The whole setup was about as convenient as running a farm.

One day, however, after a few weeks of this delicious convenience, Miss Melody Sharp – oblivious and as innocent as pie – went calling on Mister Bob Gray just as she'd always been apt to do. Melody circled the caravan, peeking around for him, but found that, as it were, he didn't appear to be home. The caravan was, indeed, the man's home. She knew this well. He wasn't the type to stray too far from it for too long. However... without warning – without even a sound – Melody almost jumped out of her own skin when she turned to see Bob Gray just standing mere inches from her, as if he'd noiselessly appeared from thin air!

“Robert!” she'd yelped, raising a hand to her heaving chest. “You startled me half to death. That wasn't very kind, sir.” She chuckled a bit, for there was a part of Melody who had been amused by her own shock, and so her chuckle turned into a laugh. Composing herself, she then beamed a warm smile to the tall man staring her down with intense eyes; a man who sported a grin that didn't seem to sit quite right on his comely face. It looked like the smile of the clown, as if it had been glued, indefinitely, to Gray's lips. It did, indeed, give Melody pause before she continued. “I...” the young woman stammered, “I made you something.”

He stared her up and down – she was dressed in a frilly, sky blue dress with white trim. It was warm that day, so her hair was done up in some fancy knotwork to which only pretty girls like Melody knew the secret method. Gray found her... appealing. Just that brief bounce of shock had sent an appetizing aroma to his sensitive nose – like fresh meat simmering in a spicy stew.

Melody handed him a box. It had been conscientiously gift-wrapped, almost too perfect to tear open. “Go on,” she smiled.

Without a word, Gray nimbly untied the white ribbon around the box, then ripped at the shiny, red paper, peeling it away from the parcel. The box was a simple paper cube, likely something she'd found in her attic. Melody's smile widened as she blushed a little. “Open it up, Robert.”

Gray popped and flipped open the paper flap and looked down. Inside, there was some sort of ivory fabric, pleated and lacy, made from some fancy material or another.

“Here,” huffed Melody, too excited to wait for him to take it out. “Let me.” Miss Sharp removed the item and draped it around Gray's neck. “See?” Ruffs. She'd sewn together custom-made, Elizabethean neck ruffs for the man's Pennywise costume. “I hope you like it.” Still smiling and blushing, she awkwardly looked down.

Gray, he ...It... had never been given a gift before. Certainly nothing intended for the indulgence of his (Its) own vanity. He reached to the back of his neck and fastened the ruffs together, spying himself in one of the makeup mirrors. The ruffs, indeed, looked good. And because Gray looked good, he felt a multitude of good feelings wash over him in that instant. He turned to Miss Melody, clutched her delicate hand, stared into her eyes, and said, “Thank you, Miss Sharp. This is a beautiful gift.”

Melody's blushing cheeks reddened even more. “Will you wear it to your next show?” she'd asked. Some part of her expected Robert to tell her no, rip off the ruffs, stuff them back in that box, and send her on her way.

“Oh yes, Miss Sharp. Melody. Yes I will wear it. I will wear it to every show.” He held her hands a bit tighter, now. Just a squeeze. Then, he let her go.

Melody's heart nearly melted. Meanwhile, Gray excused himself, but unlike in the past, he did so warmly, with a tone that seemed to say, “Oh Melody... please do come visit me again...”

And so... she did. Miss Sharp, bless her innocent heart, did not realize the man called Robert Gray – to whom she'd devoted the remainder of her free time on Earth – was truly not the same man as the one that snubbed her again and again. No. She visited nightly with a foul thing. A skinwalker that had been asleep for billions of years, only having recently awoken within the last few hundred. Thereafter, It followed a sleep cycle of twenty-seven years only to emerge, hunt, and eat on the flesh of Derry folk, before returning to Its rest.

Melody was none the wiser, but she sure was tickled to see Mister Bob Gray hungrily wolf down her shepherd's pie for once in her life. She wondered... did his feelings change for her? Had Robert finally warmed up to her advances? And oh how he wore her hand sewn neck ruffs! Each time she caught his act, he'd faithfully had them wrapped round his oh-so-handsome collarbone. Melody was elated. Robert had finally taken to her.

Now, this is the point in our tale, dear reader, where one might think this wicked creature had depraved plans for the likes of poor Miss Melody Sharp. Did the thought cross Gray's mind to plunge the delicate young maiden into her deepest fears and then proceed to eat her alive? Oh yes! This thought did indeed cross Gray's mind – and more than once, assuredly.

But...

Melody had a certain something about her. Even all the Derry men could agree on that. Perhaps even some of the Derry women, if you can open up your mind and wrap your head around such a thing. Sure enough, that certain something, that unconditionally giving nature of Melody's, well... it was powerful enough to transcend barriers even of the dark, extradimensional kind. People like Miss Sharp don't come around all too often. This dark tale goes to show just how much of a rarity she'd been. Perhaps her certain something failed on the real Robert Gray, but... on the likes of this entity... on this creature... it sure hadn't failed in the least. Gray's ability to probe deep into Miss Sharp's psyche and read her every whim had, unbeknownst to her, enchanted a monster. Not an easy feat to do. Sometimes it was what was on the inside that counted... and in this case, it counted for one's very life.

Gray complimented Melody's shepherd's pie each and every time she'd brought it around, singing the utmost praise to its delicious texture and taste. The animal meat within had been seasoned just right, almost enough to rival the scared, savory flesh of a quivering child.

“They say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach,” Miss Sharp would laugh.

Gray laughed along with her, oh how he laughed and laughed. Sort of a haunting giggle, really, but Melody cheerfully paid no mind.

One night, Miss Sharp came to Gray, very nervous, hoping to ask him the same question she'd asked each year. The dance. She wanted him to accompany her to the dance at the local hall where all of the township would surely be in attendance.

“Will you do me the honor?” she'd asked. “I know, I know. I ask every year, but–”

“What about now?” said Gray.

Melody quirked a half smile. “N-now?”

Gray took her small hand in his, cupping his other hand to her slender waist. “Would you kindly dance with me now Melody Sharp? Out here? Under the moonlight?”

On cue, her cheeks flushed and she smiled. “Of course, Mister Gray.” Miss Sharp couldn't believe it – she had won this man's heart.

Gray pulled her close, swaying gently, leading Melody along with his graceful strides. He rested his chin on the curve of her head as she felt the soothing heave of his chest against her face. For some time their quiet waltz continued, silently but beautifully, beneath the glow of the moon above, until Gray lifted her innocent face to meet his eyes. He leaned downward and gently kissed the young woman on her velvet, soft lips. She tasted as he'd imagined – sweet and fresh. Gray found himself unable to unlock his mouth from hers. Melody pressed against him in her own, eager way – meanwhile her small but firm hands cupped the rugged contours of his jawbone and neck.

Gray lifted Melody from her feet, still embracing, forever trapped in the perfect kiss. And the two eventually found themselves back inside his caravan, clothing off, making love on a bed roll stuffed with down. Melody had never lain with a man in all her life – and as far as Gray knew, she was assuredly his (Its) first, as well. Their lovemaking was raw, but slow, bathed in a soft light provided by a neighboring kerosene lamp.

Gray had hunted the humans... had fed on the humans... but this...

“I love you,” Melody Sharp had whispered against his lips, now wet from her kisses.

It had been a phrase the humans said to each other when their affections had... blossomed. Gray, for all his evil and wickedness, could only hear himself utter those same words back to her.

“I love you too...” Even though this monster had spent centuries playing deadly tricks on people, this was indeed no ruse. The creature that had driven Bob Gray to suicide, stole his life away, and murdered those who paid to see him dance, deeply felt love – of all things – for Miss Melody Sharp.

And as she moaned and panted against Gray as he bucked his hips into her, he resolved to himself that while almost all humans were potential meat – Melody Sharp certainly was not.

Time went on and the two continued their trysts, but as all stories have a beginning, there must come the inevitable end. Whether Melody Sharp knew it or not – she'd trapped the heart of a monster. Not a small victory, which undeniably makes her the hero of this tale. In spite of how everything shall boil down in the end, Melody Sharp was the one who had saved the monster inside of Mister Robert “Bob” Gray.

Now, Gray, for all that he (It) was... had been a cloud of malevolence cast over Derry. Perhaps, Melody did not perish by the wicked creature's hand in of itself – Its influence was still the death of her. Gray's corruption spread like a disease through the hearts of Derry residents far and wide. Murder. Rape. Arson. All accounts of such heinous deeds increased in frequency, namely when the creature's eyes were open.

Gray waited for Melody that night, as he always had each and every night. How he missed her when she was away. But Miss Melody never came to the caravan that night. She'd taken her usual walking path – oh yes – but this time some men had been waiting for the poor girl. They'd been watching Miss Sharp, memorizing her routine over the course of some time. These men knew that the young lady had coin on her and they were, unfortunately, the desperate criminal types in a rush to leave the great state of Maine. Now, be aware they didn't violate Miss Melody – no they did not. As previously stated, they were in a rush. The thoughts had crossed their ugly minds, sure, but the coin was all they wanted. Truth be told, had Melody handed over her purse, then everyone would've walked away in one piece. But Miss Sharp, deep in her gracious heart, was a hero – she was a fighter. And, bless her efforts, she tried to fight off those men, but she lost that battle. She lost it hard.

In fact, it had been in that very moment when one of the men – whose eyes Melody had nearly clawed from his face – stuck his knife deep in her belly that Gray looked up at the moon above and gasped in sync with Miss Sharp's final breath. Those awful men ran off with her coin – they even took her shepherd's pie. All the while, Gray raced across the Derry landscape, moving faster than any mortal man could do. Though he hadn't moved fast enough and, in the end, he found his love lying flat on the wet earth, bleeding red through the center of that sky blue dress of hers.

Gray took Melody in his arms and shushed her as she choked. Blood bubbled from the corners of her mouth and he held her closer, knowing all too well when a human's death was near.

“R – Robert...” she'd managed to say.

“I'm here,” he croaked in reply, his once smooth voice changing under the duress of watching her die. As Melody's life slipped away, all the affection Gray had for her sunk downward, deep into a forgotten place where he locked away his (Its) sensitivities. Gray's affection was replaced with a heavy layer of malice and hatred for Derry. Hatred for the humans. Hatred for their children. Oh how... how... he would make them suffer. Make them scream. Make them into his food forever and always. They took her from him. Miss Sharp could have been the one to quell his urgency to always consume – but not anymore.

Gray hugged Melody's limp, delicate body close and rocked her. He shuddered with grief so fiercely that he began to lose his form. Tendrils inched out from his spine as he arched forward, cradling his love. But... deep down... that affection still lingered. It was still there... somewhere... buried within a monster who wept into the night. Melody Sharp may have died, but her long lasting impression on Mister Robert “Bob” Gray never did.