#it can be a little heavy on my slow laptop but it's easy to crop with while keeping the scale

[tiny-tf-faces]

Not all that tiny, but still wonderful on Megs

Oh, that definitely counts as tiny! It's just a matter of what screenshotting tool you use :)

And that is a wonderful expression! Thanks for sharing!

[worldsover]

Wintertide Inside ft. Gahyeon

length ✦ 4841

genres ✧ cockwarming; anal; gf!Gahyeon

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Maybe it’s obvious, but you’re thankful for Gahyeon’s ass. A simple contract—if you need a cocksleeve to wrap you or if your girlfriend needs a toy to fill her, neither of you would say no. You’re nominally in charge today but the outcome’s the same either way, with cum seeping from both ends of her tract and your cock sore in the best plight a man can have. 

Swift moans interject her snoring to surface you from your nap, probably because of flashes of biting air that creep in from some draft in the room. Her red crop-top is the only article of clothing on her scrumptious physique while you’re completely stark.  Don’t want to get up so you hold her somehow closer with no worry for your own frigidity. Gahyeon is tiny in your entwine. As you emanate heat from your torso to her back, she returns it tenfold between her legs. 

The incongruity of her pussy is that it’s both uncomfortable and comforting.  Stressfully tight and lovingly wet, while grueling clenches verge on coaxing yet another orgasm from you. Its quaver can be measured in millimeters when your cock etches its shape more permanent. Yesterday’s regrets and tomorrow’s worries become dust in your brain as it toils to memorize each of her inner folds.

Therefore more than the mouthwatering shape or size, you’re grateful for the cushion of her buttcheeks because it rivals your couch’s plushness and distracts you from your imminent peak, your third or fourth today. Losing track is easy when she keeps your cock incarcerated for so long. The threat of climax fades away and returns as quickly while single pulses reiterate how close to the edge you are. No lights on in your living room. Don’t need them. Nothing in your head other than Gahyeon anyway.

Rays spill through the thick curtains and a sliver barely misses her eyes to fall on yours instead. However, she rouses too from her sleep when a pillow between her legs slips to the floor. Nothing funny but you both giggle.

“How’s your nap, babe?” you say. 

She twitches at the warm air tickling her ears, and cold the rest of her skin, but you manage to keep most of your body stationary in Gahyeon’s embrace. Gahyeon yawns and stretches her arms, pushing back on the edge of the couch. “I think I had an amazing dream. Brr.”

“Dummy, you don’t dream until you hit R.E.M.” You point and she bends down to grab the thick blue blanket that fell on the floor. A small hum arises from you at the slight shift in angle. Look at the white clock above the TV and point again. “It’s only been like twenty.”

Gahyeon hands the blanket to you and you swathe it around your two bodies, calming both of your shivers. “Felt like forever. Pff, I was trying to be all romantic.”

“Why be romantic when-” Your words fall to breathy laments when the smoothest swing of her hips turn millimeters of movement to centimeters. The friction from only fractions of your length force a whimper out of her as it does a throb from you.

Gahyeon’s moans turn to more desperate whimpers in kind. Her hand aims below her crop-top and your shaft feels the curious kneading of her fingers below her belly button. Another throb. “Fuck. I still feel your cum inside. It’s almost too much.”

“Then why are you grinding so much? I’m barely running on empty.”

Your head is so fuzzy, you can’t tell how she manages to get on top of you while keeping your cock inside the entire time. For as savory as it is to look or smell or listen to her cute grunts, the only sensation that passes to your mind is her tightness twisting around your shaft. 

Gahyeon sits up and collects a bit of leakage with a finger, provocatively sucking it. “Nice try but I know the taste of your fresh load.”

“Fuck, you make my cock so sensitive. Such a good cumslut.” 

She gulps and bats her eyes so you pull her hair down, and your lips converge. Your core reignites when Gahyeon starts jolting her hips down hard on yours, and you note that her walls aren’t just clingy with your semen but that her pussy is lubricious with girl cum. It’s her turn to be the fucktoy but she’s stalwart in riding you. You’re in no condition to object. 

Gahyeon looks up at the clock and she slows down though not fully arresting her momentum. “Wait a sec, why didn’t you tell me the time?” she says after a thrust and a pant.

You shrug and she blows air out of her lips. Not a mind reader here.

Her pussy almost snaps shut when she gets off you. She steals the blanket while she’s at it. ”Right, should’ve told you to remind me. How am I supposed to focus on the performance later with this in me the whole time?” Gahyeon says, wiping the sticky load dripping from her other lips.

“Man, the blanket’s gonna be sticky now.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll try to do a better job keeping it inside me, okay?”

Stand up and grab some tissues for the fluids coating her groin before you clean yourself the same. You shiver at the air occasionally sweeping the room because you don exactly one less garment than Gahyeon, but it’s about making a statement. It’s your apartment dammit so you can be nude at any hour if you want to be. 

Widen the curtains and suffuse the room with natural white light. Look outside, your undraped stature proud and unsympathetic to the outside world to which you expose yourself. Sky and trees are near monochrome as the snow piles up on the grass which adds to the subtraction of color. 

“You’re so weird,” she says. Your dick flops as you turn around and flaunt your butt to mother nature itself, knowing its coldness towards you isn’t solely metaphorical in this season.

“This is our first winter together, my first new year in my own apartment. I have to be excited.” You raise your arms.

“Fair. You wouldn’t be here without me.” A signature curly smile and she joins your side to admire the snowy sight, letting you share in some—no, not all—of the warmness of the blanket.

“I mean if we were normal, I wouldn’t have left.” You hug Gahyeon and give her a smooch on her forehead. “But I needed my own place for my little cum-hungry, cum-greedy cockwarmer.”

Pink always spreads her cheeks at your brazen words. Her tummy presses on your softening cock and brings it back to life but she backs away. Gahyeon brings the back of each of her hands to her sides. “Right, speaking of which. Can I take one of my panties from your drawer?”

“You didn’t bring any? Hold on, that was supposed to be a secret!” you say.

“Yeah, obviously I know about them, stupid. You didn’t even notice when I packed a couple in there myself when you moved, did you?” 

She’s right, you didn’t, so shake your head. Gahyeon giggles then gives you the blanket again before she heads to your room. “I’ll be back soon, okay!” she yells while you fiddle with the thermostat. 

Grab some tortilla chips from the pantry then sit on the couch bundled in the blanket and turn to a channel that’s just playing a loop of a fireplace. At least the crackling sounds realistic with your speakers. 

In only a few minutes, she already has a full winter outfit on, a bright tomato that would stand out sorely in the snow. The apartment is already a lot mellower so you put the blanket away to wash later. Gahyeon is enticing no matter what she wears but you’re warm inside seeing your girlfriend wrapped up, though warmth also comes from the humiliation finally setting in from the contrast between her state of dress and yours.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll be back soon.”

“Come on, the apartment isn't that big.” Get up to kiss her goodbye. ”Hurry back. There should be plenty of sun left and I wanna see the sun shine on your face with my cock in it.”

Open your laptop on your coffee table and promise to yourself that you’ll finish editing that teaser. It’s just a little distraction when you pore over videos you worked on recently, just reviewing your work to get ideas for how to cut. However, like a good and fully whipped man, one thing leads to another, one Dreamcatcher music video later—you’re proud of working on that one—and you’re back to the fancams of your girlfriend dancing. A similar, but less revealing crop-top, brief black shorts that strut the beautiful width of her thighs that you live between. Losing much weight, they’re still ample enough to stifle your cock on their own, without her amazing pussy’s help. Your erection should be exhausted but it returns at the sight of the jiggling. Two hands begin their work as Fly High plays.

A fluffy red jacket slams into your head. “You slob, put some clothes on!”

“What are you doing home?”

“Look at all the snow! What are you doing naked?”

“It’s my apartment, dang it! You know I’m naked all the time.” Didn’t mean to raise your tone there but she looks a touch distressed. You run up to her and give her a heavy drawn-out embrace.

“Babe,” she says, a little reluctant in the hug.

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“No babe, it’s fine.”

“I was jerking it to you if it helps.”

“That doesn’t help, stupid. You’re gonna get this dress messy!” Gahyeon grabs your dick which leaks some precum. She bites her lip.

“Oh, sorry,” you say. You back off and retrieve the parka that fell on the floor and from all its pockets spill condoms like a deck of cards and a bad hand.

“Holy shit,” Gahyeon says. Whatever minute ire that remains burns away at her adorable laughter mixing with yours.

“Fuck, imagine if someone caught you with those.”

“Shit. Yoobin almost put her hand in my pocket for no reason.”

“Nah, she would’ve laughed just as hard.”

“You’re right.” Gahyeon bends down to pick the condoms up and you take your sweet time to help her. “We haven’t used these in so long,” she says.

“You wanna? Old time’s sake? Ha, fuck no.” Feeling bad for making her do all that work to appreciate her ass even in the baggiest pants possible, you spank her.  Wait, that’s not the solution. ”You should change first. I’ll clean up.”

There’s grey shorts and a plain white shirt in the dryer, so grab them. Gahyeon returns with her hair in twin buns, a short pink skirt and a white long sleeve half-shirt that manages to show off her cleavage from the top and the bottom.

“I hope that’s not a stage outfit.”

“Of course not. I just wanted to look more like a dumb slut for your dick.”

And with that, thoughts empty. As she crawls towards you, grab a wad of her hair. “So it’s like that today. Well shit, good job.”

“Thank you!” Only the corners of Gahyeon’s lips turn. “A good toy only has one purpose.” 

Fulfill that purpose and shove her head down to its rightful place. Gahyeon takes a single stroke into her throat, with nary a sound as she takes the entire length into her practice throat, but she pulls her lips back up to your cockhead. “You’ll be good there?” you say.

“Mhm,” she says with her usual mouthful.

You get a bit of video cutting done for an hour or so with her lips on your cock head, occasionally patting her head. Occasional moans slip out but you keep focused and erect at the same time. At some point during your work, you offer her one of your earphones to listen to your synthwave music. Despite maintaining an enthusiastic hold on your tip, Gahyeon looks a little tired from kneeling so long.

“Aww, baby, do your knees hurt?”

“Mm, I’m fine,” she mumbles while keeping her lips on your tip.

“Why are you pouting a little then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, come here.”

Stoop to give her a passionate, drawn-out kiss, though it always turns out the same. You realize how long you could do nothing but make out with your girlfriend. You love the way Gahyeon competes with you, where your tongues battle and you each threaten to suck the air out of each other’s lungs. It’s impossible to keep your heart’s pace steady and you’d be remiss for your hands not to dig into every inch of her skin as she wanders the same on you.

Of course, there’s only one place those hands could lead to. Smack. You swear her ass ripples. “Now get back to sucking slut.”

You wipe the drool off your face but you interrupt her doing the same; she looks good messy. Gaheyon lays on the couch with her head on your lap. You can’t see her face but if she needs to get a better angle to watch Knowing Bros, then so be it. Her lips fasten your cock just the same. She sticks her ass up and a reflective circle seals her asshole.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Friend got it for Christmas, secret Santa.”

“Bora?”

“Mhmmmm-” Gahyeon draws out the vibration of the last consonant on your cock. 

A couple of hours later, you finish your work and send emails.  Once in a while you stroke her hair but she gives more suction in response, sending you ever closer to release. How greedy of her, she’s certainly swallowed enough cum just from premature singular pulses but Gahyeon doesn’t stop when you lay down the law and slap her ass.

“Whose turn is it. huh?”

Every hit of her ass emboldens her sucking, as she goes deeper.

“So you wanna be a brat? I said, whose turn is it!”

She gags for the first time in a while, spewing much spit, when you pull slowly but abruptly on the shiny buttplug after slapping her ass a final time. Lube spills out.

Gahyeon breathes heavy breaths on your cock. “Fuck. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Woah. Now that’s new.” 

“I guess it just came out naturally. Sir.” She licks up the froth on your cock.

“I don’t mind if you say it.” You circle her asshole with your finger and taste the lube. Sugary but you can’t think of the flavor. Not that you can think of much of anything.

“Only if you call me ma’am when it’s my turn.”

“Deal.”

“Thank you sir.”

She keeps your cock snug in her mouth. Browse your phone and decide to get some Jjamppong delivered, perfect for the cold.

“Gahyeon? Babe?”

Was she really? Incredible. She manages to doze off with a cock filling her mouth. That’s new. For all the times you’ve fallen asleep during tantric sex, it’s always been inside her pussy or asshole. How she incessantly drools while her head wriggles nearly makes you unload on her unconscious tongue but you hold it in, allowing only a few spurts to leak.

Unfortunately, you have to wake her up when you get the order from the door. You have to get some final work done but she eats dinner, sitting your dick. Your laptop is on her lap while you rest your chin on her neck. Tickled, Gahyeon giggles in between slurps of noodles. The lack of movement agonizes both of you but it keeps you focused. You could spend all day fucking each other; in fact, you have.

The winter sunset lights your room the colors of candy like artificial strawberry and sweet tangerines, though snow still storms down to desaturate the world. You’ve had enough productivity for one day. Gahyeon shares the soup with you, but after she sets the bowl down, she twists her hips in a quick motion and you explode without warning. Five or six? It’s only a curt removal of your soul from existence but you puff and pant anyway.

“Fuck, I’m sorry sir. I should’ve warned you.”

“It’s fine.”

“But I can’t let this cum go to waste, can I?” At some point during your orgasm, she withdrew herself and now she’s licking up and down your soft shaft to clean any cum that you didn’t shoot inside. “Damn, I just wanted to get my vibrator.”

“It’s okay Gahyeon, get it. I. I definitely need some time to recover.”

“I guess even you have your limits.” She grins, then leaves for the bedroom.

Gahyeon returns and a loop of a pink wire sticks out from her pussy. Now the only thing she wears is that thin strip of a top. Take off your shirt to match. “The egg this time?” you say.

She nods. “Here’s the remote.”

Get your Switch and play some Smash while she washes some dishes and organizes clothes that she’s brought over. Apparently you mix your clothes with hers often, which shouldn’t be such an issue considering how different your sizes are. Every time you lose a game, you turn on the vibrator for a few moments. You get a kick out of watching her buckle. If only you could do this while she performs live.

“You wanna head to the bedroom? It’s getting dark, uff.” A quick press of the highest setting and Gahyeon’s knees knock together. It never takes too long for you to get hard again when you see her put all effort into standing. “You- Ahhh, fuck, I love you. I hate you.”

Maybe it’s because you have yet to turn the intensity down. With a full hand on her ass and the other on her back, carry her to the bedroom but her wriggling hobbles you. An early left turn.

“I already showered earlier. Sir, please I’m getting so sensitive.” Gahyeon rotates through many different faces, from agony to excitement to pleasure. 

Set her down in the hot tub and her crop-top lands in the laundry basket perfectly.

“Nice throw.” Gahyeon high-fives you. She almost distracted you with that great throw. “Tsk. You’re still keeping that vibrator in you. Just what you deserve for making me cum when I didn’t even finish eating.”

Your apartment is relatively small for its price, but there were certainly no expenses spared for the bathroom. Both your shower and your jacuzzi could fit three people. It has the biggest panes of glass and provides no privacy but you love the ambiance especially during a night shower. Gahyeon’s moaning goes from having a quick rhythm to intense, long held notes. She’s playing with herself in any way that she can to make her climax, manically stroking her clit while she teases pulling the metallic plug in her ass. Turn off the lights and cocoa candles fill the scent of the room. Finally, remove her vibrator and buttplug.

“So fucking yummy. Come here,” you say, holding her neck carefully as you get in the tub to crash your lips into hers. After what feels like hours of kissing even if it is only a few minutes, you lay down in the hot-tub and Gahyeon straddles your thighs. 

“So which is going to be?” She glances next to the sink. ”Guess the lube isn’t for my pussy. Wait, why’d you turn on the water? It’s gonna wash away the lube. Woah, isn’t it my turn-” 

When you pull her groin up to your face, extra force on her clit shuts her up and nearly instantly drives her to orgasm. Gahyeon always grabs your hair and locks her legs together when you make her cum with your tongue but especially after all the stimulation of the vibrator, you have difficulty breathing. It’s worth it. She whimpers as your lips work relentlessly on her pussy but you settle down after a while. Hot jets of water blast on your back along with her legs. Gahyeon continues riding your face while she talks about her performance. Apparently the snow had a lot of the production people hold up. She brings a dewfall and you could taste her syrup forever but your cock aches once again. Maybe it’s asking you to chill out and that it needs a break, but if that were true, it wouldn’t be as hard as ever. 

“I’ve had enough of your pussy today,” you say.

“Really sir? Didn’t know that was possible.” Gahyeon needs no directions, your tongue licking up her body as your hands pull her last garment away.

“Siri, play relaxing radio. I’m staying in your ass until I cum.”

The middle of an R&B chorus plays. You get up to take the lube and Gahyeon drains the tub until only a little water remains. Her fingers wander and she vigorously rubs her clit while a curious thumb circles her asshole. Take a glob of the vanilla flavored lube and spread it on your fingers. Gahyeon sucks on your index, which goes straight to her asshole. Its wetness helps the tight ring expand slowly around it and the familiar pucker on your finger excites you. Get underneath her so that she’s laying on top of you while you sit back against the tub.

“God. I’m never getting used to how big you are.”

There it is. The tip of your cock vanishes into her tight asshole and you try to hold in a high whine, though Gahyeon lets out plenty of squeals as lube makes the entrance slick, squishy noises. Let her ass sink in with only her weight and it wraps down your shaft inch by throbbing inch. At last. She’s all the way down. If only you could see her face, but the position is comfortable and you get the pleasure of sucking on her neck while playing with her tits from behind.

The glow from the moon finds an angle into your room, mixing candle flame yellows with its white. Fierce winds push the falling snow outside of your window sideways. You’re warm nonetheless.

Midnight, the radio says as a new host talks about the inclement weather, but it’s not enough to keep you from kissing up and down Gahyeon’s back. Play with her nipples and the miniscule action not only gets them hard, but makes her ass’s folds react and roll to the pleasure. The breeze blows, a more important sound manages to distract you.

“Sir, do you hear that?” Gahyeon says.

“Yeah!” You hum along to the melody of Jazz Bar. “Hey, that’s you singing.”

“It’s not even one of our title tracks. I have to tell the members.” 

Gahyeon almost gets up from her but her head turns and shakes, realizing your thickness twitching as she almost fully unsheathes her ass. “Fuck.”

“Hold on. What’d I tell you?”

“Oh shit. Sorry. Sir. I can tell them later.”

“You know what. Just for that.” Pick her up, holding her thighs carefully to keep your cock in her asshole. The position is awkward, but you manage to lay her down prone without withdrawing your erection. 

“God, I love the way your cock hits.” All agreements and contracts are lost when you look at how the fat and muscle collects in Gahyeon’s full ass. A single thrust in and you can see the weight of the smack of your groin on her cheeks, so you endeavor to learn more about physics, even during the snow day. Slam into her and as you go in and out, Gahyeon yells and swears louder and louder, threatening to let all the neighbors know. No, of course they already know. It makes your eye contact with them hilariously awkward and it makes Gahyeon’s mask and disguise even more necessary.

“What a bad girl,” you say with a powerful shove.  ”Can’t even be a good cockwarmer, god.” Plunge and dive, your cock tries its best to widen her asshole but no matter what, it strangles your shaft taut. “Your butthole is just too. Fucking. Tempting.”

“Yes! Yes! Sir please, I’m going to- I’m just about to. Fuck. Shit I was so close.”

Chuckle at seeing her distraught face. “I’m getting some beer. Also, I want to finish in the bedroom. More comfy.”

She takes a minute to find her breathing but she gets up and grabs the lube. “Don’t have work tomorrow?” Gahyeon says.

“Lemme check.” When you both get to the bedroom, you check your phone. Nothing til noon. Perfect. Grab some beer in the minifridge in the corner of the room, while Gahyeon fixes her hair and lays down on the bed. She pats the mattress with both hands next to her. Missionary, it is then.

A hand to her chin. “Wait a second, didn’t you say you weren’t leaving my ass until you came. Hmm,” Gahyeon says. She gives a quick smooch and smiles naughtily. You could stare at her lips upturning all day. It’s her signature weapon.

Take a sip of the bottle of Cass. “What are you gonna do about it?” She digs her nails into your back to pull you and your cock finds the purchase of her asshole anew. In between thrusting motions, you take bigger swigs of the beer and offer some to her. She spills a bit on her tits and you lick it up. Suck on her tits as she pounds her ass into your erection. 

“Stretch me out, fuck me harder. Harder, sir!”

“God, mmmm, ugh., ugh.” Can’t speak much anymore.  Both of you love dirty talk, Gahyeon especially knows how to whisper to tickle your ear but she also knows how to scream to get your instinctive side out. You hold her neck as you hold the bottle, careful and secure. Her tightly drawn anus responds the same as her pussy when you choke her, as they each try frenetically to wring you dry. However, the friction of her ass, even with all the lube, arouses your cock harder somehow. This is the life you chose, in a way the most tiring work you could ever imagine.

Gahyeon grabs tighter and her whole body ripples at the force that you both put in. Not a single qualm about your lifestyle. Any pretense of space between you two is gone as every inch of your skin slaps against each other. A final gulp from the bottle.

“Right there, right there, yes sir, baby. Cum with me!”

There isn’t much of you left but it’s still a flash freeze, a blizzard and pouring hail slamming into you when you cum, and she shakes doubly so in her orgasm as she’s had double yours today. The throb of your shaft doesn’t match the squeezing rhythm of her sphincter and inner walls which makes your cock spurt with more intensity than you could think possible, even bearing your stamina. Your sticky semen replaces the slippery lube inside her ass but you didn’t need its stickiness to slow your rhythm as your dick gets softer. You let minutes pass anyway to feel her muscles react to the load sloshing around and so that it’s not as difficult to extricate your softness from her greedy butthole, though it takes a slow removal anyway with its tightness. Both of you limp over and Gahyeon is fast asleep, but you scramble to return the buttplug and keep the cum inside.

“Keep warm! It’s going to be like this all winter. Tomorrow, it’ll be a high of -5 and a low of -20 and that snow will keep piling up-” Turn down the volume so that it’s not muted but soft enough that you can hear the wind howl past your windows just as loud. Nothing amazes you more than the tiny idol asleep and cutely snoring while her pussy throttles your shaft. Looking at Gahyeon’s ass and feeling her shake it as you try to fall asleep, something tells you it’ll be the warmest winter you’ll ever have.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Something quick with my favorite kink for my second favorite in Dreamcatcher. Also got a draft for my ultimate bias but that’ll take time as well. Woops, yet another thing to procrastinate on while I shirk on both real life and writing.

[shreddedparchment]

Merry Christmas, I Love You

12/25/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,670

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, angst, pining, jealousy, fluff

A/N: So this was initially supposed to be a Holidays-non-specific fic...but as I kept writing, it was feeling forced so I turned it into a Christmas fic because it felt better that way for writing. I’m so sorry! Anyway, I hope you like this one. I always enjoy writing for Bucky. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! xoxo

Things have never been easy for you. Family. Friendships. Relationships. Nothing, except for work.

Somehow, you’ve been able to come in, day after day, with a smile on your face, no obstacles set before you that upset the delicately crafted balance here at the Tower.

That is until the morning you walk in and something terrible—something that you could never have anticipated—is sitting on the edge of your desk wearing rough deep-sea colored jeans, organically weathered around the nicest, most bitable ass you’ve ever seen.

Okay, so maybe it’s been a while since you’ve gotten any and any semi-attractive person now-a-days seems to get your engine revving, but this guy…this man is sin incarnate and you nearly lose your step as you slide to a halt by your office door.

“What are you?” You ask, sputtering the words out senselessly only to have the Sin turn and look at you with clear blue eyes. Ice blue. A little gray. A little piece of heaven staring at you out of a brooding face, topped with what looks like freshly cropped burnt chestnut hair.

You’ve seen it long. You admired it from a safe distance. Now it’s gone but in its place is sheared perfection. He looks like a new man.

“Sorry?” He asks, his voice like chocolate fudge, slow and oozing and coating your insides with thick, sweet…oh man, you’re a goner.

“Um…” You shut your eyes, shaking it lightly to clear your head.

Not looking at the hot man helps.

Wait…you’re stupid. You know exactly who this hot man is. You just didn’t expect to ever see him this close and, in your office, sitting on your desk casually lounging around like some beefed up supermodel.

“I-I meant, what are you doing…here?” You clear your throat, clutch your legal pads a little bit closer and finally open your eyes.

He’s standing now, hands shoved into his pockets, muscled chest straining against the black t-shirt he’s chosen to torture you with, the burgundy leather jacket doing little to hide his muscle.

Who the fuck dressed him?

“Oh.” He says. “I’m working here. With you.” He explains and you nearly choke.

You start coughing again, hacking up a lung as your face burns and your chest nearly caves in.

Bucky because you know very well who he is, hurries towards a small bottle of water you keep handy on your desk and takes it to you.

You take it, try to wheeze out a thank you but cough harder. You gasp, then take a drink as he stares at you, eyes narrowed with polite concern.

“Fighhhne.” You wheeze, waving a hand at him gently to reassure him. “I'm fine.”

He nods straightening up. Just noticing how tense he was, you feel your neck burn.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in here.

“Are you hot?” You continue to wheeze, breathless with embarrassment and a strange and sudden desire. “It’s hot in here.”

Moving around him you move to the window behind your desk, a large glass panel in the glass wall of your office. You slide it open and a rush of chilly New York winter air nips at your skin.

Finally, your head is clear. Sharp. Your wits back in place. You turn to him and he’s shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“What do you mean you’ll be working here?” You ask, a need for clarity rising.

“Fury sent me here.” Bucky shrugs. “I guess Sam’s got the go ahead to start up a team and he wants you to head home base.”

You let that sink in, trying to wrap your head around going from administration duties to somewhat field duties.

“You’re gonna be my handler.” He nearly whispers, voice dropping a bit. Why is he telling you this like it’s a secret?

“Oh, just your handler?” Another voice quips but you don’t have to wonder whose it is. This voice you know.

“Sam?” You call and he comes around the small partition in front of your door.

With that charming smile, the one that has all the ladies in accounting falling to pieces with its easy confidence and promise of romance, Sam gives you a nod and stops beside Bucky.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again. You look good. How’ve you been?” He asks, eyeing up Bucky who looks at him and shrugs.

“I’m fine.” You nod, tempted to smile. “Thanks. So, you’ll both be under my umbrella?” You nod.

“There’s a few more but yeah, it’ll be mostly me and Buck. Who best to watch over us? I thought we’d be safest in your capable hands.” Sam flirts.

“Sam…” You huff a small laugh, relaxing a bit now that there’s a buffer. Not that he’s much of a buffer. Sam is fucking hot too and if the window weren’t still hurling frozen wind at you, you’d be overheating.

Sam chuckles-“What?” Sam says—and you look out the window. There’s a small smack but when you look back up at them, nothing has changed much save for Bucky standing with his arms crossed instead of his hands in his pockets.

“…that is my name.” Sam insists, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while the man beside him broods a bit more.

“Well, first off, if I’m going to be your handler, I’m gonna need you to be a bit more professional.” Smiling you move to your desk and deposit your notepads, running a finger across the notes from your latest office meeting.

You won’t need these anymore.

“I’ll do my best, but it’s hard to concentrate on work when my handler’s just so pretty.” He teases.

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t change, do you?”

Sam looks down at your desk, his eyes suddenly darkened by sorrow.

You feel bad but you won’t linger.

“I’m glad.” You assure him. “Sometimes I forget how to laugh.”

And like a switch has been turned, Sam’s smile is back.

“Don’t worry. Together, I think the three of us can give the world a few reasons to smile again.” Sam nods, sincere.

You look at Bucky who stands with a frown twisting his handsome face.

“I look forward to working with you, Agent Barnes.” You offer a small smile, hoping to ease his grimace.

He looks up at you, startled, as if he’s just realized you’re there. Great. There goes that crush. Another one that doesn’t know you’re there.

“Bucky.” He says. “Please.”

“Okay.” You smile a little wider and his eyes finally focus. “Bucky. I look forward to getting to know you.”

He stares at you and he sizes you up. That small frown never leaves his face which only makes you wonder whether he disapproves of what he sees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck.

This is not good.

As Bucky looks you over, from the tips of your red pumps to the collar of your soft gray business suit—a silk red camisole peeking out from underneath—he knows that he’s fucked.

The moment you smiled, frazzled by Sam’s stupid flirting, he knew that you’re trouble.

That look of curiosity on your pretty face…what is he getting himself into?

Bucky likes you.

He likes you a lot.

“Bucky?” You call to him, your voice wrapping around his name just so that it makes his heart pound.

“Do you even have any training in the field?” He asks, kicking himself internally that he’s on the defensive now but he wasn’t expecting this.

He wasn’t expecting to come in here to find you, a beautiful woman, clumsy and real. There’s nothing fake about you so far and Bucky can see the goodness that you radiate. He wasn’t expecting Sam to come in here, flirting shamelessly, making you laugh.

Rude bird.

You blink, slightly taken aback.

“She’s not gonna be out in the field, Buck.” Sam defends you, and that grates Bucky more.

“It’s still something she should have.” Bucky argues stupidly. Why can’t he shut his mouth up?

“I-” You begin, sounding saddened and Bucky could leap out of that window behind you if it would end this inescapable awkwardness he’s dredged up. “I don’t.”

You shake your head then bite your lip. Thinking hard while Bucky fights the urge to touch your mouth.

“I’m actually not sure why Fury sent you to me. I’ve never…I mean, I did go into training for S.H.I.E.L.D. when I first started here a few years ago but I failed out of the academy. I couldn’t get myself to do what needed doing and I—this was a better fit for me.” You bristle. “So, no. I don’t have any field training. But I’ll do my best.”

Before he can open his mouth and make this worse, Bucky sighs, exchanged a look with Sam, then turns and leaves.

As he pushes your office door open, he can hear Sam reassuring you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. He’ll come around. We’ll make a great team.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Your voice is flooded with gratitude.

Fucking Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

You watch from your seat in the old crumbling building on two ten-inch displays as Bucky and Sam rush into the abandoned bunker. It’s not so abandoned now, filled with a terror cell known as the Maw. They’ve killed sixty people in four days and there will be no taking of any prisoners today.

“Are we sure he’s here?” Bucky asks, the feed from his body cam shows him sliding along the floor under a small break in the outer wall. Immediately inside there are five enemies.

As he stands, they fire, and you grip the edge of the fallen and splintered door that is your makeshift desk until he’s taken the entire group out. Not one left alive.

“Yes.” You answer, remembering his question. “He’s here.”

As Bucky breaks into a run down a long dark hallway, you focus on Sam’s cam and watch as he circles up over the building.

“Sam, do you see anything?” You check, knowing that he must be running his thermals.

“Just a whole bunch of cowards.” He quips. “There. Bucky, third basement down. There’s a wall weak enough to break through right behind them.”

You look at Bucky’s cam and it changes position. He’s running faster, sliding from doorway to doorway before he throws himself within one as gunfire rains down on him from an open door at the end.

You slide the big heavy laptop you use for recon over and pull up all the schematics of the bunker you’d found in your research of the building.

“Y/N, find me a way down.” He grunts, returning fire when he can.

“Already on it.” You inform him, sneaking a glance as he slides out from his hiding spot to one closer to the shooter.

His hallway ends in a T and he’s on the left-hand side.

“There.” You say, “Down that hallway to the right, straight ahead. There’s an elevator shaft that should be non-operational. You can slide down straight to the third floor and round back towards the wall Sam saw.”

Bucky is already running. As he approaches the shooter, he holds up his metal arm to block three bullets. There’s a click—an empty clip—then Bucky pounces, twisting the man’s arm to break it then he practically throws him into the wall. The man falls to the ground, but Bucky doesn’t stop.

He’s sliding on the ground towards the elevator shaft as he approaches and throws his metal hand out to dig his fingers into the wall. He slides down one floor before he releases and freefalls, then at the last moment he grabs the top lip of the floor he’s going to and swings himself in.

“Down the hall, two rights, and you should be against that weak wall.” You tell him. “Sam, status?”

You look at the other display and watch as Sam dips and dives, gunfire lighting up his cam. He throws his shield and it bounces off one thug to hit another then magnetically flies back up to Sam.

“There are civilians in that holding cell.” Sam realizes, and without a second thought he flies for it. “Six guards. I’ll take them out quick.”

“Get them to safety. I’ve got these guys.” Bucky says confidently as he rounds the last right and races for the back wall to the inner room of the final floor.

“Bucky…” You begin, fear taking root in your heart as you think about the fact that Sam will be too busy with those civilians to come quickly.

This isn’t your first time out with them. You, Sam, and Bucky have been together for a year now. One whole year.

Somehow, you have been an asset to their team. Sometimes Sharon comes along, sometimes there’ll be a few others. But at the end of the day it is always you, Sam, and Bucky.

You’ve been there when Sam broke his arm. When Bucky dislocated his shoulder. When they were both shot. When Sam wouldn’t wake up for three days. You’ve been there for every after mission dinner. You’ve been there for every holiday spent in safe houses and hospitals.

Bucky and Sam had even bought you a cake when your birthday came around and all three of you ate it on the tower roof, both men still in mission garb, sitting on the ramp of the jet.

Through it all, though you always worry, there is only one thing that makes you lose focus. One thing that has brought you to Fury’s office several times to resign because you can’t do this job. Not like this. Not when you’re this distracted half the time.

When Bucky’s in danger, your heart stops. When he’s injured, you’re nearly in tears. You’d cried that first time he was shot, but luckily Sam was shot too so really, you managed to pass it off as sorrow for both of them.

The time Sam wouldn’t wake up, those tears were just for Sam…but Bucky was pretty torn up about it and you’d offered what comfort he was willing to accept which wasn’t much.

Bucky has kept you at arm’s length this entire time. Welcoming enough to make you feel like part of the team, but far enough that you’re pretty sure he still think you’re absurdly underqualified for this job.

You’ve watched him with his other teammates, even the ones that randomly come by, and he’s not with them like he is with you.

Watching him team with Sharon or T’Challa, you can see the difference.

He likes them. He doesn’t simply tolerate them.

Despite this disappointment, it does not fail. Every time that he’s taking on too much, your focus goes straight to him.

You pull his cam footage closer just as the wall in front of him explodes.

Cement and iron rain down on him and the hallway, rumbling as the building groans with the loss of support.

You stand, pushing your chair back hard as you clutch the display closer.

“Bucky!” You call, seeing nothing but darkness. “Bucky? Get up.”

Voice rising with panic, you blink hard, trying to see through the cloud of dust in the darkness in the screen.

“What happened?” Sam demands, returning fire at the thugs he’s facing.

“The wall exploded out.” You say, quiet because you can’t breathe.

There is no movement. Bucky isn’t moving.

You don’t give yourself enough time to think.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks, but he’s too busy to do anything about it.

So, you do.

Flipping open your bag, you pull out the handgun you’d been issues when you took this job and run. Down along the stairwell from your safe room. Across the street towards the bunker, along the small alleyway beside it to the back where the original entry point had been made.

You keep an eye on the display you’ve brought with you and watch as the rubble shifts. You see a gleam of dark metal and see that it’s Bucky pulling himself out of the pile, but then there are more glints of sleek black metal.

Guns. At least eight of them, all pointed at Bucky.

“Fuck.” You push yourself faster, ignoring the way your legs protest.

Your tac pants tear as you finally enter the building, catching on exposed reinforced metal piping and wood.

You’re not even careful about your running. You don’t look around for enemies. You don’t care. You have one goal and that’s all that matters.

You enter the T and race for the elevator shaft. A final glance at your display tells you that they’ve got Bucky kneeling in the rubble he’d been buried under. All of the other thugs in that room have their guns pointed at him, one man stands a little taller than the rest. No gun in his hand, but a long serrated knife. He’s talking, smirking down at Bucky as he squats down before him to run that knife’s point along the seam of Bucky’s metal arm.

Dropping the display, you reach for your belt hoop and pull from it a compact grapple. You shove it into the floor by the open elevator shaft and throw yourself down without hesitation.

You fall quickly, reaching the third floor in less than five seconds.

You have to release the cable in order to stop and you use the momentum of your fall to swing yourself into the doorway.

Landing hurts but you’re on your feet, racing down the hallway as fast as you can.

Instead of taking two rights however, you take one right, then a left.

They aren’t expecting you to barrel in through the door they’d been facing. Their only defense had been on the wall Bucky tried to go through.

So, when you shove the door open, you aim and kill one, two, three guards with quick precision shots.

That’s when they turn, and you run to take cover behind a tall steel shelf.

Bullets bounce off the metal as they land near your head.

On the other side, in the room that you can no longer see, you can hear Bucky fighting. His metal arm deflecting bullets and slamming these thugs into the floor.

The shooting at you stops so you peek out and aim. You get one of them in the leg, the other in the gut. You’re about to fire again, killing a fourth, when a loud pop and a burning sensation pierces your arm.

You cry out, and duck back behind the shelving out of sight.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouts, the scuffle between him and his enemies increasing in pace.

There are fewer grunts and they’re moving closer.

You groan, holding your hand over the wound in your arm but force yourself to peek out again, this time aiming where the shot that hit you came from.

Distracted by Bucky’s approach, the man behind the name of Maw doesn’t see you aiming at his head.

Before you can fire, your arm falls, losing strength and the shot goes through his neck.

He sputters and chokes on his blood, falling to his knees just as Bucky finishes with the last of his goons. He moves to the man and with one swift flick of his arm, the man’s neck breaks, and he falls to the ground, unmoving.

Your eyes are on Bucky, scanning him for injury as you press your hand harder against your own wound.

He’s okay. You gush stupidly. He’s not hurt.

A small scratch on his cheek. Otherwise, he’s fine.

And he’s suddenly at your side.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, voice hard and angry.

“No.” You tell him.

“Let me see.” He pushes your hands away and stares down at the hole in your arm.

As blood gushes out, he reaches down to his belt to pull a heavy but thin cord that he begins to wrap high on your arm. It hurts. It pinches. It’s too tight.

“Ow.”

“No shit.” Bucky growls at you. “Sit still.”

You do, not having realized that you were squirming.

“What the hell did you come in here for?” He demands.

“You were in trouble.” You explain, leaning your head back to watch him finally tie the tourniquet. “And Sam was busy.”

“I coulda handled it.” He’s clenching his jaw, flexing the muscle in his anger as he reaches down to pull what looks like a small syringe from a small pouch on his belt.

“It’s okay to need help.” You tell him calmly, loving the way his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“I don’t need your help. Not here.” He chastises, pushing the tip of the syringe into your wound to press in what looks like powder. It hurts but you’re starting to not feel much of anything.

He tosses the syringe away and begins to wrap up your wound with a small roll of bandage.

“This isn’t the right kind. We’ll have to get you back to the Tower quick.” Bucky sighs.

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask him, feeling woozy and finding that filter that you usually use strange absent.

Bucky frowns, then gets up and reaches down to help you up.

He tucks you underneath his arm and supports most of your weight as he leads you out, refusing to answer your question.

“Y/N okay?” Sam’s voice filter in through your comms.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Lost a bit of blood though. Faster we get her back the better.” Bucky says, cutting you off before you can answer.

“Just getting these last few civilians out. I’ll meet you at the jet. Two minutes.” Sam promises.

The trek up the stairs is exhausting. You’re dizzy and tired. The adrenaline is wearing off and you find yourself leaning against Bucky more and more the higher you climb.

When the freezing air hits you outside, your head clears for a moment and you remember that you ran out here without your coat.

It’s freezing.

You look up with your mouth wide open. It’s snowing!

“It’s snowing.” Way to go, brain.

Bucky frowns as he looks up and with you struggling to keep up, he stops. He wraps his arm more securely around your back then with his other, quickly dips to pick you up.

You groan when the movement jostles your arm but lay your head on his shoulder anyway.

“I like it here.” You whisper, stupidly talking without thinking.

You place your hand on Bucky’s chest where you can feel his heart pounding. Absolutely thrumming against his ribcage.

“Were you scared?” You ask him, wondering if Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, can really get scared.

For a moment he says nothing. Then, “Yes.”

You nod. “It’s okay.”

“Stop talking.” He chastises, just as your body is engulfed in warmth.

Not even two second later, your entrance into the jet is followed by the soft whoosh of Sam’s wings and then his feet as he climbs in and moves towards the pilot’s chair.

“She okay?” Sam asks, glancing at you as Bucky settles you into a seat and straps you in.

“She’s a little delirious but she’s okay. Should be fine as long as we get her back soon. She needs stitches. Bullet went clean through.” Bucky says, focused on your arm as the jet pulls away.

“I like you.” You tell him. Blinking slowly as his fingers stop fumbling with your bandage.

He looks at you, ice sapphire eyes burning into your own with a million unasked questions.

“Why do you hate me?” You wonder, feeling sleepy.

“I don’t hate you.” Bucky explains, brow furrowed with subdued anguish.

“I like you.” You tell him again. “I want you to like me back.”

Bucky opens his mouth but shuts it again, looking over at Sam who seems to be intentionally ignoring the two of you.

“Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kiss you.” You continue, words slurring together as the shock of being shot catches up with you. “Kiss me.”

You see him leaning up towards you just as your vision turns black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Recovery is a bitch.

You hate having to wear a sling. Especially because you’re decommissioned from field duty for a while. Bucky and Sam don’t stick around. They make sure you’re okay and then they go off on their next mission.

Sharon is brought in to help. She takes your job.

You watch two days later as they come into the small shared space in Tony’s old lab where you had set up home base for them. They walk in and head straight for the mission board—a high tech computer screen with touch—and sift through a few open cases.

They don’t seem to see you sitting on the sofa by the kitchen, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa.

You watch them, taking in their dynamic. Sam is just as playful with Sharon as he is with you. They seem to have a deeper connection though. A shared sorrow. All three of them do.

The biggest difference is Bucky’s demeanor. He smiles more. He’s laughing at something Sharon said.

Your chest aches. Wondering if maybe this is what’s for the best? He seems to be more at ease with Sharon there to support them in their missions. She’s got the skill.

You’ve read her file. Part of it. The parts you were allowed to read.

She’s amazing.

Much more qualified.

“You’re coming, right?” Bucky asks her, watching her as she stares at the board.

“To what?”

“The Christmas party.” Bucky tells her. “It’s tomorrow night. We should be back by then.”

“Why would I come to the Christmas party?” She asks, a laugh in her voice.

“Because it’ll be fun.” Bucky reasons, then turns to Sam and nods at her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Pepper’s got Happy planning the whole thing. We might have to surrender our IDs when we come in and consent to a pat down but there’ll be plenty of booze. Music. Dancing.” Sam teases her the same way he teases you.

She laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll be more fun if you come.” Bucky continues, reaching out finally to pull on her sleeve. “Come.”

You curl up a bit more, shrinking into the cushions of your seat. Hating the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

Of course, he’s going to like her. She’s Sharon Carter! Great niece to Peggy Carter. A legend in her own right.

This must be why he never brought up what you’d said in the jet. You were slurring and mostly out of it, but you knew what you were saying.

You’d finally told him. You like him. You do.

And he hasn’t said anything about it.

You shift too far to the left and your arm grazes against the cushions beside you.

You gasp, shocked by the pain.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice calls out.

No.

You blink hard, hoping they look clear and not like you’re pining for Bucky Barnes.

Sam rounds the sofa and smiles down at you.

“Why are you hiding out here, making no noise? One gunshot wound and you think you’re a world class spy?”

You say nothing. You’re in hell. You just look up at him.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, moving to sit beside you.

“Y/N is here?” Sharon asks, moving towards you.

Fuck.

When she comes into view, you can see she’s wearing a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. body suit. Winter edition so it’s a little thicker. White pants and top. Gray straps to holster her guns. That’s empty right now.

“Hey, long time no see.” She smiles at you kindly and you force a smile in return.

Sharon is nice. You’ve always like Sharon. She’s kind and friendly.

“Yeah.” You say stupidly because it’s the only thing you can get your throat to work out.

“Heard you were shot saving Bucky’s ass?” She offers, looking over her shoulder at Bucky who finally moves towards you.

You shake your head once, that smile still plastered in place.

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam asks, reaching out to place his hand on your back.

You shake your head, letting the grimace that your poor heart is feeling seep out as discomfort in your arm.

“I’m gonna go…” You tell him, voice quiet and strained.

As you get to your feet, Sam helps you. You don’t see Bucky.

You know that he’s there, standing somewhere behind you, but you don’t want to turn to see him. What’s the use?

“You need help getting to your room?” He asks, but you shake your head. “Okay.”

You move past him and don’t look back. You don’t stop until you’re in your room, door shut behind you.

Moving into the bathroom you wash your face with your one hand, trying to clear your mind.

As you shut off the water you hear your bedroom door click shut.

“Sam?” You call and follow the sound back into your room.

But there’s no one there. It stands empty, just as it was when you came in.

As you move to take a seat on your bed, your eyes spot a small bottle of pills on your bedside table.

You grab them, quickly reading the label because these are not your pills.

Take two tablets every eight hours as needed for pain.

Rising to your feet, you move for your door, throw it open and look down the hallway to catch Sam to thank him before he can get too far but your voice catches in your throat as you watch wide shoulders and a glinting dark metal arm walk away from you.

With his delivery done, Bucky leaves you without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wincing you slip off your sling and reach down to straighten your dress. It’s short. Shorter than you’d thought it was, but it’s pretty, with long loose sleeves that cinch at the wrist. Dazzling white with silver sparkles stitched into the soft fabric.

You’d seriously considered sitting out this party. You aren’t exactly in the mood. Not happy. Not comfortable. Not in the Christmas spirit.

Rejected, your mood has taken a sour turn. You’re mostly sad all the time which is hard enough but with the pain in your arm, it feels worse than it actually is.

However, you’ve never missed a Christmas or Holiday party since you’ve started working here and you’re not about to start now.

When you finally arrive, the party is already in full swing.

Pepper and Happy have outdone themselves, turning the largest ballroom in the Tower into the prettiest winter wonderland that you’ve ever seen.

All the tables are covered in gleaming silver and white tablecloths, decorated with assorted bobbles in silvers, whites, pale blues, and grays. White lights are strung up along the ceiling and left to dangle in carefully placed icicle patterns, more clear baubles with shining white lights at the center adorn the spaces between the tables where people chat and eat merrily with golden forks, knives, and spoons.

There is no red holly or green garland, but all around the room you can see the soft green and white splash of mistletoe hidden in small nooks and over random spots in the room.

“Y/N!” You hear Sam’s voice before you see him and search the room for him. “Over here!”

He waves at you from across the room near the large metal door that leads out into the hallway that’s lined with an endless stretch of conference rooms.

He looks dapper in a velvet black tux, silver bowtie around his neck.

You smile at him and move towards him but as you cross the table comes into full view and you see that Bucky is sitting beside him to his left—looking sinfully good in a navy tux, white dress shirt, and a black bowtie. Beside Bucky sits Sharon, in a red satin dress with capped sleeves and a round neckline.

Her dress, as you approach and she stands, you can see if floor length and she looks absolutely beautiful.

“Wow.” You tell her. “Sharon, you look amazing.”

Sharon blushes. “Me? Anything looks good when all you wear is tac gear. Look at you! You’re stunning!”

You almost look at Bucky but stop yourself just as your head tilts.

“Have you eaten yet?” Sam asks, moving around the table to pull out your chair, sitting you right across from Bucky.

“No.” You admit.

“I’ll go get you a plate.” Sam says.

“You don’t have to. I’m not really hungry.” You tell him.

“You have to eat.” He chastises. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you, disappearing into the crowd as Sharon scans the crowd.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat to no one in particular. Just talking because you’re nervous as hell and you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“You have to eat.” He says, and finally you look at him.

He’s watching you, those blue eyes more ice-like tonight because of the décor that surrounds him, but for once he doesn’t look like he’s angry. His face is carefully controlled. A small curios tilt of his head as you stare at him and say nothing.

“Bucky!” Sharon exclaims. “Pepper’s here. Let’s go say hi.”

She smacks his arm and moves around the table to head over towards Pepper, escorted by an adorable Morgan wearing a bright red dress with tulle for days. She doesn’t look happy about it.

“I’ll be right back.” Bucky tells you, and you turn to watch him get up and refasten the button on his front and move after Sharon.

Left alone, you feel yourself beginning to relax. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all, right? Bucky doesn’t like you but he’s not hating you either. Sharon is as nice as always and Sam as attentive, but you know he’s only fussing because you got shot.

You’re beginning to wonder why he’s taking so long with that plate of food—not that you want it but you’re getting lonely over here—when you look around towards where he disappeared to and spot him chatting up one of the girls from accounting.

She looks absolutely flustered and it makes you smile. Good for her.

You scan the crowd, looking for Sharon and Bucky to see if they might be on their way back and find them standing with Pepper, Morgan in her arms.

They’re chatting pleasantly for a moment before Happy leans in to say something to them.

Sharon looks confused, Bucky a little nervous.

Happy points up above their heads and your heart drops.

Sharon and Bucky look up to find a cluster of mistletoe strung up above their heads, nestled between two large silver baubles.

Happy holds out his hands, shrugging, but clearly enjoying himself.

Pepper is also smiling, all of them finding the moment utterly entertaining.

Look away, Y/N. You try to tell yourself, but your eyes are glue and your heart is pounding.

You try to swallow but your mouth is too dry, and your throat is clogged up. A lump the size of your fist settled right within it.

You watch as Sharon grabs Bucky’s bicep and leans in towards him. He leans in too, faster and much more eager.

They kiss.

You’re shattered.

As they pull away quickly, Bucky reaches up to wipe at his lips with his fingertips and cautiously seems to glance your way.

He sees you watching and stands up straighter.

You look away, rising to your feet as quickly as you can and move around the table to head straight for that metal door.

“Y/N!” Bucky calls but you can’t stop now. Not with your heart in your throat.

The quiet of the hallway is welcome and you hurry towards the first door you see and pull it open. Inside the conference room, the blinds are drawn, and no one will be able to see you in here. The long black glass table and the sterile silver rolling chairs that line it are familiar, but you really wish you were in your room right now.

This place gives you no comfort.

You look up, spot another set of large glass doors and sigh, knowing that there might be some comfort out there.

They lead to a balcony, a small one, and as soon as you move out onto it, cold winter wind freezes you.

It bites at your skin, harshly drawing your attention away from your aching heart pain.

The wind whips your hair, making a mess of the careful style you’d tried to put it in.

Shutting your eyes, you sigh once again, hoping that this ache…this broken heart will mend quickly.

All of this started as a lusty dream. A quick bit of desire conjured up when you’d walked in and spotted Bucky sitting on your desk.

How had it grown into something more meaningful? Why do you have to like him?

The sound of the door opening turns you around and you see Bucky look inside. He nearly turns to leave when he spots you on the balcony outside.

He stalks towards you, feet stomping on the floor. He throws the balcony door open and lumbers towards you with intent before wrapping his right arm around your waist to pull you tight against his body.

His metal hand takes hold of your bicep and he pulls you to him roughly as he leans down to kiss you hard.

Startled, for two seconds all you can do is stand there as his lips move against yours, warm and wet. When his tongue slides along your bottom lip, you melt into him and shut your eyes to finally return his kiss.

His metal hand tightens, and you pull back, “Ow.”

Confused, he looks at you, then his hand as you curl that shoulder up.

“Shit.” Bucky exclaims. “Sorry. Fuck.”

You laugh. “Ow…”

He releases you and looks at the spot where you’re shot and watches as a small patch of red begins to grow.

“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…I forgot.” He explains.

He meets your eyes and he seems to regain whatever determination made him pull you to him so hard.

“It was mistletoe.” He explains. “That’s why I kissed Sharon.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you run?” He demands.

“Because it sucked.” You explain. Duh!

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You nod.

“I only want you.” Bucky sighs, reaching up to caress your frozen cheek.

“Me too.” You smile.

The side of the Tower suddenly flares to life with millions of tiny Christmas lights, bathing the two of you in warm yellow light.

You both admire the sight for a minute, appreciating the beauty.

“Merry Christmas.” Bucky says, drawing your eyes back to him as he wraps his arm around your waist tighter.

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him, smiling as you lean in to kiss him again.

“I love you.” He sighs, stopping your advancement as your heart nearly bursts through your chest. “Be mine?”

You laugh once, giddy beyond belief. “Yes.”

Bucky smiles.

“I love you, too.” You promise, and he pulls you in for a kiss, this time carefully avoiding your wounded arm.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Sam says, both you and Bucky stopping with your lips barely touching to look over at the large balcony doorway.

“No kidding.” Sharon says, smiling at the two of you with a smug little smirk. “Good call on the mistletoe.”

Sam smiles proudly. “They needed the push.”

You glare at him, feeling a little spiteful at the hell you just went through to find this heaven.

“Excuse you?” You warn.

“Oof, I mean, dance, Agent Carter?” Sam asks, offering Sharon his hand as he selectively avoids your angry gaze.

“Uh…yeah, good idea.” She takes his hand and lets him lead her back inside.

Bucky chuckles but reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn you to face him once more.

“I’m gonna have to buy him a better present.” He laughs, then leans down to kiss you silly.

The end.

[dunderklumpen]

Gif prep for slow computers

So I make my gifs on a slightly crappy laptop, which is clearly not meant for heavy duty usage like loading a pile of frames into photoshop. It takes me about 20 minutes to load 250 HD frames via the load files into stack script, and tbh this is both completely insane and very inefficient. Consequently, gif prep (i.e. everything that needs to happen before I can actually start cropping, sharpening, and colouring) takes up much more time than actually making the gif.

Below the cut I compare three different methods of loading frames into photoshop to the point where I can start editing my gif, an animated smart object in a timeline, especially for us folks with average/slow computers. 

The methods:

Caps with KMP (or similar) + photoshop’s load files into stack script

MP4 conversion + photoshop’s import frames into layers feature

AVI conversion with Avisynth

My base video file is a very unwieldy m2ts (ca. 30 gb), from which I processed a ca. 7 second shot. If you use smaller files the load times mentioned below may be shorter. I use photoshop CS6 extended on a 2016 13″ Windows ultrabook with very average processor, video card, and DDR memory. It really does not like running photoshop all that much tbh.

1. Caps with KMP (or similar) + photoshop’s load files into stack script

Total time: 19:00 😩 (breakdown: 3 minutes capping and selecting files / 16 minutes loading 141 frames / 30 seconds creating a timeline and smart object)

Complexity: easy. Idk this is the og method.

Quality: good.

Pros

Quality!

KMP offers many capping options,including skipping frames and settings for the quality of the images it exports.

Cons

The load files into stack script is ridiculously slow, and tbh kind of inefficient.

KMP is bulky and slow; the frame step feature does not work well with big files.

2. MP4 conversion + photoshop’s import frames into layers feature

Total time: 3:45 (breakdown: 3 minutes converting to MP4 / 45 seconds loading 176 frames + creating a timeline and smart object)

Complexity: a bit more fiddly, because you need a decent video converter. I use the trial version of Aiseesoft Total Video Converter, which is okay as long as you keep in mind that it only converts half of your trim selection.

Quality: reasonable, depends on the quality of the source (mp4) file. The actual import feature is 100% fine and super efficient, and any loss of quality is the result of the conversion rather than the import. Weirdly this import feature and KMP interpret frames slightly differently, so there will be a difference in colour if you take the same source file for methods 1 and 2.

In my experience, the mp4 conversion can be a bit of a mixed bag. It can turn out really well, but occasionally you get stuff like this (despite Aiseesoft’s claim that it can retain the bitrate and resolution of the original file):

This isn’t a huge issue as it’s a 1080p cap, and the gif will be maybe 40% of the original size at most. But if you were to put two gifs from the two different source files side by side, there would be a clear difference in quality.

Pros

Fast!

MP4 is a common format, so lots of videos don’t require conversion

Cons

Limited to 500 frames

Quality depends on mp4 conversion

3. AVI conversion with Avisynth

Total time: 1:45 🤗🥳✨ (1:40 trimming and AVI conversion with x264 lossless.bat / 0:05 opening AVI file in photoshop)

Complexity: a bit more fiddly. Avisynth looks a little scary at first because it’s a script-based video processor, and it does not have a user interface, but once you get used to the process it’s really simple and quick. Avisynth also has an option to resize and sharpen videos, but because the software is a bit outdated, it does not work (well) with newer codecs, particularly bluray and .ts files.

Quality: excellent. Avisynth’s output is just as good, if not better than KMP caps. In my experience it retains the details of the KMP caps, but the frames turn out slightly sharper.

Pros

Fastest!

Excellent quality!

Pretty easy and simple once you get the hang of it.

Cool options like de-interlacing for Super Smooth Gifs(tm).

Will open and convert any video file (plain AVI conversion only).

Cons

Looks scary.

The latest release is from 2016 and horribly outdated (but there are alternatives).

Resizing and sharpening does not work well with all video files.

4. tl;dr

There is an ever so slight difference in output in the video fragment I used for this comparison.

The mp4 conversion of this particular shot turned out really well because the compression is located in the background and not in the important parts of the shot. Weirdly, the KMP caps look very blurred compared to the other two methods. Overall the Avisynth version combines the best things of the caps (depth of colour) and mp4 (sharpness), and it’s also by far the fasted method.

5. Links

KMP (duh everyone has this)

Aiseesoft Total Video Converter (will convert anything to mp4)

Adapter (will convert most things to mp4, but usually not ts or bluray files)

Avisynth install guide

Avisynth gif tutorial

[holdmekhh]

Take Off

Artist/Person : Jeon Jungkook

Group/Crew : BTS

Genre : Fluff/A little Angst/SMUT

Word Count : 6196

Request : No

A/N; I worked on this for a long time, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Leave comments and feedback, I really appreciate it. (Requests are also open, so send in what you guys want!)

A sigh fell from my lips as I tossed my head back, eyes squeezing shut as I clenched and unclenched my hands. I’d been studying for the past six hours, no breaks besides the bathroom and the one time four and a half hours ago where I’d gotten up to get a cup of coffee and toast. Now, the sun was completely gone and my stomach was full-on screaming at me and begging for food. Not only that, I hadn’t spoken to my best friend for the two and a half days. We lived on two different sides of the world, time differences clashed immensely, yet our bond was that I thought couldn’t be broken. We understood and respected each other in everything that the other did, at least I did anyway. So, of course, after explaining that I, in fact, could not clear enough of my schedule to go visit his country and finally meet him, after almost 3 years of virtual long-distance friendship, I thought that he’d understand. Especially due to the circumstances of needing to raise extra money for my next tuition payment and living expenses, as he’s an independent living college student, too. But, for some unknown reason, he snapped at me. Complaining about how frustrating it is to keep up our friendship because we can’t ever meet because of me. After he’d ranted, he stated that we should just stop talking and hung up. After trying to reach out to him for a day, calling and texting whenever I got the chance between classes, I gave up. It wasn’t my fault that he felt this way, it also wasn’t my fault that I had to work and survive. It wasn’t like he ever offered to come here or planned a way for us to meetup where it could be easy on both of us. Another sigh left my lips as I sat back straight and stared at my laptop. Finals were just a few days away and I needed to study, I needed to stay in the honors club to get the scholarship. I didn’t have time to dwell on anything other than passing my exams.

Walking out of my last class, a smile graced my lips as I started my way back home. Finals were done, and it was time to relax and watch Netflix with some takeout. But, of course, what were friends for if they didn’t ruin your plans of a date with yourself with an idea as dumb as a party. “Nope. I’m tired of being around people. I just wanna rest for at least a week before partying.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes at the whine that left the girl next to me. “Come on!” She whined, “Why are you always at home? Stop being antisocial and let loose.” I groaned, shaking my head. I didn’t like being around a lot of people, especially at once. I also didn’t enjoy talking to many people, it made me uncomfortable. But, of course, I just had to befriend an overly extroverted girl. I inwardly groaned as she grabbed my hand and continued her whining. “Okay, fine! Just get off.” I caved, rolling my eyes as I watched her dance happily. “I’m only staying for as long as I can take.” A roll of her eyes was my response because she knew that meant that I would probably only stay for a solid hour before making a break to the comfort of my own home, but she also knew that that condition was the only way she’d get me to go even remotely close to whatever party she was planning on forcing me to.

It hadn’t even been a full half hour and I was already done, ready to go home. The heels on my feet were starting to hurt and the thigh high, bodycon dress was attracting too much unwanted attention for me to feel even remotely comfortable. It was boring and too loud. Like all parties. I’d lost my friend in the crowd a good five minutes post arriving, and I was over it. Why come to a party to be alone and unhappy when I could be at home to be alone while I happily eat takeout? So, I left with a simple text sent to her to let her know I was going to be home and to call if she needed me. Pulling my keys from my crossbody bag, I got in my car and took my ass home, picking up enough take out to last me a few days of kermitting away my life for a few days. I wasn’t expecting a call for another few hours, but when I looked at the screen of my phone, I got an even bigger shock. “What’s he calling for?” I muttered, glancing away from the road for a second to quickly grab the vibrating device. “Hello?” I rose an eyebrow, as if he could see me. “Y/N, hey, babydoll.” The rasp and slur of his voice made me roll my eyes. “Why are you calling me, Jungkook?” The irritation in my voice was obvious, thickly wrapping itself into the drawl of my words. “I just wanted to talk. What, am I not able to call my beautiful best friend?” He questions, a smile evident in his teasing tone. “Actually, no, you aren’t. Because I recall, the last time we spoke you stating to not wanting to continue, and I quote, “whatever kind irrelevant bullshit we have going on”. So, no, you can’t call your ‘best friend’ go deal with your relevant friendships.” I hissed, venom pouring from every single word that left my glossed lips before I hung up. I felt my heart clench as I dropped my phone back into the cup holder, but I ignored it. I wasn’t going to let him think that he could treat anyway that he wanted. But, another series of vibrations began, and I swiped without much thought until I heard his whiny words. “Show me your face. I want to see your face so I can apologize properly.” He muttered, trailing off in a soft mumble of Korean that I didn’t completely understand. Furrowing my eyebrows, I moved the phone sit in my free left hand as I drove with right. Glancing to the screen for a split second, I found a frowning Jungkook facing the screen. His hair was messy, like he’d just woke up, and his upper was covered with a basic black t-shirt. “Oh, you look gorgeous. Did you go somewhere? Your makeup’s done super pretty.” He grinned, leaning closer as I rolled my eyes. “I went to a party.” “A party? But you hate being around a lot of people?” Sighing, I glanced at the screen again, only to see that he’d moved closer and let her face twist in confusion. “What did you want, Jungkook? I’m driving.” I grumbled, slowing a red light before making a right onto my street. “Oh, shit! I didn’t know. Um...call me when you get home? It’s important, but not enough to have you risking your life.” I nodded, not focusing much on the call, only simply tossing my phone back into the cup holder when I heard the facetime end.

Making my way into my apartment, I set some of the food on the living room table and put the rest away before making my way to my room. It was like I was on autopilot, because as soon as I entered to room, I propped the phone against my vanity mirror and called him as I sat down to undo my earlier works. When he answered, I had just tied my hair up and was taking off my accessories. “Wow, you look gorgeous.” Looking to him on the screen, I rolled my eyes. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I spoke, voice void of emotion as I started to wipe my face of the heavier makeup that’s covering it. A soft sigh leaves him before it goes silent, causing me to look to him as he downs a bottle of water. “I want to be as awake as I can,” he breaths as he pulls away the empty bottle. Nodding, I go back to what I was doing before another sigh breaks through. “Okay, so...I wanted to say sorry for how I spoke to you the other day. I know it’s no excuse, but I’ve been stressed, okay? Everything had been going wrong for the past couple of weeks, and I was studying for exams. I know how much you have to work to survive and how difficult you have it, and... I don’t know, I’m just sorry. Really, really sorry. I missed you so fucking much over the past few days, like it almost physically hurt. It was like arguing with my soulmate, seriously.” He ranted, sincerity heavy in his tone. Looking down, I smiled softly as I found him staring at the screen, nervously nibbling at his bottom lip. “I know...It just hurt a lot, you know. It sounded extremely genuine when you were ranting, you’d even raised your voice. But, then you said that you were doubting our friendship...and called it irrelevant bullshit...I don’t know, it was like a literally felt my heart break at that.” I muttered, looking back at my reflection to avoid looking at him. Wiping away the rest of my visible makeup, I stood and went to my dresser. Pulling out a pair of pajama shorts and a crop top, I slipped off my dress. My back was to the phone, the only thing of my body being viewable being my lace underwear clad bottom and bare back. “Oh! I was thinking, Y/N, that I cou-” at his pause, I turned and looked over my shoulder after slipping on the shirt. “Yeah?” Slipping into the shorts, I turned and went back to grab my phone and take it to the bathroom. “Um...I, uh...I was thinking that I could, uh, maybe go and visit you...instead of you coming here.” Looking to him with wide, I tilted my head as I set the phone down against some of the jars that adorned the counter tops. “Why?” “Because, you’re busy with things there, while I have nothing to do. I don’t work a regular job, all my income comes from selling stuff online and vlogging so I’d get paid for posting about my trip, and I really want to meet you in person. I wasn’t joking about wanting to squeeze your ass myself.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair as he watched me wash my face.

I was sitting at my couch leaned back, laptop on my coffee table and Jungkook’s face wide on the screen. We’d both switched over from our phones a while ago, choosing to eat together. “I’m serious! Out of all of your friends you’ve showed me, I would most likely get with you! Like, they’re cute, but I think you’re better looking, Jungkook.” I laughed, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. Usually people say that Yugyeom or Jaehyun are the better-looking ones.” I shook my head, “Just stating my opinion.”

It was hours later, having switched to a phone call as I laid in my bed. Jungkook sitting at his desk. Stretching softly, a soft moan past through my lips with a whimper following right after as I settled back in my spot. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his side of the line going dead silent and still, even his keyboard smashing halted. “Y/N... what the hell was that?” He grumbled, voice sounding as though his jaw was clenched. “I stretched. Why?” I muttered softly, shut eyes snapping open when he let out a deep groan. “You can’t make sounds like that and then act innocent, Y/N. I’m still a dude who’s attracted to you, no matter how far in the friendzone I know I am.” He grunted, running a hand through his hair with a hair. “What soun-oh! I’m sorry...I didn’t know it sounded like that...wait-did that turn you on?” I laughed teasingly, only for him to hum in confirmation. At that, a shiver ran down my spine, a soft tingle hitting between my legs. “How turned on are you?” I asked softly, wide awake now. “Y/N what are you doing?” He groans, his breathing picking up in the slightest. “Asking a question...I just want to know how turned on it got you, Kookie...” A smirk graced my lips as his barely audible whine, the tingle hitting my center again. “Shit...um...I’m getting hard with you talking like this, Y/N.” His voice was rough, deepening from its normal base. A whimper left my lips at that as I turned to lay on my back. “Shit...um...fuck.” He seemed to be starting to panic. “Kookie...please…” I huffed out, a soft whine leaving me as I ran my hand over my chest. The sexual tension had been there for a while, slowly thickening over time. We’d make comments at one another, innuendos and double-sided statements. It was just a matter of time before one of us broke, and thank god it was by him and, obviously, it was very welcomed. “What is it, baby?” He groaned, a slight chuckle slipping into the end. A soft moan left my lips as I ran my hand down my body and slipped into my shorts. Pressing against my bundle of nerves through my panties, I whined loudly, eyes rolling back. “K-Kook...I’m so wet,” the groan that left him made me whine, pressing harder at the sensitive bud. “Shit...are your hands in your panties, princess?” He rasped. “N-no.” “Take off your shorts and panties for me.” He stated, causing me to quickly discard the clothing. “Okay.” “Good girl. Okay, put me on speaker, tell me when you do.” “Okay, I did.” “Good. Now, gently rub your nipples, baby. Get them all nice and hard for me.” I soft moan left my lips as I slipped my hands under my shirt and began circling them gently, my left-hand tweaking at the small barbell that was attached to my left nipple. “Oh, baby, you sound so pretty for me. Are they hard?” A pleasure filled hum was his answer, but that caused him to tut at me. “Tsk, tsk. Baby, use your words. You’re a big girl.” He stated, making me silently moan. “Y-yes. They’re so, so hard.” A grunt came from the phone, before he grumbled a swear. “Now, touch yourself for me, princess.” Slowly, I dragged my hand down my body and back to my center. Gently running my middle finger up and down slit, from my entrance to my bundle of nerves and back down, a moan tumbled from lips without warning. “How wet are you?” “S-so wet, baby.” “Could you slip in a finger for me, baby?” Nodding, I let out a soft whine-like hum before slowly slipping my middle finger into my entrance, a moan leaving me as I pushed it in, silently thanking the lord to not having my usual long nails. Thrusting my finger into myself, I whine at the feeling. “Such pretty sounds, all for me…. shit, slip in another one, princess.” Gently slipping in my ring finger, my back arches off the bed as I thrust deep.  The friction against my walls has me keening, eyes rolling shut as I moan loudly. “Speed up.” Obeying, I speed up my thrusts, whines and whimpers starting to slip into the moans. The faint wet sound coming from the phone, accompanied by his grunts and soft moans, let me realize how effected he really was. “Baby, are you touching yourself?” I breathed, voice rasped and seductive. “Yeah. You made me so hard, princess.” He moaned, making me speed up. I felt the tension tugging at my abdomen, pleasure coursing through my body. “I’m so close...so, so close.” I hissed, pressing up in search my g-spot, but I couldn’t find it. “Rub your clit, baby.” Using my left hand, I pressed down my middle finger against the sensitive nub and gently rubbing it. My moans had rose in pitch slightly, back arching off of the mattress as I felt my high approaching. “Go faster. Make yourself cum, princess.” He rasped, my fingers speeding up and sending me over the edge with a high-pitched scream-like moan. “Oh shit, I’m so close.” He moaned, the squelching of his jerking getting faster and louder. “Rub your palm over the head, do it fast and the jerk yourself while squeezing the tip whenever you get to the top.” I instructed, listening as his moans and whines increase, in volume and occurrence. “Shit!” A loud moan come from the speaker, before it went silent, save our heavy breathing.

“That was good.” He finally spoke, making me chuckle sleepily. “Oh shit, what time is it?” he grumbled, chuckling as I slurred the time of 1:30AM. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll call you when you wake up.” “Okay...talk to you later.”

 Waking up with a groan, I sat up and sighed. I’d fallen asleep without cleaning myself off and now I felt icky. Sighing, I sat up and started towards the bathroom. Taking quick, hot shower and washing my hair, I stepped out and dried myself off. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I eyed my neck. My mind wandering off into thought of how the skin would look marked with dark love bites. A shiver moved down my spine as I sighed, turning and walking out of the bathroom. Reaching my bed, I grabbed my phone and hit Jungkook’s number to facetime him. Setting it up against my vanity mirror, as I grabbed underwear from the dresser. Moving towards my closet, and grabbing a pair of blue skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt before quickly getting dressed. “Y/N?” I heard his familiar voice call out, making me turn my head towards the vanity. A smile graced my lips as I strutted over to the phone. “Hey there, Kookie.” The clench of his jaw made me chuckle softly, “Stop that…” He grumbled, glancing up above his phone. “Stop what?” Feigning innocence, I smirked and uncovered my hair. My curls fell over my shoulders, their spirals heavy with moisture. “You know what…” He grunted, running a hand through his hair as he looked back to the screen. “Damn, your hair looks so pretty. I wonder how pretty it’d be with my fingers in it while you choke on my di-” A gasp left my lips as I watched him smirk at me. “Stop! Aren’t your friends around?” A shrug of his shoulders made me shake my head, starting to do my hair.

My hair had been done for a while now, falling flat on my back and over my shoulders. I’d done my makeup, ignoring Jungkook’s suggestions of going heavy and sticking to my usual natural look. “I can’t wait to see you in person. I bet you look even more flawless in real life.” Chuckling shyly at his words, I shook my head and pulled off my headband. “Are you doing anything tonight?” I asked softly, ignoring the fact the sun was high up in the sky where I was due to it only just hitting noon. “I don’t know… I ordered my tickets this morning, while you were sleeping, so I’m going in like a week. So, that’s off my list. Honestly, it’s whatever the guys want to do because I really just want to stay home and talk to you, or watch t.v with takeout and some soju.” I laughed softly as he ran a hand down his face. “Awwe, you like talking to me?” My tone was teasing, almost mocking. “Obviously, if I didn’t I wouldn’t have been friends with you for so long.” His chuckle made me smile. “Keep talking like that and I’ll deny you access to my apartment when you get here.” “So you’re just gonna have me on the streets?” Nodding, I laughed as he rolled his eyes. Looking up over his phone, the sound of one of his friends speaking has him nodding in response. My eyes traced his neck and jawline, falling to his covered chest and eyeing his shirt. He’d changed since before, having switched to a simple black button-down shirt. A sigh left his lips as he looked back to me and smiled. “They want to go to some party.” He grunted, nodding at something his friend said before standing. “What’re you wearing? I wanna see.” I chuckled as he rose an eyebrow teasingly and smirked. Then the screen flipped and I saw his thighs and lower. I watched as his feet shuffled, passing by multiple other sets of feet before he stopped and lifted his phone up. The reflection of his form made me chuckle, eyeing him. His legs and thick thighs were hugged hugged by a pair of black, knee-ripped skinny jeans, shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants and black belt pulling it together. “I don’t know which shoes to wear yet, but Yugyeom keeps suggesting a pair of dress shoes but I don’t know.” “Doc Martins, for sure.” The chuckle and nod that came from him as he turned the camera back to himself. “You’re so cute...okay, I’ll call you later.” “Okay, baby. Text me when you get home.” The smirk that pulled at his lips made me chuckle. “Alright, I will. Talk to you later, babygirl.”

 ~~

 A week later, I was driving to the airport to pick him up. Music was blasting as I rushed down the highway, lips moving on their own accord as they sang along to the track playing. But it stopped, making my head snap to my phone. A loud ringing replaced to the previous music, glancing to the phone again, I chuckled. Hitting the phone button on my steering wheel, I muttered a greeting as I turned off of the highway. “Where are you? I just got off the plane.” An excited smile pulled at my lips as I drove through the airport parking lot towards a parking space. “I’m almost there, just looking for a parking spot. What’s your gate again?” I quickly asked as I spotted a space.

Rushing through the bodies of people, my eyes jumped around frantically in search of the familiar boy. When my eyes finally landed on him, I froze in place. He was simply standing against one of the walls while looking at his phone, yet he looked so perfect. I guess he felt my eyes because he looked up and around before finding my still frozen form. The smile that graced his lips made me feel fuzzy inside, heat forming in my stomach and rising up to my ears. I watched as he put his phone away and grabbed his luggage before making his way to me. I wanted to move, really, but I couldn’t. My legs felt like jelly, yet they were pasted to the floor like a statue. My nerves were going crazy, but I couldn’t move to shake them off. Until he reached me. “Y/N,” he breathed, a smile pulling at his lips in way that made my stomach flip. “J-Jungkook... “ My voice was a whisper, but that was all it took for him to wrap his arms around my smaller form. “Oh you’re so much smaller than I thought.” He grumbled, pushing his face in my hair as I slowly wrapped my arms around him.

We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other and taking in the others presence. Finally, I pulled away slightly and looked up at him. “Hey,” I breathed. A smile spread onto his face again as he straightened up, “Hey.”

Walking to the car was deemed one of the most nerve wrecking times of my life. Why I was nervous? I don’t know, but I was.”There it is.” My voice was soft as I pointed and clicked my car unlocked. When we reached it, I helped him put in his luggage before getting in. “Seatbelt. I just got you here, don’t want you to go too soon.” I chuckled, looking to him as I clicked the belt into place. He was watching me as I did mine, making me blush and turn forward as I started the car. “I hope your as good at driving as you always claim.” A roll of my eyes is what him chuckle before I turned on the car, making him rush to buckle himself up.

As we walked into my apartment, him setting his luggage in the living room and me locking the door, I led him to my room. “So, you can share my room with me, because my apartment doesn’t have an extra one.” I wasn’t facing him, but I could feel his eyes on me. “No worries. Even if you did, I’d be in here every night.” He muttered, coming up behind me for a backhug. A giggle left my lips as he squeezed me in his arms, dipping his head down to gently kiss my jaw. “Damn you’re small.” Looking back and up at him, I pouted angrily, moving to get out of his hold before making my way out and to the kitchen. “Oh, does Princess not like being call small?” He teased, following and leaning against the counter. “No, I don’t. Because I’m almost average height, you’re just too tall.” His laugh was loud and hearty, making me smile at the sound. “Baby, look at me.” I turned, eyebrows raised in question as I made eye contact with him. I wasn’t expecting him to rush over and connect his lips with mine, but I didn’t reject him. My arms wrapped around his neck, hands locking in his hair, as he spread his hands over my butt, kneading it gently. Feeling him pull away, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He grumbled, dipping back down to place a few pecks on my lips and jaw. “I have to make food, Kookie.” A grunt came him as he gripped my butt, yanking my closer as he moved down to my neck. “Seriously...shit-I need to cook.” “Get takeout, I want you right now.” He rasped out as he nipped at my neck and moving up to reconnect our lips. “Wanna hear those sweet sounds in person.” He muttered against my lips with a smirk as I whined, breathing through my nose as he pressed his lips to mine. Moving his hands down to my thighs, he easily lifted me and went to sit on the couch.

Moans were falling from my lips in breathy, high-pitched squeaks as he rocked up into me. My hands clutching each other as he held my wrists together, keeping me from touching him and running my nails over his tanned skin. “Look at you, sounding so pretty for me.” He leaned forward and connected our lips, halting his thrusts as he licked in my mouth. “I wanna touch you, please..” I whimpered when he pulled back. “But you look so pretty like this, baby. Submitting so nicely for me.” He smiled, leaning back again and resuming his powerful thrusts. “Please…. Daddy.” I whined, head having fell forward and my mind scattered. “Shit, princess.” He pulled me to his chest as he let go of my wrists, hands going to my butt and using it to quicken his thrusts, making them even more powerful. “Call me that again, baby.” “Daddy.” I whimpered loudly, hands gripping at his biceps. Lifting my mouth to his neck, I latched on, sucking gently. “I’m so close.” The whine left my bruised lips in a breathy hush, forehead falling onto his shoulder. “I know, I can feel you tightening around me.” He hissed, one of his arms wrapping around my waist and hand gripping my ass harder, speeding up his thrusts. “Hold it for me. Can you do that for me, Princess?” I nodded weakly, whimpering as I pushed my face deeper into the crevice of his neck. “Good, good. Not for too much longer, okay? Just a few more minutes.” Nodding again, I gripped his biceps harder and lifted my head, connecting my lips to his in a rushed kiss. “I can’t hold it...Baby, I-I..I’m so close.” I hissed as he moved his hand around to press against my clit. “Come on, baby, I know you can.” He cooed, rubbing quickly at my bundle of nerves. My tensed, toes curling as high pitched moans left me in quick breaths. The knot in my abdomen snapped, a burst of white exploded behind my closed eyelids as my head fell forward against his chest. He was still thrusting harshly, fingers digging into my hips with his hard grip on my skin. “Shit…” He grunted before his hips stuttered and he went stiff, moans falling from his lips in rough, raspy whines and grunts.

We were sitting like that for a while, his cum dripping past his member and down my thighs. He was still in me, softened and limp, but neither one of us had the energy to move and clean up. “You wanna order food?” He finally muttered, peeling open his eyes just enough to catch me looking at him. I gave a gentle nod, chuckling as he grunted while reaching for his cell phone. “What kind?” “Pizza.” I sat up from against his chest, smiling as his hand gently grabbed my waist, running his thumb over the forming bruises. Watching as he dialed the number to the pizza shop, placing the device to his ear, I slowly started to rock back and forth against him. He narrowed his eyes at me, making me smile innocently as I continued my movements. His hand on my hip tightened, urging me to stop, but I ignored it and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Stop-Hi, I would like to place an order.” He spoke casually, as if nothing was happening. As if he was getting erect in me, watching me ride him as slow as I could. As he placed the order, he stayed calm and collected, letting me rock against him and trace his defined features. When he hung up, he placed his other hand in hair and gently pulled me to him for an even softer kiss. “You couldn’t wait until I was done?” He breathed gently as he pulled away from me,  looking into my eyes. I shook my head gently, smiling as he grabbed my hips and sped up the pace slightly. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” There was such genuine love in his voice, it made my heart swell and stomach tingle with butterflies. “I love you.” I muttered softly, closing my eyes as the words left my lips. I was scared to see the horror in his face, because sure he liked me- he’d stated on many occasions that he found me attractive and sexually appealing- but never has he ever said anything about us having more than what we already have. He’d even stated at one point that he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, hated them because they made him feel like needed to be something that he wasn’t. I wasn’t expected for him to kiss me, holding my face in his palms. When he pulled away, I slowly opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a bright, bunny smile. “Shit, I didn’t expect you say it first. It was literally right on my tongue when you’d said it.” I stared at him in awe, a smile slowly creeping its way onto my face. I started rocking my hips against, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands were resting on my waist, running them up and down my sides as he watched where connected. “So, you’re mine now?” I asked softly, running my lips over his in a feather light touch. “I’ve been yours a long time, baby. You’re the first girl that I’ve touched in almost two years, the only one I’ve been beating off to.” His chuckle made it to be taken lightly, as a joke, but I knew he wasn’t with that glint in his eyes. But, I didn’t mind, I found it hot that he imagined me doing whatever to or for him to get off. “What did you imagine me doing when you touched yourself?” I moaned softly, swirling my hips and pressing gentle kisses to his jaw. A groan left him at my words, his hips bucking up into me with a grunt. “I imagined what you would let me do to you...and-fuck, and you sucking me off with that pretty mouth of yours.” I held in a whimper, feeling his grip on my waist tighten. “And what would you do to me, if I let you?” The growl that emitted from him was almost animalistic as he started to thrust into me and match mine. “I’d fuck you lifeless. Tie you up, and use you how I please. Oh yeah, you loud the sound of that, baby? You want me make you cum until you begging me to stop? Fuck you until you can’t feel your legs? Oh, I’d love to mark from top to bottom. Make sure everyone knows your Daddy’s little girl. Only I can touch you, right Princess? Only Daddy can make you cum the way you do?” His thrust had progressively gotten rougher, faster as he’s moved his hand to grab onto my ass, spreading it as he’d fucked into me rapidly. I felt my high getting closer, the knot in my abdomen tightening to its limit, but I wasn’t going to cum. Not until he told me to. “Shit, you’re so tight.” He grunted, lifting a hand and harshly dropping it back down with a sharp smack, making me whimper into his neck. “You close, baby? Hm? You wanna cum?” I nodded, another whimper coming from my lips as I nosed at his throat. “Please...Kookie.” “Be a good girl and cum for me, Princess.” The feeling of my orgasm hit me full force, my eyes rolling back and my toes curling. My lips parted in a silent moan, his name slowly starting to emit from me in shaky breaths. He’d kept going, during and after my orgasm, speeding up his thrusts. My face twisted in a cringe, hisses seeping through my teeth at the pain of overstimulation so soon, but he was muttering soft apologies. Moans falling from his lips as he left messy kisses on my lips and ran his hands up to wrap his arms around my torso. “I’m so close.” His voice was soft, almost whiny, making me smile softly. Moving a hand down from his neck, I gently ran a finger over his nipple, his body reacting immediately with a moan. I started pinching and pulling, leaning down to suck and nip at his nipples, and everytime I felt him twitch inside me. “Come on, Kookie, cum for me, baby.” I muttered against his lips, a whine left his lips as he connected ours and thrusted a few more times, hips stuttering before he stilled. Moans and whines were slipping from him, my mouth swallowing every one of them. Finally, after he calmed down, his dick starting to soften in me, I pulled away to look at him with hooded eyes.

We’d cleaned up after the pizza came, forcing us to be apart for a while, after showering together, to get dressed. We were sitting on the living room floor, slices of pizza in our hands as I watched him edit his video of his arrival here. “I didn’t even, know you were filming.” I chuckled, finishing off my slice and leaning into him. “I think you were too nervous to notice anything other than me.” He stated, glancing down at me with a teasing smile and laughing when I nodded in confirmation. “You know, I’ve watched your videos.” The pause of his hand movement on his laptop made me look up. He was staring at me with interest, a small quirk in his eyebrow and a smirk on his lips. “Did you like seeing my face that much?” He teased, causing me to roll my eyes. “Actually, I watched them because you’re friends are hot as fuck.” Watching him freeze, face falling serious before he placed his slice back in the box. “What?” I quickly stood and made way for my bedroom, giggles falling from my lips. But, of course, with those long, strong legs, he caught me. Lifting me up, a loud laugh left my lips, he took me in the room and threw me on the bed. “Wanna repeat what you said?” A teasing smile pulled at my lips as I leaned up and brushed my lips against his, placing gentle pecks against them. “You’re friends are hot as fuck.” I breathed against them, smiling when he growled. He yanked at my ankles, making me fall back and pulled me to the edge of the bed. This was gonna be a long month.

[touristguidebuzz]

How To Choose The Best Travel Camera (Plus Win A Free GoPro!)

How to Choose a Travel Camera

Travel Photography

After 7 years as a professional travel photographer & blogger, I keep getting asked what’s the best travel camera. There are so many to choose from! Here’s what I would pick, and why.

If you’re into photography, traveling the world with a good camera can help you bring back images that will stand the test of time — memories to share with family and friends for years to come.

Amazing travel photos are some of my most treasured souvenirs!

But what’s the best travel camera for capturing these special moments on your journey? There’s no easy answer to this question. Different people will have different requirements and budgets.

My goal with this digital camera buyers guide is to help you narrow down the overwhelming choices that are out there — and pick the perfect travel camera for your next trip.

Norway’s Lofoten Islands

Travel Camera Features

Size & Weight: Gone are the days when a bigger camera means a better camera. If you want to travel with your camera, you’ll want something small & lightweight.

Manual Settings: Photography professionals want the ability to fully control the settings of their camera so they can dial in the perfect shot in all kinds of different situations.

Megapixels: Many people assume that more megapixels is better. This isn’t always true. However more megapixels will give you higher detail, and allow you to “crop” your image without reducing quality.

Fast Lens: Lens aperture is measured in f/numbers, like f/1.4, f/2.8, f/4, etc. The lower the number, the better it will perform in low-light situations.

Zoom Range: A zoom lens lets you get closer to the action, especially for wildlife or people. But the bigger the zoom the bulkier a camera gets. How much zoom you want is a personal preference.

HD/4K Video: Most quality travel cameras will shoot video in HD 1080p. Some even have 4K capabilities — which honestly most people won’t need unless you’re doing professional work.

WiFi/Bluetooth Enabled: Some cameras have their own wifi network, allowing you to upload your photos instantly to your computer or smartphone.

Interchangeable Lenses: High-end mirrorless and DSLR cameras have interchangeable lenses, allowing you to pick the perfect lens for different situations.

Ridge Hiking in Hawaii

What Do You Want To Capture?

When choosing the best travel camera for your needs, you must define what those needs are. Different cameras have strengths and weaknesses depending on what you’re using them for.

Are you looking for portability? Weatherproofing & ruggedness? Professional high-end image quality? Something reasonably priced? Are you going to be shooting more landscapes, wildlife, adventure activities, or people?

You often can’t have it all when it comes to travel cameras.

Keep reading below to learn the pros & cons for each type of camera, and which types of travel photography they work best for.

Point & Shoot Cameras

Point & shoot cameras have come a long way. As technology has improved, companies have managed to pack these pocket-sized cameras with tons of features. Some shoot 4k video and have manual settings, just like the more expensive ones in this list.

The big difference is the camera sensor is a bit smaller, and they don’t have interchangeable lenses.

In my opinion, a mid-range to high-end point & shoot is the best option for 75% of amature travel photographers. They combine the perfect mix of portability, power, and budget-friendliness.

Sony RX100 Series ($700 – $1000)

Sony RX100 V

The Sony RX100 V is my favorite point & shoot travel camera. It’s what I’d call a “professional” point & shoot. While it fits in my pocket, it has many of the same features as my larger primary mirrorless camera.

It’s a bit pricey at $1000, but you can also pick up older models like the RX100 III ($700) and RX100 IV ($850) for less. They also make reasonably priced underwater dive-housings for this line.

Check Price For Sony RX100 V Here

Canon PowerShot G7 X ($650)

Canon G7X II

The Canon G7 X is another fantastic point & shoot that’s great for travel photography. A bit less expensive than the Sony, it has fewer high-end features, but shoots great video with better on-board audio than the Sony. It’s a favorite for many YouTubers and Vloggers.

Check Price For Canon G7X Here

Best Action Travel Cameras

Action Cameras

Action cameras have really transformed the travel photography & video world over the years. These tiny, waterproof, indestructible cameras can go anywhere & record anything!

If you plan on hiking, mountain biking, surfing, kayaking, snorkeling, scuba diving, or even swimming under waterfalls during your travels, an action camera can create epic video & photos that you can share with others.

GoPro Hero 6 ($500)

GoPro Hero 6

The GoPro Hero 6 is GoPro’s best camera yet, with improved video stabilization, color, and 60p slow-motion 4k footage. It’s waterproof case and touch-screen will handle any adventures you can think up.

Check Price For GoPro 6 Here

GoPro Hero Session ($200)

GoPro Session

The GoPro Session is GoPro’s smaller & cheaper model. Without a screen, this tiny cube can fit just about anywhere. On your helmet, in a glass of beer, even in your mouth! All kinds of ways to get creative.

Check Price For GoPro Session Here

Best Mirrorless Travel Cameras

Mirrorless Cameras

Larger than a point & shoot, but smaller than a DSLR, mirrorless digital cameras are all the rage right now. Even professional photographers are starting to switch over due to their small size and ability to produce high-quality images.

I use a mirrorless camera as my main travel camera. They offer more features than a point & shoot, like the ability to use interchangeable lenses, and a larger sensor with better low-light capability and detail.

Sony A7 Series ($1300 – $3200)

Sony A7ii

The Sony A7 II is one of the best travel cameras money can buy. Sony is on the cutting edge of camera technology lately, and other brands are having trouble keeping up. There are a few different models available.

The Sony A7S II is geared towards videographers, with extremely good low-light capabilities. The Sony A7R III is geared for professional photographers who want super-fast focusing and a giant full-frame sensor.

Check Price For Sony A7ii Here

Fujifilm X‑T2 ($1500)

Fujifilm X‑T2

Check Price For Fuji X-T2 Here

Sony A6500

Sony A6500

Check Price For Sony A6500 Here

DSLR Cameras

Digital SLR Cameras (DSLR) wouldn’t be my first choice for a travel camera. I’ve included a few here, because some people still prefer the larger body.

However personally I think most people would be better off with a mirrorless camera these days. Especially if you are trying to keep your travel gear weight to a minimum.

Nikon D3400

Nikon D3400

Check Price For Nikon D3400 Here

Canon 80D

Canon 80D

Check Price For Canon 80D Here

Using Your Smartphone

Can you use your smartphone for travel photography? Of course you can! You’ll sacrifice a bit of quality due to the super small camera sensor in phones, but if you’re only publishing to the web, most people won’t notice.

Some smartphones can even shoot in RAW format these days. I travel with an iPhone 7+, but the Galaxy S8 and Google Pixel 2 also take amazing photos & video. Smartphones are also great backup cameras too.

What About Camera Lenses?

You honestly don’t need a million different camera lenses. When I first started, I only used a single general-purpose lens while I was learning.

If you have money to burn, then get two: a wide angle zoom and a telephoto zoom.

These two lenses will allow you to capture a mix of landscapes, portraits, and wildlife from a distance. However lugging around multiple lenses and changing them back & forth can be annoying if you’re new to photography.

To keep things easy, I’d recommend only one lens at first. Something with a decent focal range, around 18mm – 70mm.

When looking at a lens aperture, the lower the number, the better it will be in low light. F2.8 or F4 should cover you for most situations. If you want to shoot star photography, go with F2.8 or lower.

Flying my DJI Mavic Over Hawaii

Drones For Travel Photography

Drones are incredible tools for capturing images & video in a totally different perspective. But this probably isn’t the most important travel camera for the average person.

Many places have restrictions on flying personal drones, for example US National Parks, and even entire countries. So you need to do your research to avoid heavy fines or confiscation.

If you REALLY want a drone, I’d recommend the DJI Spark for beginners. It’s tiny, pretty affordable, and very easy to use.

If you eventually want to make money from your drone photography, and have a larger budget, than you’ll completely fall in love with the more professional DJI Mavic Pro. You can see my review video here.

All My Camera Gear

What Travel Cameras Do I Use?

I actually travel with 4-5 different cameras on my adventures around the world. This is a bit overkill for most people.

However travel photography is how I make my living, so I invest in gear to help me accomplish my job. When I first started 7 years ago, all I used was a Canon 7D and a GoPro Hero.

Sony A7Rii – My main travel camera.

Sony RX100 V – This is my backup camera.

GoPro Hero 6 – Action camera for extreme sports.

GoPro Session – Backup action camera & B-roll footage.

DJI Mavic Pro – Drone for aerial photography & video.

The camera backpack I use is called a LowePro Whistler 350. It’s got room for a 15″ laptop, jacket, and incredibly fits all 5 travel cameras, lenses & some accessories if I need it to — great as an airplane carry-on.

Travel Photography Tips

I want to let you in on a little travel photography secret. Even if you have a top-of-the-line $10,000 camera, your photos aren’t going to be spectacular if you don’t know how to use it.

And I don’t mean pressing the shutter — I mean:

Learning how to shoot in manual mode

How to expose images properly

Adjusting your white balance

Framing shots for maximum impact

Paying attention to light

Post-processing your images with software

You don’t become a good photographer because you have a nice camera, your photography improves over time through practice, patience, and skills you learn from others.

So sure, invest in a new travel camera if you think you need it, but remember to invest money & time into learning new photography skills if you really want to create those jealousy-inducing images for your Instagram feed!

Here are some of my favorite beginner travel photography tips.

Who Wants to Win a GoPro?

Free GoPro Session Giveaway!

If you don’t have an GoPro action camera yet, but want one, here’s your chance to win a GoPro to use on your next travel adventure!

I’m giving one lucky reader their very own GoPro Hero Session 5 (along with some accessories).

I love my GoPro, and travel with it everywhere. It’s great for capturing water sports, hiking trips, epic selfies, and hands-free video from my travel adventures around the world.

I’ve been traveling with a GoPro of some kind for the last 7 years!

Here’s an article I wrote about my favorite GoPro accessories for travel, along with examples of how you can use it to capture amazing footage.

OFFICIAL RULES

ELIGIBILITY: Ages 18+ Promotion is open and offered to residents of any country. However the winner will be responsible for their own country’s customs fees.

CHOOSING A WINNER: A winner will be selected at random from the list of entries, and notified by email. If the winner does not respond within one week, an alternate winner will be chosen at random.

PRIZE: The winner will receive (1) GoPro Hero Session, (1) GoPro Backpack, and (1) GoPro Selfie Stick. Prize value worth $450. Prizes are shipped to winner’s chosen address. Local customs fees are not included in the prize.

How To Enter Contest

Enter your name and email address below and follow the instructions.

You’ll have the option to earn extra contest entries (and more chances to win!) by completing certain tasks.

Good luck, and I look forward to congratulating the winner! ★

READ MORE TRAVEL TIPS

Ultimate Adventure Travel Gear Guide How To Start A Travel Blog The Best GoPro Accessories For Travel DJI Mavic Pro Drone Review

Have any questions about travel cameras? What about other suggestions? Drop me a message in the comments below!

Disclosure: Some of the links in this post are “affiliate links.” This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will add value to my readers.

This is a post from The Expert Vagabond adventure blog.

[oscillate-wilde-ly]

Enough

Listen – listen! It’s not like Henry doesn’t know he has a problem, it’s just that it’s part of the whole gig, the whole folk-rock-singer-slash-drifter thing. You just don’t do that kind of thing without developing a drinking problem; it’s practically a pre-requisite to be at least halfway to drunk before attempting any Bob Dylan song in earnest. Even your basic college-aged indie youth with an acoustic knows that.

Waking up hung over with his head pounding on an unfamiliar couch, mouth as dry as the overflowing ash tray on the floor beside him – it’s just part of the look. Part of the lifestyle that justifies the early graying at his temples and the beaten shadows under his eyes, the way he shakes with sobs in his sleep a couple times a month, and the way he can’t remember what happened last night.

Last night. What happened last night.

           The question echoes through him unanswered but full of pregnant possibility, and Henry knows better than to chase it any longer. Not here, anyway. Here with the Ikea couch and found-artisan rug and the who-rescued-who shelter cat sleeping square on his chest, all of which belong to the very nice couple who – this much Henry remembers – have just been beside themselves with sedated, bohemian excitement to put up local legend Henry “Hank” Darling for the night.

           With a quiet groan he sits upright – or, as upright as the feline weight on his chest will allow. Soft gray light filtering in through the blinds on windows just above the couch tells him it’s just barely morning. It’s the kind of wake-up after the initial pass-out where he’s still a little tipsy, but sober enough to know he wants to be gone when his hosts wake up wanting to hear tales of the gig from the night before.

           The night before.

           It drops heavy like a cannon ball in a kiddie pool and in a second Henry’s up. The cat’s on the floor and so are his feet.

The best thing about being a folk-rock-singer-slash-drifter is that it’s real easy to pack up your stuff and go when everything you own fits in a guitar case and the pockets of your jacket. The best thing about staying with millennial-hipster-youth is they always put a glass of water out for you before going to bed when you pass out on their couch. He drinks it too fast but keeps it down – a trick of the trade that gets him out, out, out the door so that the little black rescue cat barely has time to sprint for the opening before it’s closed again.

Hangover sunglasses? On.

Guitar case? Secured.

Leering next door neighbor? Ignored.

Whenever the walk from the front door to the sidewalk takes longer than five seconds on account of the landscaping, you know you’re in a nice neighborhood. Whenever there’s someone outside before seven AM in matching jogging clothes or anything that buttons, you know you’re in a nice neighborhood. The aesthetic configuration of succulents and perennials dotting porches and hanging from verandas is utterly lost on Henry.

What matters now is the motion. Moving one foot after another, so that the little townhouse filled with rare vinyls and unchallenged monogamy and Swedish furniture is only getting smaller and smaller behind him all the time. It’s enough to get his blood going again so that the pain in his head is joined now by an ache in his back and one on his side, bruises fresh and festering. Little lines of red flecked across the fingers on his right hand, glowing pink cuts only a few hours old.

New.

Gained most likely in the past twelve hours judging by the blooming blue color on the ones he can see. The past twelve hours.

Out here in the newborn daylight, with the sounds of mechanical fits being had by lawn sprinklers and the occasional errant Labrador barking at his footsteps, Henry tries to remember.

…

It was like this: the open mic night part of the gig was open to anyone, but only he­ – Hank Darling­ – would be headlining, listed, and therefore, getting paid. At the best of times it was a “kitschy” hipster bar that had discreetly set up a stage in the back corner for local talent. In reality it was a dive of a place with a lone stool and a microphone older than the yellowing health-inspection paper forgotten on a wall (a wall plastered decoratively with cigarette-scented coasters and questionable stains).

It paid mostly in drink tickets and “exposure”, but that had never stopped Henry before.

And – listen! Henry would never judge anyone for the way they chose to live, or who they chose to fuck, or not fuck, okay? He wasn’t – isn’t – “-phobic” of any kind. That kind of shit could never stick to a kid too sad and scared to give a fuck, and it wasn’t apt to change just because the kid managed to survive long enough to make a career out of his drinking problem.

It was just that he didn’t – he didn’t expect to see him there, in the audience, bobbed black hair just perfectly curled under his ears, with eyelashes just too long to be natural and lips just too red to be naked and – what was he wearing? Henry had only just been a few beers back when he’d spotted the gender-bending boy who’d been babbling in his ear these past couple nights suddenly conjured before him in the audience like a spirit, all glitter and fish-nets and post-grunge-pop-crop-tops that flashed wildly when he talked (as if he ever stopped doing that).

The boy was like a siren who refused to even pretend that he wasn’t luring you to your doom in a shirt that said “SLUT” in big holographic letters and a mouth that said, “Come crash on my rocks, baby.”

His name was Alexander and only Alexander the way Henry’s name was Henry and only Henry. Hank was strictly the name he sang hopeful love songs under, or slow and sad covers of love songs someone else wrote, or long ballads of admiration and awe to nature that he shut up inside him when he shut up the guitar case every night.

Alexander had told him he didn’t go by Alex anymore, not since people assumed too fast it was a girl’s name, not since someone else’s assumptions meant someone else’s fist in his made-up face when they didn’t find the parts that they assumed matched the name under his skinny jeans or mini skirt or hot pants. (He told Henry this with a smile and a wink and a hand on Henry’s shoulder just barely touching).

From backstage (otherwise known as the corner behind the stage equipment) Alexander locked eyes with him long enough to curl that Cheshire cat smirk on his face before going back to making eyes at a stranger, like he was interested in whatever conversation he was having with whoever was buying his drink currently.

Fuck, maybe Alexander was interested in it. Not up to Henry to notice, to look, to care. One leg swung wantonly from the barstool Alexander was propped up on, too short to reach the ground even with platforms on.

He should have stuck out like a glittering thumb, looking like that in a shitty bar like this, even with the collection of riot grrls and nu-goths milling about. Alexander stuck out in the way that you were either looking At Alexander or Not At Alexander and never anything or anyone else. But the confidence Alexander exuded like a neon glow on some offensive sign dared you to want to fight him or fuck him; either option you chose said something about you, not him.

Either way it was your problem.

Either way he’d still be there.

It was only ever a question of how long it’d take Henry before he had to resign himself to approaching the bar to turn in a drink ticket for something to hold in both hands, just like it was only a question of how long after doing that before a newly familiar voice was in his ear, buzzing like a radio or maybe purring like a cat.

“This place is a shit hole.”

The best thing about being a folk-rock-singer-slash-drifter was most fans felt it was uncool to approach you before a gig. But Alexander was not a fan, and even if he was (was he?) nothing he did was uncool, anyway.

Henry leaned his front too hard against the bar for a second so that the sharp corner of the top bit sweetly into his stomach before he turned a lazy expression on Alexander. He replied first with a sip of his beer, then, “So you should feel right at home, then.”

The slightest tug at the corner of Henry’s lips when he spoke betrayed a whole lot more than his teasing intentions – not that he was noticing. Henry rubbed at the tip of his nose, sniffled, and settled on watching some kid with a laptop and a keyboard struggle to find enough plugs for her set-up behind the mic.

“Ha. Ha,” Alexander said the words in favor of actually laughing, but there was a grin on his face and in his too blue eyes that Henry refused to linger on. “Maybe I should have said something like: ‘Come here often?’ Would that have been better for you, Henry?” Alexander said it like the set up for a joke but the punch line never came.

Henry answered with a shrug and drink.

“Mm,” Alexander hummed undeterred by Henry’s silence, his back to the bar and his elbows on top so that his hands dangled off it with red-rubbed knuckles and bitten-down fingernails. “That’s my sister.” He nodded towards the woman on stage, then, after a beat he added: “You didn’t think I was here to see you, did you?”

Henry ignored the question (again).

She was a waifish thing with hair some impossible color of pink and she was wearing enough layers to suggest she had tried to walk out with the whole thrift shop on (if it was a thrift shop for very small drag queens). There was glitter under her eyes (they must share glitter, Henry figured) and when she opened her mouth to sing it sounded like what Henry imagined an especially innocent kitten might sound like if it knew how to work a Mac laptop and a synthesizer.

“I can see the resemblance,” Henry noted, and he plugged his mouth with a beer to keep from saying anything else.

Instantly Alexander’s face was in his as much as their height difference would allow, smug and sparkling, his lips saying: “Oh yeah? Is that because she’s so cute and I’m so cute? You can just say it, Henry. It’s okay. You can. Just. Say it.”

A groan. A grumble. Another beer to stop up his voice. It burned inside him alongside the alcohol, made his free hand ball into a fist now and then, choked him up into communicating with grunts and nods as Alexander carried on the conversation for him – both their parts and then some.

One or two dark-eyed boys stumbled on stage with their poetry journals in tow and left in the wake of scattered applause for bravery; now and then Alexander would put a hand on Henry’s shoulder when he talked, or on his arm. Chipped black nail polish winding around some loose threads of Henry’s jacket, winding and winding and Henry ignoring the way his muscles tense with every touch.  

By the time Henry was meant to soundcheck, he had already moved on to hard liquor. Alexander’s voice was in his ears telling him, “Go get ‘em, Hank,” with that knowing self-satisfied smile that he seemed to always wear as if he always, always, always had something to be smug about.

Like just his existing in front of you was a triumph of rebellion.

It was an expression that had been searing itself into the back of Henry’s mind, which was arguably where he kept the majority of things that stuck with him for too long. A therapist had told him once in a stuffy counseling office in elementary school that trauma makes us compartmentalize differently, makes us wall things off and scale things back so that the focus is just on surviving today – right now – and everything else just gets pushed out of sight as a means to an end. Henry liked to think he was acutely aware of what was on the other side of his own mental walls, and that’s precisely why he kept them up.

His walls were translucent; hazy glass so he could squint and look at the monsters on the other side whenever he needed to, whenever he wanted to, and like a beta fish squaring up at his own reflection it made his colors brighter. By forcing himself to stare down his own monstrous self-destructive origins on a regular basis, Henry could justify his total inability to be anything to people other than an inevitable let-down. It made his music ache deeper.  And it made every true emotion that managed to break through his haze of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey drinks sear through him like a hot iron out of control.

It wasn’t something he would recommend, but it was one way to live.

With whiskey in one hand and his guitar in the other, Henry sat down at the rickety stool amongst casual whistles of approval and still out, over the little crowd that had gathered, was Alexander’s come-up-and-see-me-sometime smirk leering at him from the bar. Every passing sip made every coming strum of his guitar sound more and more and more like the mewling voice of indiscretion singing:

“Go get ‘em, Hank.”

…

After that, things get a little hazy.

A lot hazy.

The kind of hazy that makes his headache worse when he tries to push through it, and the way the sun keeps getting higher and brighter as Henry puts pavement behind him isn’t helping. There are some things that even hangover sunglasses can’t block out.

By now there are signs of life all around him as he walks; the front lawns have become invariably shorter and the picket fences have begun to morph into chain-link. Garages turn into rusted-out beaters haphazardly driven onto driveways and forgotten for eternity. The faces he passes aren’t glancing away at the last second when he comes close like they do in the nice neighborhoods – they never look at him in the first place.

The cuts on his knuckles sting in his pockets and shifting too much makes his bruises sing hymns of regret but walking with his head down is safe, it’s always safe.

Hands in his pockets, it’s only now that he’s dipped back into reality that he realizes what he’s been fiddling with in there. The little paper he’s been fondling idly, Henry discovers as he pulls it from his the pocket of his jacket, is a small napkin, partially shredded and particularly worn from his idle fingering.

In curling handwriting and black ink that seems too black and thick to be pen but otherwise unidentifiable to Henry, are the words:

5350 S Mryland ave #142

Beneath it, there’s the half-smudge of a too-red lipstick stain: a kiss mark done in haste.

Beneath that, Henry’s hands feel heavy and sluggish. There’s an itch in the back of his brain like something waiting to be overturned, some face about to come into focus – only if he starts looking for it, it might look back. So he crumples the thing, forgets he knows exactly where that address is, forgets that he’s trying to remember anything at all except how to put one foot in front of the other.

It’s the telltale crunching of glass under his feet that sends him back to the night before for the second time, this time against his will; broken glass from broken bottles that stick in his memory with edges jagged enough to cut through the blackout.

…

It was like being caught in an undertow: wave after wave crashing over him in slow, agonizing succession. Or it was like a prizefight with Henry Darling in both corners. The memory of his actual show was gone almost completely aside from picking up on those blue blues occasionally glancing at him from the back of the bar – occasionally! – with lazy disinterest and maybe one finger drawing circles on the bar top.

That image was clear as blue skies, but then – nothing.

Henry’s typical post-gig ritual was like this: find a table near the back and make his drink tickets and pocket change take his liver as far as they could. He kept his sunglasses on, mostly to discourage the average bar patron from making the mistake of thinking he was looking for company – if they happened to do anything to hide his own expression, or where his eyes were, that was purely coincidental.

The level of excitement that this tradition involved tended to vary from town to town, depending widely on the company he was keeping at the time, or lack thereof as the case may be. If anyone visited for very long that night, Henry’s blackout consolidator had efficiently wiped them from the scene.

The only thing that had stuck was, predictably, Alexander.

Alexander not coming over to sit with him the way he had the night before, or the one before that. Alexander not wheedling whatever words he could out of Henry with teasing back-handed compliments and fleeting touches.

(“So are you always this grumpy or is it just because you like me so much?” / “I bet all the girls think the gray in your hair makes you look like a sexy professor or something.” / “Henry. Henry! Say something nice to me and I’ll share my cigarette.”)

Instead it was Alexander and his sister trading cigarettes and mixed drinks. Alexander always just in his line of sight giving lingering looks and touches to some pair of fair-trade sneakers with a trendy haircut and always, always, always with that smile on his had-to-be-painted lips.

It figured, Henry argued to himself from the other side of the bottom of his glass on the other side of the room. It figured that Alexander would eventually lose interest, would eventually move on to someone who didn’t shut up tight like a vice any time things got too comfortable or close. He couldn’t tell you why Alexander had followed him around for a while up until now in the first place, but it didn’t come as any surprise that he’d figured out it wasn’t the best use of his time. The best thing about being a folk-rock-singer-slash-drifter was nothing surprised you about people, anymore.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be pissed about it, though.

Pissed! Not jealous. Pissed.

Pissed that some wet-eared college drop-out with a sob story of student loans had replaced him as the object of Alexander’s chosen attentions as if the Henry was interchangeable with that kind of mediocrity.

From his table in the back of the bar, Henry considered just how forgettable the kid was, how utterly unimpressive. It took him a good full ten minutes of whiskey-fueled brooding to even recall that the face that Alexander was mooning at had also come up on “stage” at some point during the open mic before Henry’s gig, reciting some hack-job poetry that tried to force you to feel something in the name of art or ego or circumstance.

Comedy acts were better live, because you went with a purpose – with the intent to laugh. Same thing with shitty poetry: it just sounded better with a brick wall behind you and the lights down low. Going with the intent to feel. What a fucking joke.

So: a bottle, a broken bottle, the sound that pulled from the abyss the remains of images that he was moving towards closer and closer in his mind – it was louder than anything, louder even than the sound of performative laughter at unfunny jokes and the longer that Henry sat in the memory of watching and drinking and watching and drinking the louder it got.

There was the distinct feeling of burning anger in his stomach, brewing and bubbling like poison threatening to unleash itself from his lips. It was the sort of drunken anger that settled on him like increased gravity: made it hard to get up or do anything else except watch and drink (and watch and drink).

It was the napkin that finally made Henry snap.

The worst thing about being a folk-rock-singer-slash drifter was how you didn’t get to pick and choose what stuck and what the alcohol washed away. Some things you always lost to the liquor, like when he’d got a beer bottle in his hand or what he’d said when he crossed the room in a tempest two seconds later. All that had stuck was the feeling of fire in his chest, the way the bottle felt smooth and tense in his hand like it was about to pop.

Through the drunken lens of memory Henry saw himself snatching the napkin from Alexander’s fingers as he’d finished writing on it, just as Alexander was sliding it across the top of the bar over to whatever no-name emotional plagiarist he’d been oozing all over.

Henry couldn’t remember reading it at the time, or even trying to; the content didn’t matter to that version of Henry who had been marinating in a potent combination of alcohol, self-loathing, and a new kind of repression he hadn’t before thought possible for himself. Slow-cooked at a cool seventy-eight degrees on a mid-summer night, shaken, stirred, and ready to blow.

“Alexander!“ Henry heard his voice say it like it was someone else talking, but he felt the words rumble up from inside him as he wheeled on Alexander so he knew it was himself talking. He watched as he wedged himself between Alexander and this boy, this Not-Henry, like he was watching a movie.

A biopic.

Starring: Alexander’s blue-blue eyes sparkling like the glitter on his cheeks and six shades too dark from behind the lenses of his sunglasses, staring up at Henry with a fixation to suggest he was watching a car crash, a train wreck, a forest fire. The bar buzzed around them, the dim lights swimming and glowing like fireflies.

There was no one else.

Then that sound – that sound of glass shattering, and it was only neck-deep in his own inebriated flashback that Henry could now place the origin of the little bright cuts on his hand. The beer bottle was broken before he could think twice about it; smashing it on the bar was a knee-jerk reaction to the sounds of protest coming from the boy he’d cut out when he’d inserted himself in the situation like an expletive.

There was no one else because Henry had made sure of it.

Shattering the bottle on the top of the bar took less than a second. “Enough,” Henry uttered the word more like a prayer than a command and then as if in answer the bar went quiet. He couldn’t be sure for how long because now with bits of glass on his knuckles and his mouth dry from all that he’d shut up inside of it, the seconds stretched on with impossible slowness.

It could have been an eternity that he stood there and Henry wouldn’t have noticed, for all Alexander’s expression had caught in that moment rooted somewhere between animal fear and sheer incredulous excitement.

And there it was: that little smirk tugging at the corners of his ruby lips, pulling just up through his cheeks and then finally flooding into his eyes so that he was practically beaming at Henry from where he sat on the barstool, legs still swinging, glitter still flashing and blinking on his cheeks like pinball lights.

Like a slot-machine jackpot – and Henry was going to get his cherry.

There was no denying that Henry was the one who kissed Alexander first, desperate and more than a little frustrated against Alexander’s still-smirking mouth. Henry would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of kissing that smirk off his face once or twice before, but lying was half of surviving most days. This was more than surviving.

Alexander tasted like sugar-flavored vodka and clove cigarettes. He was warm and pouring all over Henry like water, flowing into him and flooding his senses with soft skin and a softer tongue. At some point Henry must have put his hands in Alexander’s face hair because it was between his fingers in an instant, threaded through them like the glittering siren might slip away through them.

The last thing that was clear to Henry was the feeling of hands in his pockets, and the upcoming rush of sound of a bar responding to some drunken asshole breaking a beer bottle coming to crash over him.

…

Then it goes blank: just the couch, the daylight, the cat.

By now he’s walked enough blocks to feel as at home as a homeless drifter can; the shouts of children and the errant smell of burning cigarettes feel more like home than manicured lawns or minimalist-modern-brownstones.

There’s a moment where Henry has to decide on a street corner: right or left. He can look up, catch the street signs and consider one or the other as though it might make a difference but he knows better. His feet know better.

A simple turn around the corner and he’s there: “5350 S Mryland ave”. He folds and unfolds the napkin in his hand, not looking at it – just holding it.

Number one hundred forty-two is visible from the sidewalk. It’s always been visible, each of the countless times he’s walked past it during each of the countless times he’s drifted through this city. Now, through the haze of a summer mid-morning, it looks different somehow. Henry has never before noticed the little Dollar Store paper lanterns dangling from the overhang, partially shredded from weather and age, but they seem appropriate now. The string of fairy lights wrapped around support beams peeling with paint look even more so.

Whether or not he meant to end up here, and why his feet took him here, are two questions that Henry kills with his fist against the door – knock knock – one for each. Seconds pass where Henry is just some guy with a hangover, waiting on a doorstep of an apartment he’s never really seen before, and then it opens to the petite pink-haired pixie whom Alexander has identified as his sister. She’s either half-dressed or whole-dressed in half-clothes, and her face goes from casual annoyance to screwed-up distaste in record time when their eyes meet.

“What the fuck do you want?” She demands, her voice going up and down on “fuck” and “you” and she’s looking him up and down like he’s made of garbage and oozing something worse.

It’s not the least hospitable greeting Henry’s had – not even the worst he’s had in this city – maybe the worst on this block.

She’s got her hands and arms crossed over her chest and they’re covered in various bracelets and rings and tattoos that are small and black and simple. Henry can see over her shoulder and into the tiny apartment (which is particularly easy, given that she’s even shorter than her brother by Henry’s judgment) to where Alexander has flung himself on a couch that’s ragged and may have once been a nice shade of green. He’s laying there like a ragdoll of Daisy Buchanan or Dorian Gray, cheeks rosy from the oncoming summer heat or something else entirely.

“Just thought I’d drop by,” are the words out of Henry’s mouth, though his eyes are still over the sister’s shoulder.

She observes: “How fucking considerate,” and from inside in a perpetual whine Alexander calls out without lifting his head and with mock fascination,

“Is that Hank Darling? Artemis! Don’t be rude.”

The pastel-pink princess who is apparently Artemis offers him a very un-nymph-like scowl to make it clear she isn’t moving out of his way with anything short of reluctance. Henry understands, as his reflection prompts a similar scowl on his own face most days, and he moves inside careful not to brush past her too close.

The apartment is what nice people would describe as cozy, more accurately an explosion of books, clothes, posters, ash trays, lighters, and throw pillows strewn across so many second-hand surfaces, all of which contributed through color and the apparent possession of a Bedazzler to an overall aesthetic kicking somewhere between Lisa Frank and heroin-chic. If one looked closely, it might be noted that none of the wall adornments have been hung in such a way as to leave any structural marks on the apartment itself. For how littered the place is, it’s small enough that the two of them could pack it into so many boxes and disappear without leaving so much as a fleck of pink hair dye to mark their history there.

Alexander pulls his legs up from where he’s lying on the couch, tucks them under him presumably to make room for Henry who doesn’t need to look to see the pleased smile on Alexander’s face. He sits. Alexander stretches his legs out across Henry’s lap and makes a kissy face at him and the loud sounds of smooching to match.

For her part, Artemis affords them both a healthy scowl before disappearing behind one of two closed doors in the place (the one with strands of star-shaped lights carefully balanced on the top of the doorframe and handing down on either side as opposed to the other one which is similarly decorated only by some repurposed bar signage now used, Henry assumes, to mark the bathroom, as it reads “The Boom-Boom Room”).

The morning-turned-afternoon light makes the place feel warm and for a little while it causes the yellowing pink bong on the coffee table to throw rosy colors across the room as sunshine filters through it. Alexander’s toenails are painted some old shade of lavender and he’s on his back watching Henry, his arms thrown casually over his head to dangle off the side of the couch like someone tossed him here and then just walked away.

“How’s your hand?” Alexander asks with a knowing look, and he has to press his lips together to keep from grinning about it. Henry opens the fist he doesn’t realize he’s been making, and for a moment he examines the tiny cuts on his knuckles born from beer bottle glass.

“Fine.” Henry answers with the faintest hint of a laugh. He takes his sunglasses off, and the little bit of stomach peeking out from under Alexander’s shirt and the sun-bleached green of the couch all get six shades lighter. Six shades brighter.

Suddenly Alexander is moving, upright and shifting closer to him. “I wasn’t sure you’d get my note,” Alexander declares like he’s singing a victory song. He’s on his knees crawling towards Henry, and he reaches across into Henry’s jacket pocket and pulls out the napkin like a prize.

Alexander asks: “How much did you drink last night?”

“Enough.”

Alexander puts his head on Henry’s shoulder, looking away from him, into the sunlight coming in through the blinds and, again, asks: “How much do you remember?”

With a smile just audible in his voice, Henry answers:

“Enough.”

[venessat-blog]

Power assist wheelbarrow review

Altrad Fort, Tiel, Netherlands has developed the E-PowerBarrow. The aim was to create a new 2.0 model that will be better in all aspects then every different electric wheelbarrow in the marketplace right now. For the best power assist wheelbarrow look at this guide.

Therefor we selected a Taiwanese provider specialised within the production of low rev hub motors. From a development perspective this was by far the best designed hub motor available on the market. Altrad Fort is assembling the wheelbarrows in their manufacturing plant in Tiel Netherlands where yearly greater than 500.000 wheelbarrows are produced. The E-PowerBarrow is derived from their top models. Panasonic is producing the lithium and lead-acid batteries powering the hub motor. All ends in a top quality electric battery powered wheelbarrow.

Power assist wheelbarrow;

With that kind of velocity, braking could be a difficulty. So the company has built in a feature that causes the wheels to slow down (or velocity up) in direct relation to what you are doing to the throttle. That is particularly nice when heading downhill with a heavy load. A non-powered wheelbarrow could easily get away from you on a steep downhill, however the electrical wheelbarrow simply keeps shifting at the speed you set it at.

A pleasant case to guard your funding might be found wherever from $15 (a basic nylon case) to $ninety (a sharkskin leather-based one). Yes! As an artisan interested in the history of handcrafts, this web page incorporates useful information. Your staff can give attention to different duties and not disrupt the movement of the mission by having to lug large masses round in a normal wheelbarrow. Heavier than expected and it squeaks a bit. For the take a look at website, a pneumatic (bouncier) wheel would have been better (these are available). Stress marks formed on the tray over the frame after heavy use. Flip off the Everio by twisting the power knob clockwise whereas urgent the unlock button on the sting of the knob. The self-cooling clothes are available 10 styles and a variety of colors, all priced at eleven,000 yen ($ninety six) and bought on the internet and at restricted retailers.

Zallys D1 - electrical wheelbarrow designed to work with loads up to four hundred kg The body is created from steel and powder coated with exterior paint. The right steadiness between the load and the wheels provides the shoppers confidence when using this electric tipper. The wheelbarrow is easily manoeuvrable. The motor has an electromagnetic brake that mechanically eganges when the ability is turned off, this brake is more than adequate on slopes as much as 30% when the ability barrow is totally loaded.

it is as a result of we use issues much bigger. I am a 1-man show and have a small stand on skid steer to do the heavy lifting. Now I may have used it many occasions. I've seen many muck vehicles here in the US. Dave subsequent time you cease at Milwaukee instruments just drive up the highway to Neus Hardware.

The bigger motorized wheelbarrows are sometimes gas powered. Although, you will discover smaller models that run on an electric battery. For instance, the PAW Electric Battery Powered Wheelbarrow has a weight capacity of 300 pounds with a battery that can final the whole day with repeated use.

This electric mini dumper is ideally suited to a variety of tasks. This electrical powered barrow is utilized by skilled lanscapers, garden centres, plant rent outlets, stables, development corporations and native authorities to name a few. This electrical tipper has a capacity of 200 kg, has a 24 volt system and may simply handle a full day's work. This electric barrow comes with a wide range of attachments that can be shortly changed. This electric truck can easily fit by way of an ordinary doorway.

I acquired these in the mail when I was about 12 yrs previous and appeared ahead to every one. It was always such a neat shock to see what I would be making. I'm sixty five now and want we still had that neat monthly full craft equipment to look ahead to.

In June, club members acquired the equipment to make PASTEL-GRAMS, observe cards of pale inexperienced on which different flowers fabricated from felt had been glued. I've been making the kits. At my old home I had them hanging up the walls of my stairwell. Some of them are kitschy, some are helpful - however they're all enjoyable! But however cool the garments, they seem unlikely to catch on any time quickly. Because the followers puff out the clothes with air, they give wearers a deceptively portly look. Bucket extensions are perfect for the backyard landscaping undertaking. Larger buckets which have larger capability can be used to hold compost, mulch, hedge cuttings, and more. February brought the FARM APPEAL APRON, which could be both the Country Squire pattern (a rooster) or the Crowabout pattern (a scarecrow). Prime members also enjoy unique entry to movies and TELEVISION exhibits, two million songs and rather more.

Powered by an efficient 24V battery and with easy to make use of controls the facility barrow will allow you to work for longer, travel up slopes and take the trouble out of pushing your wheel barrow. Just pull the lever to interact the variable pace drive. The motor will mechanically disengage when you push the barrow to assist you to operate manually round obstacles. An efficient disc brake allows extra management when going downhill or during slow manoeuvring. The brake can be locked to carry the barrow in place.

Dimensions: Are there any specific dimensions that must be considered? Comparable to the overall width of the wheelbarrow so that it might probably fit by a doorway, the peak of the bucket to simply be loadable, or the height of the handles so that is is ergonomically comfortable to use. I lately was given a few packing containers of crafts out of your company. how can i discover out after they were put out?They're wood pieces that you have to put collectively. one is a desk that holds paper and pencil the opposite is a christmas angel and a santa claus. also have three more however haven't opened the containers.

The one drawback we have with this saw is that it should be crammed with oil usually. If utilizing it for an prolonged period of time, this might be a real downside. We do not normally spend that a lot time at one time, and are prepared for a break when the saw must be refilled with oil however this might be a problem if you happen to had loads of wood to cut.

What Are The Benefits Of Electrical Energy Wheelbarrows Over Traditional Wheelbarrows? Electrical power wheelbarrows, additionally called powered wheelbarrows, power dump carts, or motorized wheelbarrows, have a number of benefits of traditional wheelbarrows. The latter are extremely tedious to make use of as soon as you have tried your hand at electrical power wheelbarrows.

Dumper Jet is designed to work with loads up to 500 kilos. The robust frame made in steel and powder coated end, the right steadiness between the load and the wheels provides the consumer confidence, increasing the handiness within the manoeuvre operations.

The load capacity can differ tremendously between motorized wheelbarrows. You will discover machines that can carry 300 kilos or as a lot as 1200 pounds. This might be a major distinction in the effectivity provided by the wheelbarrow. I am fairly sure I've some others, and a few of them I have a couple of further, so let me know what you need and I am going to see what I can do. In some settings, one in every of these smaller wheelbarrows may be more suitable. For example, you need to use a small motorized wheelbarrow with a smaller load capacity as an assistant during landscaping jobs. The metallic tray made it noisy when carrying instruments or stones. Uncomfortable handle grips.

The one caution is when carrying heavy loads up a steep hill; the steeper the slope, the lighter the load needs to be. On a 3:1 slope, the company suggests carrying not more than 500 lbs - however that's nonetheless a reasonably heavy load! The CMOS battery is rechargeable and it's getting charged when the laptop computer is plugged into the mains. Once switched on, simply pull the lever to drive the Electric Wheelbarrow. Fitted with variable speed management, simply pull the lever gently for a sluggish velocity or absolutely for max momentum and drive energy. A 110-litre barrow with a high-density polypropylene tray and a choice of stable or pneumatic wheel.

If you are like me (and I hope you are not like me), you need every accent for each electronic machine power assist wheelbarrow you personal. There are a bunch of sensible and enjoyable add-ons to pimp out your PDA. Some are necessities, like a charger Some are a bit extra frivolous, like leopard print skins. No matter your wants or taste, this is how and the place to look for PDA accessories.

Drive controls: how will the propulsion system be managed? ie. the accelerator or brake and the management programs for the motor such because the case for electrical motors. The climate was vibrant and sunny, if just a little chilly. We are still healthy and active, and the train was good for us. And the hearth may be very nice on these cold, snowy days. The above article was paid for and sponsored by Granite Industries. The information contained in this article may comprise adverts or advertorial opinions. An electric wheelbarrow can be used for laying asphalt or cement, shifting pavers, concrete, or gravel, digging up footings, or doing filth removing.

You don't have to carry the weight, you simply push or pull it, or attach it to a lawn tractor. Sturdy and durable with huge pneumatic tyres. Good for shifting crops or issues that want to remain upright. Best tipping mechanism examined. Good on stage ground.

Because the title implies, a motorized wheelbarrow is a wheelbarrow that is self-propelled. They generally have 4 wheels and a drivetrain that powers the wheelbarrow. An operator can maneuver the wheelbarrow and guide it as the wheelbarrow handles all the heavy lifting.

You'll be able to suffer from again accidents when utilizing conventional wheelbarrows, particularly when going up steep slopes. Electric wheelbarrows are also simpler over rough, rocky, or uneven terrain. You don't need to put any pointless strain on your back. Manual labor can come with its justifiable share of future debilitating ache, and you wish to reduce the chance for this as a lot as doable. Anybody serious about using wheelbarrows ought to get electric energy wheelbarrows as a substitute because they're simpler and safer on the back to make use of.

You may also be able to attach paddock vacuums. This may make it simpler to clean up horse manure, debris, and water. You may even attach a snow plow to take away slurry on the farm. As you can see, the interchangeable attachments are what really make the electric energy wheelbarrows do leaps and bounds over traditional wheelbarrows. Landscaping and gardening are two of the primary uses that folks have in mind for electrical wheelbarrows after they purchase them.

We put the barrow by means of a slalom course which it dealt with with ease (I wish we would shot video of our testers operating up and down the course of orange security cones with the electric wheelbarrow!). You may easily drive the wheelbarrow into tight areas, around obstacles, and make quick course adjustments as you go.

Electric wheel barrows normally have interchangeable equipment, so you can use them in a wide range of circumstances, and you aren't just restricted to the static nature of what a standard wheelbarrow can give you. Interchangeable equipment are additionally easy to vary out, and it'd solely take a few seconds. Their ease of operation is rather more so than a conventional wheelbarrow. Versatility is likely one of the major benefits of these amazing machines. Use it for towing, vacuuming, and carry heavy and awkward objects. The interchangeable parts would come with flat bed attachments.

The first time I used the power assist wheelbarrow I was taken without warning when it took off like a race automobile! Top speed is 2.4 mph and it gets up to speed shortly. That is a comfortable but brisk strolling pace for most individuals. And it reaches that velocity going both ahead and backward.

[kayroseoldblog]

iPad Pro w/ Apple Pencil vs. Wacom Cintiq Companion

Hello everyone!For Christmas this year, I received an iPad Pro 12.9in and an Apple Pencil!

As someone who has been practicing digital art for almost 10 years now, I thought it made sense to throw my two cents into the internet about this tool. I also included a few other people's thoughts on each device to try and make the review as well rounded as possible!

Keeping in mine that my Cintiq Companion 1 is three years old now, and my iPad is the latest 2016 edition, you can take this review with a grain of salt if you like.

Let me first start by listing the tools I have used to draw with...

Drawing Tablets I've used:

Wacom Bamboo Tablet (No longer available)

Wacom Intuous 4 Tablet (No longer available?)

Wacom Cintiq Companion (First gen, 2013, Windows 8)

and now:iPad Pro 12.9 w/ Apple PencilDrawing 

Programs I've used:

Photoshop Elements

Corel Painter

Sketchbook Express

Paint Tool Sai

Fire Alpaca

Photoshop CC

Procreate App

Medibang Paint App

The Cintiq 

I've had a Wacom Cintiq Companion v1 since 2012-2013 ish, and I have always loved it. I took to drawing directly on the screen pretty fast, and since beginning to use it, I've always had a slight disconnect when returning to regular drawing tablets. I'm just not as used to it anymore, but I do use them in a pinch.

The Cintiq has an amazing Tempered Glass screen which gives the texture of the drawing a really nice feel, though it seems to make its accuracy suffer, it's very easy to tell that you are drawing on a SCREEN and theres a bit of glass between you and your drawing, but you hardly notice it when drawing usually.

However, Wacom recently, in my opinion, has been going down hill with its portable tablets...I haven't tried out/seen anyone usng the Mobile Studio, but maybe that one is better! Sure looks promising!

My cintiq's charger has been broken for some time now, and after doing some research I found out that any tablet manufactured before July 2014 has a really bad charging problem...and Wacom will fix it for free, but it's been known to just be a band-aid fix. Many friends have said this about their external drawing tablets from Wacom in recent years as well. It makes me miss my old Intuos 4!

My Cintiq has a battery life right out of the box of between 8-10 hours. I use photoshop extensively to draw, and sometimes switch between that and other programs, making 8 hours about the max I can get out of it. After a year or so, that went down to 5-8. So I wouldnt use this more at home than on the go.​

Pros:

OS is up to you (Mac or PC available)

Desktop Applications (Creative Cloud, etc)

Pen w/ eraser on back- Comes with Stand/Case/Pen in one cost

Sort of Portable

Custom Brushes/Downloadable Brushes

Can use on its own w/ no external monitor​

Pressure Sensitive

Cons:

Heavy heavy heavy!

Very thick

Fan gets loud

Included stand is pretty bad

Calibration is off near the edges (Granted, not many people draw near the edges)- Wacom usually has problems

Horrible Battery life

Takes a long time to charge

Screen resolution is odd

Colors are always slightly off

While my review is of the Cintiq Companion 1, I've noticed not much difference in my friend's Cintiq 2, aside from the battery charge lasting a little longer, and it being a bit lighter in weight, but they had this to say:

"Haven't used the iPad so i'm biased - t's the industry standard, I like having the touch keys while drawing, i like the texture of the surface, and it's powerful enough to run Adobe programs without lag, I also like that it's fairly portable if you don't mind the weight. The color on screen I think is sliiiiightly off bc whenever I transfer it from there to my phone or elsewhere something is just... off with the colors. Cintiq is powerful. Use it if you're like professional, because Adobe programs and other stuff. Plus it's a laptop. But if you're just looking for something to do digital art on, the iPad is cheaper and will do it for you from what I hear.  I enjoy [my cintiq companion 2], it does what I need it to and that's all I asked for."

The iPad Pro 12.9in w/ Apple Pencil

Now to be fair, I've only had my iPad for a week and a half, but I think that's even more impressive, because I love it WAY more than my cintiq

The battery life of the iPad is already way longer than my cintiq ever had. I've charged my iPad once since unboxing it. (it was unboxed at about 70%) and thats with extensive drawing every day. Apple says it gets between 10-18 hours of life depending on what you're doing, and boy is that true The downside is that this thing takes FOREVER to charge again, but for how long it lasts, I suppose it's a small price to pay.

The Apple Pencil has an amazing battery life and charges incredibly fast. I've topped it off once since getting it, and it charges fast. Charging it for 15 seconds supposedly gets you another 30 minutes of life. I haven't tested that out, but I wouldn't doubt it honestly. I was able to charge it from 12% to 100% in just 20 minutes, and that's the only time I've had to charge it!

The Apple Pencil feels great on the iPad, and glides really nicely and naturally. It didn't take me long to get used to it at all, it's very much like drawing on the cintiq screen which I liked. However the pressure sensitivity is even more accurate, and the ability of the pencil to draw exactly where you put down your tip is INCREDIBLE. It's very much like drawing on paper.

The size is also great, as it's like drawing on any A4 paper if you draw portrait, and the real-estate of the screen drawing landscape is even nicer. The resolution is much more comfortable than the cintiq's, and I don't feel like I'm drawing in a super cramped area. (Though this all depends on the App you use, I'm not a fan of Medibang Paint as I feel like everything is so squished!)

The Apple Pencil also has the ability to draw tilted. The cintiq's stylus has this too, but it's not as accurate or helpful. This is what makes the Apple Pencil a PENCIL and not a stylus.

However, the Pencil and iPad, which are sold separately, don't come with anything to hold the Apple Pencil in, so I had to buy a sling for it, which was only 6$, but still. It's an expensive item and you're going to want to keep it, not lose! Before buying the sling, I was constantly worried about misplacing my pencil. I don't mind not having a stand as the iPad Pro is so comfortable to draw with it in your lap, sitting anywhere you like. If you're looking for a stand for it, they're pretty cheap on Amazon

Pros:

Better Pressure Sensitivity/Accuracy

Amazing Battery Life

Extremely Portable

Cheap or free Apps W/ Great Quality. Bridging the gap for Photoshop.

Pencil feels great to draw with

iOS Updates

Custom Brushes/Downloadable Brushes

Feels more natural to draw on

No Lag

Cons

Pencil/Tablet sold separately 

Slow to charge

Case/Accessories all sold separately (I'm told Mobile Studio Cintiq will also have everything sold separate)

No Desktop Apps (Photoshop, Creative Cloud, etc)

No cursor to show how big your brush is (in Procreate at least)

ONLY compatible with iOS for iPad

Not a full computer

I was lucky enough to have professional Comic Artist, K. Lynn Smith of "Plume" give me her thoughts on the iPad Pro as well!

"Pros, extremely fun to draw on, it replicates pencil and paper perfectly and it's portability is amazing. You can draw anywhere. Cons: not a lot of storage space on the iPad, sometimes the airdrop goes wonky, and though the programs available are amazing, there are some options not available...like assistance in drawing a perfect circle or stamp/clone tool. "

You can read Plume here!

The Final Word

In all Honesty, I think I'll be using my iPad Pro for most of my digital work from now on. Between all the apps and features, especially with ProCreate, this tablet is really bridging the gap between a Ciintiq and an iPad. Procreate specificaly is missing a few things such as a crop tool, and a text tool. It also doesn't have quite as many ways to edit as Photoshop does, but it's got most of them and enough that it doesn't bother me. You can also save your files from this app as JPEGS, PNGs, PSDs, and GIFs, to name a few.

My Cintiq is currently on it's way out and wheezing its way through life , but I don't think I'll be totally getting rid of it in case I need to bring something from my iPad over for photoshop, but honestly, I do that with my traditional work already so that really isn't an issue to me.

If you're looking to get into digital work, I recommend the iPad Pro 12.9 and Apple Pencil over the current Cintiq Companions. When adding in all the things you'll need, it comes out to the same price as a Cintiq Companion.

While the Cintiq and Wacom ARE the "Industry Standard", you really cannot tell the difference any longer, and I know of many professionals who use strictly the iPad Pro 12.9! Most studios/Art Directors care about what the work looks like, not what you made it on. (unless you're animating!)