#And before you say anything it is Perfectly Normal Business to hold your henchmen in your tendrils to help them calm down after a bad dream

[somegrumpynerd]

Killer's nightmare

He has many, but the one he has most often is of coming out of stage 3 and finding he's killed his new family too alone again. Or maybe worse, that he'll never quite be without someone from his past.

Luckily, it is just a nightmare, and he has a different Nightmare he can see to help him calm down.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

                                          Chapter Twenty-Seven:

                       The One With The Interminably Long Journey

Klaus felt like he was running for an interminably long time. He was unsure exactly where he was headed. He was running without any direction. He looked around for Violet or Sunny. “Violet?” he called out as he ran. “Sunny?”

He found himself at the front lawn of Prufrock Preparatory School. He glanced up at the banner that displayed the school’s morbid motto. “Memento Mori,” He read aloud shuddering. He looked to the ground. “I remember!” he yelled angrily at the morning sky. “There’s no need to continuously remind me!”

No one responded. The morning breeze around him made him shiver as he glanced around the empty lawn. He could see two figures running in the distance. He strained his eyes to see that it was the Quagmires. “Isadora!” He called out but she continued running. “Duncan!” Neither triplet stopped, they continued to run.

Klaus watched as a dark figure was following them. The figure wasn’t running but he was walking aggressively. Klaus’ eyes widened when he realized that it was Coach Genghis. “No. Leave them alone!” he cried out. He looked around. “Violet! We have to save them...we have to save…” he stopped, his eyes widening more. “Sunny! I can save Sunny!” he said aloud to himself.

He rushed to Coach Genghis in hopes of tackling him to the ground. But he ran right through him. As if he were a ghost. “No! No!” Klaus cried. He tried to grip Genghis’ arm as the man walked towards the library where the Quagmires were hiding. “No! Take me! Not them!” He kept trying to grip the man’s wrist but with no luck. He looked towards the library defeated. Maybe I can warn Violet and Sunny. He thought. He frowned as he ran passed the library to the auditorium.

He watched as Genghis followed him. “Fuck...fuck...fuck,” he thought. He continued to run, he glanced back. He could see that Genghis was holding Violet’s black hair ribbon and the fake pair of glasses. “No...no...I can save them,” he cried as he ran. He reached the auditorium. “ Violet!” he cried once he reached his destination. He looked in awe as he stared back at himself. “No...no…” he cried.

He rushed up to Violet trying to grab her shoulders to shake her. But she couldn’t see him. It was like she could see right through him. He glanced down at his baby sister. She still had the shine in her eyes. Her innocence. He glared as Genghis arrived. He watched the scene play out as it had before.

“The Quagmires are simply whisking eggs,” Genghis told the siblings smirking.

“You fucking bastard no they’re not!” He cried trying to punch Genghis in the face, but his hand went right through as if he were a ghost. “NO! This isn’t fair! I’m getting a second chance...why can’t I intervene?” he asked out loud.

No one responded to him. “That’s all they’re doing?” he watched himself ask the disguised coach suspiciously. “Whisking eggs?”

“No! They’re not! Please...stop the tests! You could save them!” he cried trying to grip onto his own shoulders but with the same luck.

“Yep,” Genghis replied a mischievous smile on his face. Klaus now knew why he was smiling like that. Oh, how naive Klaus was that morning. “They’ll be whisking and whisking until they’re whisked away. ”

“You fucker!” Klaus yelled trying to punch the coach again. He watched in horror as his fist went right through the man.

Klaus started crying. He didn’t understand if the universe was letting him redo this morning why wasn’t he allowed to intervene and change what happened. He tried to think of a plan to save the Quagmires and Sunny while he watched Violet, Sunny, and himself ace their examinations. But he didn’t care about that part, he only cared about the next part.

He watched as Genghis challenged Sunny to an arm-wrestling contest and how the two older siblings got him to agree to one against both of them. He watched Sunny start to crawl under the table towards Olaf. “Sunny! No!” he yelled trying to grab his younger sister. But his hands went through her. “No! No! Stay away from him! We’ll find another way to expose him!”

But it was too late, Sunny untied the villain’s shoe causing him to be exposed. He watched in horror as Olaf began running. “Violet!” he cried looking towards his elder sister. He then watched as he picked up Sunny and carried her as he ran. His eyes widened. “This is my fault…” he said aloud as he tried his hardest to stop himself. “No! Put her down! Leave her in the auditorium! You’re making a big mistake!” he yelled but no one heard him. He followed along. Calling and pleading for himself to put Sunny down, to keep her away from Olaf.

He sighed in relief when Sunny was set down. He ran to help himself save the Quagmires. “Yes, we can do this!” he called out. “Duncan! Isadora!” he called out, reaching his hand passed the white face women. Tears sprang in his eyes as he tried to grip onto Duncan’s hand. “Duncan... please...please…”

He heaved over when he watched Olaf kick him in the stomach. He looked around in confusion. “What the?” he said aloud before falling to the ground as if someone was grabbing his ankles. “ No! No! This isn’t fair!” he called out. Looking around for Violet. “ Violet!” he called out once before realizing that he may be able to change the outcome. He could feel two soft, kind hands gripping his wrists. He watched the scene unfold. He twist and turned his head frantically looking for his baby sister. He could clearly see Sunny. She had that determined expression plastered on her face, one similar to Violet’s.

“ Sunny! No!” He yelled as loud as he could. But to his horror, no one could hear him. He scrambled to his feet realizing that he could only feel someone grab him and no one was truly grabbing him.

“ Sunny! Please!” Klaus cried as he tried to grab his sister and stop her from rescuing him. “ Sunny, let him take me! Let him take me!”

He turned to Violet, who was still paying attention to him. “ Violet! Let him take me! Save Sunny!” he yelled as he stood in front of Violet. But she couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him. She was too busy saving her Klaus, the Klaus that wasn’t a ghost or phantom, whatever he was.

He watched in pure horror as Sunny bit down on Olaf’s hand as hard as she could after yelling “Leave our brother alone,”

“Sunny, no...no...please...let him...he can take me,” Klaus pleaded as he and Violet were thrown to the ground when Olaf’s grip was lost from Klaus’ ankles.

He ran in between Sunny and Olaf. Looking into the villain’s angry, shiny eyes. “ Take me you fucking bastard! Whatever you will do to her, you can do to me!” he yelled but to no avail. Olaf scooped up Sunny.

He could hear Sunny’s desperate pleads for help. She was calling to only him. Not Violet. His heart was heavy in his chest. He ran and ran but he wasn’t able to catch up. He fell to his knees. “ No...no...please...I’ll give anything to trade places with her.”

“Sunny!”  he called out desperately. “ Sunny!”

He looked around, looking for something to help him. He glanced at the front of Olaf’s car. Worth a try. He thought to himself. Anything was worth a try to save Sunny...and the Quagmires.

Before Olaf’s henchman could drive away with his baby sister and the two Quagmires, who were struggling as hard as they could. He ran ahead of the man’s car. He’ll have to stop. He thought to himself as he stood perfectly still in the middle of the road. The villain’s car began to speed towards him. He had half a mind to jump out of the way. What’s it going to do? I’m already like a ghost. He thought.

“ Give them back!” he yelled as Olaf’s henchmen sped down the driveway of the school. The car went right through Klaus, much to his horror. He expected such but he had hoped for. He looked around to see himself and Violet still running. He frowned, tears forming in his eyes once more. “It’s no use…” he muttered as he fell to his knees listening to the pleading voices of his baby sister and friends calling for him, their voices being nearly drowned out by the maniacal laughter of Count Olaf. “ Take me...turn around...take me...please…”  he pleaded. “ She never should’ve left the auditorium...this is my fault...let me trade with her…”

He sat in the middle of the road, pleading and crying. His face in his hands. “ Take me...take me...take me…I’ll take her place…” he pleaded.

“Klaus!” Violet called out. He turned around but the Violet that he could see, wasn’t even paying him any attention. “Klaus…”

Klaus blinked his eyes rapidly looking all around him. He was in the backseat of a car. His head was laying comfortably on Violet’s shoulder. He glanced up at her confused, but the face she wore told him everything he needed to know. She glanced down at him with a face of concern and worry. He could feel his heart in his chest beating rapidly. He could feel tears falling down his face. He could even feel his body trembling. “Where are we?” he asked cautiously.

“In Mr. Poe’s car...still,” Violet whispered. “But that doesn’t matter. You had another bad dream,” she explained.

“I’m fine,” he lied not looking at her.

“Really?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

He still refused to look at her. “I’m fine,” he lied again.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it...that’s what I’m here for,”

Klaus glanced towards the front seat at the coughing banker and then back at Violet. Shaking his head. Violet frowned and she sighed. “I’m fine,” he lied again.

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?” Violet asked. “Cause it doesn’t matter how many times you say that...I don’t believe you,”

“Why not?” Klaus said wiping his eyes dry before looking up at her.

“Well for starters...you talk in your sleep,” Violet explained. “And the sentences ‘I’m sorry’, ‘this is my fault’, and ‘take me instead’ are not normal things to say,”

He frowned. “I sleep like that all the time,”

“You might be telling the truth there,” Violet said sighing. “But...that doesn’t mean you’re fine,”

“Can you just drop it?”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Violet, drop it.”

Violet frowned. “Look...Sunny risked her life for you...that doesn’t mean it’s your fault…”

Klaus looked at her incredulously. “Are you blaming Sunny for this?” he asked angrily.

“No...no...I’m blaming the same person you should be blaming,”

“Me?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Olaf,” she replied. “This is his fault and we’re going to get them back,”

“How?” Klaus asked as he glanced out the window. “I must’ve been asleep for a while,”

“You were,” Violet sighed. “A heavy sleep. I was calling your name for a good twenty minutes before you actually woke up,”

“We’re so far from the city...what if he doesn’t find us…?” Klaus asked worriedly.

“Oh, he’ll find us,” Violet said. “He wants me…” She choked on the sentence as she uttered it. Klaus could feel her shudder.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I swear to God...if you apologize again for shit that isn’t your fault. I’ll beat you senseless,” she joked.

“You won’t be the first,” he muttered.

Her face fell when she heard him. She opened her mouth to inquire further but Mr. Poe’s coughing echoed through the car.

“This car trip has been interminably long,” Mr. Poe commented. “Who knew the Hinterlands were so far away?”

Klaus looked at Mr. Poe incredulously. “That’s why they’re called the Hinterlands.”

“Shut up, Klaus. Nobody likes a backseat driver.” Mr. Poe replied sternly.

“No one likes you, ” Klaus muttered.

Violet couldn’t help but laugh at her brother’s response to the incompetent, piece of shit banker.

“Tell me when that turn is coming up,” Mr. Poe instructed.

“I think that sign is telling us to turn…” Violet said pointing to an upcoming sign.

“What did I just say about backseat drivers, Sunny?” Mr. Poe asked after a fit of coughing.

“ Violet!” Klaus yelled. “ Her fucking name is Violet! This is my sister, Violet. Sunny is the toddler that you allowed a murderous lunatic to kidnap!”

Mr. Poe coughed in response. “Klaus...you only have one sister,” he explained to Klaus in the most belittling, patronizing tone.

“Actually, I have two sisters,” Klaus explained returning the same tone to Mr. Poe. “You’d know that if you listened to me or my sisters. But you don’t, you never do.”

He coughed in response before turning towards the calmer of the two orphans in his car. “Now, what’s going to happen to you in the village of VFD. Instead of having one or two guardians, who could be murdered or kidnapped by a scheming villain,” he began.

“Esme Squalor wasn’t kidnapped by Olaf,” Violet pointed out irritably. “She pushed me and Klaus down an elevator shaft and orchestrated the auction with him to have an easier time hiding the Quagmires and Sunny.”

“You’ll have hundreds of people caring for you,” Mr. Poe continued as if Violet hadn’t spoke. Violet rolled her eyes in response. “What could go wrong?”

Klaus’ eyes glared intensely at Mr. Poe. “ What could go wrong?!” he yelled. “Everything’s already gone wrong! We’ve lost our baby sister and friends twice! ”

“Yes, well…” Mr. Poe said grabbing a small brochure from the passenger seat. “Would you look at this brochure...it has pictures,” he said handing it over his shoulder to Violet.

Violet rolled her eyes and handed it to Klaus, who ripped it up angrily. “An entire village will be in charge of us?” she asked nervously. “That’s a lot of people.”

“I imagine they’ll draw lots like in that Shirley Jackson story,” Mr. Poe said. “Normally, I prefer a more traditional family structure, but for some unknown reason, neither the individual guardian or the academic institution is working for the Baudelaires and you.”

“The reason is not unknown!” Klaus yelled.

“You’re right. It might be that temper of yours, young man.”

“No,” Violet said calmly grabbing Klaus’ wrists before he could lunge forward and murder the banker. “It’s Olaf. He follows us everywhere. He kidnapped Sunny and the Quagmires, remember?”

“Those poor twins,”

“ Triplets,” Violet hissed angrily.

“Twins,” Mr. Poe incorrectly stated. “Their brother’s death changes their birth identity.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Klaus replied in a sarcastic tone.

“It hardly matters,” Mr. Poe replied in between another one of his coughing fits. Klaus wished nothing more for the man to cough so hard that he’d just die. He felt no remorse for thinking this either. He glared at the banker with vicious, hate-filled eyes. Violet glanced from Klaus to Mr. Poe noticing the way that Klaus was glaring at the man, she frowned.  “Thanks to the constant coverage in my wife’s newspaper,”

“Her shit coverage,” Klaus muttered.

“In her bullshit newspaper,” Violet muttered.

“I’m sure Count Omar will be captured in no time at all,”

“ Olaf,” Violet corrected as Klaus rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I meant to say Omar. Besides, I doubt he’d be able to find you way out in the Hinterlands. It would take an interminably long time,”

For once, this was not something Klaus wanted to hear. “I hope not,” he muttered. “I want him to find us…”

With that, the three occupants in Mr. Poe’s car went back to keeping to themselves. Even though he hated when Mr. Poe spoke or coughed, Klaus was grateful that Poe had interjected himself into his and Violet’s conversation when he did. Klaus didn’t want to talk about his nightmares with Violet because one thing could lead to another and she could pry her way into the darker secrets that he keeps. Secrets he wished he could unlive or entirely forget about. But to Klaus, it feels like Olaf made sure that no matter what happened, he would always remember. Always. There would be a permanent scar not only on Klaus physically but mentally, too. And it was too much to unpackage. He wanted to bury it, not put it on display. He knew Violet would want to murder Olaf if he told her but...he didn’t want her to worry about him. So no matter how boring the car ride got, he made sure not to fall asleep. He couldn’t trust his dreams and if Violet was going to stay awake, he was, too. He wished Poe was the kind of person to bring along books wherever they went. His parents used to do that for him when they knew they’d be out and about for long periods of time or when they were going on long car trips with their son. They’d always pack books to either read to him or ones he could read by himself.

Violet crossed her arms across her chest as she sat back silently. Every so often sneaking a glance towards Klaus. The ride was getting so boring for her that she could feel her eyelids get heavy and her head droop back slowly but to her, it didn’t feel right to sleep. Not when Klaus could fall asleep and have another nightmare that he needed her help to escape from. So she untied her long hair and played with the ribbon in her fingers. Twirling it around her fingers. As she did that, she thought of Isadora. She hoped Olaf hadn’t harmed Isadora in unspeakable ways. The crazy side of her was willing to trade places with Isadora immediately, if it meant that she, Duncan, Klaus, and Sunny could be fine. Would he go for that? She asked herself as she wrapped her ribbon around the palm of her hand. She frowned, she knew that these morbid thoughts weren’t helping. You’re worth as much as they are. She told herself but as she glanced down at Klaus, who she could see was desperately trying not to fall asleep. She felt as if she wasn’t worth as much as they were. She snuck a glance inside her locket, looking between the two pictures that now occupied it. What would you do, Mom? She thought as she stared at the picture of Beatrice. You’d trade yourself in for them...wouldn’t you? It’s not a crazy idea...is it? She could feel tears in her eyes. She used the arm that was away from Klaus to quickly wipe them. Stop with the waterworks, Snicket! She told herself. You have to be strong for them...for him. Her eyes focused on Klaus. He’s already seen you break...you have to keep it together. No matter what. She sighed. Was being the eldest always this difficult? She glanced back at her locket. Her mother staring back at her. She wished that her mother were here to tell her what she should do. Would surrendering be worth it...if it meant they’d be fine? She asked herself pondering it. He did say I was worth two prisoners...maybe I can convince him to let all three go and to leave Klaus alone… She knew she couldn’t discuss this plan with Klaus. She didn’t know how he’d react to it exactly, but both outcomes, she didn’t care to deal with. If she told him and he flipped out on her and refused to allow her to go through with this plan, it would make enacting this plan far more difficult than it already was with her fears and anxiety cutting in. But...if she told him and he was fine with it. That would kill her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. She knew that Klaus saw her as a sister, he defended her when it came to Poe and Olaf but when it came down to it, she had to ask herself. Was blood thicker than water? Sunny was his actual sister. No, not actual. Real. She reminded herself. Poe said Sunny was his real sister. Did he see it that way? Would his opinion change if Olaf was willing to hand over Sunny first? Would Klaus sell her out? She snuck another glance at Klaus. She couldn’t tell. She knew she couldn’t ask him. Anyone who is asked that question would lie if the answer was the one that made them seem horrible. She wouldn’t be able to tell if his answer was genuine or not. Deep down inside, she feared he would. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow that. If anyone was sacrificing Violet Snicket...it was going to be Violet Snicket, herself.

As the two approached the town, VFD still looked as hazy as it did from far away. As Mr. Poe drove closer, the two children could see a number of buildings of different heights and widths, separated by streets both narrow and wide, and the Baudelaires could even see the tall skinny shapes of lampposts and flagpoles stretching out toward the sky. But everything they saw, from the tip of the highest building to the curve of the narrowest street, was pitch black and seemed to be shaking slightly. Which confused both children. It was as if the entire town were painted on a piece of cloth that was trembling in the wind. The buildings were trembling, the lamposts were trembling, and even the streets were shaking ever so slightly, and it was like no town that either orphan had ever seen before. It was a mystery, but unlike most mysteries, once the children took a better look around the town of VFD and learned what was causing the trembling effect, they did not feel any better to have the mystery solved.

The town was covered in crows. Nearly every inch of nearly every object had a large black bird roosting on it and casting a suspicious eye on the car that was currently transporting the children. There were crows sitting on the roofs of all the buildings, perching on the windowsills, and even squatting on the steps and sidewalks. Crows were covering all the trees, from the top branches to the roots that were poking out. Some crows looked like they were gathered on the streets for some casual crow conversation. All these crows was making both the children very anxious as it seemed like every crow was staring at them. As Mr. Poe parked his car in front of large fountain that was created to look like a giant crow. The two children glanced out of the window of the banker’s car to see that there were even six crows crowded together on a sign that read ‘Town Hall’. The crows weren’t squawking or cawing, which is what crows often do, but the children could hear that the town was far from silent. The air was filled with the sounds the crows made as they moved around. As Violet and Klaus nervously piled out of Mr. Poe’s car. They glanced around, watching crows fly from one perch to another, watching crows simply flutter their wings. As they looked around, the two half-siblings realized why the town had looked like it was trembling, but it certainly didn’t make them feel any better, and they stood together in silence for a moment, trying to find the courage to walk among all the fluttering black birds.

“What a charming fountain,” Mr. Poe commented as he coughed. Scaring a large amount of the crows that were perched around his car. When the birds quickly flew away, Klaus and Violet ducked their heads, hoping to avoid the crows.

Klaus turned his attention to the only thing that wasn’t intimidating. The fountain. “Don’t fountains typically have water?” he asked confused.

“Typically, but this a dry county,” Mr. Poe explained. “Which means there’s no water.”

“Actually, dipshit,” Klaus corrected. “It means there’s no alcohol,”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Mr. Poe replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Now, you two wait here while I go into town hall and finalize your paperwork. Then I’ll be leaving you. I have a long drive back to the city, and my wife and I have tickets to the theater.”

“We don’t care,” Klaus replied.

“Emily, don’t feed the pigeons,” Mr. Poe said as Violet shifted her backpack on her back.

“My name…” Violet began. “Oh, forget it.”

Mr. Poe walked away as Violet and Klaus glanced nervously around at the large population of birds around them.

“I’ve read three books on crows,” Klaus said after a minute. “They’re perfectly harmless. There’s a word for a large number of crows, but I can’t think of it.”

“Yes, I know they’re harmless,” Violet replied. “It’s just...unusual to see so many crows in one place, but they’re nothing to worry about. It’s small potatoes.”

“Exactly,” Klaus agreed. “It’d be silly to be afraid of a bunch of silly birds,”

But both siblings felt like they were encountering some very large potatoes.

The phrase ‘small potatoes’ refers to the change in one’s feelings for something when it is compared with something else. For example, if I was walking in the rain, for instance, I might be worried about getting wet, but if I turned the corner and saw a group of people with tattooed ankles brandishing spyglasses, getting wet would suddenly become small potatoes next to getting chased down an alleyway and made to rejoin this horrendous organization.

If I had been either Violet or Klaus, I would have never stepped foot into this horrendous town. But unfortunately for them, I am able to see this story through hindsight because I have the sad undertaking of chronicling the lives of Violet Snicket and her two younger half-siblings whose long car trip had led them here, in the barely picturesque village of VFD. And it is with my research of their stories that I can tell you that soon they will both find themselves bewildered and bedeviled in the town’s drafty town hall. Desperate and despondent near the prominent but off-putting landmark known as Fowl Fountain. It was their destiny to arrive here and it was my destiny to research and tell their story...but you could be someplace else and within moments, you’ll most certainly wish you were.

“I hope we’re in the right place,” Klaus muttered to Violet as quietly as he could as to not disturb the anxiety-inducing birds that were perched close to them.

“This town is called VFD,” Violet replied looking around. “It has to be connected.”

“We had the wrong VFD at Veblen Hall, though,” Klaus reminded her. “We could have the wrong VFD.”

“I hope Duncan, Isadora, and Sunny are here,”

“Me, too,” he agreed.

“Maybe...maybe we can ask someone if they’ve seen them..or Olaf?” Violet asked. “Would he have to be in disguise? We’re so far from town.”

“Who would we ask?” he asked as he shrugged his shoulders to Violet’s second question.

“Children,” Mr. Poe called at them, scaring even more birds as he walked quickly back to them. “You have an appointment. The Council of Elders will see you, now.”

“The Council of Elders?” Klaus asked.

“Will see you now,” Mr. Poe reiterated. “They know everything there is to know about VFD.”

Violet and Klaus looked at another, both of their faces lighting up.

“They’re as wise as…” Mr. Poe began as he coughed. “What’s that bird known to be mysterious and wise?”

“If they know everything about VFD,” Violet reiterated.

“They can help,” Klaus said. “And answer our questions.”

Violet and Klaus walked as quickly as they can towards the town hall. Not even bidding the banker a goodbye. The two siblings both hoped that this was the VFD that the Quagmires had mentioned as they were kidnapped. Violet hoped this was the VFD that had ruined her father’s life because if it was. She was going to demand answers to every single one of her questions. Starting with what the fuck Esme Squalor was talking about when she accused Violet’s birth mother of stealing from her.

[27dragons]

Name of Piece:  So Into You Square Filled: A4 - writing format: perspective flip Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: This is not what Bucky wanted. But it might just be what he needs. (Bucky’s POV for the events of square T1, My Better Half.) Created For: @tonystarkbingo

Bucky dragged his gaze away from Tony’s ass. He was the fucking Winter Soldier; he could manage to keep his attention on the mission for five goddamned minutes. Even if Tony Stark did have the most delectable ass known to mankind.

Mission. Right. They’d had a nice little fight with the villain and his henchmen, but that was over now, and they were on to the tedious chore of going through the villain’s hideout to remove all the traps and particularly nasty items before the SHIELD cleanup team came in behind them. Bucky needed to be alert – there was always the possibility of the building being booby-trapped, or that the villain had left behind a key minion or two to avenge him.

Bucky lifted his weapon to cover Steve and Sam as they ducked into the next room. No immediate threats popped up to start shooting at them, so Bucky let his gaze drift again as the rest of the team started reviewing the contents.

God, Tony had a nice ass. Even in the suit! It was too bad that Tony hated his guts, because Bucky had always been an ass man. He’d give about anything to get into that ass, just set up camp and live in there—

The explosion caught him by surprise.

[’ware the readmore!]

“You must have been wishing for something strongly to have caused such a reaction,” Wanda said, and Bucky felt a blush run up his right cheek. Which was all he could feel, because he’d apparently wished himself right into Tony’s body.

“This is bullshit,” Bucky said. This wasn’t what he’d wanted.

“It’s like a ‘Get Along Shirt’ but more,” crowed Clint. Bucky wondered what a Get Along Shirt was, but he knew damn well what his response should be. He flipped Clint off, and felt oddly justified when Tony followed up with a similar gesture only a fraction of a second later.

Shit, he really was stuck in Tony’s body. The right half of it. He couldn’t stop staring at his own body on the floor. It was sort of novel not to feel the constant low-level ache in his shoulder and back from the weight of the metal arm. It was nice, but not so nice that he wanted to stay in this situation.

He lurched suddenly, and felt just a little bit of vibration in his (Tony’s) throat as Tony made frustrated sound. “We’re leaving now, is that okay?” Tony demanded.

“Okay, okay.” Bucky was going to have to pay more attention to Tony now, just to pick up on those little cues. He hesitated for a second, and then took a step.

Holy shit, he could feel Tony’s ass flexing. Oh god.

He took another step, and another, and abruptly realized that he’d been so fixated on Tony’s (their) body that he had no idea what they were doing. “So, uh. Where are we going?”

“Back to the ‘jet. I want to contact Strange, see if he can get us out of this mess.”

“Fair enough.” Bucky took another step, and then became aware of an awful, tight squeeze in his chest. “Wait. Something’s… wrong.” He pressed against his (Tony’s) chest, running down the catalogue in his head of potential problems. “Did we get hit with some kind of gas? Or—“

“Slow your jets,” Tony sighed. “Feels tight, like you can’t get enough air?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He had to forcibly stop himself from trying to take a deeper gulp of air.

“Yeah, that’s just me.”

“No, this is not normal,” Bucky said. It felt like there was a crushing weight on his chest.

“It is if you spent five years with an electromagnet where your sternum used to be,” Tony said. “The reconstruction team did a great job, but I’ve got a permanently reduced lung capacity. That’s just how life is.”

Hydra had once tortured Bucky by strapping him down and putting weights on his chest until he had to struggle for every breath. “You fight like this?”

“Don’t have a lot of choice,” Tony said. “I’ve got some filters in the suit that keep the oxygen content a little on the high side so I don’t strain as much, but yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’re benched until you’re back in your own perfect body.”

Now that he knew it wasn’t the sign of an enemy attack, the pain wasn’t really any worse than what Bucky lived with in his shoulder. Just in a different place. “My body ain’t perfect.” Of course, it wasn’t any better, either, and Tony didn’t have the assurance of the serum to keep him strong. The thought made Bucky stagger a little.

“Just hold still and let the robots do their thing,” Tony said.

Bucky still flinched a little when the removal rig reached up around them. It was too much like Hydra’s brain-burning gear closing in on him. He closed his eye and prayed for it to be over quickly.

He could feel the pieces of armor sloughing away. He could do this.

It wasn’t too bad, as long as he didn’t look. After a moment, he felt the angle of his leg change and knew that Tony had taken a step, which meant it was his turn now.

“Undersuit next,” Tony murmured.

Oh, Jesus, they were going to undress. Bucky hoped the heart, over on Tony’s side of the body, didn’t lurch. It took him a moment to gather himself and start to help unfasten the seals.

It’s just a body, he told himself. Pull yourself together.

They peeled down the top half of the suit, and Bucky made himself focus on the scars on Tony’s chest, and the pain that must have come with them. He didn’t let himself touch Tony’s body any more than he had to.

Then they got the suit down farther, and without warning, there was Tony’s dick. “Shit!” Bucky closed his eye tightly. “You’re not wearin’ any underwear!”

“Why the hell would I wear underwear in a suit this tight?” Tony asked. “It’s practically underwear on its own!”

Which was a point, but Bucky still had to work hard at not watching Tony’s dick.

“I’d think you were in the Army long enough to not be so modest,” Tony snarked at him.

Not to mention that Hydra’s only concern for Bucky’s clothing had been to ensure it was protecting him on a mission. “You didn’t sign up for this. I’m tryin’ to be polite.”

“Look, let’s just get this done,” Tony said, “and I’ll be dressed again.”

That was probably for the best.

Tony was frustrated with the situation. Bucky understood that, because he was pretty frustrated with the situation, himself.

So tempers were running a little high, despite Bucky’s resolve to be calm and polite. But really, what could he do when Tony was so obviously wrong? It felt weird and strange to put pants on left leg first, even weirder than not being able to feel his left leg (Tony’s leg) at all.

And Bucky had never understood some people’s enjoyment of spicy food, though he’d been willing to humor the insanity from a distance, right up until Tony wanted to eat hot peppers with the tongue he was sharing with Bucky. No. Bucky’d had enough involuntary pain in his life to willingly subject himself to more of it.

Though maybe he should have given in on that battle, because arguing about it had just served to remind Bucky that he was sharing a tongue with Tony. Which meant that the inside of the mouth that he was tasting was Tony’s. This was the taste of Tony’s mouth.

This was what Bucky would taste if he kissed Tony very, very thoroughly.

Fuuuuck.

And then, to make matters worse, they had to get ready for bed.

Which meant another change of clothes. Bucky tried not to sneak another peek at Tony’s dick while they were doing that, he really did, but then--

“You’re lucky I even own pyjamas. I’ve been sleeping naked since my teens.” Of course Tony said that while Bucky was balancing them on his one foot. They nearly fell over and smashed their face open.

And then Tony jerked his thumb toward the bathroom.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Bucky didn’t argue about the way Tony squeezed his toothpaste (the wrong way) because he was too busy sweating about what was inevitably going to happen before they left the room. Sure enough, as soon as they’d fumbled through flossing, Tony turned toward the toilet.

“Do we gotta?” Bucky would like to say that he didn’t whine when he said that, but he’d have been lying.

“No way I’m holding it all night. Come on, let’s get it over with.”

Bucky could hope that Tony did this backwards, too -- but no, of course not. Tony used his hand to tug open the pyjama fly and waited not entirely patiently for Bucky to reach in for his -- their -- dick.

It wasn’t quite where Bucky expected it to be, and he wound up groping it a little more than was probably strictly necessary just because of the awkward angle. “You curve the other way.”

He half expected Tony to mutter something about how that wasn’t surprising considering all the other things they were opposites on, but instead he just started mumbling about science and surveys.

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about how that meant if they were face to face, their cocks would line up perfectly. “Can we just pee and save the science for later?” he snapped, his half of their face flaming.

“I like how you’re not trying to talk me out of the science,” Tony said cheerfully.

Bucky rolled his eye. “I grew up with Steve Rogers. I know when it’s futile to try to talk someone out of something.” And this wasn’t so bad. This was good, this was banter and camaraderie. Bucky could do this.

If he could just stop thinking about Tony’s dick.

Bucky couldn’t feel his left hand, but that wasn’t entirely unusual; sometimes it took a while to come online. In the meantime, his cock was demanding his attention, and oh, that was nice. Bucky’s dick had been a little off-and-on since Hydra, either a raging inferno of need or no interest at all, with very little in between. But this felt like a good morning, a nice normal morning wood.

Lazily, Bucky curled his hand around it. It was a little less sensitive than he was used to, but that was nice, too. Maybe he’d be able to make it last instead of going off like a bottle rocket.

He stroked upward, rolling his hand over the head, and oh, yeah, there it went, just a little precome to make things slick and easy. Oh, god, that was nice. He did it again and that was a little odd, it was like half his dick was numb, down the left side. But it was still responding to his touch just fine, so maybe it was another weird healing thing. He squeezed a little, and--

The sound of a soft catch of breath reached his ear. Not him, but--

Memory flooded back, all at once. “Shit!” he hissed, yanking his hand off Tony’s cock. “Shit, dammit. Fuck.” Who knew how pissed Tony was going to be about that?

Jesus Christ. Tony was notoriously lacking in modesty, but surely he’d draw the line at having his dick jerked for him while he was sleeping.

“Mmwha?” Tony mumbled. “Matter?”

Oh thank god, Tony had slept through it all. Bucky wasn’t proud of taking the easy way out, but he absolutely wasn’t fucking stupid enough to pass it up. “Nn, musta been a dream,” he said, trying to make himself sound closer to sleep than he actually was.

Tony didn’t call him on it, so Bucky figured he’d gotten away with it.

He spent most of breakfast trying not to think about how good Tony’s dick had felt in his hand, or how adorably rumpled Tony had looked when they’d peered in the mirror.

It took them a while to hit their stride in the gym. Tony had to keep reminding Bucky to set the weights to levels that his strong but non-serumed body could handle, and the difference in their gaits made the treadmill an exercise in comedy.

But then Bucky took them over to the punching bag. “Look,” he said, “we can do this as long as we keep to the same rhythm.”

“And how do you propose making sure we do that?” Tony wondered.

“Marching songs,” Bucky said. “We used ‘em all the time in the Army to keep fellas marching in time. Ought’a work for this, too.”

Tony huffed a little. “Okay, we can try it.”

It took them a few tries to really get into it, but the old marching cadences worked perfectly. Bucky taught Tony one of his favorites, a blue chant that never would’ve been allowed in front of an officer but which had got him through more early-morning hikes than he could shake a stick at. By the time it were done Tony was laughing so hard he could barely keep up his share of the punches.

Tony had a really nice laugh.

Of course, then they had to get in the shower and Bucky was back to blushing. He almost sprang wood while he was soaping up their balls, but some determined consideration of one of Steve’s inspiring do-or-die speeches deflated him. Thank god.

Bucky hoped they got this fixed sooner rather than later, because otherwise Tony was going to catch on to him.

Shaving, at least, held no hidden traps. Tony’s goatee was fussy and complicated, but Bucky knew how to move steadily and decisively. By the time he was done, the tension in Tony’s side of the body had eased a lot, which was gratifying.

He tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t move. Black coils snaked out of the shadows and wrapped around his legs from ankle to thigh. He tried to fight, but the shadowsnakes caught his arms, tangling them, too. They stretched him out, spread-eagled, and as much as he fought and struggled, he couldn’t move, even an inch.

There was a mirror in front of him, a distorted fun-house sort of terror, and for the first time, Bucky saw what was behind him. He opened his mouth to scream, and the tentacles filled it, pushing past his lips and down into his throat until he was gagging on them, choking.

The giant blade whirred and spun, a sawmill’s deadly circle, and descended. He tried again, desperate, but couldn’t even turn his head.

Slowly, the saw cut through his head, dividing him in half, a surprisingly neat line straight down his center. Gibbering creatures waited in the shadows, waited to take the halves of him away. His left side pulled away, and as it did, it melted into Tony’s features. No! You can’t have him! Bucky tried to scream, but he couldn’t move. Tony’s eye met Bucky’s in that dark mirror, and--

Bucky jolted awake, panting. Tears leaked from his eye, and his throat felt thick, as if those awful shadows were still in it.

“Stop it,” the other side of his mouth murmured.

“Tony?”

“No, don’t,” Tony whimpered. “Stop it, no!”

“Tony! Tony, wake up!” Bucky reached over to smack lightly at Tony’s side of their face. “Wake up!”

Tony gasped, dragging in a harsh breath. “Oh god.”

“You okay now?” Bucky patted down Tony’s face to his chest, pressing lightly against his heart, feeling the way it raced. “You back with me?”

“Yeah, I...” Tony’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming. “Sorry. I was...”

“You’re not the only one with nightmares.” Bucky kept his hand on Tony’s chest, couldn’t resist stroking lightly with his thumb, reassuring himself that they were together and whole.

“They were going to kill you. And you thought I was going to let them.”

Bucky’s throat ached. Tony wouldn’t. Not even when Bucky had first come and they’d barely been able to be civil to each other. Tony wouldn’t have let someone else hurt him. Bucky had known that from the very beginning. “I was being cut in half,” he offered. He didn’t -- couldn’t -- tell the rest, that it was Tony that was being cut away from him, that he was so terrified of losing.

But he kept his hand over Tony’s heart, and they talked, making light of the darkness. Joked and cast their fear back into its own teeth. And just before they drifted off to sleep again, Tony’s hand covered his.

It was too bright. Bucky froze for a moment, then opened his eyes. The white ceiling and fluorescent lights of medical greeted him.

Bucky blinked. He lifted his left arm, shoulder aching, and looked at his metal hand.

It was over.

He ought to be relieved, he knew, but somehow, he already missed that strange closeness.

He wasn’t hooked up to any monitoring devices, though, so he got up and stretched -- two days of magically-induced semi-coma would make a body stiff -- and then realized that his stomach was ready to stage a revolt if he didn’t feed it soon.

He slid off the hospital bed and padded on bare feet through the facility, heading for the common kitchen.

It was nice to have complete control of both sides of his body as he took ingredients out of the refrigerator and cabinets, and slid a large pan of frittata into the oven to bake. Then he went back to the counter to cut up fruit. A full house of Avengers ate a lot.

Hurried footsteps were followed by a gasp of, “You’re okay.”

Tony had worried about him? Bucky looked around with what was probably a somewhat dopey smile. “I woke up down in medical,” he confessed. “They’re going to be pissed when they realize I left without checking in.”

“Probably,” Tony said. He came closer, as if drawn by a magnet. “Then they’ll want to run all the tests on us.”

“So many tests.” Bucky scraped up the pieces of mango he’d been dicing and dumped them into the blender. “We should have breakfast before they catch up to us. You want a smoothie?” He winked at Tony. “I’ll even throw in a hot pepper for you.”

And then he was going to spend some quality time in the shower, remembering the taste of Tony’s mouth. He glanced up and caught Tony watching him with something like confused wonder. Maybe soon, he thought, he’d try to get another sample.

[origami-goblin]

   All Aboard! Railroading in Tabletop —- Taking a quick break from my Starfinder Themes series to make a brief post about the concept of 'railroading' and some GM tips on avoiding common pitfalls that may arise in your campaigns.   Railroading is a term used to describe instances where a group of players are put on a specific track by the GM, where they lose a lot of the free-will and agency that their characters should have. The term comes from the idea that trains are bound to their rails and can really only move forwards or backward, but never laterally. Trains have specific departures and destinations, meaning that you can't stop wherever you want to visit the World's Largest Ball of Yarn or the Biggest Skillet West of the Mississippi.   Now, a tabletop campaign may not be akin to a cross-country road trip, but it is important for the players to retain their ability to do whatever they want. Not without consequence, of course. However, if the players want to spend some time outfitting a fortress, starting a small business, or just venturing out to a secluded area to relax from the constant stress of battles, they should certainly be able to put the greater campaign on hold to accomplish those goals. The world isn't going to stand still while they are out galivanting, and the BBEG will certainly be building up their forces, putting additional plans in motion, etc. As a GM, you should be taking care of that stuff off-screen while you estimate the time that the party is spending on their extra-circular activities.   That being said, it is incredibly important that before starting a campaign that the group discusses what they want to get out of the game. Do they want to manage a kingdom, essentially performing accounting and forecasting for grain yields and military costs? would they rather run a gauntlet of battles and focus on combat? Do they have interest in character development and role-play? As long as the group agrees on the answers these questions before the campaign begins, everyone should get more enjoyment out of each session and the GM knows what to prepare. If you have a group that wants to hack 'n slash until the cows come home, then the GM shouldn't be throwing them into a campaign centered around diplomacy in the King's court. Know your players!   So, how does railroading manifest in a game? Here are some common pitfalls that GMs can fall into:   Story Time - Many times, as GMs, we may have an overall story that we're trying to tell with the players, but we can get wrapped up in the telling of that story instead of allowing the players more leeway into how the story unfolds. If the entire story is written out ahead of time, there's no room for the players to contribute to it. That's a problem. Instead, we can have a more general synopsis of how the story might unfold. For example, the focus of a campaign might be stopping a tyrant who is rising in power. In might start out dealing with local henchmen, who are employed by the tyrant through a complex network of higher-ups. The goal would be to have the party work up through the ranks to learn more about the tyrant's identity and uncover a plot or coup. However, the party could find out more about him through different events like township raids, poisoning attempts, mysterious wizards, etc. There should always be more than one way to reach the goal, so entice the players with multiple options using plot hooks.   A Tale of Two Paths - How many times has it happened where the party is walking along a forest highway where there are confronted with two paths? Left or right. Each path should lead to somewhere else, but it is easy for the GM to have them both lead to the same destination because the players will be none the wiser. Even though the players won't know, the issue lies with giving them a choice that essentially doesn't matter. If both paths lead to the same place, then don't offer the choice to begin with (editor's note - if the path forks but comes back together before the destination, then that's a different story). As a GM, we shouldn't be giving choices if the decision itself doesn't matter. Two paths should result in two scenarios.   The Disappearing Man - In order to introduce the party to the BBEG, GMs like to let the players experience the 'final boss' in the beginning of the story. There's nothing wrong with this - it can be helpful for the players to know what they're up against and it really grants an insight into the character pulling the strings. What if, however, the players get incredibly lucky and successfully land a sleep spell or trap the BBEG? GMs need to prepare for these possibilities, and not just give the BBEG a new ability on the spot to be immune to sleep effects. Doing this will take the thrill of success away from the players and make it seem like they can't affect the story. So, what if the BBEG is captured? Surely there will be a loyal henchman who will coordinate a rescue, throwing all available resources to have their boss home, safe and sound.     Adventure Path Rigidity - I am a huge fan of running modules and Adventure Paths; everything is right there at your disposal - NPCs, Settings, Plot Info. It's great! However, don't forget that the adventure can be altered and changed depending on what the players do. They might skip an entire section by accident or do things 'out of order’ (which shouldn't really be a phrase used in campaigns). Pre-written campaigns tend to be more railroad-y than normal, simply because of their nature of being a self-contained story. If your players want to visit a cave before they're 'supposed to' you can't just put a big boulder blocking the path and have it mysteriously rolled away after they have satisfied some prerequisite. If you want to lead your players in a certain direction, that's perfectly fine. You can give them incentive to go a certain way or peak their intrigue through use of an NPC or event. In a haunted dungeon? Maybe there are some rattling bones beckoning the party from a certain room. Out in the forest? Something could rustle a nearby bush. There are always ways to lead breadcrumbs without forcing the party to go a certain way.   Fear of Failure - Every dice roll should have meaning and there should be consequences for every action. If there isn't the threat of players to fail, then the dice rolls lose their purpose. For example, if a player rolls an adjusted 1 on a Climb check, but you say that you just don't get up right away without any real consequence, then the dice roll doesn't matter to begin with. You might as well not have the roll! Instead, there should be a reaction - maybe the player suffers a sprained ankle and has their speed halved for the day, or some rocks come loose and fall on the player below them. Now, this is a bit different than having a player roll for something even though you know that the result won't matter. For example, a player may want to do a Perception check to see if they find a clue. You, as the GM, know that even a max roll won't uncover anything, but you should still let the player roll because if they roll low, then they really don't know if they missed something or not. A high roll tells them that nothing noteworthy is there. If players want to make a roll, let them, but the GM shouldn't force them to make a roll if the result doesn't matter.   It can be very easy to get attached to the rails, but unless it's something that your players WANT, then we should do our best to stay off them. I've been a part of groups where we had limited time to game, so we preferred to play through a pre-written module and be more plot-driven so that we could experience the story. If rails are what your players crave, then by all means throw some fuel into the tender box! In any case, let the players do what they want, but react to their actions by presenting consequences, good or bad.