#agent x-9

[balu8]

Agent X-9

by Al Williamson

[nicoooooooon]

Panels from X-9 Secret Agent Corrigan, December 28, 1968, drawn by Al Williamson and written by Archie Goodwin

Al Williamson's and Archie Goodwin's affection for adventure movies led to the most notable X-9 stories. They understood the differences, as well as the similarities, in the two mediums and repeatedly created something on the page that echoed the source, but had been evolved into a carefully structured comics narrative. Interspersed between the more fantastic, speculative stories, they produced the crime and espionage tales more typically associated with the strip, maintaining a balance that kept the partners fresh and engaged.

Between Williamson’s remarkable drawing skills, his ability to create an amazing illusion of action and movement panel to panel, his elegant black-and-white design, and Goodwin's deftly constructed narratives and tight, efficient dialogue, their run on this newspaper comic series from 1967 to 1980 remains one last stand-out achievement in that genre.

[shysheeperz]

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[thebestcomicbookpanels]

Secret Agent X-9 by Al Williamson

[shiuefha]

The Forgers in Their Separate Action

All of them are cool in their own way.

[noratheelk]

This is the coolest personality quiz I’ve ever seen and it’s incredible

Answer questions with sliders and then you get assigned a character from a list of 2,000! I freaking love statistics!!!!!

My results when I took the recommended version of the test:

My results after taking the 140-question exhaustive version:

(There’s two for each because on the left is Pearson correlation and left is mean difference)

Rebloging with what you got :)

The DS9 character I’m most like: *very happy about this*

[tomoleary]

Alex Raymond Secret Agent X-9 Comic Strip Promotional Illustration Original Art (King Features Syndicate, c. 1933)

https://comics.ha.com/itm/original-comic-art/illustrations/alex-raymond-secret-agent-x-9-comic-strip-promotional-illustration-original-art-king-features-syndicate-c/a/7076-92281.s

[bmpmp3]

my inability to play mobile games nowadays is also a source of suffering as a person who loves rhythm games. i miss her (SIF1).....

[pixie-inkk]

Sometimes my Agents be goofy 🤪

Athena: *comes charging down the stairs and yeets herself over the railing*

Ceph: *looking amused* "What did you do?"

Athena: "I threw Marie out of her bed, hide me!"

Ceph: *eyes widen, waving wildly for her to get over here* "Say less!"

[linesandmarksonpaper]

Al Williamson - Secret Agent Corrigan 01/23/1974

[balu8]

Agent X-9

by Al Williamson

[sapphireginger]

Chapter #9

Summary:

“Ah. Well, I can’t say that satan in a v-neck makes divine food. What would that say about me?” “You’re right darling. I must admit you are pretty sinful yourself. Those pants hug you really well in all the right places.”

When Stiles gets into his apartment, Peter’s cooking reaches his nostrils, and he can’t help the pleased moan he lets out. “Mm. My wolf that smells sinful.”

Peter pokes his head out of the kitchen. “I was going for divine.”

“Ah. Well, I can’t say that satan in a v-neck makes divine food. What would that say about me?”

“You’re right darling. I must admit you are pretty sinful yourself. Those pants hug you really well in all the right places.”

Stiles blushes and huffs as he toes off his shoes. “Oh, shut up.”

“It’s the truth. Far be it from me not to say it. Would you rather I lie and say you’re ugly?”

“No.”

“Then deal with it dearheart.” The wolf goes back into the kitchen and finishes up dinner.

Stiles huffs. “Asshole.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I’m going to change and then I’ll be ready.”

“No. You’re going to shower, change and then come eat.”

Stiles frowns pushing his lips into a pout as he crosses his arms. “What is it with you and me showering?”

Peter turns the burner down and makes his way over to his mate. He nips the puckered lips and runs his fingers lightly down his mate’s chest, slipping just barely under the waistband of his pants. “Why wouldn’t I have a thing for you and showers? All those soap suds trailing down your lithe perfect body and maybe I see you even wrapping a soapy hand around your cock while fantasizing about me doing it instead.

“Maybe I think about your head thrown back against the tiles as I hold you up and fuck into you. That or maybe I picture you fingering yourself and cumming just from that.”

Stiles’s chest is heaving with want as his face flushes with desire and his pupils dilate. Peter doesn’t put up an ounce of resistance when Stiles drags him to the bathroom and strips them both without thought. They don’t fuck this time, but Stiles does drop to his knees and give Peter the best blowjob the wolf has ever had. It’s so good Peter’s toes curl and his vision whites out. He comes to with spaghetti like limp arms and a hazy expression on his face.

The scent of his mate’s smugness hits him, and he growls before pushing away from the wall, spinning Stiles to face the shower wall and getting to his own knees. Clawed fingers spread pale supple cheeks and Peter licks his lips at the perfect pink rose bud untouched by anyone except the amber eyed man himself.

The wolf may or may not shift and use his wolf tongue to get even deeper into the pink pucker, not letting up until Stiles’s knees buckle as he lets out a shrill mewling keen, his cock spurting white ropes against the marble shower wall. He would have collapsed if not for Peter’s tight hold on him.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles slurs. “Do it again.”

Peter snorts and kisses his mate’s forehead, granting the man’s request for a kiss and smiles. “Later sweetheart. I don’t want dinner to go to waste.”

They finish washing up, get out, dry off and then get dressed, both shirtless and in sweats. The food is sinfully divine, and they eat it curled up on the couch together. It’s perfect and after they finish, Stiles latches onto the wolf with his entire body, letting his mate choose the movie. They cuddle all the way through Oklahoma, Sound of Music and State Fair before finally falling asleep halfway through Singing in the Rain.

[shysheeperz]

[thebestcomicbookpanels]

Secret Agent X-9 by Al Williamson

[cantsayidont]

January 29, 1934. SECRET AGENT X-9 was a syndicated detective/adventure comic strip, initially written by Dashiell Hammett and drawn by Alex Raymond. It went on to a very long life under a variety of creators, eventually including Archie Goodwin and Al Williamson, although it was neither as graphically striking nor as graphically violent as the more popular DICK TRACY. In 1994, BBC Radio 5 aired a four-part radio drama based on this initial X-9 continuity, starring Stuart Milligan and Connie Booth. It's unfortunately not great, hampered by a dramatization (by Mark Brisenden) that can't decide how seriously to take the material (which in its original form was played completely straight) and a shortage of British radio actors able to do a convincing American accent.