#and some maps stay bricked for hours if not days (looking at you FoR) so it's a pain T_T

[mistfallengw2]

Guess that one day I'll make guides on how to do certain buggy meta events in core maps that have nice rewards, at least so that weird dudes who just got a tag don't accidentally brick them because they tag up without knowing what may bug them and everyone (understandably) follows them blindly.

[mermaidgirl30]

Look for the Light Chapter 7

- Summary: Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

A week had passed by since the first night you camped out in Illinois. You two had made it far into Missouri. You could probably step into Kansas by nightfall if you were lucky. Traveling by foot had taken a lot longer than you thought it would. The roads were rough and long. Your body ached with how many miles you had tracked on foot. Your feet aching with every step you took.

The end of October was closing in, and the evenings were turning colder. It was early in the morning and you and Joel had been walking for a couple hours now. Your legs feeling like they could collapse at any second. Your backpack was so heavy that it felt as if you were carrying a bag of bricks on your back. Your spine would scream at you as soon as you stopped for the night. You couldn’t wait to rest.

You and Joel had barely spoken two words to each other the past few days. Everytime you tried to speak he’d just shut you down before you could finish a sentence. You got the hint that he didn’t want to talk to you. His glares and warning looks had been enough to shut you up. What was his deal though? Did he really hate you so much that he couldn’t even converse with you?

The silence was deafening to your ears. White noise ringing in your ears the longer the quietness took over. You’d had enough of his moping around. You were about to give him a mouthful of hateful words until you came upon an old, abandoned pharmacy.

“Bingo,” Joel said as he stopped in front of the rundown white building. “There’s gotta be something we could use in here,” he said as he walked through the open door. The glass had been blown out and scattered all over the dirt. Some rusty shelves were knocked over, leaving supplies littered on the ground.

You picked up a package of bandages, gauze, and a bottle of alcohol. This stuff was like gold nowadays, hard to come by. You were surprised someone else hadn’t found it first. You stuffed the supplies in your bag and closed up the zipper tightly.

“You think anyone picked over the place before us? It sure seems like they left behind a lot if they did,” you said to Joel.

“Honestly I’m surprised there’s as many supplies as there are. We could use a ton of this,” he said as he shoved some cans of food and medical supplies in his bag.

You picked over some of the other supplies on the ground. The one thing you found useful was a bottle of antibiotics. A bottle of Bacitracin and Penicillin sat together in a small pile. Holy shit these would definitely come in handy on your journey. Perfect. You showed Joel your findings as you shoved them in your bag. He nodded in approval. He seemed pleased, but his approval didn’t reach his face. He just stayed the same old, grumpy Joel. Go figure.

Your feet felt like pins and needles with every step you took. You had to rest for a few minutes or you were afraid you’d be left behind. There was an old checkout counter in the back of the room that was covered in dust and dirt. That would do. You needed to get your feet off the ground.

You walked towards the counter as the dirt cased your boots, quickly swiping at the counter, knocking dust to the ground. You hoisted yourself up on the counter, throwing your backpack next to you. God it felt so good to get off your feet and get the weight from the backpack off your back. Your muscles relaxed as tension left your body.

You grabbed the folded map from your bag and opened it up. The paper crinkled to life as you flattened out the creases of the map on your lap. You traced the blue lines carefully with your finger. You cringed and sighed at how far your destination still was. You didn’t know how far your legs would carry you.

“Are you sure Tommy’s in Salt Lake City?” you asked, still looking at the map.

“That’s the last place he was headed to with the fireflies.”

You looked up from the map at Joel, eyes wide. “Fireflies?!” Shock filled your voice.

“That’s right,” he snarled.

“I didn’t sign up to go looking for some fireflies. Honestly that’s the last group I want to find. I don’t trust them, Joel. I never did.”

“And you think I do?!” he yelled back, dropping his backpack to the floor.

“I don’t know. You’re the one going after them,” you huffed.

“I’m going after my brother, I could care less about the fireflies. There was a reason I didn’t join them,” he snapped.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirked.

Asshole. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t tell me. But how do you know Tommy’s still there?”

“I just know, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, what happens if he’s not there?”

“He’ll be there,” he answered, determination in his voice.

There was literally no point in arguing with this man. You thought carefully before choosing your next words. Fuck it, bring on the arguing. “And if he’s not, what’s your next move going to be? I didn’t sign up to go parading around the country to look for your brother,” you spat.

That made him angry. He stomped over to you, stopping about a foot away. “You signed up to get the hell out of Boston. And that’s exactly what I did for you. So maybe you should stop bitching and be more grateful you’re out. If you want to leave then leave,” he growled.

Your eyes went wide, anger coursing through you. “Maybe I should leave!” you yelled.

“Fine, then leave! Nobody’s stopping you,” he glowered.

You wanted to leave right then and there. You could grab your bag and walk right out that door. All you had to do was get up and go. You couldn’t do it though. It’s like your hands were glued to the counter, stuck. You couldn’t walk out that door. Where would you go? How well would you fare out there all alone? You wouldn’t.

“I’m not leaving,” you answered spitefully, still holding the map.

He took a few steps closer to you. You could hear his boots scuff against the floor, his footsteps heavy. His forehead was creased, eyebrows raised. He stopped right in front of you and pointed to the map, his finger landing on Salt Lake City. “Fine. Then this is where we’re headed, got it?”

“But why do we have to go this route, why can’t we take another way?” you huffed as you held the map tighter.

He grabbed the map away from you and threw it to the side of the counter, anger displaying in his features. “Because I said so, and I know the land better than you do. It’s the best route.”

“But,” you tried to argue, but he shut you down quickly and hushed you. Your lips pursed together in disappointment.

“Now I want to make one thing clear, and I’m only going to say this once. If you’re going to stay with me, you’re gonna have to follow what I say. Got that?” he asked in a harsh voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes in compliance.

The next thing you knew Joel was standing as close as he could get to you. His legs were pressed up against yours as your legs still hung from the counter. His hands grabbed the counter hard on each side of your hips, his sleeves lightly grazing the outside of your thighs. You couldn’t breathe, your body going numb.

“Repeat it,” he demanded. His eyes went dark and he was breathing heavy. His face was so close to yours, it was hard to concentrate. Your vision going in and out of blurriness. Your head felt dizzy as the air was thick around you.

“What you say goes,” you whispered to him.

He had a hard line on his face making him unreadable. He slightly leaned in closer to you. His eyes slowly going down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. His dark brown eyes hounded you, playing tricks in your brain. His right hand moved just enough that it slowly caressed the side of your thigh. Heat burned through your whole body in that moment, awakening something in you that had been dormant for a long time. Holy shit. He just stood there breathing heavily in and out, not moving away. A few seconds passed, and you were both on edge.

“Good,” he said sharply. He took one more glance down to your lips and then backed away, leaving you to melt in the heat of the moment. You just sat there unmoving. Afraid to move, afraid to chase the moment away. You let out a big breath, not realizing you were holding your breath. You let your body relax and come back down from the high you just experienced.

“Let’s get moving. I want to reach Kansas before the sun sets. I don’t want to be out on the road at night.” He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door.

You grabbed the map and threw it in your bag as you jumped off the counter, adrenaline still running through you. You quickly followed after him, not saying a word. What had just happened? Is this what it felt like to have intense hate for someone but also pine after them? You were treading into dangerous waters, but a part of you didn’t care. A part of you wished you’d drown in those waters and never return for air.

Joel’s POV

You raked your hands through your hair, trying to clear your mind from what just happened back there. What the fuck was that? You told yourself you were going to make this girl hate you, not pin her against a counter and almost kiss her. You brought your right hand into a fist, squeezing so tight you thought circulation was cutting off.

The air was so thick with tension back there. Heat was pouring off her body, leaving you wanting to run your hands up her thick thighs. Her big blue eyes could’ve devoured you with how dark they were smoldering. And her lips. Her lips looked so soft to the touch, you wanted to feel how they felt pressed against your lips… For God’s sake man, get ahold of yourself.

You shook your head, breaking the trance and coming back to reality. This was not a part of the plan and you damn well better find a way to not let it happen again.

You looked behind you and saw Aly dragging behind. “Can you move any faster?” you snapped her way.

“I’m going as fast as I can, chill out,” she said aggressively. “My legs can only carry me so fast with this huge weight on my back.”

You sighed and kept moving. The minutes ticked by and you kept hearing Aly huff behind you. It was late in the day now, sunset close by. “What is your problem?” you asked annoyed.

“I’m tired, Joel. Can we just please stop and rest for the night? We’ve gone far enough for the day. Please. I need to rest,” she pleaded.

“Soon,” you said sternly. You heard Aly huff again behind you, this time not turning around.

You walked a couple more miles until you came upon an old, small brick house. It looked pretty old and worn with its rusted roof and boarded up windows, but it’d do for one night. It was shelter to say the least.

“I’ll go scope out the inside real quick and make sure it’s clear of infected. Wait here.” She obeyed and stayed while you went inside and checked the area. You looked around the house as you checked for anything out of the ordinary.

A brown couch laid in the center of the room along with a small bed in the corner of the room. The windows were sealed up tight with wood, but the squeaky front door was left untouched. A small bathroom was displayed to the left of the tiny kitchen. You checked to see if the sink had running water. You turned the faucet and cold water came out. You took a large drink from the faucet and let the cool water run down your throat. Refreshing. You missed having a house to go home to.

You did a thorough check of the house and it seemed to be okay. You peeked your head out the door and shouted, “Coast is clear. C’mon.” She sighed a sigh of relief and made her way into the house.

She looked around, taking the new environment in. “Not bad,” she nodded at the house. “This will work for tonight.” She sat her bag down and went to sit on the edge of the bed. “I call dibs on the bed.”

You were planning on sleeping on it, but you didn’t want to bother trying to get it now. “Fine,” you snarled as you made your way to the couch and sat down, relaxing your back against the faded material.

“Fine,” she snapped back.

Ahh not this again. Here we go with the arguing. Wonderful.

Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

[theworldvsyoshiko]

The current state of things, about five seasons in.

Overview

The settlement's grown quite a bit. Basically all of those wooden buildings are ones that I'd like to be temporary. This isn't a group that wants rustic-ass wood floors. The lack of mountains on this map means that making nice polished stone surfaces is kinda hard, though, and there are only so many rocks to carve into bricks. And only so much time to spend mass-producing bricks.

They currently have:

7 hospital beds

4 guest beds (1 more on the way, and 1 sleeping spot)

1 prisoner bed (and 3 sleeping spots)

All the sleeping spots are a great shame to a group that prides itself on hospitality and pleasure, but sometimes eight guests show up at once on short notice, or five people try to burn your house down and need to be captured, and it's better to have them sleep on the floor than nowhere at all.

One issue I'm running into with Hospitality (the mod, not the concept. But also the concept): The amount of money that guests bring with them is directly proportional to how much their faction likes yours. Guests from friendlier factions are more willing to pay for the experience. ... and nobody likes the Dancing Flock. So nobody's willing to pay to stay here, or pay for their meals. Some of the very most friendly are willing to buy a joint or a beer at a light discount. The optimal thing to do would be to just not accept guests for now, but no. The Dancing Flock needs an outreach program, and the people of this world deserve to come enjoy the golden hot tub, even if only for a few days. Even if it means that there are usually 2-5 people hanging around eating food for free and doing no work, in addition to the hospital. On the upside, the fact that everyone stays here for free and gets free Lavish Meals means that they all leave great reviews.

This is all a lot of work for 4 people to deal with. Just cooking and sowing/harvesting all the crops is a full-time job for about 1.5 people. Fortunately there's like a year's supply of beer and joints stockpiled, so that's a bit less to worry about for a while. Now that the group's got a geothermal plant up, VE sprinklers are a priority soon, to cut down on the time and space needed to grow enough crops.

The hospital takes a lot of work too, but it's cranking out money and goodwill. On average, every patient gets the group ~$150 and 2-3 faction rep, and most patients come in, get an hour or two of attention, and past that point they only need meals and occasional hygiene. ... which all takes another person or so worth of labor, especially if you count all the random injured passersby that the group takes in.

Which leaves maybe 1.5 people worth of labor free for construction, mining, sewing, art, refining drugs, making bricks, and research. Josefin mostly takes care of the construction and sewing. Saio handles the bricks and art. When they have time in between everything else, Anna mines and makes drugs, and Erika researches.

Like I said at the start, it'll take a lot of work to hit a point where it feels more 'hedonists' than 'Médecins Sans Frontières.' But the latter aspect is at least as important. This planet needs some fucking healthcare and generosity. Even the five or six cheetahs that keep trying to eat people and needing to be healed afterward. Especially the cheetahs, maybe.

One other concern: defenses. This is normally the stage where I'd start looking to make a big wall around the colony. But, apart from a shortage of resources and manpower to do so, that isn't very hospitable, is it? And there's no way this group is going to wall off their seaside view, so anything they could do would just leave raiders stepping around the wall to wade through the water. So, I might just put up enough walls to force raiders to swim to shore, or I might settle for a few walls to limit attack vectors and some bunkers closer to the colony. Spike traps, of course, are verboten.

This is one of many reasons that I'm keeping the difficulty turned down. That and the fact that the colony wealth is now like $100k, and the combat force is two people with mediocre weapons and a turret. And Josefin's going to get a lot less effective once I tell her to take that turret pack off. That thing keeps hurting people. It's dangerous.

Incidentally the fact that nobody's hooked up yet is shocking. Anna, Josefin, and Erika all consider each other valid partners. Josefin is almost guaranteed to say yes if either of them were to ask her to hook up for a bit. Any of them have pretty good odds of getting together if Anna or Erika asked. And yet, it just hasn't happened, even though most of the test runs I did ended up with at least one couple pretty quick.

Aelanna "Anna" Cessara

Anna remains the primary cook, but while she still does a ton of gardening, she's offloaded some of it to Saio. She's also the only one here who's good at mining, and splits the medic duties with Erika. Oh, and she's a Freeholder in the empire, because I forgot to tell them not to offer us honor rewards. I might turn those back on for long enough for her to get another rank or two. Getting her Waterskip, Blinding Pulse, or Vertigo Pulse could be pretty handy.

Anna likes everyone, but surprisingly enough her closest friend is Saio, even though he's still new enough for everyone to have the -25 'this guy used to be our enemy, not sure if he's safe' penalty.

Josefin Xiontara

The resident sad wet animal. Spends 80% of her waking time building stuff, and handles almost all of the combat. She can pitch in with the gardening when needed though, and does what little crafting the group manages. She's also completely unable to do medical stuff or cleaning, which means that the only reason she even goes into the hospital is to drag an injured person there.

Despite her... reputation, Josefin's calmed down a bit on the flirting front. I'm not sure if this is an effect of her being too busy to have much time for it, or if a shift in relationship stuff made her less inclined. Like Anna, she likes everyone, although nobody in particular. Unlike Anna, her romance odds with the other two are so bad that her highest chance for asking somebody out is... Saio. Saio, who is a gay man. He's still more willing to potentially give her a chance than Anna or Erika are. This is mostly because of the game's weird furry vs. non-furry divide, which stacks the odds against the two categories hooking up. Yes, Josefin counts as a non-furry, even though she's...

... I keep saying 'lizard,' but I'm not sure if that's right either. It doesn't say they have scales. They've got pointy ears, grayscale skin, and bladed tails, though. Maybe it's more of a salamander vibe.

Erika Belsaas

Erika does three things: gardening, medical care, and research. She's great at all of them. Which is good, because she's definitely the group's least broadly-capable member. She tends to act as the primary doctor, pitching in the with the garden when needed and researching the rest of the time.

Erika dislikes Saio and is just mildly positive on Anna, but she likes Josefin a lot. Josefin's odds of saying yes if Erika asked her to be fuckbuddies are over 100%. Erika apparently has other priorities.

Stork Saio

Stork's great actually. This group's needed somebody who can actually sit down and make sculptures, and he's the guy. Being good at plants is always a plus too. He's also the other combatant, but so far it's mattered less than you might think. The tranq dart gun isn't rapid fire, so I can't use normal melee blocking tactics to have Saio slow a group down while Josefin shoots them or something. Most fights end up with Josefin picking off as many enemies as possible before they're in range, and then Saio can duel one of them. But those duels? He's great at them.

Most of the group's still warming up to Saio, but Anna and Josefin consider him a friend. He adores Anna in return, and he's pretty fond of Josefin too. Not bad for a guy who wanted to kill everybody here like half a year ago.

[toasecretsanta]

To: @dreams-and-dreams from @colorsunlikeanythingseen

Prompt: Meg and Apollo road trip

We see a big fork/ I’m absolutely famished/ Turns out I bite too/

I do not get why mortals complain about road trips. There is nothing better than driving across the country, spending time with friends, and listening to music, podcasts, or whatever radio station you happen to find. It is better in the sun chariot of course but even so there is joy in the journey of our stolen truck. I have however learned to appreciate road stops more than I used to when I was a god I rarely saw the point in stopping.

“Turn left” Luckily I was reinterpret this particular order and turned my body left to face Meg instead of raming the car into the side of a building

“Meg watch your orders. I am not mad at you but you have to be more careful”.

“Right, sorry” Meg said and looked away, her face was like cement. Luckily that only lasted a block and she soon went back to examining her map and humming along to the radio.

“Go…We… um.. Please go right now.” I turned right wondering what destination or dead end I would find.

I turn the corner only to find more rows of downtown brick buildings. I will never understand Missouri’s apparent urge to make everything brick. It brought up bad memories of Athena’s lectures on city planning in Olympus. I barely had to make an effort to tune out those meetings. When buildings weren’t brick they were the same bland cookie cutter modern office space.

“Right. It’s right here” Meg suddenly said. I barely had time to turn right. I pulled into a building that managed to be a mix of both brick and modern glass office space. Perhaps Athena had a point about the decay of American architecture.

“Why are we here Meg.” I asked as she stumbled out of the car with the grace of a newly born gazelle.

“Fork.” She said pointing at the fork that looked like one of Utgard-Loki’s dropped dinner sets (Do not accept any of his invitations even if he is, funny, has really good poetry, and lovely eyes. He is simply a terrible host).

“Yes I see the fork. Why?”

With her usual eloquence Meg wandered off without a word in my direction. I suppose you can only expect demigods to stay still so long. I felt a bit wobbly as well, another downside of being mortal. I used to be able to drive all day with complete ease and now after only four hours driving I wanted a rest.

I found a bench to sit down on. It was once of those weird almost modern art ones with curves that might pass as handle bars if you squinted in the middle. The air was warm and you could feel the sun warming the earth. Perhaps it was Ra up there or Sol, or a giant ball of gas, at the moment the cosmos turning on without me brought more comfort than despair. Even if I fail things would continue my children would outlive me and the world would keep turning (a weird fact but not an unpleasant one).

Someone sat down next to me and it was not Meg. It seemed to be a business lady and I felt hungry just looking at her. I didn’t need to be the god of medicine to recognize the clear signs of extremely unhealthy weightloss. She was bone thin in the way only starving people could be, her once perfectly tailored business suit now sagged around her like loose skin. Despite the layers of her suit jacket, vest, and shirt I could count her ribs. She is literally only skin and bone.

“Hey are you alright?” I asked knowing the answer should not be yes. I would not be surprised if I had to call for an ambulance which would be a problem unless the Arrow of Dodonna could make phone calls as easily as they could access google maps.

“Yes… yes I am alright better than ever in fact. Thank you for asking, what is your name, young man.” She gave me a thin smile as she found something funny.

“Lester.” I searched my pockets for some sort of snack. Dried vegetables or meats would be preferred as she would be more likely to accept that of course anything is better than nothing.

“It is nice to meet you Lester. I am Limos, I work in one of the offices there. What are you doing here this is hardly a place you should be.” I found a packet of peanuts in my sweatshirt pocket.

“I am on a road trip with my little sister.” I was starting to feel hungry myself. Ugg road trip snacks are not filling. “That’s her”

She looked over towards where Meg was destroying the carefully cultivated patch of grass at the center of the roundabout. Limos was not as happy as I was at seeing her have fun.

“Well we can’t help who we are related to.” If looks could kill Meg would be dead but when she turned back to face me Limos was all smiles again. “What do you know about this monument.”

“Not much” I was increasingly tempted to dig into the peanuts myself.

“The fork used to be a sculpture in front of some restaurant. They went out of business and whatever company rents out this office space bought the world’s second largest fork.”

“Second?” I felt weak. The last time I felt this hungry was the last time I was mortal. It hadn’t quite sunk in then that food, sleep, and water were now mandatory for me. I was in such a rush to complete the wall of Troy I didn’t eat, sleep or drink for four days straight. Had I not maintained some measure of godly strength I would have died. I wasn’t at that level of hunger yet but something was wrong.

“Oh yes the new largest fork is located in Colorado. So not it is now just a large empty fork with nothing particularly special about it.”

I pulled out the peanuts poured half into my hands and offered the other half of the bag to Limos. “Here”

She looked like I had just offered her maggot infested meat. Far faster that she should be physically be capable of moving she threw the bag into the dirt and knocked the peanuts out of my hand.

“I never share. You should never give something for nothing! That destroys profits and drives me out of business” She snarled and for a moment resembled my father about to strike. However hunger was a force far more powerful than fear so I was more focused on the peanuts.

“My peanuts!” I stumbled off the bench and collapsed as if my legs were cooked spaghetti. My stomach growled like a cornered wolf ready to eat me alive.

“You aren’t human.” I should know exactly who and what she was but as usual that file was not found.

“Neither are you Apollo.” Limos said and in a parody of tender care helped me back onto the bench.

“Why are you trying to kill me.” I asked mostly to delay the inevitable. I remembered many many reasons monsters, gods, spirits, and humans might try to kill me and there were even more that I had forgot.

“I am not trying to kill you Lord Apollo. You might die but that wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Well that is a nice change. It really does not feel like you aren’t trying to kill me though” I rasped. Shooting pains ran through my stomach were it not for Limos’ tight grip on my hands I would have charged towards the roundabout and started eating grass or the peanuts scattered out of reach.

“It’s not worth getting on Artemis’s bad side besides you are going to die soon anyways hopefully after you deal with Python. It could be… inconvenient for us all if you die before then” She said is an even and uncaring tone like she was discussing the projected revenue of a new product and not whether I would live or die.

In a worrying turn of events I stopped feeling hungry as if my body gave up on receiving anything to eat. With this bit of renewed clarity I remembered that she was the very very very minor god of famine (duh), not someone I hung out with, and the natural enemy of Demeter and her children. She wasn’t here for me she was here for Meg, and I was a hostage.

She seemed to notice my look of despair, “Oh you finally caught on took you long enough.” Limos dragged me to my feet. I had to come up with a clever plan to warn Meg unfortunately nothing clever came to mind so I did the next best thing.

I shouted. “MEG. LIMOS IS FAMINE. DO NOT STEP OFF THE---”

I was rudely interrupted by Limos covering my mouth. Taking a page out of Megs book I bit her, hard. Despite the blood running down her hand Limos didn’t even flinch. Luckily her blood was red, like the triumvirate or my sister’s hunters. Limos’ power truly had faded over the millenia. If I wasn’t about to pass out and had my ukulele or any arrows, I could kill her! Maybe...

Meg unlike me was always ready to fight someone and was armed with ornamental vegetable seeds, snacks, and swords. With her typical grace she stated, “Give him back.”

“I will if you corporate with me. Lets have a talk just you and I this does not have to be ugly and no one needs to get hurt.”

Hopefully heading my warning Meg did not move closer. Limos stepped onto the road instead cementing my theory of her not quite having the range she once had “Your dear stepfather worries about you and had hired me to bring you home.” Limos lied.

“He- he isn’t my family. That’s not my home. I am not going back like that ever again.” Meg spoke in a rush like she was trying to fit decades of unspoken words into a sentence.

“I am sorry about your situation I truly am” Limos continued lying, “But I was hired for this job and I must fulfill it. I am sure we can reach a compromise.” I am sure she said elaborated more but I was rather distracted by a jagged knife of bone getting far too close to my throat.

Perhaps it was a sign of my current starving state of mind but my first thought was not, oh yikes I am going to die , instead I wondered it I could eat that bone. There was only one way to find out. In a move so stupid that Limos couldn’t predict it I stopped biting Limos’s and bit down on the knife instead. In case you are wondering, no it did not tase good. it tasted like my own blood and new mouth injuries because that is what happens when you bite jagged knives.

Luckily Meg took advantage of Limos’s distraction or perhaps someone drop kicked a pumpkin out of a nearby window. Either way Limos fell back and I stumbled forward. Meg supported me back to the grass and more importantly the pumpkins. They were better than any ambrosia and nectar I have ever had.

“That was quite rude of you. To think we could have done this the easy way. Now well- you have disrespected a god you both know the consequences of that.” My pumpkin withered and felt more hungry than ever after eating.

“How do we beat her.” Meg said still standing tall despite her new hunger. I tried to mimic her focus.

“Food, especially gardens, grow as much as you can. You are her natural enemy for a reason, she wants to kill you before you kill her, because this god can die.”

Meg nodded and scattered seeds across the grassy spot. Strawberries blossomed and burst into fruit, shoots of grass grew into golden grain, squashes sprouted. It was a paradise greater than Elysium. I gobbled up as much strawberries as I could. Meg munched on a cob of corn. We were safe for now, but I doubted that Meg could outlast a god. Limos reached the curb but did not step closer. I could see anger behind her smiling mask either at my words or the pumpkin staining her new suit jacket.

“Ridiculous I am immortal just like you once were Lester. You could never defeat let alone kill me. I just want to kill you because you are related to someone I can’t hurt yet.” Meg nodded at me as if to say keep talking. Finally I could do something I excelled at!

“That speech might have fooled me if I were a mortal but I am a very old god. I have witnessed the final moments of pantheons, I can see the signs of a gods death. Your domain is weakening-”

“NO it is not. Famine has never weakened in fact it has grown more than ever, tonight over 828 million people will go to bed hungry. My reach has not weakened and it never will.”

“Yes there are far too many people hungry, but they don't have to be. New farming practices are so effective that there is enough food to feed everyone.” I couldn’t tune out all of Demeter's rants on improved agricultural efficiency.

“And people would rather have it rot then share it. No one shares if it means that they might lose a few dollars.” Limos successfully was distracted arguing with me but Meg seemed to need even more time.

“Some are that greedy but not everyone. Besides that isn’t even your biggest problem I mean who know who Limos is? You name is practically forgotten. I haven’t seen a shrine for you in millennia and nothing is named after a famine god. That would be terrible branding.”

For a moment Limos’ mask of confidence cracked and either fear or anger leaked through. “Shut up.” A wave a hunger washed through me a but I simply helped myself to more strawberries. “Gods are always powered by a worshippers’ fear. Even if they don’t know my name anymore, anyone that has met me fears me and will never return to life the same. That is more powerful than any shrine.” Her resemblance to Zeus continued to grew and it wasn’t because they had the same taste in business suits.

“Fear only works for so long, Love lasts far longer, but nothing is remembered forever. Even Pan died and you are far weaker than him. How much time do you have before you die like everyone you killed? I have always wondered what a god’s afterlife would be like if we have one at all.”

Limos trembled probably out of anger. “You are going to learn that first.” Bone knives flew towards my neck and would have hit were it not for Meg and her ornamental vegetables. A wave of vegetation grew cracking the concrete. A peach tree grew around Limos trapping her.

As one Meg and I ran towards the truck. The ground trembling beneath us as the road was transformed into a new community garden. We did not buckle our seat belts, I stomped on the gas pedal, accelerated to illegal speeds and left Limos in the dust. Presumably. I did not turn around to check.

It took twenty miles before I felt safe enough to speak “That was terrible. We are never doing that again”

“Yeah, don’t get captured ever again.” Meg looked at me weirdly like I might die or vanish forever if she looked away again.

“I am not planning to. Want to find us a new rest stop?”

“Thought we were never doing that again?”

“We aren’t visiting any large forks again, but a ball of twine is still on the table if it is on the way too….”

I didn’t continue the weight of our task sat too heavily in my throat for moment, but I drove on each mile getting us closer to what would be the end of our journey one way or another. I would not mind another roadside attraction before things ended.

Facts

The statistics about word hunger is accurate as of my time of writing this. Source https://www.actionagainsthunger.org/the-hunger-crisis/world-hunger-facts/

The story of the world’s second largest fork is is accurate.

A lot of Missouri’s building are made of brick due to the brick mines as well as because brick is fire resistant. St. Louis is particular had a problem with fire due to how steamboats were prone to spontaneous combustion.

Brickwork can be beautiful if you are a bit creative but corporations are not creative.

There is a surprising amount of discourse about whether or not this is or isn't the largest fork. Missouri’s is the tallest but Colorado's is the largest from what I have seen. Main source https://417local.com/largest-fork-springfield-mo/

Meg and Apollo did fight a famine sprit at Springfield Missouri’s largest fork.

Limos is the greek god of famine.

We do have enough food to feed everyone on the planet. No one needs to starve.

[thecrackedbead]

Bulging beads and flowers

So I've been playing around with my Toho Challenge 2023 kit as I have tentative plans to enter into the contest. I have no real expectations of winning, but why not try?

The given inspiration for the challenge is Robert Frost's poem Nothing Gold Can Stay and thus gold is a primary colour theme in the kit.

Thoughts on the poem

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay

- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay

Given that the Toho beads - not the Czech faceted or two-hole triangle beads - are supposed to be the star of the show, I am rather dubious of the bright white, pink and green beads provided. I find myself suspecting that someone behind the challenge noted that Robert Frost was a respected poet, saw the word 'gold' in the title and thought "This is how we show we are super cool, super meaningful and super incapable of reading comprehension!" The poem's themes of change and fading glory seem lacking in the colour scheme provided. True, the gold colours appropriate for its association with autumn and the death of summer but the these ones...? Shouldn't there be some orange and red? Maybe black?

That being said, I also suspect I am being pompous. Poetry is open to interpretation. White is associated with death in many eastern cultures and is the colour of winter. Also for "Eden [to sink] to grief", there needs to be something bright and joyous to sink from. There's also my design taste is likely tainting my assessment. I like contrasting dark and light colours while green and pink beads, particularly blend together.

Flowers and failure

For those who follow my blog, you may have noticed that I've played around with making leaves with the kit as falling leaves and autumn go together. As of yet, I haven't produced any that I really like. However in the past, I have made flowers and sunflowers are found in autumn - so why not? Thus like a Canadian Goose flying south for the winter, my experience with would work as a guide for current project.

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The noble skyrat that is the Canadian Goose. Yes, it has to be a specifically Canadian Goose. As a Canadian, I am required to establish my identity every five minutes lest the the Americans annex us. (Picture by Tom Koerner/USFWS, found on Wikipedia)

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Only problem the challenge encourages the participants to use as kit's beads as possible. This doesn't seem too bad until one takes into account, that the beads are a mix of round beads in 8/0 and 11/0, triangles and demis, I did NOT have experience mixing bead types and sizes like that and the patterns I looked to help almost never used such mixes either.

That Canadian Goose I spoke of so proudly? It would be trying to navigate when

All the landmarks had been destroyed by a combination tornado, earthquake and volcano.

Its internal compass was been damaged by a severe brain injury.

It cannot see due to an eye injuries.

Its head has been crushed (as indicated by #2 and 3).

It is forced to use a map made using the imperial system.

---

Pretty much a depiction of the just stated list. (Bloody explosion by Omarvero Imperial unit farm map from Units Index. Horrific editing done by myself. Please don't judge the sources by my work; the originals are way better.)

---

Bulging beads and sunflowers

Method-wise, I was primarily using peyote stitch in the round with bits of RAW (right angle weave) as well as square and brick stitch thrown in. I was improvising as I went as no beading program that I am aware of allows for variation in bead sizes. (Most don't even acknowledge the existence of demis.) This mean that my work was very prone for for their to be sections of bare thread when one hasn't added enough beads or beads bulging when one has added too many. I strongly recommend avoiding the former as much as possible as bare thread is very prone to catch on things, break and ruin an entire piece. As for the former, it could be a good thing as the bulging makes one's work 3D. With the flower pedals, I really liked he effect and tried to master it.

---

Here's a case of a sunflower pendant where the bulging was used to make pedals

---

Unforunately there was a problem with this. While the things 3D is that, while such methods make the result more organic (like the pedals in the picture above), the result is less predictable. Things would rarely bulge in a different or a different amount than I wanted.

Solutions?

After LOTS of fiddling, I found three things that sometimes worked.

Sew it to a backing - Shown in example #1 below. Sewing the right beads at the right spots gave the piece proper structure. The circled brown beads were particularly important to sew down at the right place.

Use quadra lentil beads - As shown in example #2, I used the 4-hole quadra lentils in the challenge kit. I found that I could use them to make a flower pistil with two layers of beads, one directly under the other. This provided enough stiffness to guide the flower's shape.

Experiment...a lot - You can see a result of this in #3. I was lucky and stubborn enough to eventually stumble onto a combo that turned out right.

Example #1

Example #2 - A pendant

Example #3

---

What next?

I think leaving #1 as a pendant with a simple cord would be the best combination. I could crochet a bead rope for it instead but I think the result would be too busy. At the same time, I believe the cord wouldn't impress the judges.

#2 has potential. Maybe as part of larger piece?

Ironically of the three flowers, #3, the one that does not resemble a sunflower, is the one I'm most inclined to submit. My idea is to turn the design into a pair of earrings. Go figure. Admittedly, I'll have to make two new ones as I need a set and submitting an earrings which you bled on is a major faux pas.

[dreams-and-dreams]

Secret Santa (just want to make sure you got it)

Prompt Meg and Apollo road trip

I do not get why mortals complain about road trips. There is nothing better than driving across the country, spending time with friends, and listening to music, podcasts, or whatever radio station you happen to find. It is better in the sun chariot of course but even so there is joy in the journey of our stolen truck. I have however learned to appreciate road stops more than I used to when I was a god I rarely saw the point in stopping.

“Turn left” Luckily I was reinterpret this particular order and turned my body left to face Meg instead of raming the car into the side of a building

“Meg watch your orders. I am not mad at you but you have to be more careful”.

“Right, sorry” Meg said and looked away, her face was like cement. Luckily that only lasted a block and she soon went back to examining her map and humming along to the radio.

“Go…We… um.. Please go right now.” I turned right wondering what destination or dead end I would find.

I turn the corner only to find more rows of downtown brick buildings. I will never understand Missouri’s apparent urge to make everything brick. It brought up bad memories of Athena’s lectures on city planning in Olympus. I barely had to make an effort to tune out those meetings. When buildings weren’t brick they were the same bland cookie cutter modern office space.

“Right. It’s right here” Meg suddenly said. I barely had time to turn right. I pulled into a building that managed to be a mix of both brick and modern glass office space. Perhaps Athena had a point about the decay of American architecture.

“Why are we here Meg.” I asked as she stumbled out of the car with the grace of a newly born gazelle.

“Fork.” She said pointing at the fork that looked like one of Utgard-Loki’s dropped dinner sets (Do not accept any of his invitations even if he is, funny, has really good poetry, and lovely eyes. He is simply a terrible host).

“Yes I see the fork. Why?”

With her usual eloquence Meg wandered off without a word in my direction. I suppose you can only expect demigods to stay still so long. I felt a bit wobbly as well, another downside of being mortal. I used to be able to drive all day with complete ease and now after only four hours driving I wanted a rest.

I found a bench to sit down on. It was once of those weird almost modern art ones with curves that might pass as handle bars if you squinted in the middle. The air was warm and you could feel the sun warming the earth. Perhaps it was Ra up there or Sol, or a giant ball of gas, at the moment the cosmos turning on without me brought more comfort than despair. Even if I fail things would continue my children would outlive me and the world would keep turning (a weird fact but not an unpleasant one).

Someone sat down next to me and it was not Meg. It seemed to be a business lady and I felt hungry just looking at her. I didn’t need to be the god of medicine to recognize the clear signs of extremely unhealthy weightloss. She was bone thin in the way only starving people could be, her once perfectly tailored business suit now sagged around her like loose skin. Despite the layers of her suit jacket, vest, and shirt I could count her ribs. She is literally only skin and bone.

“Hey are you alright?” I asked knowing the answer should not be yes. I would not be surprised if I had to call for an ambulance which would be a problem unless the Arrow of Dodonna could make phone calls as easily as they could access google maps.

“Yes… yes I am alright better than ever in fact. Thank you for asking, what is your name, young man.” She gave me a thin smile as she found something funny.

“Lester.” I searched my pockets for some sort of snack. Dried vegetables or meats would be preferred as she would be more likely to accept that of course anything is better than nothing.

“It is nice to meet you Lester. I am Limos, I work in one of the offices there. What are you doing here this is hardly a place you should be.” I found a packet of peanuts in my sweatshirt pocket.

“I am on a road trip with my little sister.” I was starting to feel hungry myself. Ugg road trip snacks are not filling. “That’s her”

She looked over towards where Meg was destroying the carefully cultivated patch of grass at the center of the roundabout. Limos was not as happy as I was at seeing her have fun.

“Well we can’t help who we are related to.” If looks could kill Meg would be dead but when she turned back to face me Limos was all smiles again. “What do you know about this monument.”

“Not much” I was increasingly tempted to dig into the peanuts myself.

“The fork used to be a sculpture in front of some restaurant. They went out of business and whatever company rents out this office space bought the world’s second largest fork.”

“Second?” I felt weak. The last time I felt this hungry was the last time I was mortal. It hadn’t quite sunk in then that food, sleep, and water were now mandatory for me. I was in such a rush to complete the wall of Troy I didn’t eat, sleep or drink for four days straight. Had I not maintained some measure of godly strength I would have died. I wasn’t at that level of hunger yet but something was wrong.

“Oh yes the new largest fork is located in Colorado. So not it is now just a large empty fork with nothing particularly special about it.”

I pulled out the peanuts poured half into my hands and offered the other half of the bag to Limos. “Here”

She looked like I had just offered her maggot infested meat. Far faster that she should be physically be capable of moving she threw the bag into the dirt and knocked the peanuts out of my hand.

“I never share. You should never give something for nothing! That destroys profits and drives me out of business” She snarled and for a moment resembled my father about to strike. However hunger was a force far more powerful than fear so I was more focused on the peanuts.

“My peanuts!” I stumbled off the bench and collapsed as if my legs were cooked spaghetti. My stomach growled like a cornered wolf ready to eat me alive.

“You aren’t human.” I should know exactly who and what she was but as usual that file was not found.

“Neither are you Apollo.” Limos said and in a parody of tender care helped me back onto the bench.

“Why are you trying to kill me.” I asked mostly to delay the inevitable. I remembered many many reasons monsters, gods, spirits, and humans might try to kill me and there were even more that I had forgot.

“I am not trying to kill you Lord Apollo. You might die but that wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Well that is a nice change. It really does not feel like you aren’t trying to kill me though” I rasped. Shooting pains ran through my stomach were it not for Limos’ tight grip on my hands I would have charged towards the roundabout and started eating grass or the peanuts scattered out of reach.

“It’s not worth getting on Artemis’s bad side besides you are going to die soon anyways hopefully after you deal with Python. It could be… inconvenient for us all if you die before then” She said is an even and uncaring tone like she was discussing the projected revenue of a new product and not whether I would live or die.

In a worrying turn of events I stopped feeling hungry as if my body gave up on receiving anything to eat. With this bit of renewed clarity I remembered that she was the very very very minor god of famine (duh), not someone I hung out with, and the natural enemy of Demeter and her children. She wasn’t here for me she was here for Meg, and I was a hostage.

She seemed to notice my look of despair, “Oh you finally caught on took you long enough.” Limos dragged me to my feet. I had to come up with a clever plan to warn Meg unfortunately nothing clever came to mind so I did the next best thing.

I shouted. “MEG. LIMOS IS FAMINE. DO NOT STEP OFF THE---”

I was rudely interrupted by Limos covering my mouth. Taking a page out of Megs book I bit her, hard. Despite the blood running down her hand Limos didn’t even flinch. Luckily her blood was red, like the triumvirate or my sister’s hunters. Limos’ power truly had faded over the millenia. If I wasn’t about to pass out and had my ukulele or any arrows, I could kill her! Maybe...

Meg unlike me was always ready to fight someone and was armed with ornamental vegetable seeds, snacks, and swords. With her typical grace she stated, “Give him back.”

“I will if you corporate with me. Lets have a talk just you and I this does not have to be ugly and no one needs to get hurt.”

Hopefully heading my warning Meg did not move closer. Limos stepped onto the road instead cementing my theory of her not quite having the range she once had “Your dear stepfather worries about you and had hired me to bring you home.” Limos lied.

“He- he isn’t my family. That’s not my home. I am not going back like that ever again.” Meg spoke in a rush like she was trying to fit decades of unspoken words into a sentence.

“I am sorry about your situation I truly am” Limos continued lying, “But I was hired for this job and I must fulfill it. I am sure we can reach a compromise.” I am sure she said elaborated more but I was rather distracted by a jagged knife of bone getting far too close to my throat.

Perhaps it was a sign of my current starving state of mind but my first thought was not, oh yikes I am going to die , instead I wondered it I could eat that bone. There was only one way to find out. In a move so stupid that Limos couldn’t predict it I stopped biting Limos’s and bit down on the knife instead. In case you are wondering, no it did not tase good. it tasted like my own blood and new mouth injuries because that is what happens when you bite jagged knives.

Luckily Meg took advantage of Limos’s distraction or perhaps someone drop kicked a pumpkin out of a nearby window. Either way Limos fell back and I stumbled forward. Meg supported me back to the grass and more importantly the pumpkins. They were better than any ambrosia and nectar I have ever had.

“That was quite rude of you. To think we could have done this the easy way. Now well- you have disrespected a god you both know the consequences of that.” My pumpkin withered and felt more hungry than ever after eating.

“How do we beat her.” Meg said still standing tall despite her new hunger. I tried to mimic her focus.

“Food, especially gardens, grow as much as you can. You are her natural enemy for a reason, she wants to kill you before you kill her, because this god can die.”

Meg nodded and scattered seeds across the grassy spot. Strawberries blossomed and burst into fruit, shoots of grass grew into golden grain, squashes sprouted. It was a paradise greater than Elysium. I gobbled up as much strawberries as I could. Meg munched on a cob of corn. We were safe for now, but I doubted that Meg could outlast a god. Limos reached the curb but did not step closer. I could see anger behind her smiling mask either at my words or the pumpkin staining her new suit jacket.

“Ridiculous I am immortal just like you once were Lester. You could never defeat let alone kill me. I just want to kill you because you are related to someone I can’t hurt yet.” Meg nodded at me as if to say keep talking. Finally I could do something I excelled at!

“That speech might have fooled me if I were a mortal but I am a very old god. I have witnessed the final moments of pantheons, I can see the signs of a gods death. Your domain is weakening-”

“NO it is not. Famine has never weakened in fact it has grown more than ever, tonight over 828 million people will go to bed hungry. My reach has not weakened and it never will.”

“Yes there are far too many people hungry, but they don't have to be. New farming practices are so effective that there is enough food to feed everyone.” I couldn’t tune out all of Demeter's rants on improved agricultural efficiency.

“And people would rather have it rot then share it. No one shares if it means that they might lose a few dollars.” Limos successfully was distracted arguing with me but Meg seemed to need even more time.

“Some are that greedy but not everyone. Besides that isn’t even your biggest problem I mean who know who Limos is? You name is practically forgotten. I haven’t seen a shrine for you in millennia and nothing is named after a famine god. That would be terrible branding.”

For a moment Limos’ mask of confidence cracked and either fear or anger leaked through. “Shut up.” A wave a hunger washed through me a but I simply helped myself to more strawberries. “Gods are always powered by a worshippers’ fear. Even if they don’t know my name anymore, anyone that has met me fears me and will never return to life the same. That is more powerful than any shrine.” Her resemblance to Zeus continued to grew and it wasn’t because they had the same taste in business suits.

“Fear only works for so long, Love lasts far longer, but nothing is remembered forever. Even Pan died and you are far weaker than him. How much time do you have before you die like everyone you killed? I have always wondered what a god’s afterlife would be like if we have one at all.”

Limos trembled probably out of anger. “You are going to learn that first.” Bone knives flew towards my neck and would have hit were it not for Meg and her ornamental vegetables. A wave of vegetation grew cracking the concrete. A peach tree grew around Limos trapping her.

As one Meg and I ran towards the truck. The ground trembling beneath us as the road was transformed into a new community garden. We did not buckle our seat belts, I stomped on the gas pedal, accelerated to illegal speeds and left Limos in the dust. Presumably. I did not turn around to check.

It took twenty miles before I felt safe enough to speak “That was terrible. We are never doing that again”

“Yeah, don’t get captured ever again.” Meg looked at me weirdly like I might die or vanish forever if she looked away again.

“I am not planning to. Want to find us a new rest stop?”

“Thought we were never doing that again?”

“We aren’t visiting any large forks again, but a ball of twine is still on the table if it is on the way too….”

I didn’t continue the weight of our task sat too heavily in my throat for moment, but I drove on each mile getting us closer to what would be the end of our journey one way or another. I would not mind another roadside attraction before things ended.

Facts

The statistics about word hunger is accurate as of my time of writing this. Source https://www.actionagainsthunger.org/the-hunger-crisis/world-hunger-facts/

The story of the world’s second largest fork is is accurate.

A lot of Missouri’s building are made of brick due to the brick mines as well as because brick is fire resistant. St. Louis is particular had a problem with fire due to how steamboats were prone to spontaneous combustion.

Brickwork can be beautiful if you are a bit creative but corporations are not creative.

There is a surprising amount of discourse about whether or not this is or isn't the largest fork. Missouri’s is the tallest but Colorado's is the largest from what I have seen. Main source https://417local.com/largest-fork-springfield-mo/

Meg and Apollo did fight a famine sprit at Springfield Missouri’s largest fork.

Limos is the greek god of famine.

We do have enough food to feed everyone on the planet. No one needs to starve.

This is really good!! The facts and research put into this are great and also sunflower siblings bonding yessXD Thanks for this<3

[legoland-dubai]

The Ultimate Guide to Legoland Dubai Attractions

Legoland Dubai is a family-friendly attraction in Dubai. You can begin your journey through the lively Legoland Dubai. Every brick has a tale and every turn is filled with anticipation. Legoland offers adventure and imagination to visitors of all ages. In this all-inclusive guide, we will explore different attractions you can visit here, such as exciting rides, captivating shows, or even interactive exhibitions. Miniland is a place of awe; conquer The Dragon roller coaster and unleash your creative potential at The Factory. This guide offers insider tips; you must-see places alongside useful information so that you can unlock the spellbinding charm of Legoland Dubai where adventure knows no bounds!

Overview of Legoland Dubai Attractions

Situated within the city parks and resorts of Dubai Parks and Resorts, this park is built around the popular Lego brand. The main goal was to create an environment that would excite people while provoking their thoughts creatively. Visitors are welcomed with towering Lego structures and interactive displays which bring out the playfulness in them where they get involved in various activities like building models or anything else they desire.

Different Themed Lands at Legoland Dubai

Legoland Dubai is divided into several theme lands. Each one has its mix of rides, shows and attractions:

Miniland: Be amazed at the intricate Lego models of famous landmarks from around the world – all built with stunning accuracy.

Lego City: Immerse yourself in a bustling metropolis where kids can steer their own boats, fly planes, drive cars, and get their Lego driving license.

Adventure: Go on action-packed quests through ancient temples and pharaoh’s tombs – but watch out for skeletons and spiders.

Kingdoms: Travel back to medieval times in a land of castles, knights, and princesses. And thrills too – look out for the dragon.

Imagination: Build and play with Lego bricks galore, or zap fearsome trolls and skeletons as you ride the Kingdom Quest laser chariot.

Factory: Find out how Lego bricks are made from a factory tour. Plus, receive your very own souvenir brick fresh from the casting line!

Must-Visit Legoland Dubai Attractions

Every part of Legoland Dubai is attractive in its own way, but here are some attractions that you should not miss when visiting:

• The Dragon:

This is a roller coaster that takes you through the heart of a medieval kingdom with hairpin twists and turns along the way. You will even encounter Lego dragons!

• Lost Kingdom Adventure:

As you journey through ancient ruins, armed with your laser blaster, you must fend off mummies and try to recover stolen treasure.

• Submarine Adventure:

On this underwater submarine ride through marine life made out of Legos, expect to see stingrays, sharks and colorful coral reefs.

• Build-A-Raft River:

An interactive lazy river experience where you can build your own Lego raft before floating down a gentle stream.

• Lego Mind storms:

A hands-on robotics workshop where visitors design/build/program their own Lego robots designed for different challenges.

Insider Tips and Tricks

To make the most of your visit to Legoland Dubai, consider these insider tips:

Arrive Early: Visitors are advised to arrive at the park before opening hours to beat long queues that form later in the day, giving them enough time to enjoy themselves on popular rides.

Stay Hydrated: With high temperatures experienced throughout most parts of Dubai, it is important to drink plenty of water especially when walking around under the scorching sun otherwise dehydration might set in leading to fainting spells or worse still heat stroke.

Check Height Restrictions: Ensure everyone meets necessary height requirements before lining up behind any ride entrance

Choose a route: Go over the park map and design your way before so you do not miss any of the must-see attractions.

Food and Shopping at Legoland Dubai

Legoland Dubai offers different dining options such as themed restaurants, snack bars, and grab-and-go kiosks. From pizza or burgers to healthy salads and sandwiches, there is something for every taste bud. In addition, don’t forget about exploring the gift shops and souvenir stores throughout the park where you can find exclusive Lego merchandise, toys, and apparel to remember your trip.

Best Legoland Ticket deals by CTC Tourism

Get unbeatable adventures only at Legoland Dubai with CTC Tourism’s best deals. Get into more affordable fun in Legoland Dubai with these offer that are not found anywhere else. Whether you are planning for a family day out or an exciting adventure with friends; our deal will ensure that you get all the fun without spending much money during your visitation here at Legoland Dubai We have everything covered under this package so it’s up to you to choose what suits your needs best but one thing is clear don't let these amazing offers pass by book now!! tickets today and get ready for the most amazing journey through Legoland Dubai ever imagined.

Inclusion:

• The price of this ticket includes all rides & entertainment shows.

• It can be used on any day of the week including weekends & public holidays.

• If transportation is required then we will pick you up from your location choice & drop back again after completion.

• Age – Adult: Above 12 years, Child: 03-12 years, Infant: Below 03 years (Free)

• Timing: 10:00 AM to 06:00 PM – Saturday to Wednesday, Thursday & Friday – 10:00 AM -08:00 PM

• Tickets are valid for Both UAE and Non – UAE Residents

Plan your visit to Legoland Dubai today and let your imagination run wild! With a wide range of attractions, interactive experiences, and family-friendly entertainment, Legoland Dubai guarantees an action-packed day out for all ages. Buy Legoland tickets now and start creating memories that will last forever at Legoland Dubai!

Conclusion

In conclusion, Legoland Dubai is truly a magical theme park where wonders never cease. There is something for everyone here; whether it’s marveling at Lego replicas of famous landmarks conquering thrilling roller coasters or even unleashing your creativity in the Lego Factory – this place has got everything covered! So plan well with insider tips in hand plus an adventurous spirit and make sure to have an unforgettable experience during your visit in this enchanted city called Legoland Dubai.

[brooklynfamilydivorcelaw]

The Best Places To Eat In Brooklyn, NY

Brooklyn is one of the most interesting and rapidly evolving places in all of New York City. For many years, it was known primarily as a home for artists, musicians and other creative types. Today, it's also an urban oasis full of amazing restaurants that are turning out some of the best food you'll find anywhere in this great city. Here are just five of my favorite places to eat in Brooklyn:

Barboncino Pizza

Barboncino Pizza is a Brooklyn Italian restaurant that has been serving up some of the best pizza in the city for over 50 years. They are known for their coal-fired brick oven pizzas, which include classic Neapolitan style pies like Margherita and Salsiccia e Funghi (sausage and mushrooms). Other favorites include their Carciofi Pizza—a crisp potato pizza topped with artichokes, mozzarella cheese, garlic oil and Parmigiano Reggiano—as well as their Prosciutto Cotto Pie—a rich combination of prosciutto cotto ham spread on a thin crust base sprinkled with arugula leaves and drizzled with olive oil.

Barboncino also serves up some delicious pasta dishes; try the Vitello Tonnato Tortellini if you want something light or go all out with the Rigatoni di Pollo al Forno if you’re craving something hearty.

Brooklyn Barge Bar

Brooklyn Barge Bar is located in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, a former naval shipyard which has been converted into an office park and industrial space. It's a great place to visit if you want to learn more about the history of New York City—the place itself is full of historical artifacts—and it's also home to the largest movie set in New York City.

This barge bar takes up an entire pier, so you'll have plenty of room to sit down and enjoy your meal. If you're looking for something quick and casual with good views, this is definitely the place for you! You can get tacos or sandwiches here (or both), but if you're feeling adventurous try one of their specials: beef empanadas with chimichurri sauce are always popular among patrons who come here often enough that they know what they like best on their menu. The only thing left now is getting there! Unfortunately there isn't really any parking available near this location - so be prepared ahead of time by visiting www/getaroundnyc/parking-map in order

Lucali

If you're looking for a good slice of pizza in Brooklyn, Lucali is the place to go. Their brick oven pizzas are cooked in an old coal oven that was shipped all the way from Naples. The restaurant itself isn't big—it only seats about 20 people—but there's also a bar where you can get your food if you don't want to wait for a table.

Lucali has been open since 2004 and has been recognized by numerous publications such as Bon Appétit and Zagat Survey for having one of the best pizzas in all of New York City. It's even rated as having one of the top five restaurants in all of Brooklyn by Time Out NY!

Mile End Deli

Mile End Deli is a New York City institution. Its Montreal-style smoked meat sandwiches are legendary, and they're also pretty much the only things you can order here.

If you want to try this sandwich, it's best to go after midnight—Mile End stays open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The deli is located on Manhattan Avenue in Boerum Hill (Brooklyn), which has become one of NYC's most popular foodie destinations since it received an influx of culinary talent in the 1980s and 1990s.

Di Fara Pizza

Di Fara is a small place, so you'll have to wait in line to get your pizza. But it's worth it! Once you're inside and seated with your slice in hand, don't be surprised if the service feels rushed—they're not looking for tips and they won't be making any small talk with you (unless you initiate). They will however make sure that each order gets out as quickly as possible.

The pizzas are amazing! You can get them by themselves or add toppings like garlic or anchovies; but whatever kind of pizza that floats your boat—get ready to enjoy some serious goodness! Other things on the menu include calzones and sandwiches; but don't forget about their dessert options too: zeppole (Italian fried dough balls) or cannoli shells filled with ricotta cheese cream filling.

There have always been and will forever be great places to eat in Brooklyn.

There have always been and will forever be great places to eat in Brooklyn. You've probably heard of all the usual suspects: Williamsburg, Park Slope, and Cobble Hill. But these are just a few of the borough's many neighborhoods—and there are restaurants worth eating at within walking distance of each one.

Once you've hit up your favorite spots, it's time to branch out into other locales. Whether you're looking for Asian or Indian cuisine, Mediterranean staples like falafel or shawarma sandwiches from street carts, or even just good old-fashioned American fare like burgers and fries—you'll find it all in Brooklyn (and often at affordable prices). This guide is here to help you find some of the best restaurants that Brooklyn has to offer!

There are so many places to eat in Brooklyn, and we’re just scratching the surface with these recommendations. If you’re planning a trip to New York City, make sure that you check out this borough and its many restaurants. There are so many great things happening here that there will be no shortage of options for foodies. We can't wait!

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[s1ater]

the older boy, part two. eli moskowitz x reader

summary 📣: in which reader’s friends warn her about the older boy with the red mohawk but she doesn’t listen

warning/s 🚫: swearing

slater’s note 🗯: omg slater finally uploaded 😮

part one, part two

hawk: miss me princess?

you squinted your eyes from the bright glare surfacing from the screen of your phone. it had to be about close to midnight and it was almost something you expected, this text.

he always texted late, always catching you minutes before you decided to clock out for bed, and always drawing out your sleep schedule. so instead of going to bed at 11:30 like normal, you ended up wide awake well around two hours later.

y/n: you flatter yourself too much

hawk: is that so? thought you always looked forward to our nightly convos

y/n: other than them being nightly, sure

hawk: i’m a busy man

you rolled your eyes, “sure you are.”

y/n: that’s probably why i never see you outside of school then huh

you couldn’t careless on why you never saw hawk outside of school. it seemed to be rather a blessing from all the things you had been hearing about him lately. it was just fun to tease.

he liked being teased as weird as it sounded, it fired him up as he stared at the screen of his phone, smirking. hawk knew you knew why you never saw him and why he never saw you. you guys weren’t friends, barely acquaintances, only two oblivious lonely people who wanted someone to fill their hormonal needs. 

hawk: you never see me sweetheart because you never want to

y/n: that’s a lie

hawk: is it?

y/n: i’d love to see you

hawk: i’m sure you would, but face it princess, you’d chicken out halfway through before you’d even see my face

y/n: lies, you sure you’re not talking about yourself?

but was it really a lie? you wondered, thinking whether or not your wits and nervousness would overcome you before you actually saw the face of eli if you were to ever hang out with him.

you bit your lip thinking about earlier today when moon said to stay away from eli for rather obvious reasons. one being he was violent and angry a lot of the time and two... he was a teenage asshole who’d fuck you over the minute you showed vulnerability.

hawk: let me come over if you’re not a pussy

you bit your tongue at the sight of the message. great, you thought. now you had to come up with some excuse only to prove hawk right; that you were a pussy. the thing was, you didn’t actually think he’d want to see you.

it was like a silent agreement that your relationship was flirting only, nothing else. he was like a side hustle along with all the other boys who hit you up through your snapchat.

y/n: sorry babe, i only let boys who actually talk to me in real life come over

hawk: alright, fuck you lmfao

eli mindlessly smiled at his phone screen while shaking his head. he knew you’d be a challenge, and he knew you’d turn him down any minute or mention of hanging out.

he found taunting and teasing you amusing and sometimes the highlights of his days but sometimes it also got boring with how you didn’t put out as easily as the other girls.

y/n: sorry bud

hawk: alright, goodnight princess ;)

°•

it was uneventfully windy as you stood outside waiting for moon’s red car to pull up and drop you home. you almost swore as you came into realization that she probably forgot about you, again.

you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as you checked your phone once again, absent of any notifications that would relate to moon.

you were beginning to feel sick, the kind of sick that resonated in your stomach from a sprout of loneliness. you shook your head, pushing yourself off the brick high school wall deciding you better start walking now if you wanted to get home before five.

your feet begun to burn five minutes into walking the shortest route you could think of as a way home, “fucking, moon.” you shook your head, taking out your phone again. she always had the strangest memory problems and seemed to always goes m.i.a. the moments you need her the most, such as.. when you were desperately in need a ride home. 

“need a ride?”

you almost jumped in surprised, not realizing a car had pulled up next to you as you were focused on your phone. you dipped your head down to the low window of the old red cadillac pulled up next to you, their windows rolled down, old rap music turned down low in order to speak to you. 

eli.  

“nice car,” you quirked your brow with a slight impressed smile. he was one of the last people on earth you would expect to give you a ride despite your conversation the last night. 

“you want a ride or not, princess?” “oh, i wouldn’t want to ruin your special me time, hawk.”

“get in the fucking car, y/n,” he rolled his eyes, quickly done with your bullshit as he put the car in drive. you reluctantly got in the nice car, swinging your bag to the floor as you couldn’t help smile to yourself. 

“you know i’ve never been in a karate kid’s car before,” you mumbled lightly, examining the interior of the car better, your fingers running against the smooth dashboard, impressed by how well restored the old car was. 

“is that so?” he glanced at you, a slight smirk on his face. 

“who restored the car?” you mumbled, your eyes still looking around almost like a kid in a candy store, only more subtle, trying to hide the fact how impressed you were with the car. 

he glanced at you again, almost taken back by the question. it was never a question he had heard before, especially by a girl. he smirked, trying to hide his own surprisal, “you know larusso? guy helped me out with it.”

“nice,” you mumbled, leaning back into the seat, done with your examination. 

it was silent now, and you almost sat comfortably if it weren't for the voice in the back of your head yelling at you that the whole thing was a bad idea. you wanted to ignore it so badly, because you had never actually ever saw a red flag from eli other than the fact that it’s basic knowledge he’d a fuck boy. 

he seemed like a generally good guy. no not a good guy, a guy that was your type. eli wasn’t at all the good guy type but more or so the douche that was only nice to certain group of people, you being on of them. 

because he wanted to fuck you. 

“got something on your mind?” he glanced at you, almost nervously like you'd hop out the window with any wrong move he made. 

“no,” you said it fast making him smirk, almost as if he knew what you were thinking, almost as if he were familiar with the typical female anxiousness. familiar with the fast talking, redden cheeks, lip bites, fingers fiddling, all of it, it seemed as if he just knew. 

and eli was, it hadn't taken him long when going through girls to pick up on the similar body language they all seemed to have. because really, down to the bottle, they all did the same thing; always rubbed their lips together prompting for kisses, using a different fragrance than usual when finally alone, fingers tapping, lessening the clothing on their body than the usual outfit. all similar, and he could almost see it in you despite this being an unintentional meet up... and you weren't trying to pounce on. 

“actually.. yeah,” you lightly bit your bottom lip as you looked at your lap, trying to think of the best way to ask him the question that had been on your mind for awhile; “what do you expect from me, eli?” wow, what kind of question was that?

it was an honest and upfront one, something he wasn't used to, practically sending him into shock as he had to look at you fully to see if you were actually serious and not pulling his leg, seeming like something you'd do. 

but you really wondered. 

“uh- i, what?”

you awkwardly laughed, looking to him, “no, i mean i really don't give a shit, i’m just not about to lead you into something you think you’re going to get nudes in, because your really not.” 

wow, really? 

he almost swore aloud, biting his lip hard, now realizing you really weren't going to be easy, not as easy as the girls who put out the moment you called them pretty, or even the ones who you had to take on a date before they even sent. 

fuck. 

he laughed it off, shaking his head as if you were a fool for thinking that, “you really think that low of me?”

no worries, there’s always plan b; make you feel bad. 

you laughed in return, “yeah, i really do.”

but he forgot you weren’t that stupid to fall for feeling bad just for something you weren’t about. 

“wow.”

“you wouldn't be the first.”

“so, I've heard,” he gripped his neck, eyes now glued to the road before turning into a neighborhood off from the main road, his mind following the map basically glued in his mind from driving past your house to dmitri’s. 

he parked, now seeming to ignore you as his whole plan begun to fall apart right before him. 

“thanks, eli,” you nodded to him, jumping out of the car with your bookbag in hand before beginning to trek up your front yard. 

“anytime, princess.” 

masterlist

💒

join the taglist lil doggy

@bigbilliamdenbro @axastasiasstuff @spiderman-berries @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @teti-menchon0604 @lydiaamphlett @notyourfuckingbusinesss @estupidteen @torynicholsgf @nessa1107 @carpioassists @vhscherry @simplytpwk @sinicalh4wk @write-from-the-heart @hawkwhore @hawkandtory @lovelyyy-luna @itsnotsoni @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @bebybailey @mrfeenyisswag @supernaturalcat7 @hawkshairdye @amongtheweepingwillows @mya-bleu @disgustedchild @ktz-bb @venussecrets

[holykillercake]

Tap Dancer Fish

word count: 1.5k

summary: Zoro´s haramaki is falling apart and he can´t find another one to buy. You decide to crochet him one before he kills someone. 

highlight: ¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨

notes: This was an anon request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. This is 1/3 of the request, we´re starting with Zoro <3 

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Any luck?¨ you asked without taking your eyes from the city guide, even with the rowdy sound of the metal chair scratching the brick sidewalk. 

¨No.¨ 

¨Need any help?¨ you tried to hide your smirk by sipping your coffee. 

¨No.¨

¨Well,¨ you closed the map and placed it on the table ¨I still have some errands to run. I´ll take a look around, see if I can find it. ¨ 

¨Thank you.¨

You placed a hand on his chest and gave him a quick peck on the lips before making your way back to your tasks. 

The Strawhats had docked on a Spring Island called Gardenia. It reminded you of Dressrosa, but without the talking toys and mad king. The houses and stores were all painted a shade of green or brown, but what made it extraordinary to the eyes - and nose - was the number of flowers. All kinds of all sizes and colors decorating everything around you. 

However, while you felt like an enchanted character from a fairy tale, your boyfriend felt trapped in a nightmare. For starters, everything smelled like flowers; Sanji would not stop bumping into him, saying that he mistook him for a moss tree, and the flowers made every corner look the same, so he got lost all the time. 

But what was really making him grumpier than usual was his haramaki, the green garment he wore religiously around his belly - well, not religiously. 

He has been procrastinating to get a new one for a long time, and despite you offering to purchase it whenever you ran errands, he would always turn the offer down. The problem was that it was not keeping itself anymore. After all the battles he fought and opponents he defeated, his haramaki was falling into pieces. 

In the beginning, you were able to patch it up with some simple sewing, but now he needed to get a new one. And here´s where problem number two arises, you have entered a chain of summer and spring islands where they don´t usually sell this stuff. As a result, Zoro was mad at everyone - you were an exception, though. 

It pained you to see him bothered like this, despite all of your previous warnings. Everyone has their own thing, Luffy has the straw hat, Chopper always carries his blue backpack, Sanji never stops smoking, and Zoro wears his haramaki. Anyone would be bothered, although anyone would listen to your advice. 

So you came up with a plan. Since you could not find one to buy, you were going to crochet one. That was an interesting fact that no one knew so far, your ability of crocheting. You would do it whenever you were in charge of the night watch, and when you presented someone with a piece of clothing that matched their personality or traits, you would say you found it in town. Reason being that you didn´t want to be swamped with sweaters and beanies to do. You knew the crew would go crazy if they didn´t have to pay for winter clothes anymore. 

¨Yosh, now I just have to make it.¨ you looked at the green ball of yarn in your hands before hiding it at the bottom of your bags. 

~

¨Oi, Luffy! Don´t steal her food!¨

¨But she´s not even eating it, Sanji!¨

¨Y/N, are you ok?¨

¨Y/N?¨

¨Y/N!¨ you almost fell off the chair when you woke up from your zombie state. 

¨What?¨ 

¨You look tired. Are you getting sick?¨ Robin asked, placing a hand on your forehead. ¨I hope you didn´t get some deadly poison from a plant.¨

¨Oi, Robin! Don´t say these scary things!¨ Usopp cried and walked away from you.

¨I couldn´t sleep last night.¨ the girls stared at you with a malicious smirk, and Sanji stormed out on flames ¨Yeah, uhum, I wish! I couldn´t sleep because Zoro kept rolling on the bed, it felt like I was sharing a bed with a tap dancer fish!¨ you shouted grumpily.

The longer he stayed without a decent haramaki, the more jittery he got. So throughout the night, he rolled on the bed, got up to train, went back to bed because he was too frustrated to train, mumbled and grumbled, and made you go through his insanity with him. At some point, you were planning on throwing him off the ship or choke him with that stupid belly warmer. 

After you finished your third cup of coffee, you decided to head to the deck. Your green-haired tap dancer fish was napping on the grass with furrowed brows and arms crossed. Suddenly, the irritation you felt was gone. 

¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨ you whispered and made your way to your room. 

He never bothered you before. Even when the other guys made him go crazy, he would always lay down, hold you close to his body, and sleep. On the days you were not so tired, pillow talks would last hours and hours, and he would tell you things he hasn´t told anyone; he would show interest in the stupid things you like and be the Zoro the other guys would never get to know. 

So you fought your will to go to sleep and grabbed the wool and a hook, determined to put an end to both of your miseries as soon as possible. 

With Zoro napping all day, Robin in charge of the ship, and the rest of the guys exploring the Island, you would have all the peace in the world to work. 

And that was exactly what you did. You were definitely going to hear from Chopper for going the entire day without a sip of water or bathroom break. Your fingers were red and hurting, and your shoulders were stiff and sore. But it was worth it. 

It was almost dark when you finished, part of you wanted to wrap it with laces or some sort of crap, but you passed out as soon as you heard the snap of the scissor cutting the yarn. You didn´t even know you had passed out until you woke up the next day, sunlight hitting your eyes. 

You were alone in bed, but not the way you imagined. You expected cramps and spasms to take over your body, but all you got was a slight soreness. You were in your pajamas and tucked like a baby. 

¨What the-¨ you sat and searched over the blanket looking for the crochet garment, but found no sign of it ¨Did I dream about that?¨

You threw yourself off the bed and marched - more like crawled - to the kitchen, craving for coffee. 

¨Morning, Y/N!¨ everyone was already up, although Luffy was sleep eating again. 

¨Morning, guys.¨ your voice came out sleepy. You grabbed a cup of coffee and sat beside Zoro ¨Good morning, you.¨ You smiled.

¨Morning, sleepyhead.¨ He kissed your temple.  

¨I´m so happy you found it, Y/N. I don´t think we would be able to handle his mood anymore.¨ Nami said relieved, and Zoro yelled something when everyone agreed. You gave her a confused look, and she pointed at your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned him, oblivious for a moment, but when you noticed him wearing the haramaki you made, a big smile grew on your face. That also explains why you slept comfortably in your pajamas, he must have gone to check on you and saw your pitiful state alongside his present.

¨Yeah, I was lucky, I guess.¨ He held your hand tighter under the table.

After breakfast, the two of you decided to stay on deck, enjoying the gentle sun and the fresh breeze before it was time to set sail again. You were sitting between his legs, against his chest, and his hands rested on your lap while you played with each other´s fingers. 

¨Thank you... for making it for me.¨ You forgot about sore muscles. You forgot about raw fingers. Listen to him sounding so relaxed and peaceful made you forget about everything. 

¨Thanks for not telling the guys I made it. Besides that, how are you going to protect my ass if you can´t focus without this stupid belly wrap?¨ he let out a lazy laugh, and you felt his body vibrating against yours. 

¨Well, thank you again. I really liked it, and I won´t ruin it.¨

¨I know.¨ you whispered, closing your eyes and seizing the moment. 

You knew he would eventually destroy it, but that was fine. You didn´t have the emotional connection to it like he had. What mattered to you was his well-being. You were not strong enough to protect him - not that he needed - so keeping him warm and loved was your internal mission. Because that´s how he made you feel. 

[aidanchaser]

Waterloo Station

Several folks said, “I would love to see more of Regulus and Sirius shenanigans!” after Chapter 18. Well, lo and behold, I actually have a deleted bit of Chapter 18 showcasing just that. The second draft was from Sirius’ perspective, but since Sirius lent his voice to In Memoriam, and we’re about to hit a short run of non-Harry chapters, I brought the chapter back to Harry in the third draft. (the first draft was an entirely different Harry chapter about breaking James out of prison, but that got pushed back in favor of some character development; we’ll get back to it, I promise.)

So here’s a short bit, taken out of my scraps. It’s headed with “MY DARLING” because it is one of several darlings I have killed while writing Deathly Hallows, but it’s the only one to earn the all-caps title. Thanks to the magic of fanfic, I can still share this darling with you. (the alternate title for this chapter should be: Sirius Accidentally Outs Himself as a Furry)

Padfoot hated the city. It was loud and there were so many people, each with their own scents and emotions. He supposed he should count himself lucky Harry had bled so much, or the trail would have been harder to follow.

He recognized the wizards on the platform easily. Their attire of slacks combined with hoodies or rain slickers paired with thick rubber work boots marked them easily as incompetently dressed Ministry employees. Sirius supposed they were keeping an eye open for someone stupid enough to come to the platform in search of Harry, someone just like him.

The platform had been scrubbed clean, but Padfoot could still detect Harry’s scent through the bleach. He didn’t board the train that pulled into the station, not yet. He waited, sniffing the entrance of the car carefully. He didn’t smell Harry or bleach. So he sat back and waited. A few Muggles scratched his ears as they passed or before boarding the train. Sirius let them without protest. 

He had learned that Muggles, by and large, enjoyed dogs as long as those dogs were gentle, still, and quiet. And if he was anything else — too loud, too quick, or too threatening — they were eager to chase him out or worse, catch him. It was a lesson he had learned early in his life, long before he had become Padfoot; it was just an easier lesson to follow when he was Padfoot. Something about a thick coat of fur, the eyes and ears of a predator, and four paws to run with made him far more comfortable and settled in his own skin than being a young boy in the middle of a war ever had. 

Another train pulled in, and this one, too, didn’t smell of Harry, but the third one did. He followed the Muggles into the carriage, and noticed a small black shadow slip in after him. It hid under the seat, and Sirius pointedly ignored it. He took a post at the door and waited, ready to check each stop this train made until he found Harry.

Regulus had tried desperately to talk him out of this, but Sirius had ignored him. Between him, Lily, and Remus, Sirius was the only one who could track down Harry, and if he didn’t, Lily and Remus would. Lily was far more likely to be recognized on the platform than Padfoot was, making Sirius not only the safest choice, but the most efficient choice, given Padfoot’s hunting instincts.

The first stop didn’t have even a whiff of Harry, but the second one did, though it was no longer paired with bleach. Sirius could only surmise that Harry had healed any open wounds before exiting the train and he felt both relieved and proud. 

That relief vanished almost as soon as he stepped off of the train. This station was enormous. It wasn’t just another Underground station; it was the biggest train station in London. Crowds hurried past, chasing after trains. Others clustered around kiosks and maps. Sirius’ heart sank. Harry could have boarded a train to practically anywhere from here, even Paris. 

The small black shadow slunk out of the carriage behind him and slipped into a tiny space beneath a nearby bin. Padfoot put his wet nose to the ground and followed Harry’s faint scent to a ticket station. From there it was difficult to determine where to go next. He thought he had a faint trail of Harry’s blood but it was unusual, mixed with something else.

“Pardon me, sir,” a nearby Muggle said, “but you need to have your dog on a lead at all times —”

“Oh,” a man looked down at Padfoot. “He’s not my dog.”

Sirius decided to follow the scent of Harry’s blood. It led him out of the station and away from the Underground service workers. The last thing he needed was for a well-meaning Muggle to try to help him find his owner. The few times it had happened in the past, he had always had James to bail it out.

Sirius shook off the stab of grief that came with the thought. It was always easier to shake off grief as Padfoot, as if the same abilities that heightened his physical senses dulled the sharper edges of his hurt. Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing he could do for James right now, not until they were able to find whatever Death Eater prison he was being held in — and they had to believe he was being held. What Sirius could do was find Harry.

Though it had been less than twenty-four hours since Harry had passed through here, London had a way of making people invisible, of burying passersby in the scent of automobile smog and endless eateries. Sirius had to work hard to discern the scent of Harry’s blood through it all, but he managed to follow the trail south for less than a mile until it disappeared into a tall, brown-brick residential building.

Padfoot sat down on the pavement and evaluated his options. It would not be hard to sniff out Harry, if he truly was in this building, but a large dog was likely to be chased out of a private building. As Sirius, it wouldn’t be hard to charm his way into the building, but it might be harder to find Harry.

Padfoot barked softly at the bushes. The black cat that had been tailing him crawled out. He knew Regulus had no interest in helping him, and had only come along as emergency backup in case of a duel, but Padfoot gestured his head towards the building anyway.

The small, black cat stared at Padfoot, then back up at the building. Reluctantly, he slipped up the stairs and into the building on the heels of an unsuspecting resident.

Padfoot sniffed the stone retaining wall. Plenty of people had passed through here, but he didn’t smell Harry, not exactly. He definitely smelled the blood trail he had been following, but that wasn’t the same thing as Harry’s scent. He wondered if it was Greyback who had come through here, but Sirius was fairly certain that he would recognize Greyback’s scent if he came across it.

He wondered, briefly, if Regulus had been right when he had said that Sirius was better off staying with Remus and Lily, rather than hunting down Harry. The full moon was just two days away, and he knew Remus was nervous. Brewing the Wolfsbane Potion had been impossible this week. They had been moving too frequently to get together the ingredients, and they still hadn’t figured out where Remus was going to transform. Lily would need to be somewhere safe but on hand in case of emergency, and they couldn’t be anywhere too open that might put others at risk. Tonks had, kindly, suggested hers and her mother’s home, but that had only sent Remus into another downward spiral. Remus was wary enough of transforming around people he loved when he had the Wolfsbane Potion to keep his mind. He was never going to allow himself to lose control with Tonks so close at hand.

Sirius tried to shake his worries off. Remus was tomorrow’s problem. Harry was today’s.

Regulus returned from his investigation surprisingly quickly. He hurried across the street and over a low wall, into some plants. When he stepped out as himself, Sirius reluctantly followed and also used the wall as cover to return to his human form.

“What did you find?” Sirius asked.

Regulus smoothed the front of his cloak. “Harry isn’t there.”

“I know.”

“Then why did we come here?”

Sirius swung his legs over the wall. “Because someone here has information about Harry. Did you follow the blood trail?”

“It’s going to be a dead end.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t use that word.”

“The trail is cold, Sirius. We have no way to know where Harry has gone.”

“Give me a flat number and I’ll go myself.”

Regulus hesitated, but Sirius knew he would give in. They were stubborn, the both of them, but Regulus had never built up the tolerance for conflict that Sirius had. Sirius could thrive in the center of chaos; he’d had to in order to survive. Regulus, however, invested too much effort in fighting chaos. It was always going to be a losing battle.

Regulus crossed the street, back to the building. He pointed his wand at the lock, but it didn’t budge.

Sirius looked over Regulus’ shoulder. “Oh, it’s one of those keypads? <i>Alohomora</i> is no good.” He dug his own wand out and aimed a hot white spark. It fizzed and sputtered and then the lock clicked.

Regulus pulled the door open. “Did you break it?”

Sirius shrugged. “They malfunction all the time. Keeps the Muggle maintenance men employed.”

Regulus led Sirius upstairs to the top floor and gestured at a door near the stairwell. “The trail leads here. But I didn’t see, hear, or smell anything to indicate that Harry might be here. I can’t imagine Harry would have stayed in London.”

“No, but if whoever lives here had Harry’s blood on them, they might be able to tell us something.”

“And if that person is a Death Eater?”

“Then I guess we’ll duel them.” Sirius knocked on the door.

“We aren’t even going to try to disguise ourselves?” Regulus hissed at him, but Sirius couldn’t answer, because the door opened.

The gentleman in the doorway wore a fine Muggle suit. His skin was dark and he had a neatly trimmed beard and shaved head. He looked about Sirius’ age, and was about as tall, though definitely rounder in both face and build.

He looked over the two of them and raised a thick eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Sirius held out his hand. “I hope so. My name’s Sirius.”

“Nigel Brooks,” he said, and shook Sirius’ hand warily. His eyes drifted over Sirius’ shoulder to Regulus, but Sirius had a feeling Regulus would not be keen on an introduction.

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “We’re trying to find someone, and we think you might have run into him.” The picture of Harry was from Remus’ wedding. He had folded it over so that Ron and Hermione were hidden, along with most of the movement in the picture. Harry still blinked and his smile moved slightly, but Sirius hoped the Muggle would just think it a trick of the light.

Brooks took the photo to examine it more closely, then shrugged. “Might’ve seen him around.” He looked Sirius and Regulus over again. “You don’t look like police.”

Sirius glanced down at his worn jeans and leather jacket. “Hardly,” he said. “I’m his godfather. His mother’s awfully worried. We’re just trying to get some information.”

Brooks returned the photograph. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Best of luck, though.”

He started to close the door, but Sirius wedged his foot in the door. “We know you saw him, and at the very least, got his blood on you. We’re just trying to find out where he might have gone. There are dangerous people after him.”

Nigel straightened, and Sirius recognized a familiar determination in his dark eyes. “If what you say is true, and if I really did run into a young man, injured and running for his life, then what makes you think I would tell the first strangers who knocked on my door anything about him?”

“We’re his family.”

“Family can’t be dangerous?” Brook’s voice was cold, and Sirius, while he appreciated the man’s desire to protect Harry, felt outmatched. He didn’t feel outmatched very often.

“His name is Harry,” Regulus said, “and all we want is to know that he’s alive. You don’t have to tell us where he went, just tell us that he’s safe.”

Brooks stared at Regulus for a moment, then opened the door so it was no longer pressing on Sirius’ foot. “He’s alive, as far as I know. There was a lot of blood, but his injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. I thought whoever was chasing him had torn his wrist open, but when he showed it to me, there wasn’t even a scratch. He refused to go to hospital, just said he wanted out of the city, so I put him on a train. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“Has anyone else come asking for him?”

“No. You’re the first.”

“Thank you for your help.” Regulus inclined his head. “Sirius, we’re done here.”

Sirius did not think they were done. He wanted to know exactly which train Harry had gotten on. But Regulus was already leaving.

“Reg — wait —” But Regulus did not wait. Sirius eyed Brooks, but he supposed Regulus was right. They weren’t going to get anything more out of this man.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Sirius —” Brooks hesitated, and Sirius waited, hopeful.

But Brooks gave them neither a train nor destination. Instead, he handed Sirius a small business card. “If you find him, I’d like to know he’s alright.”

Sirius looked down at the plain white card. It had the man’s name printed on it and the contact information for an art gallery. 

“I’d find him faster if you’d tell me more.”

“He told me he was going to find his aunt and uncle,” Brooks said. “If you’re really his family, it shouldn’t be hard for you to track them down.” And he closed the door.

Sirius walked away, more confused than when they had arrived. He met Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

“Did he tell you anything?” Regulus asked.

Sirius handed Regulus the business card. “He said Harry went to stay with an aunt and uncle. Do you think he meant Tonks and Remus?”

“I suppose that would be a simple way to explain their relationship to a stranger. Why would Harry go to Remus?”

“Maybe a fight with Greyback scared some sense in him.” Sirius found himself hoping it was true rather than believing it was true. Harry had been pushing them away all summer, and Sirius thought one duel unlikely to have changed Harry’s mind. Harry had his mother’s stubbornness, after all. 

Regulus handed the card back to Sirius. “I suppose there’s nothing else to do. We’ll just have to trust this man Brooks’ word that Harry is safe.”

“We’re hardly done.” Sirius was already walking back to the station at a brisk pace. “Now we show Harry’s photograph on the platforms. We start with the line headed for Tonks, and pray he didn't actually board a train to Paris.”

An unusual anger sparked in Regulus’ cold gaze as he hurried after Sirius. Not that Regulus never got angry, but he usually tempered it so well. “Harry is wanted by some of the most dangerous people in the world and you think it's a good idea to flash his picture around to every blasted Muggle in London — you’re also wanted by those same people! You can't just spend a day on a platform where they're surely to be looking for Harry — it’s absurd!”

Regulus' general frown of displeasure twitched with his outburst. His nose scrunched the tiniest bit and his already thin lips seemed to disappear. He looked so much like Narcissa. Sirius looked away, wishing his brother could wear someone else’s face. He wished, more often than not, that he could wear someone else’s face, too. Perhaps that was just another reason it was so much easier to be Padfoot.

“We’ll wear disguises.” Sirius surprised himself with the “we.” He had never wanted Regulus to come along on this hunt in the first place, but suddenly he was not keen on Regulus leaving him to it alone. “Hell we could even pretend to be Hit Wizards, deputised with hunting Harry down, if any wizards question us.”

“But the Muggles, Sirius! You’ll have to Obliviate every single one of them that you talk to, or else the Death Eaters or Hit Wizards or Muggle-born Registration Commision or Snatchers or any other group of wizards that want you and I dead could interrogate them and track it back to us — or worse back to Harry.”

“That will take us forever —”

“Why can't you just let Harry go? You know he got away from Greyback. Brooks put him on a train, helped him, made sure he wasn’t injured, so he must be safe somewhere. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Not for me, and not for Lily nor Remus.” It wouldn’t be enough for James, either.

“You can't protect him from everything, Sirius. He’s seventeen now, and whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him —”

Anger flared hot and bright in Sirius' chest as he whirled on Regulus, and there was no Padfoot to soften the edges as he snarled Regulus words back at him. “‘Whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him’? Harry’s told us you're in on it so don't give me that hippogriff shit acting like you don't know. Like you're not keeping all the same secrets from us as Harry is. Like this is somehow less your fault, just because you slink away from arguments whenever you damn well please.”

Regulus’ temper faded from his face, replaced with an unusual, stricken expression that Sirius was not sure he had ever seen on his brother. Blacks felt many things, and usually felt them strongly, but fear? That wasn't something Sirius had seen in any of his cousins before, nor his brother.

But to Regulus’ credit, he did not transform into a cat and run away. He carefully schooled his expression back into its traditional calm and proud with a dash of disdainful form.

“I’ll help you find Harry,” he finally said in a quiet, almost apologetic voice. “But we Transfigure our disguises, no Polyjuice. It's too unreliable. And we Obliviate every Muggle we meet — don’t argue with me on this, Sirius! Yes, it will take longer, but it will keep Harry safer, and I trust that wherever he has run off to, he is indeed safe. We would have heard otherwise if he wasn't.”

Sirius took in several deep breaths to make sure his anger was cooled, at least enough that it would not attract the attention of those passing by them on the pavement, before speaking again. “Fine. Let’s do what we can today. And I want to put a word in the paper to Tonks, just in case he really did mean that he was on his way to her and Remus.”

“The paper? Sirius —”

“Not the <i>Prophet</i>. I’m not an idiot. Tonks, Remus, and I have a code we use for personals in the <i>Times</i>. Her idea. Said her dad used to use it in the first war to communicate with some of his Muggle-born friends, at first just after he and Andromeda eloped and had gone to ground to avoid her family, then as part of the war effort.”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s still risky —”

“It’s a war. There’s risk. Accept it and move on. The longer you whine about it, the longer nothing gets done.”

Regulus studied Sirius, and Sirius did not care for the intent look on Regulus’ face, almost like Regulus was trying to peer directly into his thoughts. It reminded him too much of their mother, trying to parse just how much trouble Sirius was in, just how much damage he had done.

But Regulus did not scold Sirius, nor criticise him. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “You're right.”

Had Sirius been in a slightly better mood, he might have had a joke ready, made Regulus repeat his apology. As it stood, Sirius had trouble accepting it at all. Perhaps it was no real wonder he and Regulus had grown so far apart. Even when one reached out, the other couldn't bother to reach back.

He zipped up his jacket, suddenly cold, though it was only the middle of the afternoon, and kicked his boots against a nearby wall. It didn't lessen his frustration. 

And after a full day walking up and down train platforms, talking to and Obliviating every Muggle they met, Sirius was no less frustrated. The task ahead of them was enormous, and with each passing day that left them with no leads, it seemed more and more futile.

But there was nothing else to do. Lily and Remus did their part connecting with the Order, hunting down rumors of sightings of Harry, while Regulus and Sirius plodded on through Muggle after Muggle and Memory Charm after Memory Charm.

It was two full moons more before, finally, a Muggle woman frowned as she looked at the photo.

“I think… Goodness it’s been a while, but I think I did see him. Or I saw a boy who looked like him. Had red hair. I thought it odd with his complexion, but it was a dark sort of red, I suppose. The glasses… I can’t remember if he was wearing them or not. He was a twitchy lad, though, rather unhappy face. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“No,” Sirius said, though it was not exactly true. He spoke quickly, anxious to get every detail out of this woman. “I’m his godfather, just trying to track him down. Can you tell me where he went?”

She pursed her lips. “I think… it must have been the rail line that goes out to Portsmouth — yes, I was visiting my sister that day, and I remember he had a large pack. I thought he must be on his way home from a walking tour.”

Sirius could not fathom what might have attracted Harry to Portsmouth. He wondered if it had something to do with Dumbledore. Maybe Regulus would know, but Regulus said nothing, mere stood at Sirius’ side, waiting to Obliviate this poor woman as soon as she was done talking.

“Do you know where he got off the train?” Sirius asked.

She frowned and handed the photograph back to Sirius. “I don’t know… he tripped over my bag on his way out. I felt awful. It… oh! It was Guildford. Yes, I remember, because —”

“Thank you so much for your time,” Regulus interrupted. Then, her eyes glassed over. She blinked at Sirius and Regulus, slowly, uncertain.

“Er — can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Sirius grunted, and as soon as she was gone, he whirled on Regulus. “She might have had more information!”

“We needed to know where Harry had gone. Now we know. What else could she have told us? It’s not as if she followed him off the train. Besides, Sirius, she saw Harry over a month ago. There’s no way Harry’s still in Guildford, no reason he would stay in one place for so long.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius lowered his voice and tried to keep the threatening tone out of it, but he found it difficult. “You don’t know of anything in Guildford that might keep him there? Nothing to do with Dumbledore or You-Know-Who?”

Regulus’ stare was even, but that didn’t tell Sirius much. “Nothing. And if you can’t think of anything that would keep him there, then all we can do is go down there and see if some other Muggle happens to remember him passing through months ago — there’s just no sense in it. We know he got away safely. Let that be enough.”

Sirius was no longer listening to Regulus. He had plucked a map from a kiosk and was staring at Guildford on the network of spider web lines spiraling out from Waterloo Station, trying to make sense of why it had appealed to Harry.

“I’m an idiot,” he finally said.

“That’s nothing new,” Regulus said.

“Brooks told us where he was going from the beginning and I was too stupid to understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was going to see his aunt and uncle, is what Brooks said. Not Tonks and Remus — his mum’s sister. Her Muggle family.”

“Does Harry even know them?”

“He knows they’re in hiding, and he knows their house will be empty — bloody hell I can’t believe I’m that thick.” Sirius balled the map up in his fist.

“Should we tell Lily and Remus —”

“Let’s make sure he’s there before we get their hopes up.” Sirius fought down another grunt of frustration. He had not felt this stupid in a long time, but how was he supposed to connect Harry to Petunia and Vernon, whom Harry had met perhaps twice in his life? He did not even wait to slip away to a hidden corner of the platform to Disapparate. He turned on the spot, in the midst of a crowd of Muggles, ignoring all of Regulus’ protests, and disappeared with a crack.

[helpinghanikan]

Sleeping arrangements

Avengers (and Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sum:  It's late and the bed is so nice. It's time to sleep and to bring your heroes along with you. (Fluffy little snippets of sleepy time with the Avengers)

Steve Rogers:

It’s the last train home and only one thing in this world is warm. The wall of Steve Rogers your head rested against was beating softly through the jacket and shirt he wore. Keeping your arms around his center to keep any of the heat from getting away. His own arm protects around your shoulders, keeping you in and gibing his hand something to do instead.

He could’ve driven, he should’ve driven, instead he wanted to take the train. He wanted to walk around like he did years and years before, but this time with your hands intertwined.

Although far away the train has started to shake the earth. Taking you out of the almost sleeping world and back into this cold one. The change in worlds brings out a yawn and lets the cold back in. It’s been a long day. With your eyes closed and clothes heavier than they could ever be Steve was the only thing keeping you up. His chin rests on your head after a while, thumb rubbing over your shoulder as the train finally pulled to a stop.

Inside it was the same story but in a seated position. Guided into his lap and landing with a groan as it was just so much work. The practically empty strain allowed your legs to stretched straight out over the seats.

Steve could stay awake longer than most, but he was tired. He was cold and annoyed and really wished he had driven instead of taking this stupid train. He took his frustration out on squeezing you tight, holding on as if you were liable to fall right out of the seat if he let go. At least it was warmer inside the train.

Tony Stark:

Someone staying up late, not getting enough sleep, and making exhaustion their personality trait is funny for maybe week. But After days of trying to coax him to come to bed, to try something other than just giving up on sleep or even talking to a doctor it gets concerning. After weeks of these same issues, it becomes frustrating.

Everyone, from Pepper to Peter have done their fair share of lecturing. Happy has gone out of his way in helping you get the dumbass to appointments. All of which he has walked right out because, unfortunately, he was still an adult who could make his own decisions.

It’s only after using the nuclear word that he pays attention.

“Anthony,” You say just before he leaves the room.

Although speaking to his back he does stop. His shoulders have tensed under the t-shirt and he’s listening in.

There’s an audio book’s worth of things you could say about this issue. But it would all be a repeat that he’s heard before, from many different mouths. Instead, you kept it simple, not even bothering to turn on the light.

“You didn’t even try.” It comes out from a tired partner just wanting the best for him. Yet Tony walks away from the advice, again.

Thor:

Power doesn’t stop for sleep. It’s still in the air when he’s laying sideways towards the window. Because of the whole nighttime thing it’s hard to tell if clouds are actually coming in or darkening. Maybe you’re just insane but Mr. Weatherman didn’t say anything about rain tonight, right?

It was a jolt that really woke you up. Looking over your shoulder at the expanse of muscular back. Thor movements were always a bit too…loud for this world. Whether running through a fight or moving in his sleep it calls attention to everyone. He doesn’t mean to, but it does wake you up enough to see your glass is dryer as a bone.

As if reading your mind, the rain has come down. It could almost be described as torrential how hard it was all coming down. Matching the dramatics of rain, a lightning strike coming straight down into some poor tree.

This wasn’t the first time Thor had a nightmare. Asgardians just seemed to be humans 2.0, making Thor just as a victim to horror as we humans are. At the same time, he was still another worldly being, translating to giving him a few feet when waking him up.

Another strike of lightening and another tree is taken out of this world. Without the lights on that blast was your only moment of lightening. The rest of the journey made to Thor’s side of the bed was done in darkness and pounding rain. Following the outlined Asgardian until reaching his shoulder. A gentle hand on his should does nothing. A little shake and a whispered “Thor,” finally does the trick.

The two strikes of lightening outside somehow reached his eyes. For the briefest of seconds blue, cracking energy is directed right at you. Stopping just as quickly as they appeared, replaced with Thor’s regular blue eyes that blink a few times.

“What is it?” he asks.

There’s no point in telling him the truth about his nightmares and their effect. Then again, there’s no point in lying either. Instead, it’s better to distract. “It’s still super early. Back to bed.” You say instead, kissing with until he takes the hit and holds you.

Bucky Barnes:

Sleep is a luxury that isn’t worth chasing. With the pillows and sheets there were nightmares and enemies that could sense his weakness. Trying to get at least six hours and all that guarantees is waking up sweaty and a call to doc, making sure to get everything back in order before you could ever notice.

Instead, he takes walks. Maps out the city at night, the changes and differences that happened without him. He recognizes the buildings, the structures and bricks that were too strong to be a victim to time.

Most of the time he does this alone. Watching a show about nothing until you were asleep before starting his walk. But there were times you catch him, calling out to him like the neighborhood cat trying to get away. Getting on your own shoes and jacket quickly. Then enforcing the handholding during the little adventure.

It’s only when passing by something important that words are shared. “One of my buddies worked here when this place was a mechanic. Broke his leg just before the draft, I still think it was on purpose.” He’d say then never bring it up again.

These walks are always shorter than most. After two times Bucky learned when to make the loop back home with you. When your building comes back into view the handholding has gotten sweaty. The walking had slowed to a crawl and you were dragging him down by the arm. Even less talking was done after getting through the door; just landing face down onto the bed without bothering about the shoes.

These kind of walks were Bucky’ favorite.

Natasha Romanoff:

The bed was used almost exclusively for sleeping. As the couch was both comfy and expensive. And, as Nat puts it, “Should we do it with the lights off too? Under the covers like grandparents?” Although it was probably another reason to use the overpriced couch more often.

Like any good, and overworked, soldier Nat could sleep anywhere. When a mission is done, and there’s nothing to worry about, a shower and a nap is the best in the world.

“I smell nice,” She says walking into the living after the shower. Steam still behind her, hair wrapped up and a sweater purposefully bought to be several sizes too big.

She stretches and lays over you like a cat. Resting as close as possible so you, too, can smell the expensive shampoo she uses. Making sure that the body wash isn’t ignored either as that, too, was expensive.

“Might as well spend this pay on something,” She says when asked about the prices.

Although she asks what you’re up to she won’t be awake for the answer. Already teetering into sleep land when you answer.

Natasha was as athletic as she was heavy. Only sometimes managing to carry her bridal style and most of the time having to walk/guide her into the bedroom. Either letting her drop onto the bed with the same weight you had carried in, or she holds fast and takes you down with her.

Just like a cat, Natasha gets to decide cuddle time.

T’challa:

Although the mattress was new, the bed’s size was traditional, and passed on through generations of rulers. Forget California king bed, A Wakanda king bed was that and a half. Ten feet length, twelve feet tall. Combined with blankets, pillows and more it was easy to disappear into the thing. But it was also easy to get lost in it all.

In the middle of the night, in the very center of this ocean of bed, you can reach out forever. Finding pillows (both the decorative and the usable kind), smaller blankets or stuffed animals that have managed to be added. But it’s a tiresome journey, one that doesn’t seem to have an end even as you stretched to pointed toes and fingers.

It’s only after touching body heat that you can relax. Finally finding your king that turns to your touch. Making his own journey through sheets and bedding. Using you as the trail into his love. Neither of you thinking about the absolute nightmare it will be to make this bed tomorrow.

Pietro Maximoff:

For most of his life Pietro is moving. Be it running or just running his mouth, he’s not the kind of guy to sit still. Unfortunately, this also applies to sleeping.

“He’s been sleep walking since we were children,” Wanda once said. “Our father once found him crying in a puddle. He had slipped and woken up in the street. He’ll deny crying, though.”

As an adult Pietro doesn’t actively get up and walk around anymore. The man made up of strong and lean muscle still moves quite a bit. Waking up from freezing feet finding yours or because he’s sat upright in bed again. Using soft, but firm, pressure to get him to lay back down or to guide him back to his side of the bed. If you weren’t careful his arms would find you, almost dragging you back to his side of the bed.

He'd deny it in the morning. Smiling with barely open eyes as you’re still pressed against him. No matter how much you’re going to insist this was his fault he’d still mock you. Nuzzling in since you insist on cuddling so much.

Peter Parker:

There’s a time limit next when sitting next to Peter. You have ten minutes before his head finds your shoulder. If you don’t shrug or lean away he’ll stay there, slowly leaning in until he’s all settled.

Although not completely asleep he does rest. If your hands are held in those moments you could probably feel his pulse slow down as his breathing slows. Maybe his eyes manage to stay open, but his eyes do get heavy. Someone could say his name, and he’d respond, but it be from his throat. An annoyed groan directed to whoever was ruining this moment. Even if it was usually a teacher or adult.

It’s only when traveling, and you’re sitting for a while, that he completely falls asleep. Progressing past just leaning his head and adding his arms. If you allow him, putting an arm around your back and the other over your center. With your own arm over his back, he sleeps in a position that, although sweet, always left a pain in his neck. Something he’d complain about until you ask if he want’s you to rub his shoulders.

Stephen Strange:

During aura projection Stephen’s body is dead weight. No muscles or bone working with the individual trying to help them. It’s just taken over by gravity and his entire weight wants to be on the floor. Sleep does the same thing.

Short of a bucket of water to his face he won’t wake up. Part of his experience in med school was taking every bit of use sleep could give him. Which leads to sleeping fast, and sleeping hard, usually opened mouth. No snoring yet, but the moment he does there’s an open target for shutting him up.

Matt Murdock:

It’s a mixture of meditation and caffeine that he is still functioning. Too busy, much too busy, as a lawyer for the two of you to share a bed most of the time. Making any comments you have about his sleep schedule mute.

Watching him doesn’t change give any information either. Coffee in the morning, some deep breathing and self-centering in the between moments at work, and sleep ins on days off were all you could gather. Between that it’s easier to just assume he’s fine.

Just laugh at his “not like I need to rest my eyes,” jokes and move on.

Carol Danvers:

After going through every time change known to man, alien and beyond Carol has developed a very specific still. Carol Danvers, woman with the power of a star and to sleep literally anywhere at any time. Be it a cleared-out corner of some ship, an open floor that keeps her hidden from passersby or on your lap. The latter being her personal favorite.

Like a massive golden retriever, she wants to be in the middle of your lap. Close as possible with a arm holding around your shoulder and the other on her toy, or phone.  A being of wiry muscle and heat keeping you pinned to the couch. Most of the time she’s out ten minutes into the movie, most of the time the remotes’ out of reach, and most of the time you gotta go pee.

[stressisakiller]

My Sunflower My Star

Buck Barnes x reader Soulmate AU

 (Hello Sunflower Part 2)

Summary:  Your soul mark appears on your 18th birthday. What do you do when your father is a part of Hydra and your soul mark binds you to the Winter Soldier.

Warnings: None really, bit of violence, couple of cuss words

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: New Edit 3/18: Mostly minor things but still worth a reread Here is the revised chapter two. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future parts. Also I originally got the idea for this after reading Wolf, Partner Gloves... by @revengingbarnes so check it out!

Flashbacks are in Italics

Series Masterlist

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It was on one of your missions when you had first seen it, the sunflower on his hip. He was changing after taking his shower and in your mind everything clicked. You stared at it mesmerized, you could see the scars littered across its length from where Hydra tried to remove it from his skin. But it was still as vibrant as the mark that graced your hip. You were pulled out of your reverie by an almost imperceptible chuckle coming from the usually stoic soldier.

 “Like what you see, doll?” You immediately averted your eyes, fighting to hide the telltale blush that you could feel coloring your cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to stare, I just realized that I had never seen your soul mark before. Do you know who it is?” You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your obvious staring. 

“No,” he looked confused, “I don’t believe I do, I can’t remember.” his brow was furrowed as he traced the tattoo. He shook his head, ridding his face of emotion, gone was the man, and the soldier stood in his place. 

Laying down with your back to him you let your mind wander. His tattoo was a sunflower, of course, it was, why else would you decide to call him that. Why else would your phrase work? Why else would he recognize you even when he couldn’t actually remember why? The nickname that you gave to him was his tattoo. You let tears fall from your face for the first time since you discovered your own soul mark. You cried for the future that you may never have with him, you cried for the pain he had endured because of your mark on his skin. And when all of your tears had been shed you allowed anger and determination take their place. You would not allow him to lie the rest of his life under the thumb of hydra, you would die before you let that happen. So in that cold hotel, you began to plan, you were going to save the winter soldier even if it killed you.

 So, as you fought to pin him on that concrete you hoped against hope that he would remember.

Pinning him, you could see the shift in his eyes as he recognized you. He had spent way too much time with you as the winter soldier to truly forget you. You spoke quickly and quietly to him between breaths. There was a flicker in his eyes as you spoke, spurring you on. His eyes weren’t completely clear showing that he was still in soldier mode, so you did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that you knew would get him moving. You gave him an order. 

"Soldier, change in mission, you are to come with me." You saw the flash of confusion on his face, gone as quickly as it arrived and you prayed that he would listen. He nodded and turned to follow you. You sprinted to the nearest car and hopped in. Catching Steve’s eye from the other side of the bridge. You looked at the girl next to him, knowing she would understand, you quickly signed "trust me" to her, she nodded and pulled on Steve's arm, letting him know what you said. He nodded at you before allowing her to pull him with her to follow Nat and escape

You rushed to get the car moving, throwing it into gear before peeling out and driving in the opposite direction as Steve and Natasha. You pressed the gas harder as the sound of sirens reached you, Hydra wouldn’t be far behind. You drove fast, weaving through the cars, noticing the cars following behind you as hydra started to catch up. Then you saw it, the opportunity you needed to escape, a way for them to believe you dead, or at least lost. The river. You looked over at Bucky his eyes were clearer than they were on the bridge. They mirrored the same determination you were feeling. He nodded and you turned the wheel. It felt as if time slowed as you hit the guardrail, the car careening into the murky water below.

You blinked the darkness from your eyes at the impact. The cold water rushing into the car and throwing your brain into high gear. There were gunshots above you, you would have to stay under as long as you possibly could. It was imperative that you made it as far away from the bridge and the hydra agents as you could.  Looking over at Bucky you both took a deep breath as the water closed over your heads. Everything felt muted as you escaped the flooded car, you swam, kicking your legs as hard as you could, using the current to drag your farther and farther downriver.

You burst out of the water coughing and gasping when you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. You scanned the water, looking for any sign of Bucky that you could find, You started to panic when you couldn’t see him. Shit, what if he didn’t make it, what if he got out earlier than you, what if something happened? Your swirling thoughts were interrupted by a head of dark brown hair bursting out of the river downstream from you. Gasping for air just as you had a few moments ago, your heart squeezed in your chest, tension leaving you at seeing him alive. You swam over to him, making your way to the bank of the river. Only exiting the river when you found an area that would mask your exit from anyone that came looking.

 You grabbed Bucky’s arm pulling him after you. Running towards the buildings lining the river, finding an alley to duck into you took a moment to assess your surroundings. You had a mental map in your mind of DC, thanks to all of your time on missions here. You took a second to figure out where you were in relation to your safe house. Bucky remaining blessedly quiet, letting you take the lead, scanning the area for any threats. You finally figured out the best way to get to your safe house without getting caught, mostly ducking through alleys and deserted side streets. It had been dark for a couple of hours by the time you arrived at the door of the nondescript brick building you had chosen.

You were shivering from head to toe as you walked around to the fire escape, using a hidden pole to pull the ladder from its place above your heads. You started up the ladder, waiting for Bucky when you reached the first landing. When he was safely beside you, you pulled the ladder back up so that you couldn’t be followed. You climbed to the middle floor of the building, you had set up traps on the floors above and below making it the safest place in the building. You pulled a brick out from near the window, taking the key you hid inside to open the locked window. You slipped through the small opening, pausing to listen for any hints that someone else was in the room. When you were mostly confident that it was just you, you pulled your gun from its holster and turned on one of the gas lamps.

You didn’t have to worry about anyone looking in since you had blackout curtains over each of the windows; the cameras that you had placed around the building gave you ample view of anyone that walked by. You walked through each room of the empty apartment checking every nook and cranny before holstering your pistol. Turning on a couple more lights and the heater, you walked back into the main living area. You smiled at the sight of Bucky standing in the middle of the room looking like a lost puppy, something that you would have never attributed to him before that moment. For the first time in months, you were able to relax. You motioned for him to sit at the table, walking towards the kitchen to make some dinner. You hadn’t eaten all day and you knew that Bucky was probably in the same boat. 

“Any requests for food?” you asked, glancing at the soldier. He was sitting in the chair as straight as a rod, muscles tense in case he needed to defend himself. You hated how Hydra had ruined his ability to feel safe. He moved his gaze from scanning the room to staring at your face. You waited patiently for him to answer, knowing that he wasn’t used to being asked for an opinion. 

“Umm, I don’t really know what foods I like, so anything is fine.” He finally said, looking self-conscious. You tread over to him, taking care to appear harmless, noticing the small tensing of his shoulders every step you took towards him. You held your hands out in surrender, kneeling in front of him to make your presence less threatening.

“I swear to you, you will never have any reason to fear me. I am here to help, and I could never hurt you. You are safe here, Hydra won’t find you here and if they do I will have your back until they are dead or I am.” you spoke softly but he could hear the conviction in your voice, and for some reason it made him trust you. He felt like he knew you and he was trying to figure out why. He nodded to you and you headed back to the stove, making a simple meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. You placed the food in front of him and sat on the other side of the table, relaxing at the warmth of the food and the knowledge that at least for tonight you and Bucky were safe.

You discretely studied the man across from you. Taking a moment to look at your soulmate. A peaceful moment where you weren't being forced to fight him or stuck on a mission where you felt conflicted by the actions you were forced to commit. You just got to see him. You could tell that his hair was longer than the last time you saw him. The black that they had placed around his eyes was running down his cheeks from the river water. He was as buff as you had ever seen him and his metal arm was the same as always with the red star on his shoulder. But it was his eyes that captured your attention. Those piercing blue eyes were looking at you with confusion and just a hint of hope as he silently ate his food. His eyes were so much more expressive and so very different than when he was brainwashed. You gave him a small smile when you noticed his gaze. After you both finished stuffing your faces you set down your fork, took a deep breath, and spoke. 

"Alright," you paused, worried that you were about to regret the words coming out of your mouth, "ask me anything" He took a second, you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. 

"The man on the bridge, he knew me?" He spoke slowly as if tasting the words as they crossed his tongue. You gave him a small smile, and nodded, 

"Yes, he knew you, very well actually,” you took a deep breath and started playing with your fingers, “his name is Steve Rogers and you grew up together. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but your friends call you Bucky." He studied you intently while you reached around your neck and took off his dog tags, handing them to him, "these are yours, you were in WWII, and in 1943 you fell off a train and were captured by Hydra, you were brainwashed and frozen. They took you in and out of cryo, using you to do their bidding before throwing you back in." He slowly nodded, taking in your words and mulling them over before speaking. 

"I don't fully remember what all happened or what all I did but that sounds right." He raised his eyes to look straight at you again, "And you, I know you"

 You took a sip of your drink placing it carefully on the table before speaking 

"Yes, you know me" you started chewing on your lip as you decided how to proceed. "My father worked for Hydra since before I was born and when I was 10 they started testing on me. My father would take me with him and have me watch as they would put you in and out of cryo. I hated him before but seeing the torture and pain they put you through was what made me decide to find a way to get us both out. Then I turned 18, and everything went to hell. I got my soulmarks and blatantly disobeyed him. He had enough and tried to wipe me, they had done it before when I was younger, but this time they couldn't. I was too stubborn and already had a purpose that superseded anything that they could do. But I let them believe that they had won, that the brainwashing had worked. They had me fight and train with you as well as occasionally go on missions with you, once they believed me under their control." You saw the hint of a smile on his face as he recalled 

"You would always say that phrase, the one you said on the bridge." His gaze on you was intense and you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to escape, 

"Privet, podsolnukh, solntse vzoshlo, i tvoi mechty ispolnilis'. Hello, sunflower the sun is up and your dreaming is done. The sunflower is my favorite flower and so it seemed fitting for you."  There was an emotion in his eyes at that moment that you couldn't name. 

"You mentioned your soul marks, you have two?" You nodded slowly at his question, "… may I see them?"

 You felt as if your heart was stuck in your throat, for the first time since you turned 18 you felt ashamed of the tattoo that masked one of your marks. Unable to say anything you nodded and stood. Lifting the right side of your shirt and pulling the waist of your pants down just enough to see your tattoo. He stared at your hip a moment before looking up at your face,

 "I don't understand" he murmured as he looked back down at the night sky inked on your skin. 

You took a deep breath and started to explain, "My soul mark is a star, a red star," you pointed to the original star before continuing, "I couldn't let them use it against me so I got a tattoo to disguise it." You could see the question swirling in his eyes and you nodded. It felt electric when he brushed his finger over the star, and you couldn't help the gasp that passed your lips. He smiled, truly smiled, and it was in that moment that you decided you would spend the rest of your life doing whatever you could to see that smile again.

"And the other one?" he asked finally pulling his gaze from your hip. You quietly pulled up the sleeve of your shirt to show him the flowers and the wolf. Understanding crashed over him and he let out a breathy laugh.

"The Howling commandoes, it's referencing the unit that I was apart of with Steve near the end of the war, although I'm sure what the flowers mean."

"I looked them up," you offered, continuing when he nodded to you, "The Marigold is the flower for your birth month, it also means warm and undying love, as well as grief and sorrow. The Daisy stands for new beginnings, baby's breath is for everlasting, unconditional love, and the gladiolus is for strength and integrity." but the time you finished speaking you could see the tears in his eyes as the reality of what fate had placed on you to represent him sank in. He didn't say anything before he stood and lifted the left side of his shirt and you got to see the sunflower that extended from his hip up to his ribs, full of life and color, so different to the soldier that Hydra had made him into. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him.

 "It is nice to officially meet you, my sunflower." You couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped as he said those words. 

"It's nice to meet you my star, I have wished for this every day since I first got my marks." You replied. With that, he pulled you into his arms and you decided that this was your favorite place to be.

Tagged users: @calwitch @writerwrites

[thiswasinevitableid]

If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???

Here you go!

22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.

Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.

It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.

“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.

“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”

The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.

“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”

“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”

The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”

“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.

“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”

“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”

“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”

“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”

“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”

A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.

“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.

“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.

Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”

Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.

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

He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.

“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.

“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”

“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”

Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.

“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”

“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”

As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.

Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.

“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”

“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”

“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”

He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”

“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”

She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”

“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”

“How can you be sure it’s fake?”

“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”

“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.

“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”

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

He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”

“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”

“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”

It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.

“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them

“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.

Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.

Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.

It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.

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

“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.

“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”

His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.

He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.

His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.

A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.

Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.

I.C All

Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.

He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.

“Come in!”

The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.

Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.

“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”

“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”

“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.

“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”

“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”

“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”

“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”

“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”

“...Come with me.”

Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.

“I had no idea this was here.”

“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”

“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”

“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”

“You know he won’t, sugar.”

“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”

Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”

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

“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.

“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.

“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.

“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”

“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.

“How’s Maddie doin’?”

“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”

“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”

“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”

Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.

“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”

“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”

She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.

“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”

“A few weeks.”

She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”

“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”

The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”

With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.

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

“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.

“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”

He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.

“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”

Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.

“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”

“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”

It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”

“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”

Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”

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

This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.

But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.

His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.

It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.

“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”

His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.

“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”

“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.

“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”

“You struck a deal.”

Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”

Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.

“He blackmailed you.”

“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.

“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”

“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”

Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.

He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.

“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”

Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”

Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.

“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”

The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”

He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.

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

“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”

“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”

“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”

“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”

“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”

He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”

“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.

“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”

An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.

“You like when I’m rough?”

“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.

“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”

“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.

Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”

“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.

“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”

“Please show me how.”

“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.

“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”

“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”

He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.

“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”

“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.

“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”

Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.

“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”

The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.

“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”

Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.

“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.

Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Fuck, please?”

He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.

“I, I should unzip-”

“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”

“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.

“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”

“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.

“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”

“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”

Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 35

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're off to see the wizards.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: No specifics given because they would be spoilers, but expect major angst and psychological horror.

AO3

The arrival back to your apartment was surprisingly anticlimactic. You put down Monster’s carrier and let him loose as Bucky carefully set down your bags in the bedroom. He asked if you needed help, but you insisted you were fine. You were too nervous now that you were back and needed something to distract you from thoughts of what you were going to say to Strange.

“Why don’t we worry about that in a day or two?” he said while standing awkwardly in your living room. His smile was faint, but you figured it was from the tiring drive. “I need to come up a plan anyway of what exactly we should tell him.”

“Right.” That sounded perfectly reasonable. “You heading home, then?”

“I… probably should.” Now his smile seemed strained. “But I’ll check in how you’re doing later.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine, really.” It might have been silly, but you really didn’t want him to think you were the clingy type. Even if that’s what you kind of were due to magical circumstance. “Probably going to read or veg out in front of the computer. Let me know when you want to go see Strange and I’ll be ready.”

“Yeah. Will do.”

Bucky stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, stiff. You’d noticed the change as soon as you’d entered the city, like he was reverting back to his old self.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was okay and took a step forward, but Bucky was already retreating toward the front door. And before you knew it, he was gone.

Stinging pricked inside your ribcage. You hadn’t thought anything would change once you came back. You’d really thought the way Bucky had been with you at your house was going to be the new normal. Had you been naïve to think that?

No, you told yourself. Bucky was stressed about facing the wizards, and considering his history, he had every right to be. You were nervous too, and you were going to push it out of your mind and focus on something productive.

You did do some reading and tried to catch up on some shows, but your mind wandered, your nerves on edge. You nearly jerked off the couch when your phone buzzed and you slapped for it on the coffee table. It was a text from Bucky.

Hey sweetheart. How you feeling?

Your heart fluttered at the pet name, but then sank into your stomach. Was this what Bucky had meant by checking up on you? You thought he’d stop by in person. Maybe stay for dinner. Couple’s stuff.

You shoved the selfish thought away.

I’m okay, how are you? you texted back, because you were going to be the bigger person and not leave him on read, and then you tossed the phone back onto the coffee table.

When next it buzzed, you glanced at it to see Bucky had answered back that he was fine, and he was going to see Strange tomorrow, and that he wanted to do it first without you.

Your heart sank further and you didn’t respond. Realizing you were being childish, your anxiety making up problems that weren’t there, you got up to take a shower and go to bed. The multiple feedings of the day before were still affecting you, but you found it difficult to fall asleep, missing the warmth next to you so much that it physically hurt.

Could Bucky feel your pain? Or were you too far away for him to feel it? Either way, he didn’t appear on your doorstep.

The next morning you checked your phone and only found a semi-accusatory text from your mom for not letting her know you had arrived safely. Feeling like the shit daughter you were, you called her back and assured her you were alive and not dead on the side of the road somewhere.

After that, you whittled away the time with cleaning your apartment. It’d been a while and you needed it. And then you managed to capture your hobgoblin and attack him with a brush, getting all the loose fur out of his undercoat. Monster acted like a brat and tried to squirm out of your arms the whole time, but you both escaped the procedure unharmed.

You did dishes, laundry, made your bed, and even scrubbed the toilet. You were actually getting into the whole cleaning thing when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Another text from Bucky. You’d lost track of time and it was already five in the afternoon.

Strange can see us tomorrow 3pm, was all it said. You frowned.

Sounds good, you texted back, unable to think of anything better to say. When there was no follow-up text, you allowed yourself a moment of disappointment. Bucky was definitely internally freaking out at having to go see the sorcerers and be at risk for your secret to be exposed. You understood it, but you wished he would be open with you.

You’d known this relationship with Bucky would take work, but… it always came down to the bond. It forced so many constraints on you, made you both live a secret life, and was a constant reminder to Bucky of what he’d accidentally done.

For the first time, you truly resented for the mark on your arm. No, you decided, it wasn’t resentment. It was loathing.

Once you got to know Strange better, which was a strong possibility if what the Ancient One had said was true, maybe you could ask him for help. If the sorcerers could create a concoction for Bucky to drink that allowed him to no longer feed, why couldn’t they figure out a way to break the bond? There had to be something hidden in those creepy vaults of theirs besides old demonic trophies and talking skin-books.

You tried not to think about the Sanctum, or the sorcerers, or the Ancient One since that night. It filled you with a sort of anxiety that bordered on existential. You should have known those tests in Strange’s office wouldn’t be the end of it. The portal that had appeared when you were a child… the ominous things the book had told you… owning a hobgoblin… the Alp and the heigore… Bucky and the bond. It was too much to be strange, paranormal coincidences.

Something was wrong with you. You only hoped Strange could help you not open any more portals or fall into any more time-loops, and then maybe, you could break the bond too.

Your day passed uneventful and alone. You tried to be a damn adult about it and not sulk, but you only had a couple days left until New Years, and then, back to work.

Back to work. After everything that had happened, how could you manage that? And then there was Davin. You hadn’t bothered to text or call him, and here you were, pouting because Bucky was no longer at your side 24/7 when you couldn’t even bother to make sure your friend was doing okay.

You called Davin that night—he sounded surprised but pleased to hear from you—and after talking to him for a good half hour in which you both made sure the other was done fine, you went to bed feeling marginally better. Things were going to be fine with Bucky. Most likely, he was being distant because he had to focus on what he was going to tell Strange. That’s all it was, and you wouldn’t allow your anxious thoughts to conjure up any other paranoid scenario.

***

The next day brought a fresh wave of anxiety and nerves. You were going to have to look the head honcho wizard in the face and very carefully tell him information he needed to know, while hiding life-ruining information he didn’t.

No matter what you tried to do, cleaning, reading, napping, your mind continued to return to Bucky’s memories. The cold bunker and the frowning soldier speaking Russian. The visceral agony of Bucky’s starvation as he scoured New York’s dark streets to feed.

And of course, the red dunes. You wouldn’t forget that nightmare as long as you lived, but as you’d told Bucky, those memories were fading like a dream. Perhaps that was for the best. Being trapped in memories without a body for forty years would drive anyone insane.

At 2 PM, your phone buzzed and your heart leapt in your throat. You expected a text from Bucky saying he was at your apartment, but instead...

177A Bleecker Street.

That was it. An address. You put it into Google Maps and the app informed you that there was a 177 Bleecker Street, but it was a normal looking apartment building above a shop in Greenwich Village.

Are you sure this is the right place? you texted back.

Yes. Take a cab. They don’t really do parking.

You stared at your phone, not really sure how to feel, before sending back a text that said, Okay. See you there.

From your place it would have been much cheaper to take the subway and walk from the stop, but the crowded platforms and packed train compartments sent you into an anxiety attack more often than not. So you pulled up the taxi app, pinged for a driver, and went out to wait by the curb, trying not to stew in your feelings and focus on what you were going to tell Strange.

All you could think about after the cab picked you up was how fucked you were if you said the wrong thing. How fucked you and Bucky were. How were you supposed to be around the wizards and ensure they never discovered the demon sigil or the bond? It was an impossible task, and you wished you could have talked to Bucky about it beforehand.

Why hadn’t he come to you before going to see Strange? Weren’t you supposed to brainstorm and come up with a plan together? You were flying blind over unfamiliar territory, and you were afraid it was only a matter of time before you crashed spectacularly.

A half hour later, you were stepping out of the cab and onto the sidewalk, peering up at the red brick building in front of you. It was as unassuming as the rest of the apartments on the block.

You frowned and took a step forward, and that’s when everything changed. The building shimmered in front of you, and not just that one—each apartment building to the side as well. Not unlike Bucky’s guise, the illusion collapsed in a mirage, and a handsome, ancient building stood in front of you, looking very much like the home of a bunch of wizards.

You cast a conspicuous glance around, but no one else seemed to notice the change, the crowd of people flowing around you without interruption.

Taking a deep breath, you clutched your bag tighter and walked up the steps to the massive front door and knocked.

You expected to wait but the door opened almost immediately, revealing a grand interior. Not seeing anyone, you stepped forward, jumping as the tall door swung shut behind you.

“Uh… hello?” you called out. Your words slightly echoed back, and you clutched your bag tighter in your hands.

“You’re early. Your appointment with Doctor Strange isn’t until 3:14.”

You jumped for the second time. The wizard who addressed you was unfamiliar but dressed in the same elegant yet simple robes Wong wore.

“Oh, um.” You didn’t know what else to say. What kind of appointment time was 3:14?

“You may wait in here.” He gestured towards a sitting room off to the side. It had the same dark paneled walls and wood parquet and green marble flooring. The furniture was cherry wood and red velvet upholstery, and the lighting was warm and comforting. If Strange took too long, they would come back to find you sleeping, without a doubt.

“Thanks,” you said, attempting to smile at the man but he was already gone. Like, not just walking out the door gone, he’d literally popped out of existence. You sighed and sat down on one of the couches, pulling out your phone so you’d have something to do and not fall asleep.

No signal. How does someone not have a cell signal in the middle of New York?

“Ugh.” Nap it was, then.

You lifted one leg up onto the couch, letting your shoe dangle off the edge because you weren’t raised in a barn, and you leaned your head against the couch back. You wondered where Bucky was, not difficult when he was never far from your thoughts, but you couldn’t text him and just had to wait.

Inevitably, surrounded by plush furniture, golden lighting, and a room temperature that was a little too warm for December, your eyelids drifted shut and your bunched muscles loosened.

Bright, fierce agony cut across your chest. You sat up, clutching at your shirt as you struggled to breathe.

The pain slammed into you again and you gave a breathless cry, hunched over and heart beating wildly.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Were you having a heart attack? Were you dying?

A third round of torture constricted your chest, and along with the utter certainty that it wasn’t your pain you were experiencing.

They’re hurting Bucky!

You sprang from the couch, bag falling off your shoulder and left forgotten as you ran into the foyer. The pain still bloomed in your chest, but you sensed something in your mind. A golden string on fire, connecting you to the source of your distress.

You would find Bucky at the end of it. He was close. He was close and they were killing him!

No other thoughts passed through your mind except to get to Bucky. You didn’t hesitate to race up the ancient staircase, turning and twisting down hallways you didn’t know. You continued to climb, to the top of the building, and you knew where you were heading.

You didn’t see anyone, the mansion strangely empty until you burst into the anteroom before Strange’s office. Wong and another wizard stepped forward to block your way.

“You cannot go in there.” Wong put a hand on your shoulder. “Strange is currently in a meeting—“

Rage erupted inside you like a well of poison, and you turned and bit the hand touching you.

The wizards shouted, tried to restrain you, but you were screaming, fighting, clawing to be free.

Get to Bucky! you silently screamed, over and over. He’s dying!

Wong managed to get his hand free and was nursing it, the other man conjuring fiery orange ropes, but you were too quick. You head-butted the second wizard and slammed him aside with your shoulder, bolting forward to shove open the doors.

Your mind created a gruesome scenario: you would find Bucky strapped to a table, or maybe a chair, being tortured mercilessly.

Instead, you found Strange and Bucky standing, facing each other. Strange had a hand hovering over Bucky’s shoulder, glowing symbols inches away from the scarred pentagram.

Hands grabbed you from behind, but you had already stopped moving. You blinked rapidly, confusion replacing the rage that had consumed you.

Strange watched you with an unreadable look. Bucky’s expression had fallen.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Strange said, his voice oddly quiet. “But it is as I feared.”

“She bit me,” Wong grumbled from over your shoulder.

“We’re lucky she didn’t do worse,” Strange told him. “One who gets between a demon master and their human slave often suffers severe injuries, or even death.”

You were panting, arms and legs shaking with fatigue now that the startling anger had receded.

What… what was going on?

Your eyes finally found Bucky, standing there unharmed and unrestrained. For all intents and purposes, perfectly fine. The realization hit you hard.

“You told them?” Your words came out hurt. Betrayed. Bucky’s wince confirmed it. “Why? Why would you do that?”

Bucky said nothing, and the air was heavy with an uncomfortable silence until Strange spoke.

“I’ll give you two a moment. Come, Wong. Let me see that hand of yours.”

As Strange walked around you, you followed his gaze and gave Wong an apologetic wince. You would have to properly apologize to him later. You’d never bitten anyone in your life, and yet, you’d acted like a rabid dog.

As if sensing your thoughts, once Strange had closed the doors to his office, Bucky softly said, “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control it.”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, so instead you angrily wiped at your stinging eyes and turned away.

“I knew it.” You sniffled. “I knew you were hiding something. Ever since we got back, you’ve been distant—What the fuck, Bucky?”

Now you did look up, the anger making a quick return. God, it felt like your emotions were on a yo-yo.

Bucky didn’t rise to your challenge. If anything, he looked more defeated.

“You were right. About what you said before.” He took a step forward and you took an automatic step back. Hurt flashed across his face, but before you could apologize, he turned away. “You said there must be something more going on with you, and after…after what happened when I showed you my memories, I decided to finally stop being a coward and tell Strange about the bond.”

Bucky paused for a moment, collecting himself as he approached Strange’s desk and pressed his palms against it, leaning against it with his head bowed. He didn’t look at you as you moved closer to him.

“I should have gone to him a long time ago, but I was selfish. Even when I admitted the truth, I was still selfish. I assured him we were being careful. That you and I were staying in close contact so there weren’t any more close calls with the bond’s demands to feed. He told me I was a goddamn idiot and that I was putting you in far more danger than I realized.”

Bucky blew out a heavy breath, voice dropping until it was little more than a rasp.

“He was right. I didn’t realize the power the bond held until he activated the mark. Tricked it into thinking I was dying. He said a slave would always come to their master when in danger. The slave would come to protect their master at all costs.”

“Bucky…” you said softly. “I don’t…”

“What did you feel?” Bucky suddenly asked, looking over his shoulder to meet your eye. There was a haunted look in them, like he hadn’t slept the entire time you’d been back. “When you were out there, trying to get past Wong and Sabin?”

“I…”

“Like you would do anything to get to me, right? That you would do anything to save me?”

You said nothing, folding your arms across your chest and hugging yourself.

“You were willing to do anything for me. Weren’t you.”

You didn’t know what to say. How could you explain to him that you’d been willing to rip your heart out of your own chest if it meant he was safe and alive? That you would die on the spot if it meant protecting him?

But it was much worse than that. You’d also been willing to kill Wong and the other wizard if it meant getting to Bucky. You would have killed Strange, too. You would have dragged a knife into the chest of anyone who got in the way.

You would have gladly killed your own mother. Your sister. Her entire family, even her baby—

You covered your face with your hands in an attempt to block out the intrusive thoughts, and to hide your bone-deep horror.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” you choked out. You were two seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack, but Bucky wrapped you in his arms and pulled you to his chest. The comfort of his embrace, the warm roughness of his hand stroking your hair, the way you missed him the last two days…

It was tainted. All of it. Never before had you doubted your own feelings, but now, it was all you could think about. How much of it was you? How much was the bond?

“I feel sick,” you groaned against his shoulder. “Like I’m going to throw up. I don’t think I will, but I want to.”

“I know.” Bucky sounded so tired, so devastatingly sad. Now it hurt in a different way, and you wanted to cry along with getting sick.

“What happens now?” You moved away from his shoulder to look up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, but at least they met yours. “What do we do?”

Instead of answering immediately, Bucky raised his hand and stroked his thumb across your cheekbone. You leaned into his palm, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. This was wrong. Terribly wrong. He was looking at you as if he was trying to… to remember you, memorize you.

Panic gripped your throat tight.

“Bucky?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his tongue over his dry lips. He was nervous. “But… I can take a guess.”

“Bucky.” You gripped his jacket with sudden, terrified strength. His expression saddened.

“I made a deal with the Ancient One when I first came here. The deal was, I would be able to live as a free man, so long as I never hurt an innocent person again.”

“Bucky—“

“I broke that promise.”

You shook your head, refusing to believe what he said.

“I broke that oath.”

“You didn’t mean to!”

“It doesn’t matter. The result is the same.” He swallowed and cupped your cheek in his hand. “I didn’t just feed, I bonded you to me. I took away your choices. There’s no possible way I keep my freedom after that. And frankly, I don’t deserve to.”

“No!” You tried to shove him away, but Bucky didn’t let you go, and you didn’t budge an inch. “No, fuck that! You don’t get to just give up after—after all of that! Everything we’ve been through!”

Bucky met your anger with sorrowful calm. You wanted to lash out even worse.

“So, what, you’re just going to let them kill you?” you growled. “Banish you back to that fucking nightmare?”

“I don’t know what Strange is going to do,” Bucky said softly. “But he will do whatever is necessary to break the bond so you can be free.”

Your angry grip on his jacket immediately weakened, the strength slowly drained out of you.

“And what about you?” You fought to control the trembling of your hands. “You’re a victim too. Why are you being punished? Why won’t they help you?”

“I’m sure Strange will try, but you are the priority.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re in more danger than I am,” he insisted. “Your life force is more compromised, which, I don’t know what that means but it didn’t sound good when Strange said it.”

“I don’t care.” You glared up at him. “I don’t care.”

“And that’s the problem.” He returned your hostile look with one of careful calm.

You hated it. Why wouldn’t he get mad? Why didn’t he get angry at the injustice that had been done to him? When would he stop being so fucking selfless and think of himself for once?

But that wasn’t who Bucky was. Your shoulders slumped forward at the realization that you’d already lost.

“How much does he know?” You stepped out of Bucky’s arms, feeling brittle, as if you should shatter if you stayed there any longer. He let you go, and the lack of contact was immediately awful.

“Everything,” he said softly. “Or at least, everything that matters.”

You nodded, hugging yourself again as you stared at the rug. It was faded and looked old. It had probably been here when this had been the Ancient One’s office. Bucky still didn’t know about that conversation, which meant Strange didn’t either.

It was an impossible hope, but it was something.

“I want to talk to him.” You looked up at him. “I want to talk to Strange.”

Bucky said your name with a defeated sigh, but you shook your head.

“Maybe I can convince him not to break the bond. He doesn’t know the whole story.”

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated, digging your nails into your arm.

“I… in the memories, I might have… spoken to the Ancient One.”

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Bucky to stride forward and grab your shoulders almost hard enough to hurt.

“What? What did she say?”

“That I should talk to Strange.” You blinked up at him, startled. “And that I was stuck in some kind of-of time loop? And that there would be a decision to be made, but it would be wrong, and—“

“A time-loop?” His mouth opened, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely angry. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d talked to her?”

“I-I didn’t know if I was supposed to!” You squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, but he didn’t let you go. “We didn’t speak for long—“

“When? What memory was it?”

You stuttered, heart hammering as you said, “It-it was on the rooftop, in the garden. You were trying to guise your feet, but you were frustrated. She knew I was there and she-she spoke to me.”

Bucky’s eyes drifted over your shoulder and grew distant.

“She… she was distracted that day. She’d never been distracted before.”

You opened your mouth, and the door to the office opened abruptly. Bucky dropped his hands from your shoulders, but the troubled frown lingered as he turned toward Strange. The wizard looked at you both with the reluctance of someone carrying bad news.

“I think I have a solution, or at least, one that will work for the time being. Temporary, but effective.”

“All right,” Bucky said. “I’m listening.”

Strange glanced briefly in your direction.

“The cryostasis chamber.”

Bucky sucked in a breath, but you only frowned, not understanding.

“It’s still in storage,” Strange continued. “We kept everything from the Siberian laboratory, including a means to keep you contained should it become necessary. I would say this warrants it. I calculate with the sealing glyphs in place, it should cut off the bond as well.”

Glyphs. A laboratory. Siberia.

All at once, you remembered it. Positioned behind Bucky as he writhed, screaming in the chair. A large stone cylinder with glyphs carved into it, open and spilling out steam as if it had just held something cold.

It was where HYDRA had stored the Winter Soldier.

This time when you lunged at Strange, the rage was entirely your own.

Bucky grabbed you around the waist and hauled you back just before your outstretched fingers could tear into Strange.

“You bastard!” you screamed, fighting to break free of Bucky’s steel grip. “You’re no better than they are!”

Strange hadn’t moved an inch, but his cape faintly rustled.

“It seems you two have more to talk about,” he said in a low voice. “Sergeant, you may take her to one of the guest rooms until she calms down.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, hoisting you off your feet as you squirmed.

“I don’t need to calm down!” You twisted so you could meet Strange’s eye, teeth bared as you snarled, “You’re making the wrong choice!”

Your accusations were met with silence and you eventually gave up the struggle as Bucky half-carried, half-dragged you away from Strange’s office.

“He’s making a mistake,” you cried, holding onto Bucky weakly as your world slowly fell apart. “They can’t do this… they can’t…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Those soft words were the most devastating thing you’d ever heard. You remained silent, unable to speak, as Bucky led you through the halls that would soon become his tomb.

Next Chapter

[pinnithin-writes]

newfound information

I have a running theory that Goemon Ishikawa is legally blind and decided to write something about it. This is some of the gayest and most pointless shit I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. 1778 words. 

“I’d like to know,” Goemon said, “what color your eyes are.”

Thick silence wrapped the room like a blanket. The scratching of Lupin’s pen on a notepad stilled. For a while, the only sound was the tic tic tic of the radiator.

“Which one of us?” Jigen asked. The leather of the couch creaked as he leaned further back in his slouch.

Today marked a full week they’d been crowded together in a drafty apartment in Zürich - the morning had passed with Jigen smoking and Lupin planning and Goemon untangling the knots within him. The coffee table had been shoved aside to make room for a cluttered spread of maps and books on the floor. The heist was days away, and Lupin was audibly puzzling out their approach as he cross-referenced the recon notes his partners had put together.

Goemon wasn’t facing either of them; he had his forehead pressed against the window, eyes unfocused. The street below their hideout was a brick red blur. I’ve never seen Switzerland before, he’d commented upon their arrival, and Lupin had chuckled at his joke.

“Both.”

“Oh,” Lupin answered brightly. “They’re brown. I thought you knew.”

He did, in fact, know they were brown. Lupin and Jigen had both mentioned their eye color to him before. There were a lot of things about his partners’ appearances Goemon had pieced together over the few years they’d been working together. 

It wasn't that he couldn’t see them at all. He just saw them at a distance that usually reduced them to a collection of colors and shapes. To Goemon, Lupin was a bell-tone laugh and a flash of bright red and a courteous hand on his elbow when he passed in the hall. Jigen was the smell of Marlboros and a longsuffering, gravelly sigh and the steady click of leather shoes on hardwood. They were whole, complete people to him already. 

But lately he’d been hungering for details he wasn’t sure he could have. Certain things that required a proximity Goemon rarely permitted. 

“What?” Jigen interjected suddenly. “They are not. They’re gray, right?”

A soft rustle as Lupin set his notepad aside. “Really, Jigen? How long have we known each other? You don’t know what color my eyes are?”

“They’re gray. I swear to god they’re gray.”

“It says ‘brown’ on my birth certificate!”

Goemon wordlessly listened to their argument as he turned away from the window. He leaned back on the sill in preoccupation, the cool glass chilling his neck. He should just ask. It beat staring at the street and dwelling on it for hours. 

He ran his thumb in distracted circles against Zantetsuken’s sheath. “Can I see them?”

“Lupin’s birth papers? I’m not sure they’re legitimate,” Jigen said, ducking quickly to avoid the pen Lupin chucked at him. It clattered harmlessly behind the couch. 

“No,” Goemon clarified sharply. “Your eyes.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence passed, which Lupin broke first. “Well, sure you can,” he answered. “Then you can vouch for me.”

Goemon imagined he was shooting Jigen a barbed look as he said this. A stack of papers shifted as he unfolded his skinny legs and stood, and then Lupin was crossing the room toward him. Goemon felt his heart rate tick up - he hadn’t expected his odd request to be honored. Lupin’s visage grew clearer as he approached, until Goemon could easily clock his lopsided smile and tweaked eyebrows. 

Lupin tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned in close. “What do you think?” he asked. “Brown or gray?”

“Hold still.”

Narrowing his eyes, Goemon raised a hand to grasp the other man’s chin, tilting his face this way and that. The light from the window fell softly on his cheeks and the slope of his nose. Lupin blinked expectantly. He was close enough that Goemon could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Gray was his first impression. Silver, really, like a pair of shiny round coins. Lupin’s gaze was restless, darting back and forth between Goemon’s own eyes as he allowed himself to be examined. His skin was startlingly soft.

“Hold still,” he ordered again, tugging Lupin closer.

This time, Lupin obeyed, fixating on a single point and staying there. His previously cheeky grin disappeared when his jaw went slack, and Goemon felt a tiny puff of air as Lupin exhaled. 

He could see now that his irises were also flecked with shades of brown, ringing his pupils in a lovely starburst. Goemon studied Lupin’s eyes a moment longer, taking note of how they settled from ink to fawn to ash from the center out, committing the image to memory.  He observed his facial structure - how it was soft and sharp all at once, unique and conspicuous. Lupin’s fondness for disguise made more sense to him now.

Goemon was sure the man could hear his pulse thudding in his neck at this point, so he finally released him. “Both,” he said conclusively. “Probably varies with the light.”

Lupin was slow to step away, cheeks rosy. “Oh,” he managed to say. “So… we were both right.”

“Indeed.”

Jigen was uncharacteristically quiet from where he watched on the couch. Goemon heard him tap ash idly from his cigarette before taking a contemplative drag. “Sounds like a cop out to me,” he murmured as an afterthought. 

Goemon slanted him a glance. “You could see for yourself,” he challenged, brows raised.

“I’ve seen ‘em already,” he grumbled. 

Lupin took another step back, melting out of focus to his usual blur of black and red, and folded his arms. “Jigen, dear, I believe it’s your turn.”

Jigen coughed. “Excuse me?”

“You're up next. Let the man see your eyes.”

Sensing his hesitance, Goemon’s mouth softened from its steady set line. “Only if you want-” 

“No,” Jigen was already interrupting him. “I’ll do it.”

The couch protested as he leaned to set his cigarette in the ashtray, elongating into a dark capital I when he stretched and stood. The approaching tap of his shoes was slow and familiar.

“No need to look so nervous,” Lupin teased, leaning impishly into Jigen’s personal space as he pulled to a stop.

Goemon prodded Lupin out of the way with the sheathed end of his sword, resting it against his sternum in a silent warning. Lupin retreated, smirking, while Jigen drew in an almost imperceptible breath and let it out slow. The same technique he used before pulling the trigger on an impossible shot. Goemon reached to remove his fedora with as much care as he could, pressing it delicately against his chest.

“Hold this, please.”

Jigen nodded. The tips of his fingers trembled where they touched the felt.

“His eyes are definitely gray,” Lupin commented, angling his chin at Jigen. “Oh my god, are you shaking?”

Goemon gave Lupin a pointed tap with Zantetsuken in lieu of reprimand. He fell silent.

Out of respect for his trepidation, Goemon was gentler with how he handled Jigen’s face, nudging his jaw one way and then the other with the backs of his knuckles. Stubble prickled his skin. He was struck by how sharp his cheekbones were at this distance; he had never really noticed their prominence before. He was certain they’d draw blood if he ran his thumb against them.

Jigen’s eyes were significantly darker than Lupin’s. Storm clouds gathered around his pupils, shades of slate and black bleeding into one another. Instead of meeting Goemon’s stare, he determinedly stuck his gaze at an indiscriminate point somewhere past his left ear. These were marksman’s eyes, sharp and steady and missing nothing. Shame he hid them under his hat all the time.

Goemon dropped his hand from Jigen’s face. “They are gray,” he agreed. 

The swiftness with which Jigen stepped back and replaced his headwear was possibly the fastest he’d ever seen him move. He cleared his throat, adjusting the hat’s brim. “Great. Glad we worked that out.”

Lupin jabbed him with an elbow. “Congrats on surviving the ordeal.”

Jigen grumbled something indistinct, tipping his chin and hiding his eyes further. 

Goemon kept his expression carefully neutral. Now that he possessed this newfound information, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He had learned quite a bit more about the others than intended; not only about their appearance, but their mannerisms, as well. Their relationship with closeness. He didn’t know there was a way to turn off Lupin’s motor mouth. He didn’t know Jigen became so mystified when touched.

These were things he would file away for later, additional pieces for the frustrating jigsaw that was his feelings.

“Thank you,” he uttered finally.

“No problem,” Jigen responded at the same time Lupin said, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Goemon scoffed with disbelief. “Is it?”

Lupin paused and moved out of the way to allow Jigen passage. Goemon caught a whiff of smoke - he must’ve resumed his previous task of mangling the cigarette he’d been working on. Lupin leaned easily against the window beside Goemon, not as close as before but close enough he could tell the master thief was examining him. Embarrassment creeping into the back of his neck, Goemon lifted a prompting eyebrow in his direction.

“Sure it is,” Lupin went on. “I ask you two for weird favors all the time. It’s only fair.”

“Hm.” Goemon was skeptical.

“We’re a team,” he insisted. “It’s good for a team to know each other really well. Right?”

“...Right.”

“Useful for recognizing each other in disguise.”

Grateful for Lupin’s valiant effort to spare his dignity, Goemon allowed a small smile. “Sure.”

Lupin grinned back, tilting his head to the side until his temple touched the windowpane. “I’d never really looked at your eyes this close before, either,” he admitted, some of the bravado leaving his voice. “They’re really… intense. Super dark.”

“Pretty,” Jigen added around the cigarette in his mouth.

“Pretty,” Goemon echoed, caught off guard by the compliment.

“Pretty scary,” he clarified hastily, and Goemon couldn’t hold back a soft laugh.

Silence settled on the group, introspective rather than discomfited. Goemon’s heart rate was beginning to return to normal. The atmosphere in the room had shifted into something thick and unnameable, and he was definitely responsible for the change, but it didn’t feel bad. Just new. Unfamiliar. And while Goemon was out of his depth, it was reassuring  to know the others were just as bad at navigating this as he was.

“So,” Lupin clapped his hands together emphatically. “That was a nice break. Let’s get back to business, shall we?” He swept a gesture at the paper nightmare on the floor.

The team murmured their assent, but not much else was accomplished that day.