#barney live-action

[lostinaflashforward]

Le news della settimana!

[cejav13]

[tithsokphanny31]

what was your favorite preschool show growing up?

[nostalgicfun]

Feel free to share which is your favorite NOW in the tags, but this particular poll is about which you preferred as a child! ⭐ These are being grouped by a vague theme, so in a few days we'll do another one with more options!

Also, same rule as the last poll: REALLY popular choices (ATLA, SpongeBob, Scooby Doo, Pokemon, etc.) are overwhelmingly popular and have been omitted for the sake of seeing the results for other shows.

Notes: These are shows involving live action characters, no cartoons this time! The timeframe for these polls is generally "I was a kid in the mid-to-late 90s or early 2000s." Mister Roger's Neighborhood and Sesame Street are both multi-generational so they were not included to be fair to the show's with shorter runs 💖

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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[alphawolfice1989]

Cobie Smulders who plays Robin confirmed herself that Barney was the real love of Robin’s life and her soulmate

Yes. Both Barney and Ted were never the most perfect partners for Robin. They both had major flaws. So did Robin. She was never the most perfect person either. BUT, the difference is, despite all the flaws of Barney and Ted, Ted never really accepted Robin for who she was and what she wanted out of her own life. When we first meet Robin in the pilot episode. She makes it clear that she is super career oriented and her job will always come first over her love life. There was even an entire episode when she was in a relationship with Don, that all the other group members made mention that Robin always prioritises her work over her love life. So Ted is well aware of this. But still pursues Robin. He knows full well that she doesn’t want marriage and kids. Or anything else that Ted wants. But Ted still wants to continue a relationship with her. So them breaking up shouldn’t of been so shocking.

Ted thought that by being in a relationship with Robin that somehow Robin will change her mind. So Ted was never really in love with Robin. But more of the idea of her. His love for what HE wanted in his life trumped whatever “love” her had for Robin. He was unwilling to compromise because what HE wanted in life was more important to him than continuing a relationship with Robin. We can all talk about all the creepy things Barney did to get Robin. But let’s not forget that Ted also done creepy things to get Robin and I’d argue Ted was worse because at least Barney is honest with who he is. Ted is the “good guy” so that makes his actions a lot worse than Barney’s. So for everyone saying they broke up because they wanted different things, that’s the whole point. They had different outlooks on life. And both Ted and Robin knew this. Ted was willing to break up with a woman he supposedly “loves” all because she didn’t want what he wanted in life. The ending was more sad than anything. It was basically two super old people who didn’t really have anyone else in their lives in a romantic way.

Barney, as flawed as he was. The difference between him and Ted is that Barney ACTUALLY accepted Robin for who she was. He never once tried to change her. When he finds out that she can’t have kids, that wasn’t a deal breaker for him at all. He still wanted to pursue Robin. Like he said to his Mother who asked him about possible grandchildren, Barney said she can’t have kids and that’s okay because he’s marrying Robin for HER. Not some idea of having kids. So Robin being so career oriented and not wanting kids was never this deal breaker for Barney. Which makes their divorce that much more illogical. Barney being tied of Robin constantly travelling and not putting time in their marriage.

Because he loved her for her. Barney was completely okay with not having kid because Robin was more than enough. Unlike Ted who was obsessed with Robin for no real reason. When Robin kept shooting down Ted constantly. There was an episode in season 8, where Robin tried to sell Barney’s house. Then later changed her mind because she said that if she tried to change everything about Barney he was never going to be the man she fell in love with. And that she accepted all the creepy sociopathic things about him. So basically Robin accepts Barney for who he truly is and still wanted to marry him and form a marriage with him. So BOTH Barney and Robin both accept each other for who they are.

All in all, Ted was never really in love with Robin. But more of the idea of her. Barney on the other hand was in love with Robin for HER. Ted was unwilling to change his outlook on what he wanted in life when he knew it didn’t match Robins. But Barney despite all his flaws accepted Robin for who she was and never tried to change her.

So who was the love of Robin’s life and her true love and soulmate? It was Barney.

[gordon-freeman-phd]

one thing that i dont think people aknowledge enoigh about barneys role as a spy when it comes to his generalize relations with other rebels and regular citizens is the very real chance that some people, even after knowing his reasons for joining up with the cps, are going to dislike him on the basis that he could not retain his role within them without participating in the cruel and unjust actions required by definition

like, he would have had to torture citizens and interrogate them, wr all saw the chair in his "office" even if he didnt participate directly he would have had to allow it regardless to keep his cover, and if he ever had a posting outaide the trainstation? he possibly would have had to co duct raids, and even if he didnt, many people are going to have had more experience at the hads of cps during raids than what barney would be doing at the trainstation,

because really, as we all hopefully know with regards to real cops, there is no good cop, you are either a good cop in that you do your job thereby participating in the inherantly cruel system made to target certain groups of people and the culture that ensures it will always be that way, or allowing it at the very least, making you a bad person in the long run, or a good person who tries to stop that system and therefore a bad cop who ends up bullied or killed at the extreme by other cops to protect thwir own, and the cps are the very extreme of what the militarized body of cops are in the world now are, protecring a fascist status quo, meaning that barney had to conform publiccaly within their ranks for his own safety so he can do his job as a spy

and while spying is a worthy cause to save lives of rebels and to relay important information, it does not erase the harm he has to do or enable directly day to day, and while plenty of people dive into how that effects barneys own psyche, theres less so an interrogation of how it effects others views on him, from unrelated rebels who may not have known him before the uorising to citizens who chose the rebels side, to even the people closest to barney, meaning kleiner, eli, alyx, and gordon,

this is even before we get into how many people know of barneys spy status, i know personally i believe he had to let other rebels believe he was a turn coat for thier and his own safety and cover, something like that doesnt go away easy even when you find out after that he was on your side all along becuz youre going to know that he had to perform to standard anyways, the distrust i imagine is much more when you didnt even know him before and now you have a man in cp garb saying hes on your side in the middle of chaos

and of course, the itch in the back of the main gangs brains, knowing what hes up to when hes not around, seeing a new blood stain on his unigorm if he doesnt have the time to take it off before making his way over, not recognizi g him since you inly see a uniform in the cirner of your eye and panicking begore you realize its only barney but the uneasiness doesnt go away even after he changes becuase you know, maybe more than anyone else except him what hes doing when you arent around, even if you KNOW hes on your side, that hes your friend who may even have known you for most of your life in alyxs case, like, even if you know its for the greater good, the smell of boot shine and blood badly masked by lemon scented cleaning agent sticking to the back of your throat as it wafts off one so close to you is hard to ignore

[asha-mage]

Since it's my birthday my friends got me the amazing gift of 'watching the Wheel of Time show while occasionally stopping to discuss/let me loose my mind' for which I am incredibly grateful. A few random observations from this time through, as I attempted to view it through the lens of the entirely WoT uninitiated (as my friends are)-

The group shots, where the camera passes from one of the Emond's Field 5 to another, do this clever trick where Rand is never actually standing on his own. He's always standing beside or behind someone in one of these shots, so the camera doesn't actually have to cut or pan away from someone else to get to him. This serves the purpose of highlighting him in contrast to his friends, but also to subtlety downplay his presence to the audience, and build up to the Dragon reveal in episode 7 very effectively.

The cinematography in general is so exceedingly rich and delicious- the stark white of the Whitecloak camp contrasted with the bloody reality of their actions. The bright primary colors used to make the Aes Sedai visually pop and feel magical and strange, even as they are dressed (for the most part) practically for their traveling (a complaint I had about the Witcher, aside from everything being brown and grey all the time, is that the mages show up to battles dressed in ballroom dresses instead of you know, clothing that would make sense). The subtle use of lighting and camera angle to create a sense of vast isolation of Shadar Logoth, fear and danger in the Ways, and cramp sweltering heat in the Blight.

Moiraine's opening narration in episode 1 is essentially a summary of the information we get from one of the epigraphs at the ending of the Eye of the World prologue, to whit:

"And the Shadow fell upon the land, and the world was riven, stone from stone. The oceans fled and the mountains where swallowed up. and the nations where scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was blood and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the shadow, and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon." - Aleth nin Tearin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World, author unknown, the Fourth Age "The world is broken. Many many years ago men who where born with great power attempted to cage darkness itself. The arrogance. When they failed, the seas boiled, mountains where swallowed up, cities burned, and the women of the Aes Sedai where left to pick up the pieces. These women remembered one thing above all else, the man who brought the Breaking of the World. And him, they. named Dragon." - Moiraine

This makes me suspect their was an earlier version of the script that actually used the epigraph (maybe even both of them). I have mixed on feeling on this, as the epigraphs are one of my favorite artistic choices of Jordan's and really help emphasize the history and depth of his world, but I think filtering it through Moiriane and making it slightly less opaque was a smart choice to convey the information to the audience. I also think this works on a character level as well- here is Moiraine's understanding of this information, shaped by her biases.

Every re-watch also makes me more and more comfortable in my 'the show is a future/past turning of the wheel from the books, the broad events and truths being the same, but seen in one of those endless variations we hear about' interpretation of the series. The heart of the story and characters is the same, and the broad strokes and framework are the same, but it's in the details where things emerge as different. This interpretation has the benefit of fitting really really well with the meta-narrative stuff Jordan always liked to pull, and in freeing I think the show expectations of being a one-to-one recreation.

That said I defiantly felt the cracks in the final two episodes as a result of the Covid shutter and loosing Barney Harris more strongly this time- some of that being that this is my first re watching of season 1 since I've seen season 2. You can practically see the things they wanted/planned to do that had to re-worked because of circumstances beyond their control. Mat's absence in the group argument scene (and the 'I am so tired of you two fighting over her' line that was clearly meant to be Mat's), as well as the lack of bigger/more cohesive battle scene in Tarwin's Gap. You can also tell they hadn't quite figured out how they where going to re-work season 2 yet given that the ending for season 1 had to be changed last minute (for example, their is no reason for Moiraine to just outright admit that she released Lan's bond unless they hadn't yet decided that was where their arc was going yet).

I think the show does an exceedingly good job of structuring it's exposition to the un-intiatited, trying to stagger it so that audience is largely learning new things in pace with the characters. I know people where frustrated that things like the War of Power have yet to come up in earnest even in the Latra and Lews scene, but I think the slow and steady reveal of things matches both the core idea of 'their is always more you don't know', and trying not to overwhelm the audience. My friends had no trouble following what was going and picking up the bigger implications/subtext that underpins a lot of information. 'But why did the Dragon try to cage the Dark One? It doesn't seem like it was that simple.' came up a few times especially.

The detail that what jump-starts Perrin's wolf brother connection is having his wound healed/cleaned by the wolves in that scene from episode 2 is so incredibly clever, and a good twist on the traditional 'werewolf bite' mythology.

I love the deliberate choice to incorporate so many random ruins and remnants of things in the background of shots. Not just the 'dilapidated stone buildings' that the characters camp in, but things like the trio of carved faces that Egwene and Perrin run past while fleeing the Whitecloaks, or the boundary stones Mat and Rand pass on the road, or even just the small carvings and pillars scattered about the cave where they are holding Logain. It all helps to make you feel that ancientness, that brokenness of this world more effectively.

The reoccurring use of the Dragon's Fang to symbolize violence and destruction: the Trollocs using it as a scare tactics, it appearing in the blood in the pool after Nynaeve kills the Trolloc, being burned into Siuan's ruined childhood home....and the way that contrasts with it's use in the finale episode, when we see it whole and unbroken in the seal/yin yang symbol for the first time was really really clever. One of my friends actually gasped out loud and went 'oh' at the first shot of the whole seal when it clicked.

The show does an exceedingly good job of maintaining that core idea of the series that it's about our relationship to violence- violence never being casual or simple or easy, but always raw, hard and bloody and a little bit ugly. EVen subtle things like the way the show depicts Moraine hurling stones at the Trollocs with uncomfortable frankness, trying to literalize what in most fantasy media would be an abstract. Take it from I cast stone 2, to I inflict horrible blunt force trauma on another creature. And of course everything re: Perrin and his ax.

I have more thoughts, but I think I'll save some of them for after we watch season 1, because they relate strongly to stuff from there.

[kwebtv]

TV Guide - June 13 - 19, 1964

Fred Flintstone is the main character of the animated sitcom The Flintstones, which aired during prime-time on ABC during the original series' run from 1960 to 1966. Fred is the husband of Wilma Flintstone and father of Pebbles Flintstone and together the family live in their homely cave in the town of Bedrock. His best friend is his next door neighbor, Barney, who has a wife named Betty and an adopted son, named Bamm-Bamm.

Fred lives in the fictional prehistoric town of Bedrock, a world where dinosaurs coexist with modernized cavepeople and the cavepeople enjoy "primitive" versions of modern conveniences such as telephones, automobiles, and washing machines. Fred's trademark catchphrase yell is "yabba dabba doo!", a phrase that was originally his club's cheer, and later adopted as part of the theme song from the third season on and used in the 1994 live-action Flintstones film.  (Wikipedia)

[ilovemurdoc1990]

The Chipmunk Adventure is one of the very first Alvin & The Chipmunks movies to hit theaters before the live action ones came out in 2007. This movie came out way back in 1987 just right before Land Before Time, Oliver & Company, All Dogs Go to Heaven and of course, The Little Mermaid. Did you know that one of the voice actors Ken Sansom, who voiced Rabbit in the Winnie the Pooh movies and series was in this movie? He voiced Inspector Jamal who helped Dave saved Alvin and the Chipmunks and the Chipettes from those kidnappers! A year later after he voiced Inspector Jamal, Ken went on to voice Rabbit in New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh and other Pooh franchise for years to come before he passed away in 2012. Back to the Chipmunk Adventure movie, when it was released on the weekend of May 22, 1987, it was a moderate box-office success that grossed $6.8 million! One of the songs I love from the movie was "The Girls/Boys of Rock & Roll" along with the classic "Wooly Bully!" Even though this film is a classic, I know that this film will be passed down to new fans of the Chipmunks for generations to come. Here are the screenshots from The Chipmunk Adventure. Lasty, there are 3 Adventure films that I love, The Chipmunk Adventure, Pooh's Grand Adventure, and Barney's Great Adventure. All 3 of these movies are musicals!

[transmutationisms]

Her first task: assemble a team of development executives to rummage through Mattel’s toy chest and identify I.P. that could be fodder for Hollywood studios. Mattel would help match properties with writers, actors, and directors; studios would provide all the funding. The brands, and audiences’ familiarity with them, were their own form of currency. Brenner told me, “In the world we’re living in, I.P. is king. Pre-awareness is so important.”

[...]

The gamble now looks like a smart one. The hyper-saturated trailers for “Barbie” have sparked endless memes, and interest in the film’s aesthetic sensibility, which mimics the look of Mattel play sets, is so intense that the hashtag #Barbiecore trended on TikTok for months. The movie, which opens in mid-July, is tracking to be one of the blockbusters of the summer. Meanwhile, Mattel has amassed a long slate of other projects. Daniel Kaluuya, for example, has agreed to produce a feature about Barney, the purple dinosaur. Thirteen more films have been publicly announced, including movies about He-Man and Polly Pocket; forty-five are in development. (Some of the projects have an ouroboros quality. Tom Hanks is supposed to star in “Major Matt Mason,” which will be based on an astronaut action figure that has been largely forgotten, except for the fact that it helped inspire Buzz Lightyear—one of the protagonists of Pixar’s “Toy Story” franchise.)

Barber told me that Mattel had figured out how to “engage with filmmakers in a friendly way.” Gerwig, meanwhile, was looking to move beyond the small-scale dramas she was known for. “Greta and I have been very consciously constructing a career,” Barber explained. “Her ambition is to be not the biggest woman director but a big studio director. And Barbie was a piece of I.P. that was resonant to her.”

[...]

Talk turned to a few recent pitches that had surprised the team. “Somebody just asked me about Bass Fishin’, which is, like, a toy fishing rod,” Bassin said. The pitch was for an “intense sports drama about this cheating scandal in competitive fishing”—an attempt, it seemed to me, to Trojan-horse a story that the writer actually wanted to tell into a conceit that might be green-lighted.

After the meeting, McKeon told me that it was possible to incorporate complex characters and emotions into toy-based properties, though not every brand could support mature themes. “Thomas the Tank Engine isn’t going on a bender with his friends,” he said. But “Major Matt Mason” could be reimagined as a “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”-esque drama for adults: “It’s prestige-y and asks really pointed questions about life and our place in the universe.” He went on, “Our top priority is to make really good movies—movies that matter, and that make a cultural footprint. Our second priority is to make sure that we do no disservice to the brands.”

found this article helpful in contextualising the medium piece that’s been circulating on here

[tumblydovereviews]

Could a LazyTown Revival Work?

Earlier this week, it was announced that Magnus Scheving, the creator of the hit preschool live-action series LazyTown, had bought back the rights to the series from WBD, with impending plans to bring the series back to a new generation as a reboot under his wings.

This would not be the first time LazyTown has, or attempted to be, revived. The original series only lasted two seasons before being commissioned by Sprout for two more after the series' massive success in the USA. After the end of the show's run, a movie was pitched, but ultimately ended up being scraped for unknown reasons.

In concept, this seems like a great thing. LazyTown was initially created as a combative show against rising cases of childhood obesity worldwide, and the Icelandic obesity rate actually dropped as after the release of the show. LazyTown encourages kids to be healthy- to get outside, eat nutritiously, and take care of themselves and others. With the negative effects of the COVID-19 pandemic still impacting today's children, bringing this show back to a new audience would be great.

And, LazyTown wouldn't be completely unknown to the public, either. According to a Collider article, LazyTown's following hasn't died down in the slightest, with the show amassing over 5.5 billion views on Youtube alone. It is clear that Sportacus, Stephanie, and Robbie Rotten are long from being forgotten totally.

However, not everything about a reboot would be too exciting.

For instance, there would be no Robbie Rotten. Stefan Karl Stefansson, Robbie's actor, passed in August of 2018 after a battle with bile duct cancer. While Robbie's actor could easily be replaced or his character in general be swapped out for a new gimmick, nothing would be completely able to mimic the personality of the iconic villain.

Also, if the show did come back, there's a high chance that it wouldn't be in the same form that we all know and love. Shows such as Caillou and Barney have also made their triumphant returns, albeit in the same CGI models, straying far away from their original forms, 2D and live-action respectively. Animation, specifically 3D, is more efficient to produce them mixed media or live action, and with more children flocking to brightly-colored, YouTube based animation, making LazyTown an animated series would not only result in flexibility in choosing actors for the characters, but also boost ratings more likely than not.

This isn't to say that live-action reboots, such as Fraggle Rock: Back to the Rock, and the upcoming Yo Gabba Gabbaland can't be successful- it's just not necessarily in the norm.

Now that Magnus has the rights to the show back, the question also arises on which channel this reboot, if produced, would air on. LazyTown did air on Nick Jr. at one point, and also made appearances on the now-defunct Sprout. Chances are since they willingly gave up the rights to this show, WBD channels probably will not be airing it, assuming it goes mainstream and doesn't become a Youtube-exclusive.

If done correctly, I think this reboot could be very successful! After all, it has happened once, so why not again. But, it goes without saying that it certainly wouldn't be the same for what we are used to from the franchise.

[bigassbowlingballhead]

if anyone can make that purple dinosaur tolerable, it's her.

[hello-nichya-here]

The dude who tried (and sometimes succeeded) in trying to win over women that were married/about to be married not once, not twice, but FIVE FUCKING TIMES!

I'm sorry but TED DID WHAT?!

Yup, you read it right. Ted Mosby, the guy that the writers were constantly trying to push as the perfect, most romantic lead in the whole world, apparently has a very serious homewrecking kink.

The first time was in season one, with Ted going to a matchmaker, and finding out that the only woman he'd be a good match with already went out with a guy that was slightly less ideal (according to the computer) and is engaged to him. Ted then finds out she's a doctor, goes to her place of work, and tries to convince her he is her soulmate, not her fiance - who she'll be marrying VERY soon.

Ted doesn't know this woman. Literally the only information he has is "She went on a matchmaker and her profile was a lot like his." That's it. That is all the excuse he needs to try to sabotage someone's wedding. This is also one of the few times in which we are supposed to be laughing at him, instead of wanting him to get the girl. Well, I think that was the intention, but God knows I stopped expecting common sense from this show a LONG time ago.

The second time homewrecking Ted is seen is during season 3. He decides to "live like Barney" (because OBVIOUSLY Ted would neeeever decide to do something like this on his own, please ignore the previous exemple, and the next three) and hooks up with a married woman during a party, and feels exactly zero shame or guilt over it until Marshall talks some sense into him. This is the LAST time in which we'll see that kind of behavior from Ted be treated as explicitly wrong by the show - even though his actions will only get worse.

Homewrecking Ted comes back in season 6, when he falls for Zoey, a married woman. A married woman he is constantly spending time with even though EVERYONE is warning him that this isn't going to end well as they all can see that what they have isn't just friendship. All except Zoey's husband, who thinks Ted is a great guy - in fact, when Zoey leaves him, the poor guy comes to the bastard for comfort, because he thought Ted was his friend.

Ted is 100% in the wrong, but the show thinks that his search for "The One" justifies everything plus they technically didn't become an item before Zoey made up her mind about who she wanted, so it's totally okay that she left her husband for him - after all, she could have maybe possibly been the woman of Ted's dreams, so who cares if she was the love of someone else's, her husband's, life.

The fourth time is at the end of season seven, when he falls back in love with his ex, Victoria, even though she will be getting married soon. The two of them almost hook up, but decide against it... for a little while. On the wedding day, Victoria wants to leave her fiance at the altar, and Ted is tempted to be with her, but he decides to do the right thing and take her to the church where the wedding will happen... and then changes his mind while driving, because once again, who cares about the other completely innocent dude when Ted needs to find "The One" - he is the ONLY person who deserves someone who loves him, right?

The show tries to remedy that by having Ted demand Victoria leave her would-be-husband a letter explaining why she wouldn't marry him because that's what Stella did with him. Guess what? That doesn't mean shit, he's still doing something horrible. A "I stole your future wife, man, sorry. But I made her write you a letter" doesn't fix a goddamn thing.

Oh, but the groom left too! Because turns out Victoria was NOT the right woman for him! That totally excuses Ted's behavior right? OF COURSE NOT! He didn't even know that when he decided to be with Victoria. As far as he knew, that dude was going to be left utterly heartbroken in the exact same way he himself once was - and he still thought he was justified in what he was doing.

And now we reach the big one. Season 8. Ted and Victory break up because, this whole time, during the years in which Ted has been pulling this kind of bullshit, he was actually NOT thinking that the doctor, or Zoey, or Victoria were "The One", as his true love was Robin all along, and SHE is the one he knew he'd always come back to - THEN WHY THE FUCK DID HE TRY, AND SOMETIMES SUCCEED, IN RUINING OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES?

And how does he handle the fact that the supposed love of his life is actually not interested in him, wants to marry someone else, and that someone else happens to be a friend of his that has REPEATEDLY asked Ted for his blessing to pursue Robin?

Well, you see, he sulks about how Robin should leave Barney for him. Because, you know, he loves her more, saw her first, dated her first, is the better man, found a locket she had buried years ago, dramaticly held her hand while it was raining and whatever excuse the writers can come up with to pretend Ted is only trying to sabotage his friend's wedding because "It's true love!" and not at all because he is a selfish, entitled asshole who has a habit of doing that.

In fact, on the morning of her wedding, Ted STILL wants to profess his supposed love for Robin, only to get shut down again AS SHE OBVIOUSLY MADE HER CHOICE VERY CLEAR A LONG TIME AGO.

Oh, but the writers want more drama and have her suddenly get cold feet and ask Ted why shouldn't she be with the guy who loves her so much. And what does Ted, the guy who has been sulking about losing her for months and stabbed Barney in the back by telling his bride he loves her and wants her to give him another chance, say as a response?

"The truth is I don't love you like that anymore. And you don't love me, you love Barney"

Yeah, we know that, asshole. We've known that for a while. And apparently so did you this entire time, YET YOU STILL TRIED TO STEAL HER FROM BARNEY MERE HOURS AGO! WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?

Simple: because Ted is in love with the idea of love, and will project romantic feelings onto anything that breathes and has a pulse, and will go to absurd lengths to win over the (temporary) object of his affection, even if it means destroying people's lives - and in fact, that drastic consequence often doesn't even register as a factor in his mind.

And what do the writers of How I Met Your Mother do with this obvious character flaw? They use it to claim Ted is a true romantic, a SYMPATHETIC lead, the nicest of all nice guys, and eventually reward him by letting him have BOTH the actual perfect woman for him (Tracy) and also the woman that could not have been more wrong for him, yet that he was obsessed with for TWENTY FIVE YEARS, aka Robin.

Fuck this show.

[tumfullofblue]

I would do anything for another barney fic >.< UHHHHHHG I love that man so much. Maybe a continuation of the last fic where the reader comforts him?? And we hug a lil and give him a kiss on the forehead :,D <3

ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ Aww Nonnie! Of course I'll be happy to write more for Barney! Here's a bit of a conclusion to my last post aboiut him. It's a bit short but sweet. Hope you enjoy it! ᵔᴥᵔ

"Oh? Still awake I see."

You heard a voice over your head and raised it to look up at Barney as he descended from roof's stairacase. You were in your little nook, the place almost at the ceiling, laying in your made-up bed and reading a new book you managed to scavange in your last trip. You loved the feeling of yellow pages and the weight of old books in your hands, no matter what the text was about. And sometimes even Barney sat down and listened when you were reading something out loud. He was holding a crate with empty beer bottles and when you raised your eyebrow with a small smirk he shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, I had a tough day, kid. Besides, this beer could go bad any second. I would never forget myself if I let it go to waste!"

"Sure, sure," you purred, watching him go downstairs quetly, trying not to rattle empty bottles around. Not just because he was afraid of waking up doctor Kleiner but you also know he was scared of drawing attention of Lamarr, still lurking somewhere in shadows. "You gonna sleep now?"

"Yep. What about you?"

"I, uh… I'll just finish this book and then I'll nap."

Barney didn't answer you. You've heard him doing something down in the lab, even though he was trying to be queit. You wondered what he thought about up there, on the roof. If he was listening to CP's on a stollen radio device. Or simply looking up at the black sky full of stars. He quickly ran back to you and grinned, crossing his hands on his chest and laying his head on your bed.

"Reading at night will make your eyesight drop, hun. Put that book away, c'mon now. You want me to tuck ya in?"

You giggled and playfully swatted his hand. "I'm not five years old, you know. You keep calling me 'kid' and I'll start calling you 'old man'!"

At that, Barney feigned offence, placing a hand on his chest. "Old man? Me? Honey, I'm barely--!.." he wanted to say his age. But… he couldn't remember the last birthday he had. Or how damn old he was. He could see the first gray strikes in his raven hair. Could see wrinkles on his sun-kissed skin. His life wasn't easy; maybe that's why he was feeling older than he actually was. Especially with such a bright sunshine that you were. He cleared his throat when you gave him a look.

"Sure. Call me whatever, hun. As long as it makes you happy. Won't stop me calling you 'kid' though, cause that's exactly what you are. Gotta live with that name for the rest of ya life, I'm afraid."

You huffed and layed back on your thin pillow. Maybe you didn't mind that nickname that much. You listened to his advice though and closed the book.

"Hey," Barney got your attention once again, just as you were turning off the small lamp above your head.

"Hm?"

"I, uh… I'm really glad we talked tonight. And over the beer, too? You know how to spoil a guy, darlin'. Next one's on me. And that's a promise."

You smiled and shifted on a bed closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and Barney, suprised by your action didn't react at first. But his hug in return was just as soft and warm. He held you in his embrace for several minutes, allowing you to enjoy holding him close. Being protected. Being safe. Good thing you didn't see his eyes tearing up.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled playfully, getting you unhooked and cupping your cheeks, looking into your eyes. "I'm bein' serious here. Go to sleep." "Not yet. Gotta give my favorite old man a kiss goodnight." You pulled him closer yet again and pressed your lips against his forehead. You swore you saw him blush. He grumbled playfully about you being a little rascal and then you finally let him go. Barney send you a wink and started walking downstairs again. You followed him with your gaze and closed your eyes with a soft sigh, wishing you were the one to care for him, to ease his burden.

You had him and he had you. No matter what would happen tomorrow, at the end of the day, you would still have your rooftop and your black sky and each other's stories.

And maybe a kiss at the forehead for a goodnight. You would now look forward to it.

[anyataylorjoys]

"Live-action Barney movie by A24 directed by Daniel Kaluuya starring Ayo Edebiri"