#like. they could have at least done what they were trying to do WELL

[fierceawakening]

It depends on what liberalism means exactly. I don’t know how old you are or whether you’re in the US, but I’m in my 40s and USian, and for most of my life “liberal” was how you said leftist in any sense, which is part of why o ask what people mean by it. Popular T shirt during the W years was DAMN right I’m a LIBERAL.

(“I’m a liberal” might have meant “I’m not a communist.” I can’t tell from your replies here whether you are one, but if you are and are disliking that I’m not, that’s a bit less baffling but we’re probably at an impasse. I know people whose close family members were slaughtered by Mao, so “we can try this again and it’ll work” wouldn’t likely sway me without a lot of clear argument for how we keep it from degenerating into that.)

So yeah that word doesn’t have negative connotations for me. I’m pretty sure the word people use now for what we meant then is “progressive,” but I could not quite be one of those depending on where the cutoff is which is why I keep… asking… where the cutoff is?

There’s also “liberalism” in a different sense which refers I *think* to Enlightenment thought in general. It’s been many long years since i studied enlightenment thinkers, and back when I did I was an older teenager and hadn’t done much questioning of a lot of things. But the primary thing that struck me when I read people like Kant, Locke, etc. was that they had a vision of everyone being fundamentally equal in worth, and things like race or religion as incidental, kind of like the cherries on a sundae.

This is both good and bad, or at least that’s where I eventually landed with all that.

The good part is that sometimes aggregating everyone helps get rid of bias in the way things are run. Think about women gaining the vote, or poll taxes being struck down so black people could vote. We’re all fundamentally the same. We all fundamentally should get the same say.

(Donald Trump in the US is currently threatening this. Many if not most people consider that a five alarm fire. If he gets to dismantle or corrode this, people will suffer greatly. A lot of people, in my not so humble opinion, will die.)

The bad part is that sometimes there’s a broad history of discrimination and repression. When that’s the case, sometimes recalibrating the measurements to zero everything out doesn’t do enough. Societal histories reverberate, and undoing the damage is hard, long term, and careful work.

Acknowledgement of this is often the difference between “liberals” in the sense of “progressives” and “conservatives,” who tend to think traditions are important and worth preserving even if they create inequalities (and, as they get more openly fascist, may value these traditions precisely BECAUSE they create inequalities.)

So if the question is “do I think that lasting inequality needs to be addressed in social policy,” yes? But I’d think most left leaning people believe that?

Most feminists I’ve met do too I think. I guess we could say there are a few people out there who are a blend of conservatism (or libertarianism?) and feminism, like Wendy McElroy, but I’d be inclined to just say libertarians at that point.

So once again: which definition of liberalism are we using here? *Who* are we insulting?

But yeah if you’re asking in the US politics sense I’d call myself progressive, though the old term was “liberal” and that feels less weird.

Mostly in agreement with Bernie and AOC?

…So now I’ve made a long effortpost explaining my politics in detail. Are you willing to do the same, or are you just going to keep insulting me while not opening your own beliefs to scrutiny as well?

[Tiktok user Clairrorism]

[luimagines]

The Legendary Mermaid

Another commission!

They asked for a Legend and Reader where mermaids are involved. I'd explain more but I don't want to spoil it. XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Link didn’t think much of you at first. You were clumsy. Uncoordinated. One of the most ungraceful beings he has ever had the… um... pleasure to meet.

You spoke in broken Hylian but he could understand you well enough. When he stumbled into you on the beach he tried to go through the number of languages that he knew were native to the area but none of them seemed to click with you.

You were excitable and wobbly. You looked straight out of a ship wreck so you could have been from anywhere.

Still- Link wasn’t about to abandon you when you clearly had no idea where you were.

He took you into his village, set you up with a place to stay with some helpful neighbors and thought that his duty of care was done. He was wrong.

Turns out! You had a habit of running off in the middle of the day and going off to who knows where. The first time it happened, poor Gulley was in a tizzy trying not to panic because he thought you were just really good at hide and seek and he didn’t want you to miss dinner.But he couldn’t find you anywhere.

More people got involved.

They still had no idea where you went. Hours passed and the sun went down but no one had a clue where their strange and sudden visitor could have gone off to.

Link suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe you went off into the lake and something terrible happened. He ran as fast as he could but his panic happened to be unfounded.

You were there, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed, playing a small hermit crab that had somehow made it out of the water.

Link had half the mind to scold you, but your innocent giggles at the tiny creature had enough incentive to get him to calm down first. He bought you back where many of the aunties and elders fussed over you before giving you a warm bowl of soup and tucking you away for the night.

Your galavanting happened at least every other day. It didn’t take long for Link to realize that everytime you went missing, you were actually just by some body of water. 

He thought that maybe you just had a childish way of exploring. Or maybe you just liked to splash and swim. He wasn’t one to judge. He just wished you told people where you were going and when you planned to be back so no one would worry about you.

When you decided to stay in the village and interact with other humans for a change, you were like a fish out of water. 

You crashed into walls. You tripped over your own two feet. You would lose your balance at the oddest of times.

“Whoa!” Link caught you the arm before you could fall over and land face first into a pile of mud. “You know… You walk like a newborn deer.”

“What is deer?” You ask on impulse.

Link pauses and gives you a questioning look but decides to keep his judgment silent. Maybe there’s just no deer where you’re from. Somehow. Which would be strange considering how popular they are. Then again, you’ve never mentioned how you got to where they are or where you grew up. It seemed to be the only topic you actively avoided talking about.

“An animal.” Link says instead. “They have skinny legs and they begin walking on the day they’re born. The males have horns on their heads.”

“....Do they shine? Many colors?” You ask with a hopeful expression on your face.

Link hates to be the bearer of bad news, but he finds that he can’t lie to you. “Not really. They hide a lot so they look like golden grass and dried leaves.”

“Grass.” You stand up straighter, still holding onto his arm. “...Hm…”

Link has no idea how to respond to that.

“Yes.” He tries anyway. “They’re actually quite big once they’re fully grown. They’re majestic creatures.”

“Magic?” You tilt your head.

“No magic.” He shakes his head. “ Ma-ges-tic.”

“...Oh.” 

Is he going crazy or do you sound disappointed? Link swallows the spit in his throat, not sure why he feels the need to not only make you feel better, but to also impress you. “Most animals can’t do magic but they’re still very impressive. You know- if you want, we can always go into the forest and look for them. How’s that sound?”

You smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Link feels his heart bob. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? After I’m done with my work in the forge, I’ll come look for you and we can go explore some more.”

Your eyes light up a little more genuinely and you nod enthusiastically to boot.

Link feels better about this suddenly.

Until tomorrow rolls around and you’re once again nowhere to be found.

Link wants to ram his head into the nearest wall. How could he forget? It was a ‘Go for a Swim Day’ today. It was part of your pattern. Did he just forget all his senses suddenly?

Groaning for the extra mileage he has to walk, he heads home first to collect some stuff for the journey. Surely you would be hungry at some point, right? Maybe he can make it a picnic too. There’s a nice spot that overlooks the valley that he knows of. You seem to be the type of person who enjoys the simple things his home has to offer.

Not only that but you seem rather focused on finding magical items. Or at least you try to find something magical in every nook and cranny. …He has a few magical items. That can impress you! He packs his magic mirror, his fire arrows and his mermaid tail. You’ll probably find a river or pond that you’d want to jump in. Since you love to swim so much, maybe he’ll join you just this once and show off a bit. Surely you’ve never seen anything like it.

Once he has everything set, he checks the nearby creek first- hoping you didn’t decide to splash around and find out.

Nothing.

Not a stone unturned and not a single piece of evidence that anyone had been here earlier. 

Link groans louder and turns on his heel to head down to the lake instead. He knows he’s being dramatic, but you’re not around to witness his pettiness, so he’s at liberty to do what he wants.

His feet are aching by the time he finally makes it to the lake. He kicks off his shoes to walk along the warm sandband before he begins his search anew. There’s not much that he thinks he has to look for. A bag? Some footprints? A discarded shirt or something? Your shoes by the side of the bank?

He finds… nothing.

“Where are you?” Link growls and flops onto the dirt. He pouts and puts his cheeks in his palms as he tries to think about what to do next. There goes his plans for the afternoon. And probably well into the evening at that. 

Link can’t help the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at the thought of being stood up. Not this was any big deal or anything- but he didn’t realize how much he was actually looking forward to this moment until he couldn’t have it.

Well.. He’s at the lake anyway. And he has the mermaid tail. He’ll get something for you. He can dive to the bottom of the lake and find something cool for you!

Link shimmies the tail on without a second thought and crawls into the water. The magic takes effect at once. He takes his first deep breath and pushes himself further into the cold. He feels his legs become intertwined with his item. The cold loses the sting the further he goes and although it takes a bit longer for his brain to adjust than he’d like, Link is quickly swimming deeper and deeper to where no other Hylian has gone before.

His eyes take longer to adjust. Considering he’s more worried about not forgetting that he can now breathe underwater, he’s still to ignore that little tidbit. All he has to do is swim straight down anyway.

Something moves to his left.

Link stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” He blurts. The sound he makes is warbled, broken as it always is when he tries to speak underwater.

In a split second, the figure blasts in front of him, sending him back a few feet. He brings up his arms to block any unwanted water from going up his nose and growls.

You poke his arm two seconds later.

“AH!” He screams without meaning to.

You seem just as perplexed and confused. You tilt your head and swim back just enough so that you can see him in his entirety. “Link?”

Your voice has changed too, but not quite like his does when he’s in this form. Your voice is clear as crystal and he can physically feel the waves it produces as they curl around his ears and his body.

He repeats your name with the same shocked reverence.

You break out into excited chitters and clicks, sounds he’s never heard before poke all around his body and he thinks he can feel the very effect they have on his brain.

You swim back over to him and twirl him around in earnest. You look delighted to see him here.

Link takes the moment to also look you over.

A mermaid.

He flushes when he sees more than he’s bargained for. Of course. What purpose do clothes serve to a mermaid?

You swim circles around him. The movement is graceful and borderline poetic, nothing like the way you move on land. Your tail was glittery and bejeweled with colors he hadn’t known could sparkle in the low light of the lake water. It trailed after you like a silk scarf or a skilled ribbon dancer.

He was staring.

You seemed to have caught on quickly that he was enthralled by your body. A part of you wonders why. Another feels the need to be embarrassed. You’ve dressed in the way of the finless for so long that you’ve almost adopted their shameful thinking to cover up one's form. The third and final part of you actually likes his attention. He’s impressed. Enamored, almost. This is the part of you that wins.

Smirking, you decide to metaphorically test the waters and dance around him some more, brushing your tail against his and pulling him this way and that with your dance alone. You swim away for just a second, wanting to play some more with the strange boy that can be of both worlds.

Link jolts out of the trance you’ve put him in and skips to follow you.

You laugh.

His breath catches in his throat at the sound of subtle trills and chirps. Link freezes completely in his spot. Your laugh tickles him even as he begins to sink from the lack of movement once more.

“You swim worse than a guppy.”

Link falters and the ethereal moment for him is shattered in an instant.

“Hey!” He says instead.

You laugh again, sending more pins and needles over his skin and tail and begin to swim laps around him, clearly showing off your superior swimming agility. You play with him some more, poking and annoying him but swimming away before he can retaliate and poke you back.

The game catches on from there.

Link is, unfortunately, in over his head and he has to admit proverbial defeat minutes into it. It doesn’t stop him from playing anyway. This is arguably the most free he’s ever seen you and he’s not about to ruin it anymore than his lack of grace does on its own.

It’s nice.

[smallestapplin]

My god I love your harem universe. Especially the Autobots and Decepticons having little piss fights over their precious human!

Now I’m just imagining poor Thundercracker and his “secret” crush on the human and how infatuated he is. Like a big love sick puppy

I can see him trying to shyly woo the human, possibly finding out where the human lives (from Skywarp cuz he couldn’t keep his mouth shut from his trine), sneaking over at night when they’re sleeping and doing something cheesy like throwing pebbles (small rocks) at their window to get their attention.

Poor guy probably fumbles and is blushing and he would just be so darn cute trying to ask the human out!!

I love thundercracker so much, thank you for this.

-

-

Thundercracker knew he shouldn't be here, he knew it well too, if the autobots won't have his head then the other decepticons would, the very thought should stop him in his tracks.

But here he stands just outside your habsuite, he's not sure what humans call it, but it looks nice, and is further away from town so he won't run into more humans, just you. Just you is all he wants, yes he's seen the footage Laserbeak caught, yes he watched it over and over and over again, imagining him as your lover.

Yet his spark yearned for something more.

You seemed so sweet, so funny, so considerate, that maybe, just maybe he'd have a chance with you, you already have s bunch of lovers, what's one more, right? He couldn't face you, but what could he give to make you know he wanted you?

Each morning when you'd awake, ready to head back to the autobot base, there would be quite the gift waiting for you.

First it was a big thing of energon, something you couldn't drink, though you've tried.

Next it was a massive geo cluster that had you in awe, you could barely manage to get it into your house, it was half the size of you! Next were some large sunflowers, root, dirt, and all on your porch.

A part of you wondered if you should ask around base, but maybe that would ruin the surprise? Or maybe it'll get them paranoid that someone else wants you, you don't feel threatened so you don't mention it.

It's not every night, but it's every other weekend, so it makes you wonder what their schedule is like.

Thundercracker can't believe himslef, he's like a sparkling all over again! When had his spark last pumped like this? The nervousness that ate away at his confidence, his anxiety rising each time he snuck away from the ship, and landed a little ways away from your habsuite, just as he's done every other weekend.

Walking as quietly as he could, making sure the groun beneath him crunched very little, he made his way up your driveway, ready to place yet another gift of flowers at your doorstep. His red optics look around, stopping when he saw the other flowers he gave you planted in your front yard.

You liked them! His wings twitch behind him, fluttering happily, he can't stop the smile forming on his face plate.

He looks at the very delicate flowers in his servos, the plants nearly as tall as the last bunch he gave you, but in reds, purples, and pinks, maybe you'd like the variety more? He hopes, he can already feel his spark racing.

Thundercracker carefully lays the flowers on your porch, making sure they are neat and out of the way so you won't step on them. He leans back eyeing his work, pleased with himself.

Your planet has many weird resources, but he's happy to have found something you liked! Normally on cybertron he would've found and gifted you shiny metals, or maybe even rare ones.

He wonders for a moment if you'd like an aerial show, and let him show off for you? Nah, that's too much, at least for right now-

"So you're the one leaving gifts for me."

You have to bite back a laugh as the giant bot jumps, flinching at the sound of your voice. His optics wide and staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. There you stand on your roof, in your sleep wear, with a tired smile.

Thundercracker tries to control himself, but little does he know he wings are giving him away, shaking as he calms himself.

"Oh..I..uhh..I didn't mean to wake ya?"

His face plate is heating up, flushing a deep blue from the energon going to his helm.

"You didn't wake me up, I was staying up in hopes to catch you. I was wondering who was leaving me these things."

Oh Primus, he made you miss a rest cycle? Frag, he feels so bad.

"Thank you."

.....huh?

You smile once more, chuckling at his baffled expression.

"Thank you for the gifts, it's very sweet of you, Thundercracker."

You wish you could take a picture with his stiff his body gets, how his wings wiggle up and down, and just how adorable such a normally intimating con could be.

You knew his name, you remembered him! That means you think of him, right? He could melt right where he stood, he could offline right now and die happy.

"Don't mention it." He carefully sits down on yout lawn, allowing his face to be more level with yours, "On Cybertron it was common practice, mostly for us seekers, to gift items like this."

"To start a courtship, I take it?"

You can't hold back laughing now, nearly wheezing at how he sputters and trips over his words trying to explain no but yes, but also-

"How did you-"

"Wild guess, but your reaction was too cute."

He's going to die, this is how it ends for him, the cute human he's taken with flirting with him.

"I wouldn't mind."

Truly you wouldn't, you know your agreement with the autobots, they all agreed to be your lovers and not fight over who else you date, but you'll have to have a talk with them about at least Thundercracker.

He seems so sweet under that gruff exterior.

Even if such a big scary con shakes under getting a few compliments.

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Hi, I'm back! I have no idea where this came from, or where it's going! So apologies as updates may not be consistent while I figure it out. Warnings for death of parents, grief, mentions of cemetery/graves - please tread carefully if these are triggers for you.

🍂

It was a chilly Autumn day, but not unbearable. Your coat could more than handle the frigid breeze. You squinted at the headstone as you crouched on your knees, angling your head to make sure you hadn’t left any streaks or marks from the polish. Satisfied with your performance, you trimmed a few of the roses that were leaning against it before standing and taking a step back to admire your handiwork.

Immaculate as always, so neat you could almost be fooled into thinking you weren’t even outside. You could hear your parents’ voices in your head now, joking about being able to keep their graves far cleaner that you ever managed your bedroom to be, their frequent nags falling on deaf adolescent ears.

You smiled sadly as you looked at the intricately engraved text below their names on the shared stone:

Beloved parents taken too soon,

Waiting in heaven to be reunited with their only daughter

You’d never really like that phrasing; it was a little too whimsical for your tastes – especially all these years later. But a recently orphaned teenager wasn’t exactly an expert in choosing the best headstone wording. You’d been more than happy to let your aunt and the funeral home lead the way, too paralysed by grief to make even the smallest decisions in the hellscape that was death admin.

Still, you’d never want to upset your aunt by getting it changed, there’s a lot of strange emotion tied up in grief even when time has passed, and that mourning teen has become an adult. And it wasn’t like new headstones were cheap anyway…

As you packed up your cleaning kit your attention was drawn to the two graves next to your parents’ - George and Winnifred Barnes. They had both passed several decades earlier, long before your parents were buried next to them. They had died only a few months apart according to the text…maybe they’d couldn’t survive without each other.

It was easy to infer that they no longer had anyone left earthside. The graves had been long untouched, unkempt, and overgrown, the inscriptions getting harder to read – and you’d never seen any evidence of a visitor in all your time coming here. Except of course when the cemetery staff did one of their occasional mass clean-ups of the neglected graves.

About a year ago, you’d started tending to them alongside your parents. You weren’t sure why, it just seemed like the right thing to do. They were neighbours after all. And you’d want someone to do the same for your mum and dad if you weren’t around.

You’d cleaned their stones, wiped away the grime and given them a decent polish. You’d trimmed back the weeds and laid fresh flowers. The first time took a while, but after you’d got them to a reasonable standard it was all pretty easy to maintain.

You’d often wondered who they were. What they were like. The dates suggested they’d died of old age, a luxury your parents didn’t have. Were they kind? Funny? What hobbies did they have? They were around during the war, that must’ve been tough. You knew from the inscriptions that they had children who would’ve been over hundred by now. Maybe no grandchildren which is why nobody came by to see them anymore. It made you feel sad, how we could all be just a few generations away from being forgotten entirely. At least you could try to remember them.

You gave their graves a quick once over, took away the dead flowers and added some fresh roses in their place.

“Well, I’m done,” you said aloud, “see you soon, mum and dad. And you too, George and Winnifred. Sleep well”.

You sighed, walking back to your car and back to your life. You knew all too well that the dead may be still, but the world continues around them.

🍂

A week later you were back at the cemetery with your cleaning kit slung over your back, your arms full of fresh flowers.

“Afternoon, mum and dad,” you said as you placed your kit and flowers down and pulled out the foam pad that you used to kneel on, “and you, George and Winnifred”.

“Work has been kicking my ass this week,” you sighed as you got to work on your parents’ stone. “There’s only so much I can take of Brock’s moaning about the numbers…it’s getting harder not to smash my keyboard over his head – yeah I know, violence isn’t the answer, blah-blah-blah…”

You worked diligently, chatting away as you went through your maintenance tasks. It was nice, talking to them like this. You could say anything, really. No judgements, no admonishment, just silent acceptance of everything you told them. It was a bit like therapy for you. You often imagined your parents were sitting behind you as you spoke, just out of sight.

You liked to use old newspaper to buff up the marble. As you gathered your things together, you glanced at some of the headlines from the copy you’d brought with you. Lots of dreary grimness unfortunately. There was also a longread feature on the Avengers and where they were now, their photographs lined up across the top of the page. It was sad that a few of them were dead now, or at least no longer here. You felt a pang of sadness for their loved ones – you knew what that was like.

You didn’t know all the details of The Avengers and their associates, but like everyone else you knew the basics. It was a strange time, just a decade or so ago nobody had ever thought superheroes really existed…but then all of these ‘enhanced’ people started crawling out of the woodwork, revealing weapons and technology that previously had only existed in sci-fi movies. It was hard to believe, really.

You scanned the newspaper page, looking at the pictures for a few moments. You took your time studying their faces before sighing and placing it back down.

“All done…now let’s help out George and Winnie over here, looks like you guys need some new flowers…and all that heavy rain we’ve been having has really done a number on your stones…let me just-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the gruff voice behind you demanded, causing you such a shock that you nearly joined your parents.

You spun your body away from the graves, horrified to see a man looming over you as you stared at him open-mouthed in surprise. You hadn’t heard him approach, not quite understanding how you hadn’t noticed him coming at all…

“I said what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he repeated to you, his blue eyes alight with anger.

He was big. Bigger than you. Even under his coat you could see his broad shoulders. A mop of dark hair framed his face, most likely quite an attractive face when it wasn’t pulled into a furious sneer like it was now. He wore black gloves as he pointed at you accusingly. The fact that you were kneeling on the ground while he stood towering at his full height had not gone unnoticed by you.

There was something strangely familiar about him, but you couldn’t place it. Did he shop at the same market as you? You couldn’t quite…

“I’m…I’m just-” you spluttered as you fumbled for the words, still caught in your surprise and the fact that this normally serene time had been interrupted by a stranger yelling at you…

“Get away from there!” he snarled.

You quickly realised he was talking about the Barnes’ graves. You bounced backwards, landing painfully on your ass in your desperation to do what he said. He had a chilling air of authority that you didn’t want to screw with. You weren’t trying to piss off an angry man while you were out here all alone…

“I was just tidying them up,” you managed weakly as you sat up and clutched at the flowers.

“Nobody asked you to,” he scoffed in response as he leaned over and ran a gloved finger over Winnifred’s inscription, “you shouldn’t be clambering all over graves of people you don’t know”.

You frowned as the initial shock of the encounter wore off, now annoyed now at his abrupt rudeness towards you when you only had good intentions.

“Oh, and you know them, do you?” you snapped back sharply as your felt your emotions surge and your eyes water, your cheeks hot with mortification, “well, nobody has been to visit those graves in years so-”

“Yeah, actually I do know them - I’m their son,” he spat furiously.

Your head bounced back in surprise and confusion. You curled your lip and frowned at his strange claim, he appeared to be his mid-to-late 30s at most – many years away from the very elderly man he’d need to be for that to be true.

What was his goal here, exactly?

Was this guy just looking to start an argument and decided you’d be his target? Spouting off nonsense about random graves just to mess with you?

And where did you know him from?

Despite your survival instincts, you couldn’t help but fight back. You didn’t appreciate being messed with at the best of times, let alone when you were only here to visit your deceased loved ones. Who came to a graveyard to fuck with people? And yell at them?!

“Huh? Son?” you scoffed with derision and jabbed a finger towards the inscriptions about their children, “well, that can’t be true as that would mean their kids would have to be over a hundred…and how many one-hundred-year-olds look like you…?”

“I’m 107 years old, actually,” he said venomously. He sounded utterly sincere despite the ludicrousness of his claim. His face was sullen, his eyes piercing.

You ignored the shudder that threatened to roll through you in response. It was a strangely familiar expression on his face.

Where had you seen that look?

“Oh, yeah! You’re 107…Sure!” you laughed sarcastically. “You just have the greatest plastic surgeon of all time, in fact there’s a bunch of centenarians wandering around looking thirt-”

You trailed off as a wave of recognition suddenly hit you and the penny dropped. Oh. Oh.

He wasn’t from the market…

It was him.

Your eyes panned down to the crumpled newspaper lying next to you. The same man’s face scrutinised you from the page, an exact mirror image of the brooding 3D version in front of you. A little older now, but still unmistakably the same man.

Oh!

Now you remembered that same picture on the news. Read about the terrible things he’d done before when he was under hypnosis. For the Nazis? The Soviets? Both? Flashes of recollection hit you at once, disjointed and scattered.

It wasn’t really him doing all of it, it was a mind control thing, they’d said. He was like the Captain…the first one from the 40s. Kept young…somehow. He had a robot arm. Then there was the big government pardon after he’d helped to save the world. The deep dive the New York Times had done on his assassin past. What had they said he was called? Iceman? Winter? Winter hitman?

The Winter Soldier.

Barton? Baines? No, Barnes.

Barnes.

As in…son of Winnifred and George?

Ah.

He must’ve seen your train of thought written all over your face as he nodded solemnly at you.

“Yeah. It’s me. And I only found their resting place a few weeks ago,” he said with disdain.

You got to your feet, taking a few cautious steps backwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t need to be a jerk - I’ve just been coming here for years, and I’d never seen…”

You trailed off, he didn’t care. His focus was on the graves, one gloved hand gripping the top of his father’s stone as he peered down at the grass below.

You turned to leave, giving him his privacy, “I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumbled quietly as you picked up your kit.

You started to head back to your car, then turned to face him again after a couple of steps. You warily moved back towards him and leaned over, placing a single flower between the feet of his parents’ graves. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pick it up and throw it back in your face, either.

As you walked away, you thought you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

🍂

Another week passed and you were back at the cemetery once more, working the usual routine and doing your best to forget what had happened the last time you were here. Upsetting a war veteran slash Avengers superhero by accusing him of not being his parents’ child was impressively incompetent, even by your standards. But in your defence, he did just start yelling at you out of nowhere. And you were only trying to help. And he was a literal defiance of nature, time, and aging…

But then again, people weren’t always their best selves in a cemetery. It wasn’t exactly Happy Hour over here. And you’d probably freak out too if you caught a stranger tinkering around with the resting place of your parents. The parents who died of old age while you were cryogenically frozen and a prisoner in your own body…

You’d done a little more reading up on him, James Buchanan Barnes. ‘Bucky’. The man behind the scary winter soldier mask. The older images of him in his combat gear were chilling, as were the alleged stats of his kills, but mainly you just felt immense empathy for a man out of time. A man who had lost his youth, a limb, his autonomy, and everybody he once knew from his old life.

You tried to put it out of your mind, catching your parents up on what they’d missed and pretty-ing things up a little around their plot. You didn’t touch the Barnes’ this time, just gave them a little wave and concentrated on your own flesh and blood.

You were a million miles away, lost in the quiet fog that often seemed to overtake you when you were working in the cemetery. It was peaceful, really. This was the one place you could switch your brain off and quiet the chatter of your head, just concentrate on the tasks you knew so well by now that your hands did them on muscle memory alone.

You were just adjusting the newest flowers when a voice interrupted you.

“Hey,” it said.

It startled you as you were still in your own world and hadn’t heard anyone else approach. You whirled around slightly panicked as a pair of eyes the colour of sapphires met yours.

It was him again.

“Oh, hello,” you replied quietly.

He stared over at you, wrapped up in his coat as he was last time. His stare was still intense despite appearing much calmer than when you first met him. He wore black pants and boots, his hands tucked away into his pockets, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder. His face was more relaxed than it was during your first encounter. His blue eyes were just as arresting, but the absence of anger made them sparkle rather than burn. He had a soft dusting of stubble across his taut jawline, his dark hair was pulled back behind his head as he absent-mindedly ran a hand over it. He was…

…hot?

Fuck.

He nodded at you in acknowledgement and moved to George and Winnifred’s plot, kneeling in front of their stones. He pulled a candle out from his backpack and lit it with a lighter, placing it between where his parents lay.

You turned away sharply, not wanting to look like you were intruding during what was clearly a private moment of mourning. You focused on your own parents’ graves, clipping back the flowers as quietly as possible.

The two of you continued doing your own thing, the awkwardness thick in the air. You remembered how furious he’d been with you last time. You considered saying something, trying to explain that you were only trying to maintain the graves, but you didn’t want to provide any more ammunition for potential anger. Instead, you continued your routine in silence, keeping your eyes down.

After you finished you packed up your stuff and cleared your throat, ‘uh, bye,” you said quietly to him as you hurried down the path and back towards your car. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you as you passed, studying you intently.

[buckydeservesthebest]

My pal @tragicfantasy-girl already made an excellent and thorough contribution, but I still want to give my two cents addition.

First of all, it seems to me that saying that “the world has moved past the need for Bucky stans”, is at the very least, a very dogmatic statement on @wenellyb part. Because by its own definition, being a fan doesn't come from the fact that it's “necessary”, it comes from the empathy, sympathy, congeniality one feels towards a certain character. No one can prohibit someone from being a fan and much less their right to express the thoughts and opinions they may have about it, freedom of expression is a basic right.

Secondly, as my friend rightly said, the OP just makes it clear that Bucky fans do need to exist. And not for the sake of fangirling/fanboying but because Bucky is the agglomeration of many (too many) of the worst experiences anyone could ever experience. He was a prisoner of war, he was exposed to decades of physical and psychological torture, he was subjected to ECT during these 70 years which caused him irreparable brain damage and this subject has never been talked about. Bucky is an amputee, disabled and suffers from C-PTSD (a much more severe version than simple PTSD), depersonalization crisis, depression, anxiety and many other mental illnesses. The number of people who can relate to him to one degree or another is overwhelming.

We Bucky stans never try to minimize all the trauma and suffering that Sam and other characters have gone through. Almost every Marvel character suffers from some sort of trauma and of course this is important and should be treated with great respect. But it must be recognized that even within traumatic experiences, there are levels of severity that are based on both the duration and the level of short and long term damage that these experiences entail.

When we say that Bucky is one of the victims who have suffered the most, it is not only because he endured one of the longest lasting and most damaging tortures to anyone's psyche, but also because unlike absolutely every other character, be it Clint, Erik Selvig, Helen Cho, Jessica Jones, Yelena and the other BWs who were victims of mind control, or Isaiah who was a victim of imprisonment and experimentation, Bucky does not enjoy the right to be recognized as a victim of either mind control or imprisonment and experimentation.

Bucky has been actively blamed over and over again (with the exception of Steve of course, and T'Challa) for a situation in which it is perfectly well known he is innocent because he had no agency. Bucky is blamed for the harm his captors caused others, as is the case with Isaiah's “Even your people (HYDRA) weren’t done with me” situation. HYDRA is NOT Bucky's people, they were his kidnappers and enslavers. Because yes, Bucky was a slave of HYDRA, because he was under the total domination of a third party, which is one of the definitions the dictionary gives to the word slave.

I have seen several of the stans complaining about how Sam was mean/unfair or still treated Bucky like he was still the Winter Soldier or like he was responsible for his crimes as the Winter Soldier, which is all untrue by the way.

Yes, Sam did hold Bucky responsible for what he was forced to do as the Winter Soldier, and this on more than one occasion, whether from jokes that aren't funny to serious statements:

"You were stopping all the wrongdoers *you* enabled as the Winter Soldier" Ep 05.

"They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met." Ep 03.

"We're not assasins" Ep. 02

And don't get me started on the ableist jokes Sam made about Bucky's condition:

"What’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours? I can actually see it. I can see the gears turning. Oh, they’re malfunctioning, shutting down. Yep, they’re on fire." "(...) the bionic staring machine (...)" "I get it, why you want me to talk to *Freaky* Magoo over here"

Isn't Sam treating Bucky badly in these situations? Isn't he being unfair by blaming Bucky for what he “did” as the Winter Soldier, knowing full well that he didn't have the remotest control over his actions? Isn't he having a discriminatory attitude with all that ableist banter?

As tragicfanstasy-girl rightly said, Sam's fans hold double standards by getting upset because we don't acknowledge Bucky's "bad" treatment of Sam, when they refuse to acknowledge all the victim-blaming and ableism Sam subjected Bucky to. Where is the fairness in this way of reasoning?

To accuse Bucky of treating Sam "badly", just like that, is not only to remove all context from the situation, because “treating badly / mistreating” implies that this behavior comes out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, and that it is generally done with the intention of making the other person feel bad.

That is why I would not use the term “treat badly”, because none of Bucky's behavior comes from malice or bad faith. As my friend rightly said, it comes from the pain, depression, self-loathing of a suffering person.

But let's look at the whole context a little deeper. More than anything else, what Bucky did was to express his displeasure and disapproval about Sam's decision to give up possession of the shield (it's what give up something means), nothing else.

And here's the kicker, Bucky did NOT criticize or judge Sam as a person, he criticized his specific ACTION/DECISION of giving up the shield. At literally no point did Bucky ever insult him or use derogatory terms towards him or label him as incapable of protecting Steve's legacy, something he originally did agree to do.

And I mean, if we think about it, there ARE compelling reasons for Bucky and anyone else to disagree with Sam's decision, and NOT for the fact of him not wanting to wield the shield, BUT for the act of giving up its possession. Giving up its possession to the museum that the government owns. The same government that has proven to make terrible decisions time and time again. The same government that wanted to have control over enhanced people. The same government that confiscated Steve's shield and Sam's wings for being against it. The same government that has proven to be anything but trustworthy and fair.

So therein lies the problem for Bucky (besides wanting to protect Steve's legacy and the emotional attachment he feels towards the shield), the problem is that Sam put the shield in the hands of those who could misuse it, and literally that's where the whole problem with Walker came from.

To summarize (and I apologize if I already said several times), the problem for Bucky was NEVER that Sam had not wielded the shield or that he had not adopted the mantle of Captain America, because he was in possession of the shield for months after Steve's death, and did not wield it, continuing to maintain the alias of Falcon. And that was fine, no criticism of Bucky comes from this fact, but again, from the fact of having ceded possession of the shield to those who could misuse it.

(I mean, even if the shield had been kept in the museum, there was a risk that anyone could steal it and do whatever they wanted with it.)

Everything Bucky said to Sam about the shield was NOT meant to make him feel bad, but to convince him to do something about it, get it back and put it back in good hands, or rather, put it in Sam's hands. Because despite everything, Bucky NEVER doubted for a second that Sam was the right one to wield it and be the next Captain America. Bucky continued to actively support and believe in him, that's why he gave him the shield once they took it away from Walker, and that's why the favor he asked the Wakandans was to make a new suit for Sam.

It's unfair to say that Bucky was a asshole to Sam, when he helped him with his mission to capture the Flag Smashers, even when it was none of his business. Bucky actively defended Sam both in combat, and from the racist attitude of the cops in episode 2, as well as Walker's attempt to intervene in Sam's mission for trying to reason with Karli in episode 4: “he knows what he's doing”.

Again, at absolutely no point did Bucky doubt that Sam was a good and capable man and the right one to carry on Steve's legacy. None of this is “treating badly” if you ask me.

The first thing Bucky did when he met Sam was blame him “You shouldn’t have given up the shield”. No “hello”, no “good morning”, no “how have you been Sam?, when we know that Sam has been checking up on Bucky, and texting him but Bucky didn’t reply. So Bucky ghosts Sam, and only comes back to blame him about giving up the shield.

Besides the fact that Bucky did have reason to express his displeasure about Sam's decision, and as tragicfantasy-girl explained earlier, Bucky's attitude does not come from malice or bad faith, but from pain, guilt and grief.

My pal gave an incredible introspection as a person who has sadly gone through traumatic experiences. These points of view are very, very important because they offer a perspective that people who have not been through a similar situation may not understand.

I cannot speak from this point of view, but I can offer my opinion as someone who lost a very close loved one and who has not yet overcome a grief that has already lasted 3 years. So I can say from my own experience, that losing a close loved one generates a very strong emotional attachment to their belongings and we become very over protective of them, and anything that may represent a lack of respect towards those belongings is considered a very serious offense. It is true that everyone grieves differently, but from what I can see, Bucky grieved very similarly to what I experienced. This is one of the many reasons I can empathize with him. And if I see one of the possessions my loved one entrusted to others being misused or disrespected, I will not hesitate to express my outrage at the person causing the situation. I wouldn't even have the head to greet them kindly first.

When you live a very painful and recent bereavement, the last thing that goes through your mind is to be the kindest person to others, and you just prefer to isolate yourself, you don't want to have to see anyone... At least that's how I lived it...

To say that Sam was checking on Bucky is a very specific interpretation of the fact that he sent him messages. This could mean many things, not necessarily that he was looking out for Bucky's welfare. In fact, in an interview that was done for the series, where Seb and Anthony were present, the interviewer asked what the content of those messages would be, and Anthony jokingly replied “Hey, did you kill someone?”, and everyone agreed that that was most likely the type of messages Sam sent to Bucky. Actually, this is consistent with Sam's character who tried on more than one occasion to dissuade Steve from his attempts to save Bucky, behaving consistently hostile towards him by making unkind remarks before every little remark Bucky made, always expressing the dislike he felt for him.

So, nobody can't blame Bucky for not wanting to respond to those kinds of messages, which are nothing more than mockery of all the severe trauma he still suffers.

Not only did Bucky actively support and believe in Sam, and never try to express his displeasure at his continued ableist and victim-blaming comments (because unfairly Bucky believes he deserves them), but the plot had him apologize for his own white privilege as well as Steve's! Bucky had to apologize because Steve made a decision (to give the shield to Sam) without considering what it would mean for a black man. It was Steve who put that burden on Sam, NOT Bucky, because he had no say in that decision. If anything, if anyone should apologize for that situation, it was Steve and NOT Bucky.

TFATWS revolutionized around the injustice of racism and how people in the black community can and should be considered victims for that, but it never addressed the issue of the injustice of victim-blaming over all the time Bucky has been held responsible for everything he was forced to do under mind control, and how he also deserves to be recognized as a victim. Sam, Sharon, and everyone gets a pass on blaming Bucky for the harm he was forced to commit, something only HYDRA is responsible for, just because “they too have suffered injustice”. NO, suffering injustice does NOT give you the right to be unfair to others.

Everything, absolutely everything within the TFATWS plot was focused on vilifying Bucky, and making him look like the cause or at least a participant in all the evils and tragedies that have taken place in everyone's lives. “Bucky's people hurt Isaiah”, "Sharon became a criminal for helping Steve to help Bucky", "Bucky was thoughtless for not thinking about what it could mean for a black man to be Captain America". In none of these situations did Bucky have a word.

And talking about Bucky hurting people, I have NEVER seen a Bucky stan talking about how awful what he did to Yori was. He befriended a man knowing full well he had killed his son? What kind of mindgame was he playing.

This is one of the most misguided and out of context takes I have ever read.

There is NO mind game, because all Bucky was trying to do was make amends for the damage done to others that he believes he is responsible for. Yori lost his son and became a lonely man, Bucky couldn't revive him but he could try to somehow fill the void his loss left in his father's life. That's why he tried to spend time with him, tried to be there for him, and his company was good for him. Leah recognized him. Yori already knew that his son had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, ending up being one of the many killed by an unnamed assassin who broke into the hotel where he worked.

Knowing the identity of the person who pulled the trigger brought absolutely NOTHING revelatory or healing for Yori that would allow him to find closure. That's why Bucky didn't tell him, not only because telling him that would only put Yori through a new grief, but because it would prevent Bucky from being able to continue to be there for him. It's because of all this that the scene of Bucky telling Yori the truth is one of the most criticized by fans, BECAUSE IT OFFERS NOTHING HEALING FOR EITHER YORI OR BUCKY.

And please don’t get me started on how they tried to make Ayo the “bad guy”, when Bucky had just broke out Zemo out of prison, the guy who killed King T’Chaka, without thinking about the consequences and the impact on his Wakandan friends.

Again, there is a very pronounced misinformation and lack of context here. Bucky assisted Zemo in his escape, because according to the plot and the writers' logic, Zemo was the only one with the resources to discover the origin of the new super soldier serum and track down the Flag Smashers. The book The Art of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (which was written by the production of the series itself, which makes it totally canonical), offers more information about the whole issue of Zemo's escape from prison. It is clearly stated there that before resorting to his intervention, Bucky and Sam had already exhausted all other available options, the last card being Zemo. And it is also stated and I quote, “Zemo refuses to help from behind bars, so Bucky assists him in his escape.” This implies that Bucky first tried to get useful information from him, without having to release him from prison, but he refused. So again, according to the plot, Bucky did the right thing by assisting him in his escape because Zemo was the only one who could offer help.

No one ever said that Ayo or the Wakandas were the “bad guys” for wanting to go arrest Zemo, Bucky himself understands how this impacted their pride. And at no time did he refuse to hand him over to them, he just asked them for a little more time, because his intention from the beginning was to return Zemo to prison, and Zemo himself knew it. Ayo understood that, and that's why she gave an ultimatum of 8 hours before returning. Bucky understood it too. That is why he never objected to the Dora's intention to arrest Zemo after those 8 hours.

What we do consider unfair on the part of the Wakandans is the fact that they hid from Bucky the existence of the fail-safe that disconnects his arm, his prosthesis, one that they gave him without any previous condition, without considering that Bucky's ignorance of this fail-safe could be potentially fatal for him, in case he found himself in a situation in which he was hanging for his life by his left arm, and that by pure bad luck something activated that mechanism.

All of this coupled with the objectification associated with Bucky's disability. The way in which Ayo dehumanized him horribly by removing a part of his body, all this in a form of power game, in which Bucky has no control over even his own body.

And worst of all (or I don't know what's worst in all this anymore) is the "reason" - if you can call it that - why Ayo did it, simply because she was upset that Bucky has stopped her from killing Walker, something that had nothing to do with her original mission of capturing Zemo. And frustrated by that, she blamed and dehumanized Bucky.... To say this was totally unfair on her part is an understatement.

We are not hating on Ayo as a person: but to the action of removing the ability aid from a disabled person. It's like if someone took away Dr X wheelchair or Matt Murdock's sight stick.

The dehumanization towards Bucky in TFATWS is treated with the same disrespect that James Gunn handled in Guardians of the Galaxy: Holiday Special, in which with much mockery and ableist comedy, his prosthesis was treated as a mere object and not as what it is: an ability aid.

It is because of all this and many many many more things that we Bucky stans continue to raise our voices about all the injustices and mistreatment that Marvel has subjected him to time and time again. Not because we believe he is the only character who has suffered, but because he is the only character who has not been done justice. Because he is the only character within all of Marvel that has been denied the right to be considered a victim, when everyone else can be without issue.

It is alarming how many posts still exist and are still being shared where Bucky is still considered guilty for what he was forced to do as the Winter Soldier, even though it is well known among fans that he had no remote control over his actions. The level of victim-blaming that exists is disturbing. And not only because this is an injustice to the character of Bucky, but because it is also an injustice to everyone who can relate to him in this regard.

These are a couple of comments from a Twitter user, in which the person was affected on an emotional level by all the victim-blaming that was shown on TFATWS as if it wasn't a bad thing. Who knows how many people have been affected by this and we just don't know. “If Bucky is guilty for a situation he had no agency in being mind-controlled, then I, who was not brainwashed, am certainly guilty, even though I had no opportunity to offer resistance.” Do you realize the impact this has on people???

So NO, we will NEVER shut up and stop asking for justice for Bucky, because asking for justice for him also means asking for justice for all those people who can identify with his suffering.

The world has moved past the need for Bucky stans. They serve no other purpose than to write long stories explaining why their characters is the most miserable character, who has suffered the most, has had the most unfair treatment in the world and then forget and dismiss anyone around their character. Let’s not forget how entitled they act whenever there is a big announcement for Sam’s character, and immediately demand the same for Bucky. Even though there are 364 other days where they could do the complaing for their character, they conviently choose the day there is a big announcement for Sam’s character to complain and make demands they have no right to make, instead of praising Sam’s character just once in their life.

And honestly, I don’t even think they really like Bucky as a character because they absolutely refuse to see him as he really is or see the ways their character has grown.

Like Tony Stans before them, and unlike any other fans in the MCU, Bucky stans have the ability to always paint their character as the victim no matter what the circumstances, act as if their character is the only character to have ever experienced trauma in the history of characters. And they absolutely to refuse to see the flaws of their characters or any bad thing they do, They will blame all the bad things their character does on literally anybody BUT the character. They refuse to acknowledge that their character isn’t the only one who has feelings and who has known pain. We are slowly being freed from Tony stans, it’s time for the same thing to happen with the Buckies.

The last strike is that now they somehow came up with the idea that Bucky’s and Isaiah’s stories are somewhat similar. Excuse me but what???

What is surprising to me is that I never see this kind of behavior coming from Steve fans, Natasha fans, Thor fans and so on. Maybe I missed something.

It’s always the same fandoms that decide on one specific interpretation of a character and stick to it no matter what is happening on screen. They insist on Bucky being the one who needs to be taken care of, when Bucky in episode 5, and episode 6 was the one who was taking care of Sam ( getting the suit, helping with the boat, supporting with the flagsmashers). Do you even watch the shows your character’s involved in or do you just live in your headcanon? Do you even realize that you character is making progess and that unlike your headcanons Bucky seems to have more the profile of a nurturer once he starts healing? Bucky still has a long way to go, but have you seen him giving away that notebook? Starting to make amends the right way? Do you not see his progress?

They insist on Bucky being the one being hurt but turn a blind eye when Bucky is doing the hurting. And let’s not even talk about what happens when the other character interacting with Bucky is not White…

I have seen several of the stans complaining about how Sam was mean/unfair or still treated Bucky like he was still the Winter Soldier or like he was responsible for his crimes as the Winter Soldier, which is all untrue by the way. But then they never mention why Sam didn’t open welcome Bucky with open arms.

The first thing Bucky did when he met Sam was blame him “You shouldn’t have given up the shield”. No “hello”, no “good morning”, no “how have you been Sam?”, when we know that Sam has been checking up on Bucky, and texting him but Bucky didn’t reply. So Bucky ghosts Sam, and only comes back to blame him about giving up the shield. And even when Sam tells him he’s upset about the shield being given to Walker, Bucky keeps pestering Sam. And it keeps being that way for a major part of episode 2 and 3. 

And yet I have NEVER seen any Bucky stan talk about how Bucky treated Sam badly during that time.

Do you guys not remember the scene where Bucky apoligize? I just don’t understand, even Bucky understood that he f*cked up, and changed his behavior, why can’t his stans?

And talking about Bucky hurting people, I have NEVER seen a Bucky stan talking about how awful what he did to Yori was. He befriended a man knowing full well he had killed his son? What kind of mindgame was he playing.

And please don’t get me started on how they tried to make Ayo the “bad guy”, when Bucky had just broke out Zemo out of prison, the guy who killed King T’Chaka, without thinking about the consequences and the impact on his Wakandan friends.

Bucky stans don’t even acknowledge the feelings of other characters than their own. They did it with Endgame Steve with blablabla how unfair he was to abandon Bucky, even though Bucky knew Steve was leaving. And they are now doing it from Sam.

I really like Loki as a character but I’m sometimes annoyed at some stans that want to insist that he isn’t a villain, never did anything wrong and even go to the lengths to paint him as a victim when he killed actual people. But usually Loki stans don’t reach the levels of Buckies when it comes to putting on blinders whenever they are thinking about their characters. Most of them acknowledge Loki’s flaws and his wrongdoings and like him anyway. As they should.

Bucky stans need to step aside and leave Bucky’s character to people who really know how to appreciate him, who (unlike them) want his character to heal and be happy and see him as he is, flaws, wrongdoings, mistakes and most importanly who also see his growth. 

Most importantly, leave Bucky’s character to people who know how to tag properly and won’t tag a post that doesn’t even have Sam in it with “Sam Wilson” just to get more traction for their post.

[mskenway97]

This is what I would have from some of my thoughts in mind, about their encounter:

D-16 has had a monotonous life, focus on the mine, draw energon... At least admiration for the Primes and especially Megatronus Prime.

At least he felt fulfilled following the protocol until one day the work in the mines was going well all secured without explosions, no damage or losses the mine tunnels were fully secured until he saw a somewhat rare breach that he went to investigate alone, he was going to warn with the link but had lost the signal, he was going to return to see that the entrance had been completely closed.

He had no choice but to move forward seeing that the tunnel widened more and more. He had to turn on the lights admiring the beauty of that place, the raw energon everywhere. D-16 only thought about the success he was going to have and that Sentinel was going to recognize his great feat, he only had to try to communicate with someone, until he was astonished to see a huge robot standing, it was as big as if it was the whole Iacon, D-16 compared it and it didn't reach a big part of his pede.

Guided by curiosity, D-16 kept looking at that big titan it was red and blue it looked like it had lost power long ago or had fallen long ago. D began to inspect it closely but it was somewhat complicated to try to climb. It looked like it was dormant, it was moving carefully by the legs, slowly it was getting closer to the chestplate, seeing the big hole in it. it was with its servo it got closer to the chest.

Then a blue spark ignited and from D's face red marks came out near the optics making him startled. D was getting more and more scared as he saw that the titan's optics had activated, causing D to instinctively run away as he saw it move, the cave was starting to shake as well.

D was regretting what he had done, he ran as fast as he could until he saw a giant servo approaching him faster and faster.

He tried to dodge it but his other servo had caught him he had no escape, he thought it would be the end of him he saw the big titan approaching close to his face.

D was trembling he didn't know what to do he was terrified he would end up in pieces.

-Please don't hurt me... I didn't want to bother you," said D.

There was only the sound of movement and what sounded like a smile.

-It's been stellar cycles without being able to move, thanks buddy... My name is Orion Pax," said a voice from his mind making D look to see what was going on, "Confused huh? You'll get used to it. Tell me your name

-Well... I... D-16, miner, sir it's an honor - said D-16 with a laugh ringing in his head.

- Don't give me formalities, D-16... I think we are going to get to know each other quite well," said Orion smirked.

In those moments D literally didn't know where he had gotten himself and the impact it was going to have on his life.

[twistedminutia]

Diasomnia and Selfishness vs Selflessness

Rereading some of Book 7, and it occurs to me how much Lilia, Mallues, and Silver share in their reasons behind their actions, or how they construe their actions as selfless as opposed to selfish.

We’ll start with Lilia, who kicks this whole thing off. Lilia’s initial action is him leaving. First, analyzing the action, it’s extremely abrupt. Lilia gives no prelude, minimal explanation, and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that it’s sad. He gives no time for anyone to prepare and, in a matter of days, he’s entirely ready to depart his family, possibly for good.

Now, from the perspective of everyone else in Diasomnia, this is devastating, especially for Malleus and Silver who both were at least partially raised by Lilia. His actions are selfish bordering on callous. But for Lilia? These actions are selfless. Lilia isn’t trying to abandon them. He’s trying to spare them. To Lilia, having the people he cares for watch him wither away and die, having to be reliant on them, having to be a burden- he’s trying to spare them that. He doesn’t even want to show sadness, since that might make things harder.

Lilia is attempting to be selfless- he’s trying to minimize the impact of his departure and reduce grief. But by doing so, he’s inadvertently being selfish. By not sharing his sadness, he’s pressuring everyone else to hide their own feelings. By pulling away so quickly, he’s not allowing others to process the loss. By refusing to allow anyone to come with him, he’s taking away a relationship everyone who cares for him. For Lilia, he’s trying to be selfless, but he’s really being selfish- prioritizing his own comfort at the quick loss over what would be better for everyone.

Malleus does something very similar. He characterizes what he’s doing in the dreams as a good thing- a gift. Something he is selflessly giving to everyone. And it’s possible he even believes this. He truly thinks he’s sparing people from pain and suffering.

But he’s still being selfish. He didn’t ask if people wanted this, and, at the end of the day, he didn’t do this because he came to the conclusion on his own. He came to the conclusion because Lilia was leaving and he wanted to stop it. Malleus is trying to use his power to help, but his motives are, at the end of the day, selfish.

And then Silver. People might be protesting he’s never done anything like the other two, but he’s got shades of this as well. Silver’s moment comes when he learns his identity: he’s the son of the Dawn Knight, the person who killed Malleus’ mother. Lilia spared and adopted him, despite considering killing him.

This is the point where Silver plunges into the darkness and considers letting it take him. He frames this action as selfless- he doesn’t deserve his loving family after what his relatives did to them, so he will take himself out of their lives.

But this action is still ultimately selfish, in the same way Lilia’s action is. He’s still denying the people that love him their autonomy (insisting they could not love him when they clearly very much do) and he is also behaving selfishly in regard to their mission- going into the darkness traps Sebek, Yuu, and Grim in the dream and stops them from reaching Malleus, who both needs their help and needs to be stopped. It’s not a malicious selfishness, but it’s there nonetheless.

And then there’s Sebek, who doesn’t engage in any of this nonsense and is more than willing to call people out on it! He calls Silver out, and I’m willing to bet he’ll call Lilia and Malleus out on it as well when we get those confrontations. He breaks the Diasomnia pattern, and does so by being fully and utterly honest with who he is and what he wants.

It should also be noted that Lilia helped raise Malleus and entirely raised Silver, so that plays a part in their tendencies. All in all, the juxtaposition between selfishness and selflessness in Diasomnia is fascinating, and I hope this was an interesting little reflection on how it comes up in the game!

[honeyjars-sims]

3.35 Sticky Situation

It’s the second day of our camping trip and I’m realizing that even when she’s on vacation, Lucy is still in work mode. With the spotty cell service on the mountain, she’s not able to do any actual work so she’s channeling all of her energy into making sure things run smoothly on the trip.

She was up before the rest of us this morning cleaning up our mess from the night before and now that everyone’s awake, she’s been looking for things to do. “We should gather more firewood,” she says.

“We have all day to do that,” I tell her. “Just relax. This is a vacation, remember?”

“I know, but I can’t relax when there are things that need to be done. I always get like this when I’m…on vacation.” I have a feeling there’s more going on but before I can ask her about it, Paul jumps in.

“Well, if you can’t relax until things are done, then at least let someone else do it,” he insists. He turns to me. “John and I can gather up some firewood while you get in some relaxation.”

I start to protest the suggestion–I always hate it when I get roped into hard labor just because I’m a guy–but Lucy looks so relieved that I decide to let it go. “Yeah, we’ll take care of it,” I say instead, and Paul and I head off into the woods.

We barely make it a few feet before Paul starts droning on about how you want to make sure you get the right type of wood, and you have to make sure the pieces you pick aren’t too wet, and blah, blah, blah. “Yeah, yeah,” I cut in. “If I have to do this, then I’m gonna do it my way.”

“Oh? What’s your way? If you have any insights, I’m happy to hear them.”

“It’s pretty simple. Is this wood? If yes, then I pick it up.”

“Hmm, ok,” he says, sounding uncertain. “I suppose we’ll see how that goes tonight.” 

“I guess we will.”

“You’re kind of competitive aren’t you?” he asks.

I feel my face growing hot, remembering how I tried–and failed–to show him up on our last hiking trip. “Uh, not really,” I mutter.

“Oh, so, it’s just with me then?” His words would sound confrontational if not for the softness of his tone. He seems more curious than argumentative.

“Look, I’m sorry about all of that. I was just feeling a little insecure with all of the attention you were getting from the girls. I’m trying to be more mature about it, though.”

“Ahh, the girls,” he replies. “That’s what that was about. I don’t see what you’re so insecure about, though.”

“Well, I mean, you’re going to be a doctor, and you’re more athletic than I am.” Spelling out my insecurities isn’t exactly making me feel better about them. 

Paul shrugs. “I don’t even start med school until the fall,” he counters. “Besides, you had everyone laughing and that’s something I’ve never been good at. In fact, I’m famous in my family for telling the worst jokes.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, excited for an opportunity to pass on some advice about something I’m good at. “In my opinion, the main thing people get wrong about comedy is that they try too hard to be funny instead of just finding opportunities naturally.”

“You think so? Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.”

“It could be. Go ahead, just say what comes to mind without thinking too much about whether or not it’s funny.”

“Uh, ok, what’s brown and sticky?” he asks.

“I don’t know, what is it?”

“A stick!”

This is not a good joke. Like objectively it’s not, but he has this huge grin on his face like he’s standing on stage at a sold out comedy show, and I can’t help but laugh with him. Not in a mean way; he’s so pleased with himself that it’s kind of endearing. “It was good?” he asks eagerly.

“Well…” I choose my words carefully. “Maybe the joke wasn’t the best, but I think you have the right attitude. I’m sure if you start looking out for the humor in different situations then it’ll start coming naturally to you.”

“Ok, well, thanks for the feedback.”

“No problem. We should probably start gathering up that wood. What did you say we should look for again?”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[viceroywrites]

liquor on your lips (2/2)

you met stan pines on your first day working at the dead end motel.

in just a week, you were addicted to him.

mullet stan x gn!reader

part one here

inspired by you can be the boss by lana del rey

cw: smut ahead, praise, dirty talking, creampie

taglist: @autistic-rainbow

I saved it, I waited, I called it.

Your shift at the bar was closing up, leaning over to wipe down the counter and grabbing the tip jar to see how you did for the day.

Thumbing through the dollar bills, you tap them on the table to straighten them out before opening your bag to toss them inside before pausing at the sight of the cigarette that you had tossed inside the evening prior.

‘Give it a call when you get off tomorrow and let me know.’

Should you do it?

You should be happy, elated even that you have this opportunity to spend more time with the man that had charmed you in a matter of days.

Your interactions with Stan thus far had been fairly casual in nature. 

Sure, there was a lot of banter and playful flirting that happened every night but going on what essentially was a date seemed like a huge step.

A step you were uncertain about taking given the fact that at any given moment, Stan could up and leave.

You toss the wad of cash into your bag, deciding that the issue could wait at least until you get home and take a nice long shower to worry about.

Back at the motel, Stan twirls the extension cord of the phone mindlessly while he lies in bed. His eyes flicker to the phone every so often as he scratches his stomach, still in his white undershirt and boxers.

What the hell was he thinking offering his number to you?

Was he that lonely?

Stan sits up, deciding he needed a smoke break to clear his head and at least get out of limbo. He slips on his jeans from the night prior and grabs the room key and his pack of cigarettes, stepping out. 

Leaning against the wall, one foot propped up, he lights the cigarette that dangles from his lips, feeling the harsh smoke fill his lungs before exhaling it out. Reaching up to brush his long strands of hair out of his eyes, Stan winces as his knuckles graze against the cut that is a reminder of last night’s events.

“Shit…” He hisses under his breath, cigarette resting between his fingers as the dull ache creeps up. Stan clenches his jaw, trying to ignore the pain while he takes another drag from his cigarette. Glancing at the window outside his room, he sees his reflection.

The heavy, dark circles under his eyes show his fatigue.

The five o'clock shadow across his chin, not able to afford a proper razor in ages.

The chocolate brown hair atop his head grown out into a mullet, much to his chagrin.

His eyes, almost blood-shot, looked drained of hope.

The definition of exhaustion stared back at him. 

Man, he was tired of running.

That first day when you had offered to pay for his room, the first night in ages that he was able to lay his head on a pillow and get some rest, you gave him something he had been longing for in ages.

Stability.

A helping hand.

Suddenly the sound of the phone ringing cuts through his thoughts. Stan scrambles to unlock the door, practically leaping onto the mattress as his hand removes the phone from its receiver.

“Hello?” He says, slightly out of breath as his heart is pounding through his chest. 

God, what was he doing, waiting around for a call like some lovesick teen?

“Did you just get done running a marathon or somethin? You should be resting…” You ask with a raised eyebrow, toweling off the wet strands of your hair as the phone rests in between the crook of your neck and your shoulders.

“Didn’t realize I was signing up for a lecture when I picked up the phone, toots.” Stan grumbled, resting a hand over his heart in a feeble attempt to slow down its rapid pace.

“Well, I guess I’ll just hang up then…” You say playfully, giggling as Stan’s gruff voice says with a sudden urgency, “Wait, wait!”

“Surprised you actually gave me a call…” Stan mutters to which you blink in surprise, “Why are you surprised?”

“I dunno, figured you’d rather spend your day off doing something else other than getting dinner or a drink with a drifter.” Stan admits with a shrug to his shoulders.

“You know I never said that I was taking up your offer…” You tease, grinning once again as you have him stammering over his words. 

For someone who gives off a rough demeanor, it’s amusing to see him turn into a pile of mush.

“Stan, I’m just pulling your leg…” You chuckle, “ Did you have anywhere in particular in mind?”

Stan pauses for a few beats, and you stare at the phone wondering if you got caught off.

“Can you still hear me?” 

“I heard ya.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“... You’re actually serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious, Stanley.” 

God, the way you said his name sounded like a choir of angels to him, ready to take him to heaven.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far, toots.” Stan admitted, “Didn’t think someone like you would even dare look my way, let alone go on a date with me.”

A date.

He confirmed that it was a date.

“So this is a date?” You say with a sly grin, trying to ignore how your heart beat is practically pounding in your ears.

Stan in response turns beet red, clutching the phone tighter, “Well, only if you want it to be, sweetheart.”

“It’s a date then. Pick me up at my place at 7. There’s a diner near my apartment that has the best shakes. You got a pen to write down my address?” You ask hurriedly before he could take it back. You snicker as you hear clamoring on the other end of the receiver, hearing Stan curse under his breath for the damn pen. 

“Ready.” He finally says, having found a pen and grabbed a crumpled up receipt out of the trash bin.

You share your address with him and after hanging up, Stan flops back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in awe.

He hadn’t been on a date since that hippie stole Carla McCorckle from him.

“Alright, Stanley, you can do this. Sure, you may be a little rusty but you got that natural Pines charm.” He says, trying to be his own personal hype man as he gets up from the bed.

Heading to the bathroom, he looks in the mirror and blinks, “Yeesh. Should probably try to clean up a little bit…” Stan mutters, scratching the stubble on his chin.

He has a white corvette like I want it

A fire in his eyes, know, I saw it

He's bleeding from his brain and his wallet.

You glanced over your shoulder, almost anxiously staring at the clock as you plead for the minutes to go faster.

It’s 6:58 PM.

You turn your attention back onto the full-length mirror in your room, running your hands over the fabric of your outfit. You decided to dress up a little more than your usual attire that you would wear while working at the motel though you secretly hoped Stan didn’t randomly have a suit in his trunk that he was going to whip out for the occasion.

Though you did wonder what he could be wearing, cheeks reddening at the possibilities.

A knock on your apartment door startled you, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your eyebrow raises as you had told Stan to press the buzzer so you could let him in but when you go to look through the peephole, you see him standing outside your door and quickly undo the chain lock and open the door.

Stan stands before you, trading his usual attire for a maroon button-up that has two loose buttons to reveal a gold medallion that rested on his dark, wispy chest hairs and a pair of black slacks. In right hand, he holds a clumsy mess of various flowers wrapped in… is that a newspaper?

“You clean up pretty good, Pines…” You say with a sweet smile. Truthfully, this outfit was even better than what your thoughts could have conjured up. Your eyes flick towards the flowers, “Are these for me? You didn’t have to..” 

Stan places the flowers in your arms, “Well, I couldn’t show up empty-handed. What kinda guy do you take me for?” He says before glancing over his shoulder, “Hey, you don’t think your neighbor two doors down reads the paper regularly, do ya?”

You laugh, putting two and two together, “I don’t think so, let me put these in some water and we can head out. You can come in, make yourself comfortable.” You gesture, letting Stan step through the threshold before closing the door behind the two of you.

“You know you usually invite someone in after the date, doll.” Stan comments playfully, taking a seat on your cozy sofa as he watches your figure disappear into the kitchen to grab a vase. His eyes roam around the apartment, admiring the little touches you put to the place that made it feel like home. 

“What can I say? I like to cut right to the chase.” You tease, walking back into the living room with the assortment of flowers in a vase. You lean forward to place the vase on the coffee table in front of him and Stan finds his gaze drifting to your behind before quickly averting it as you stand up right, looking over at him, “You ready?”

Stan clears his throat, standing up from his seat, his cheeks tinted slightly pink, “Yup, you know how to get to the place?”

“Yup!” You say, grabbing your bag from the counter before raising an eyebrow.

“Why are your cheeks red? Is it hot in here?”

“Alright, let’s move it!” Stan says hurriedly, placing a warm calloused hand on the small of your back to usher you out the door.

It was your turn for your cheeks to turn red.

The liquor on your lips.

The liquor on your lips.

The liquor on your lips makes you dangerous.

“After being chased around a neighborhood by a husband who thought I was sleeping with his wife for hours, I stopped doing door to door sales. I mostly stuck to infomercials, you know the ones that cycle every few hours?” Stan explained, waving around the cheese fry in his hand.

You listen to his story with amusement, resting your chin on your hands as you take a sip of your milkshake, “Yeah, I’m familiar… surprised I haven’t seen you on my TV ever.”

“Well, when I shot them, I had a full mustache.” Stan admitted, holding the fry over his upper lip to mimic the facial hair.

Your laughter ran through Stan’s ears at the visual, leaning forward to pluck the fry from his finger and steal it from his grasp, taking a bite into it, “Now that’s something I would have paid to see.”

“Trust me, not worth the price, sweetheart.” Stan says with a relaxed grin, his arms spreading across the vinyl booth as he leans back.

His brown eyes take in your gorgeous features before catching the stray bit of cheese that was in the corner of your mouth. He can’t help himself, reaching over to run a thumb over it and pulling back to lick the cheese off his thumb.

You stare back at him flustered, your lips parted. Stan registers what he just did, blinking back at you before rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, “Sorry, had a little something on your lip.”

“No.. don’t apologize. I… liked it.” You admit with a cheeky grin, reaching for one of Stan’s hands that rests on the table. Your thumb runs over his knuckles that are still bandaged from the previous day, your touch delicate as you do so. 

“I gotta ask, sweetheart, what makes you like a guy like me?” Stan asks, entranced by your touch as he can’t help but spread his fingers out to intertwine your fingers with his larger ones.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“C’mon toots, I know first impressions matter and what you saw the first day you met me was a guy in a ratty old hoodie with no money to his name, barely able to afford one night at a motel.” Stan chuckled with a bitter edge of his voice.

“Well, that’s not what I saw.” You say almost defensively, squeezing Stan’s hand firmly, “I saw a guy who was down on his luck… who just needed a warm place to stay for the night. What you showed me is you’re funny, quick-witted, a con man.. But a business savvy one.”

“Ouch, on the conman…”

“Am I wrong?”

“No… but you gotta admit that I got good ideas.”

“You do… you just need the right audience for them.” You chuckle, “Now, no more of this self-deprecating talk, let’s go dancing, there’s a bar a few blocks down that does disco nights on Fridays.”

“You wanna keep this date going, toots?” Stan says a bit nervously, knowing he was only able to scrounge up enough money to cover the bill.

“I got the drinks, Stan. Don’t worry.” You say, squeezing his hand again in reassurance, “Plus I can’t let you waste an outfit like this on just a diner.”

I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it.

I tried to be strong but I lost it.

To say Stan swept you off your feet was an understatement.

You weren’t expecting him to be practically dragging you onto the dance floor despite your protests of having two left feet after a few drinks in your system, his feet moving effortlessly as he guides you with his hands.

Stan watches with glee as his arm raises to spin you, watching how the disco lights illuminate your face. He spins you into his frame before dipping you low, your noses brushing at the proximity.

You stare up at him, a hand resting on his bicep. Your breaths mingle, inches away from each other’s lips. Time stands still as Stan can’t help but admit huskily, “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Something in you snapped and you broke the distance, hands reaching up to cup Stan’s cheeks and pull him into a sudden kiss. His eyes widened in surprise, almost dropping you in alarm but melting into the kiss as he returned the passionate liplock.

Without breaking the kiss, Stan pulls you up, large hands drifting down to grip your hips. You feel your stomach doing somersaults at the sensation of his fingertips digging further into your flesh almost possessively. 

Like you would disappear between his fingertips if he didn’t hold on tight.

Pulling back reluctantly for air, your chest moves up and down as you pant softly. Your eyes twinkle underneath the colorful hues of the disco ball, gazing up at Stan with want.

“Shit, Pines… didn’t think you were that smooth.” You say breathlessly with a cheeky grin.

“Look who’s talking… didn’t think ya had it in you to pull the first move.” Stan teases, “Not that I’m complainin’ about being proven wrong.”

Your hands rest on Stan’s chest, “Well, just cause I made the first move doesn’t mean you can’t make one yourself.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Not a challenge, more like a wish.”

“Well, I can definitely make that wish come true.” Stan chuckles, leaning for another heated kiss. Stan’s lips search for yours almost hungrily, his tongue snaking out to run over your bottom lip almost pleading for entry. You allow it, a soft whine ripping from your throat as you taste the whiskey on his tongue. 

Those sweet noises that he’s able to pull from you cause Stan to grunt, pulling you further into him. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers running through his brown locks before playfully tugging at the ends of his mullet. He groans against your lips, loving the sensation more than he would care to admit.

Maybe having a mullet wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. 

Stan pulls back, smirking as he stares down at you pouting back at him, wondering why he stopped. His response is tilting his head to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You can’t help but giggle when his stubble tickles your skin, arching your neck in response, “Whoa there, tiger… we’re still in public, ya know?”

“Sorry, toots, can’t help myself…” Stan mutters against your ear, pulling you in by your waist so you’re both chest to chest, “You just taste so sweet… ”

Shit, your knees felt weak after hearing his deep voice rasp that against your ear.

You really tried to resist as much as you could.

But something about Stan Pines had your resolve crumbling before your eyes.

Fuck it.

“Stanley…” You coo in a sticky, saccharine tone that causes his arm hairs… and something else to stand up. Your fingers massage the nape of his neck, pressing your lips against his ear, “I would love to give you a taste… maybe somewhere more private.”

You let out a squeal in surprise as Stan practically drags you toward the exit, making a beeline back to his car. He looks back at you, his eyes darkened with lust, “Oh, I plan on getting more than a taste, doll.”

You taste like the 4th of July.

Malt liquor on your breath, my, my.

The sound of jingling keys and smacking lips against skin echoed through the hallway outside of your apartment. 

“Stan… cut it out for just a sec, I’m trying to get the door open..” You whine breathlessly, biting your lower lip as Stan’s teeth graze against the sensitive spot on your neck. You can feel his hardened bulge against your backside, his grip on your hips possessive.

“Alright, I’ll let up on ya.” Stan chuckles at your whine, pulling away reluctantly. He watches your fingers still fumble with the keys in amusement despite him halting his relentless flurry of kisses and love bites.

The moment the door opens, Stan’s arm wraps around your frame and hoists you over his broad shoulder, causing you to burst in a fit of laughter. Stan snickers when he closes the door behind him, feeling you playfully flail and stomp your fists on his back with the exaggerated plea to release you. He finds his way to your bedroom, nudging the loose door with his foot to get through the threshold before tossing you on the bed gently.

You have a beat to process your back hitting the soft material of your mattress before feeling the bed dip down and your lips being ensnared into another heated kiss. 

Your fingers find themselves gripping the back of Stan’s button-up, wrinkling the fabric underneath as you cling onto him. His lips slowly descend down your jawline, to your neck before his hands hover over the fabric of your top. He pulls back briefly, “Can I, sweetheart?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly and his hands slowly pull off the top to reveal more of your bare skin. “Jesus, are you sure you’re not an angel? Look at ya..” Stan says, his touch over your exposed flesh sending shivers down your spine.

“Well, don’t just look… you can touch more.” You say with a desperate edge to your voice. Stan chuckles darkly at your impatience, deciding to give into your demands. His tongue glides over your collarbone, deciding downward before capturing a sensitive peak in between his lips, suckling firmly. The delicious sounds you make go straight to his groin, spurring him on to tease, pinch and suck on your hardened nipples.

He needed to hear how good he was making you feel.

“Stan… more, please.” You whimper out, your legs wrapped around him.

“Tell me how much you need this, angel.” Stan grins against your flesh.

“Fuck, I need you, Stan. Please, you make me feel so good, I need your tongue, your fingers, your cock, anything!” You moan out after a particular torturous squeeze of nipples.

Your praise, your pleas caused any self-restraint Stan was holding onto to fall apart, his hands tugging down on your bottoms. Your hips snap up to allow him to shove the fabric down your ankles before he pretty much rips off his own stuffy shirt, revealing to you his chest hair, broad shoulders and biceps and round stomach. 

Stan practically melts as your hands glide over his chest and down his stomach. His abdomen tensing when your nails make their way down his happy trail to start unbuttoning his tight pants.

After you undo the top button and zipper, Stan’s hands join yours, impatiently tugging off the fabric. His rock hard shaft springs out from its confines, tip red and leaking with pre-cum.

Just as your hand is about to reach down to give it some attention, Stan catches your wrist, shaking his head. “Another time, sweetheart… I need ya now.” 

Your legs spread as Stan adjusts himself between them, his fingers gripping the meat of your thighs. You can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious when the man above you is staring down at your lower parts with such intensity and attempt to squeeze your legs shut. Unfortunately, Stan’s hold on your thighs is firm, holding them apart with a click of his tongue, “None of that, toots. Don’t hide such a gorgeous sight from me.”

Toes curl against the sheets and nails dig into Stan’s shoulder blades as he decides to torture you just a little bit more, brushing the tip of his shaft against your opening and teasing it with shallow movements. After getting his fill of your desperate whimpers, he finally shows you some mercy, groaning when he fully sheaths his cock inside you.

“Jesus, angel… you even feel like heaven..” Stan groans, pumping his hips slowly as he finds his rhythm, “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll… I swear.” He holds onto your hips for dear life, his fingertips practically imprinted into your flesh. Your walls clamp around him tightly, hissing through his teeth as his hips pull back and forth.

You relish in the delicious stretch as Stan’s cock digs deeper with every thrust into your walls, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut when his shaft bottoms out inside your walls. Stan shudders, feeling every inch of his aching cock being squeezed down by your warm walls.

After giving you a second to adjust to his full length, he finally lets go, his hips letting loose. His pace is quick yet powerful, his thick tip kissing that sweet spot that has your thighs trembling over and over again. Stan gazes down at you in awe, relishing every single moan and cry that escapes your throat. He lets out a deep chuckle, hearing you babble for more, “Oh, you need more? Such a greedy little thing.”

Stan gladly indulges in your pleas, his pace now brutal as he hammers his cock at an almost erratic pace. The sound of your hips lewdly smacking together echoing through the room, your cries silenced by Stan’s searing kiss, swallowing them up greedily. He presses all his weight atop of you, pinning your legs back at an angle that allows his cock to drive deeper inside of you.

You feel a warmth boiling in the pit of your stomach, your legs wrapping around Stan’s frame as your nails dig red welts into his back. “S-Stan… I…” You gasp in between breaths of your heated kisses, causing Stan to pause to stare down at you. “Ya close, sweets?” You nod in response, so cock-drunk that you can’t form a coherent sentence.

Focusing all his efforts to bring you over the edge, Stan reaches for your chest, thumbing your sensitive nipples, causing you to flinch and squirm beneath him. His face buried in the crook of your neck as he groans against your ear, “So fucking good for me, you take my cock perfectly, angel. God, you don’t know what you do to me..” His hips reel back, delivering slow yet deep strokes that finally push you and him over the edge.

Stan grins against your neck, feeling and hearing you come undone beneath him. He loves how you latch onto him, clinging on for dear life as he slows his strokes down to help you ride out your orgasm. His cock twitches with each lazy drag, murmuring sweet praise into your ear, “That’s it… did so good for me, sweetheart.” With a stutter in his own hips, he cums as well, filling you to the brim with a guttural groan before collapsing on your chest.

You both lay there for a while, your thighs aching in the best way possible. You run your fingers through Stan’s brown locks, curling the ends of his mullet in your finger. The sound of your heartbeat echoes through Stan’s eardrums, relishing in your warmth. 

“Um… toots?” Stan mutters, causing you to look down with a raised eyebrow. 

It’s almost comical to see the man that just had you seeing stars looking abashed as he asks, “Could.. I..”

“Spit out, Pines.” You chuckle teasingly.

“Hey, you’re the one who couldn’t even form a sentence a few minutes ago.” Stan huffs before muttering against your skin, “Mind if I stay the night…?”

You stare down at Stan in understanding, tilting his chin to pull him in for a soft kiss.

“Of course, Stan. You can stay as long as you need.”

You can be the boss

Taste like a keg party, back on the sauce

I like you a lot, I like you a lot

Don't let it stop

[thevoidstaredback]

Clark hadn't meant to spend so long in Gotham. In fact, he'd intended to leave as soon as he was done interviewing Misters Wayne! But then his train had been delayed. And then he'd seen Signal...

Staying was a huge risk. He didn't know why Batman didn't want any of the Justice League in Gotham, but he was willing to bet that it had something to do with the amount of rogue attacks.

It's a miracle that neither a rogue or Batman showed up. Though, Batman' wouldn't have recognised him, he was not willing to risk messing up like that.

Until now.

Clark had decided to see what exactly goes on in Gotham City, New Jersey. Despite it being known nationally, there isn't really a clear picture about what goes on within the city limits. Maybe he can convince his boss to let him do a story on it? Then again, Bruce Wayne is his new boss, now that he's gone and bought the Daily Planet. Thoughts for another time.

He did not mean to get tied up like this. Literally. His exploration was only meant to last just until the last train of the day! But then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped!

Lois is going to laugh so hard at him.

And it's not that it's too hard for him to escape. These ropes are weaker than the ones Ma and Pa use on the farm, and the knot's easier to untie than a slip-knot. He can't because there's people watching him.

Batman can never know.

Batman probably already knows.

If Batman could laugh, Clark's beyond sure that he'd be rolling.

There was no fanfare when he was taken. Just someone pulling him into a van he walked by before diving off a they tied him up. Honestly, if it wasn't such an inconvenience, he'd admire how smoothly it was pulled off.

Things like this don't happen in Metropolis. They do! But, he's never really had to deal with them. That's usually the police's job, so he stays out of it. Unless nothing gets done...that's when he steps in.

Does this happen a lot in Gotham? From stories he's heard, he assumed drugs and big Rogues were the more constant threats, but this was too well done to be amateurs.

Regardless, this is a humiliating situation to now be in. Ridiculous, really, that he'd let his guard down. And if Batman or Lois don't lord it over him until they die, Diana will.

The others can never know.

With a quiet sigh, Clark does his damndest to look like his struggling without shredding the ropes or shattering the chair. It's much harder feat than first assumed. After a while, he 'gives up' and surveys the room.

There's a group of people mulling about a few yards away from him, though three of them are looking at him at a time. They're all armed with at least two weapons each.

Focusing his hearing, Clark picks up quiet discussion of a randsome. He has to do a double take.

Are they- They're trying to randsome him? He doesn't even live in Gotham! And, he can feel his wallet in his back pocket, so they obviously don't know his name or work. Also, he doesn't like his picture (as Clark Kent) taken, so there's no way they picked him for his face!

More of the group's - there's ten there, not that he's focusing - discussion reveals the name Bruce Wayne.

Why would they be talking about Bruce Wayne while holding Clark Kent hostage?

He sends his hearing to the police station, listening for the keyword 'randsome'. When that gives no results, which is very unfortunate and another thing that is different from Metropolis, he goes to the rest of the city. Maybe the note was en route?

Clark picks up a conversation from five different places in the city. One, the female, is stationary near the middle of the city; the oldest voice and the youngest are together; the other two are spread out. They're all nearing him.

Oh. He knows that voice.

He was right. Batman does already know.

He can do nothing but drop his head and sigh in dispaire.

Why couldn't these guys have been cultists? At least then he'd have an excuse - however flimsy - to have been caught off guard!

If that's Batman, than Robin must be with him. That means that Red Robin is one of the two already closing in on him. (Judging by the weight and movements, he's the closest one) Clark doesn't recognise the other two voices, but he can assume they also work with Batman while in Gotham.

It could be worse, he supposes. It could be Nightwing rescuing him.

He's already never living this down. nightwing would make fun of him for this incident in the afterlife, too.

The only warning that something had entered the build was the slow dawning of terror that Clark felt. He knew that his captors felt it, too, because they all snapped upright, weapons in hand and aimed at every entrance.

There was a presence behind him just as the rope trying to hold him down was cut.

"Hello Uncle Clark," said a voice that Clarks sure he's heard, but can't quite place, "Nightwing's gonna be all over this when he gets back on-world."

Clark doesn't move, even though the rope's been cut. "Please don't tell him..."

"Too late, C. The message is ready to be sent the second he's back in the solar system."

Clark curses under his breath while the voice laughs, the presence fading just as quick as it had appeared.

I the rafters, the sound of bat wings draws all weapons up. Clark still doesn't move. Then, as the shadows grow darker, the chirps of three birds start to softly call. His captors start firing, shattering the glass in the windows.

He takes this as his cue to get the hell out of dodge, though he only moves to the roof of the next building over.

From outside, it looks as though there's nothing going on inside the building his just left. A closer look shows shadows moving, but not a single sound. The clouds covering the moon makes the entire thing worse.

There's a pressure before his best friend is right behind him.

"What are you doing in Gotham, Kal?"

"I'm here for work, actually."

"You finished your assignment hours ago. Why are you still here?"

He shrugs. "Can't I visit my friend in his home?"

"You did."

"What?"

"You came, you saw. Go home, Kal."

"Wait a second!" He finally turns to the dark silhouette beside him. "What do you mean I already saw you?"

Batman hums quietly. The buzz of the woman's voice in his ear tells him that the area's clear and that the others are heading back out. Slowly, Batman reaches for his head and pulls off his cowl.

Clark knows for a fact that his best friend loves messing with people. Underneath all his brooding, he's a ridiculous person at heart. So this? This suddenly makes sense. But, also not at all.

"Clark." Bruce Wayne greets with a smirk.

Clark bluescreens for a moment. "Mister Wayne?"

He laughs. Laughs! "You've known me long enough to call me by my name, Clark."

"What the fuck?" He finds these words very appropriate.

"Those guys thought you were me," Bruce fucking Wayne says with a laugh in his voice. "I can see why they'd get confused. We do look alike, after all."

"You guys could practically be twins!" the woman's voice calls from the comm inside of Batman's cowl.

Side note: Turns out that the cowl and cape are not, in fact, connected.

"I need a goddamn drink." Clark sighs again.

"Come back to the Manor; I'll join you for a nightcap." Bruce smiles.

Prick.

Part 2 Storyboard

[skeletboi]

Part 13 of the Intridimensional AU!

First /// Previous /// Next

____________________________________________

Ford woke with a start when he heard a clatter down the hall followed by a loud swear. He sighed and stretched, trying to work the kink out of his neck. Fiddleford was sure to give him hell about sleeping in his study again, but he had a lot to catch up on after the impromptu two day road trip, and couldn't afford to sleep now. He stood from his chair and adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever mess Stanley had just made.

He made his way down the hall, heading for the kitchen, when he heard Fiddleford's laugh from the parlor.

“You coulda told me it was spring loaded! Sixer is going to kick my ass out so fast!” He heard Stanley say.

Ford frowned and made his way to the parlor, where he found Fiddleford kneeling in front of Stan with a small toolbox at his side.

Fiddleford looked up at the motion in the doorway and smiled brilliantly at Ford.

“Mornin’ Stanford. Did ya actually get some sleep for once?” He asked.

“Some.” Ford said. “What are you two doing?”

“Making out, obviously.” Stan said quickly before Fiddleford could answer.

Fiddleford turned bright red and shot up.

“No! We sure as heck weren't doin’ that! I was jus’ fixin’ ta tryin’ out the new robit leg!” He said, waving his hands frantically.

Ford raised an eyebrow as he looked from Fiddleford's red face to Stan's smug smile.

“Right. How is that working out?” He asked, stepping further into the room to get a better look at Stan's leg.

“It's fucking great!” Stan said. “Although Fidds here didn't warn me about the spring loaded knife holder he put it in, so I owe you a new lamp. Put it on my tab.”

“Fidds?” Ford asked, frowning.

“Your ‘assistant’ here. Ya know, Fidds!” Stan said, smiling mischievously.

“You used to call me that all the time in college, Ford. You still call me that ‘cassionally. It don't bother me if Stan calls me that, too.” Fiddleford said, leaning down to pack up some of his tools.

“I am aware of that, yes. I just find it… interesting that Stan is calling you that.” Ford said, doing his best not to pout and surely failing.

“I got myself a long name, seems only natural. Anyways,I'm ‘bout done here and was gonna make some breakfast. You wanna join?” Fiddleford asked as he packed the last of his tools.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Ford responded, glancing away.

“Work-schmerk. Eat somethin’ will ya? I haven’t seen you consume more than a protein pill and coffee since you dragged my sorry ass out of that motel.” Stan said.

“‘Least have some toast, Stanford. I did plenty of work while you were gone. I know ya like yer schedule, but it ain't no rush- it's not like we got a real deadline.” Fiddleford added.

“Keeping to the schedule is paramount!” Ford replied.

“For who? Do you have a boss you're not telling me about?” Fiddleford asked jokingly.

“No!” Ford responded too quickly, making Stan and Fiddleford jump. “No, I don't have a ‘boss’. I just would prefer to maintain our original timeline.”

Stan stared at Ford, wondering what would cause such a guilty reaction and coming up empty.

“Well I'll meet ya in the lab with some toast in a bit then, but I ain't starvin’ myself to death for yer silly schedule.” Fiddleford said in a way that suggested this was a normal argument between them.

“Fair enough. You know where to find me.” Ford said, turning on his heel and making his way to the lab.

Fiddleford sighed as he stood then turned to Stanley, holding out a hand to help him up.

“That leg is gonna take some real gettin’ used to, so don't rush it.” He said as Stan took his offered hand and managed to get off the couch without falling.

“This definitely feels weird already.” Stan responded, taking a wobbly step forward.

“How's the pain? I know that magic goop healed it up real well, but is it hurtin’ at all?” Fiddleford asked, taking Stan's other hand to lead him another step forward.

“It's not hurting. All I feel is pressure, like my leg is asleep instead of gone.” Stan replied, taking another step and nearly falling.

Fiddleford caught him before he could take them both down and laughed.

“Didn’t I jus’ tell ya to take it slow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not real good at that, though.”

“So impatience runs in the family, too? I ain't too shocked by that.” Fiddleford laughed.

“It didn't used to. Ford used to be way more patient than me.” Stan thought aloud.

“That don’ surprise me much, either. When I met him he was a lot more patient, ‘cept when it came to his work, but he has been actin’ a bit odd as of late. Did he ever sleep walk as a kid?”

“Sleepwalk? No. He was on the top bunk in our room, so I definitely would have noticed.”

“Int'restin’. He didn’ used ta sleep walk in college either and we shared a be- I mean I also wouda noticed. Anyways, he’s been sleep walkin’ a lot recently, but he avoids the question if I ever ask him ‘bout it.”

Stan frowned as he took another step, wondering what could cause sleepwalking in an adult. Stress, maybe? Ford did seem a bit on edge, but Stan had assumed that was because he had found his twin brother missing a leg in a shitty motel room. There was definitely something more going on here, but he had no idea what it was.

“Why you?” Stan asked, looking up at Fiddleford.

Fiddleford frowned in question.

“I mean, he's out here lookin’ for monsters or aliens or something, right? Why does he need a mechanic?” Stan clarified.

“Ah, right. Well he's workin’ on this project that was a bit more complicated mechanically than what he’s use ta doin’.” Fiddleford explained, sounding suddenly nervous.

“That is a very vague answer, Fidds.” Stan deadpanned.

“I- I don’ quite know howta ‘splain it. I don’ even know how he done came up with the idea… I-I-” Fiddleford stuttered.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Fidds. Didn't mean to stress you out, I was just making conversation. We can talk about something else.”

Fiddleford nodded, a nervous smile on his face that just made Stan more curious.

“Well then, Ford mentioned you left your wife and child behind in California to work for him, that seems a bit more than casual!” Stan said with a shit-eating grin.

Fiddleford neary tripped backwards.

“Well! I- No! I love my son, I'm goin’ back! I jus’ gotta help Stanford here a bit longer, I reckon!” Fiddleford said quickly.

“Right, right. Interesting that you mentioned your son, but not your wife.” Stan said, his smile widening.

“Stanley! I will let you fall! ‘Course I love my wife! I jus’... well I didn't expect Stanford to ever reach out ta me after college, I ‘spose.” Fiddleford responded, his voice fading as he talked.

“That's a pretty intense pickle you got yourself in, isn't it?” Stan asked.

“It ain't no pickle. Stanford has always cared about his work more than anythin’. I've known that since the first week I met ‘im. He'll do this project a his either way, and we'll go our separate ways. He'll forget ‘bout me ‘ventually.”

“But you won't forget about him?” Stan asked, and didn't miss the way Fiddleford flinched at that.

“Well yeah, I ‘spose I'll hafta forget him, too.” He responded quietly, his gaze distant.

Stan frowned, unsure how to respond after that sudden change in demeanor.

“Well, I think your wife could forget about you, too. So there's that.” Stan said after a moment.

Fiddleford made a face and dropped his hands from Stan's, causing Stan to wobble and nearly fall over. Stan huffed but took the hint. He wouldn't be getting through to these nerds easily, but at least it was entertaining.

“Less talkin’, more focusin’ on your steps.” Fiddleford said, taking Stan's hands back in his own to steady him.

“Sorry, mom. I'm focusing.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and continued to lead Stan forward. It was getting easier with each step, but Fidds was right- this would take some serious getting used to.

____________________________________________

Well, life is a distopian nightmare, but these boys are keeping me sane. (for now)

Stan is a menace, and I love that for him.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

8.06 coda (pre episode airing)

Read on a03 above or read below 🩶

**********

“Evan?” Tommy said standing at his kitchen island. His nerves were building with each passing second his boyfriend wasn’t responding. His nerves had began their dancing when he’d opened his mail after getting home from his shift and seeing the letter from the Oregon Fire Department recruitment department.

“Can you say something please?”

What could Buck say? There was nothing to say. Tommy was leaving. That was that. Why prolong his torture with a conversation about the ins and outs.

“When do you leave?” He said plainly.

“I’m not leaving. At least not- it’s just an offer for an interview. I haven’t accepted it—I wanted to have a conversation about with you first.”

“There’s no conversation to have. You want the job and I know it’s your dream job and I think they’d be lucky to have you.” He finally looked at Tommy and smiled. At least he tried to smile but his eyes gave away how false it was.

“Evan, I-“

“It’s okay, really. Listen, I have to go I’m meeting Maddie for lunch.” He stepped forward and kissed Tommy on the cheek before walking out of Tommy’s kitchen toward the front door. **

“Buck, what are you doing here?” Maddie asked as Buck approached her and Josh in the dispatch break room. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve been cursed?”

Buck glared at her as she tried to stifle a laugh.

“Too soon?” She asked. When Buck just stared at her instead of laughing along she knew that something was wrong. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

“Tommy’s leaving.” He said.

“What?”

“He’s got a job interview in Oregon.”

“Wait, what?” She asked again.

“Yeah. Applied to be on this waitlist thing apparently a month before we met and they sent him a letter today offering him an interview .”

Maddie always tried to be patient and attentive with her brother but sometimes he was very trying.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Does he have an interview for the job or does he already have the job?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah, Buck.” She said firmly.

“An interview.” He said with a sigh.

“Right, so he’s not actually leaving. At least not now, right?”

“Well he will if he gets the job.”

“Okay, Buck, sit down and Josh will make you tea. Won’t you Josh?” She looked at him with a smile.

“Uh, I thought I was the underboss around here? I’m supposed to be ordering you around.” He argued and Maddie just smiled at them. “Urgh, fine! But you’re buying coffee from the cart next time.”

“Deal .” She said then turned back to Buck. “Okay, so start from the beginning.”

“Okay, so Tommy got a letter in the mail today offering him an interview for a Captains position in Oregon. Apparently he’d applied the month before he met me.” Maddie nodded, listening intently and Josh placed a mug of tea in front of him. “Thanks. So apparently he’d forgotten all about it until he got the letter.”

“Okay...” Maddie waited for her brother to continue but he didn’t. He did that annoying he’d done since he was kid where he knew what the point he was making was and just expected her to know.

“Am I going to get the point via telepathy, or..?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “The point is that he’s going to leave me.”

“You don’t know that.” Josh said trying to reassure him.

“Yes, I do.” He said confidently. “He’s incredible at his job—there’s no way he wouldn’t nail the interview. So, he’ll pass that, they’ll offer him the job and either he goes there and we do long distance or he breaks up with me. Either way he’s still going to leave.” The me at the end of the sentence was left unsaid but Maddie and Josh picked up on it.

“And he told you this?” She asked.

“Well, no but-“

Maddie sighed. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said he wanted to have a conversation with me first.”

“Okay. And how did that conversation go?”

“Uh, it didn’t.” He admitted.

“And why not?” She asked; annoyance at the edge of her tone.

“Because it’s pointless. He’s leaving.”

Maddie sighed hard and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Buck, I love you but oh my god you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks. Kick a man while he’s down.” He complained.

“Buck, how many times will you jump to a conclusion in a relationship and be proved wrong before you start to believe that you’re going about things the wrong way?”

“How is there a wrong way here?” He protested.

“All he said was he was offered an interview for a job he applied for before he met you and he wanted to talk to you about it. That is not the same as getting the job, let alone moving away from here.”

“It sounds like Tommy thinks you’re important enough to have a discussion about it before he makes any decision. That’s not a bad thing, Buck.” Josh added.

Buck sighed. He knew Josh was right but he was scared of that that conversation with Tommy would look like; how it would end.

“I know I’m important to him—he’s important to me too. One of the most important people and-“

“Do you love him?” Maddie asked out of the blue.

“What?” Buck replied taken aback.

“It’s a simple question, Buck. Are you in love with Tommy?”

He looked at her for a second and sighed.

“More than I know what to do with.” He admitted. Mostly to Maddie (and Josh) and also in part to himself.

“Then the answer is simple.” She looked back at him.

“Am I the one getting the point from telepathy, now?”

Maddie rolled her eyes “You fight for him.” She told him. “Look, when I was sick and went to Boston, Chimney drove halfway around the country trying to find me. Because he loved me and couldn’t imagine giving me up without a fight.”

“Maddies right.” Josh added. “You’ve got a hot boyfriend who adores you—and even if it doesn’t work out and he still leaves or you break up because of it-“

“Josh!” Maddie chastised.

“Hey!” Josh said. “I’m not saying they’re gonna break up, I’m just saying that if that were to happen because of this potential move, at least you’ll know that you did everything you could.”

“He has a point.” Maddie said patting Josh on the upper arm.

“Please put that in writing, thank you.” Josh said causing Maddie to playfully roll her eyes.

“Seriously, Buck. You know the answer to this: you need to talk to him—hear him out and only react or respond to what he actually says, not what you’re brain is telling you he’s said.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, nodding his head. “I-I can do that.” Again, it wasn’t just Maddie and Josh he was trying to convince.

-

Buck arrived back at his apartment and paced the kitchen whilst he waited for Tommy to arrive. He’d texted him before he left dispatch and asked him to meet him at the apartment.

In what felt like hours, but really less than 30 minutes, there was a knock at the door and Buck was letting Tommy in.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Listen Ev-“

“No.” Buck interrupted lifting his hand up. “If you don’t mind I would like to say something first.”

Tommy nodded and sat down at the island. “Okay.”

Buck stood at the opposite side of the island and took a couple of breaths.

“I’ve had so many people in my life leave, and I’ve spent so much time resenting them for abandoning me that it’s hard to not think it’s inevitable in any relationship I’ve had. But, the thing is, I’ve realised that it wasn’t entirely their fault. Not really.

When Abby went to Europe I could have begged her to stay, or gone with her or-or when she wasn’t sure when she was coming back I could have hopped on a flight to Ireland or Spain or Morocco or wherever she was and just been there with her. But I didn’t. When Ali said she couldn’t handle me being in a dangerous job I could have reassured her more or promised her I’d be okay, but I didn’t.

When Taylor did that story, even though I was right to be angry, I could have talked more to her about and try to fix the issue, but I didn’t—I just asked her to move out. And Natalia? That one would never have worked out anyway.

My point is that I didn’t fight. I didn’t fight for them or our relationships—I just accepted that our relationship was done and let them leave. I deserve my share of the fault too.”

He took another deep, now slightly shaking, breath and continued.

“When you told me about the Oregon interview I freaked out because all of a sudden all I saw was another person I care about leaving me. I can’t deny that you potentially leaving sucks, but here’s the the thing:

If our relationship isn’t going to work out, then I’ll be damned if it’s because I didn’t fight for it. So here I am, Tommy. Fighting for it. Fighting for y-you.” His voice cracked.” Because Tommy, I.. I’m in love with you.”

Bucks heart was thundering violently in his chest as he waited for Tommy to say something. Anything.

Tommy stared in shock at Buck for a moment, before eventually—finally—his face morphed into that beautiful smiling one with the lines decorating his eyes. He got up from the chair and walked across to Buck, sliding his hands around his waist.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As sad as Buck was at the prospect of his boyfriend leaving couldn’t help but smile.

“And I’m not going to the interview.” He added to Bucks complete surprise.

“Wha-what?”

“Evan, when I applied for that job I was alone. I had nobody around that would really miss me all that much. And that was okay—I was used to being alone. But then I met you and everything changed. Suddenly I had someone who wanted to hear about my day. Someone who would drive all the way over to my place the other side of town just to spend an hour with me before his own shift. Someone who makes me feel like I’m something precious and someone important.”

Buck was trying really hard to keep the tears from falling but it was getting hard.

“But it’s an amazing job opportunity, Tommy.”

“And there will be other ones. But there’s only one you, Evan. And there’s nothing so important in my life that it will take me away from you.”

He took Bucks face gently in his and pressed a long kiss onto his lips.

Bucks resolve fell away and the tears fell down his cheeks. They were happy tears and relieved tears. Tears that his boyfriend whom he loved, loved him too. Tears that he finally had a partner who made him feel so valued and loved and wanted that he didn’t know what to do with it half the time.

Tears that Tommy Kinard was his.

Tears that he was Tommy Kinard’s.

[blueishspace]

Double Life Remixed p.17

*Scott's pov*

Grian and Ren left after that, just in time because you were starting to consider pushing Grian off a cliff. After Third Life he should be used to it.

Now that your base is done you'll have to get your hands on a few enchants... That would usually be the goal at least... But the risk of waking a warden was not worth it. Eanchanted armor would be useless and the last thing you need at this time would be going red in session 2...

Perhaps it would be better to wait for someone else to venture into the deep dark and then swoop in later to enchant... maybe you could start visting the others first. Get an idea of the general situation of the server before doing anything that could cause conflict... perhaps Grian and Ren had the right idea after all.

Scott: Tango? I think I'm going to check on the other teams. See what's going on.

Tango: Oh, yeah that makes sense. I'll come too, give me a sec.

Scott: Hm? Alright, just don't take too much time.

Tango: Ah ah ah. I'll have you know I'm the fastest teammate you could have.

Scott: Oh I'm sure. I'm so honoured to be soulmate to someone so fast and strong and attractive.

Tango: Wh- uh ah?? You can't just-

You laugh at his flustered face, he really is a fun one... He then huffs and trows an egg at you... It hatches into a chicken.

Tango: Are you kidding me!? I spent so many eggs trying to get chickens into the pen and it just- aggh! Fine, I'm coming!

*Tango's pov*

You follow Scott, you haven't really planned on who to visit first but you doubt it matters. This whole thing is just to collecticate information anyway.

You see a bunch of bases and looking at Scott he seems to be taking a mental note of them... You should probably check the ones closest to you first-

Solidaritygaming was blown up by a Creeper. Smallishbeans died.

Scott: Well then, at least we aren't the only yellows anymore.

Tango: Yeah... should we check on them or something?

Scott: ... I guess we could. At the very least you can gloat a bit about Jimmy dying like you did.

Tango: Oh yeah, now we definitely have to go! That's what he gets for making fun of me for dying last session.

Scott: To be fair, were we not soulbound I would have done the same.

Tango: ... But you did do the same.

Scott: Oh well. Just proves my point then.

Prev Next First

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone, it is another Wednesday (my dudes)! Thanks to the lovely @umbracirrus and @hircines-hunter for tagging me <3

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @thequeenofthewinter @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark

@captain-of-silvenar @changelingsandothernonsense @lady-iizsil @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

This is going to be a long af post because I ran a poll trying to decide what to post, but I'm just gonna give y'all a bit of each because *gestures vaguely to the world* at least we have blorbos <3 First up is another bit from the family fic, then some smut under the cut from another wip that i will have done soon or i will end up on the news MDNI: PICK YOUR POISON BESTIES

“Happy to be free of the misery and dread of Winterhold?” He earns a playful punch before Ceri joins her boyfriend on a sofa.  

“You sound too much like Ata.”

“You say that now.” He reaches for something in his armour, a folded paper. “I’ve accepted an offer from a man in Skyrim, wants help going through some Nord tomb.” Walking over to his sister, he shows her the letter, distinctly pointing to the bottom. 

“May Talos guide you.” She laughs. “Oh, what would Ata say?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and besides, I do not get paid to care about religion. He could be Tiber Septim reborn for all I care. Might even be good actually, could charge him more.” 

“Well then, may Talos guide you Arthano. To Sovengarde!” He rapidly ruffles the top of her hair. 

“Shut up.” He laughs. 

It is a funny moment between them but Ralos can’t help but feel like he is missing something. He knew the worship of Talos had been a major point of contention between Altmer and Nords; particularly when the Thalmor were in operation. It seems their father would be especially concerned, no, upset, to learn of who his son was working for. But the way neither Arthano nor Ceri seemed to find it anything more than funny puzzled him. It can’t just be his Altmer beliefs…

The kisses are slow for a bit, enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually, Ondolemar’s lips find their way to her neck. The marks he leaves will no doubt be difficult to cover tomorrow, but that is the furthest thing from her mind as she grinds her hips into his. 

“I’m going to miss you.” She hums. 

“And what will you miss most?” Hands move down to her thighs, creeping their way underneath her nightgown. 

“Unfortunately, you have me in a compromising position, my love. I cannot answer fairly at the moment.” Her own hands remove themselves and glide down his bare chest. 

“Then don’t.” She pulls the nightgown overhead, tossing it across the bedroom. There’s no time for him to react before she is sliding down, knees resting on the hardwood as she looks up at him. Even in the low candlelight, she can see his expression has changed; a deeper hunger written on his face. Head resting on one thigh while her hand makes its way up the other, tracing the outline of his erection through the thin pants. 

“Well. now I certainly cannot.” He groans as she removes his cock, stroking the flesh itself now. 

“I’m still waiting for an answer, love.”  

“Oh course you are. You want to hear all about how I’m going to miss you like this. How much I enjoy seeing you on your knees for me.” His left hand runs through her hair, smoothing through it as her strokes quicken. “I’ll even miss how you torture me, memories of you like this flashing through my mind at the most inconvenient times. So much has changed except for your ability to distract me from work.” 

[marisol-000]

The Sandbox Scientists ch.2

Chapter 2! I can't believe how long this got, I had to push some stuff to the next chapter sooooo look out for that one!

(a03)

The boys didn't take the news that they weren't going home well.

There were lots of tears and crying and yelling until eventually weak promises and the offer of cookies calmed them down.

She couldn't blame them of course, the poor things suddenly waking up in a place they don't recognize with people they don't remember.

But what could they do? Neither she nor Robert knew where Jekyll had lived, just “somewhere” in Glasgow; and forget Edward 'street urchin’ Hyde!

Even if they could send them home it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Whatever had happened to her friends was likely temporary, or at least more likely to be solved by one of the scientists here than any townie in scotland.

All they could do now was try to keep the two comfortable while they looked for a solution.

And the first step to that was to get the boys in some fitting clothes!

“Right, but we don't have any. This isn't exactly a daycare.” Robert mused.

“Well you seem to forget! I'm quite the gifted seamstress!” Rachel bragged, wiping some cookie dough off her hands.

She flipped the patterned rag over her shoulder. “I can have some outfits going for these two in no time.”

Robert leaned around her, peeking into the kitchens where the two were playing tag. Henry kept tripping over his pants which slowed him down, but Edward couldn't seem to catch him anyways; not stepping wide enough and his arms not quite reaching, so there seemed to be no clear winner.

He let the door swing shut.

“Hmm, A whole wardrobe? For two boys? There's no telling how long they'll be this way. We'll need shirts, slacks, vests, coats, shoes and who knows what else. I'd much prefer taking him to a tailor.”

“Him?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “I suppose you mean Henry.”

“Yes Henry.” he said unflinchingly, “You can't expect me to take Edward Hyde to the bloody tailor, he's still a wanted criminal you know.”

“He's a child!”

“He's a nuisance! He'll probably knock a candle over and set the shop on fire, it's in his nature.” he huffed.

Rachel paused and clenched her hands. She fixed him with a nasty glare.

“Don’t talk like you know him! That fire was *not* his fault! Master Hyde is a sweet boy who’s not done *anything* wrong.”

Lanyon hesitated, surprised by her sudden attitude change. Regardless he cleared his throat.

“Well, you seem to have forgotten about all the drinking and bar fights he’s known for. He's a bad influence. I don’t want him anywhere near Henry.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “He is *not* a bad influence.”

She walked into the kitchen, swinging the door open and holding her arm out to gesture. “Edward Hyde is a charming young man who would never do anything wrong, much less convince Henry of all people to do so too!”

Both boys were on a chair, eating raw cookie dough directly from the bowl.

They blinked at the adults with their big round eyes.

Robert crossed his arms over his puffed chest, turning to her with an infuriating smirk.

Rachel sighed and got them cleaned up.

First Edward, then she balanced Henry on her hip while leaning over the sink. He was old enough to use the bar of soap by himself but she couldn’t resist wiping his rosy cheeks, humming while she dried his hands with her apron.

His feet barely touched the floor before Robert grabbed his arm and whisked him towards the door.

“Oi! And where do you think you’re going?” Rachel yelped.

“To the tailor, as I said.” Clearly believing he won that argument. Which he hadn't! She just… hadn't had the best timing.

“While he looks like that?” she gestured to Henry’s oversized and by now wrinkled clothes. “Robert, people are gonna think you kidnapped him.”

“Well how do you-” Lanyon made a shooing motion towards Edward, who was trying to follow them, “How do you expect the tailor to make him clothes without measuring him?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, sometimes she couldn't tell when he was being a helpless rich boy who couldn’t do anything himself or just plain stubborn. 

“I’ll take the measurements, they don’t need him there in person. I’ll measure both boys and you can take that to them. 

And say it’s for nephews come to town! No one’s gonna believe Robert Bleeding Lanyon of all people is taking in poor orphans.” That got a snort out of him.

Privately she didn't think it was a good idea to separate the two so soon, they only just stopped crying. And they'd been sticking close together since she and Robert found them. Seemingly feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

She snickered to herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Jekyll and Hyde how cute they were together.

Once they warmed up to the place the kids will be back at each other's throats in no time!

“Besides, you probably couldn't handle one child much less two.” she smirked.

Robert huffed, Take that! Who's winning now Robert?, and crossed his arms while sitting back down at the table.

“Fine, whatever, just measure them already.”

Rachel ushered the boys to her room, wrapped a measuring tape around the wiggly worms, and wrote a list of things for Lanyon to buy. With notes on fabric types and colors. Lots of Red and Green of course!

As much as she would have loved to see Edward in Eli's old clothes, they hadn't kept any from that age.

The neighborhood they had lived in was in constant need of hand-me-downs, and they hadn't been expecting to need things to remember him by…

Anyway!!!!! That just meant that it was time for her favorite activity:

Dress up time!

‘Edward Hyde’ was not enjoying dress up time.

They liked Rachel, the woman who found them, well enough. She was making them cookies after all, but she's so grabby!

Especially with him, he couldn’t go longer than a minute without being practically picked up in hugs or stuffed with various snacks.

Not that he didn’t want them, he was SUPER hungry after waking up, but the way she squealed when he said ‘Thank you’ hurt his ears.

Henry…it felt weird to call someone else his name. He tried to think of it like the two Jeffery’s in his class, who both had the same name. Instead of someone else who was him.

Henry didn’t like being prodded either. Whispering as much to him when she left the room with her note.

He agreed, and hoped whatever “Situation” the adults said they had to be here for would be over soon.

“Alright! Here are those cookies I promised you, *cooked* this time.” Rachel pouted, entering the room with a silver tray.

“You two are welcome to any books I have when you're done, I'm gonna be busy for a while.” With that she sat at some sort of machine. And started using it to stitch some fabric together.

He knew how to stitch! Well, kinda, Momma had shown him a few times, but putting dead animals back together was different than clothes.

He snuck glances at the boy who was also Henry, who occasionally glanced back.

He wanted to talk to him so bad, surely if they were the same person then he had done that too?

He wanted to ask so many questions, and try things he couldn’t do alone. It was thrilling to potentially have a friend that was willing to do weird stuff with him.

But for now Rachel was in the room, and adults never liked his ‘science’ much.

The two of them sat in silence and ate their cookies.

After what felt like hours the woman straightened up with a pop in her back.

“Whew! Two pairs of shirts and pants in record time! Ready to try them on?”

He looked up and nodded eagerly, dropping the dreadfully boring romance novel, “Yeah! It’s so cold in here.”

She whipped her head to look at him, pigtails flying.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Edward, I should have noticed! I’ll get you some blankets and more of Jekyll's socks, I’m sure we can layer them til you're warm again!”

He was sure she could layer them to the point that he would never walk again.

“Er, no thanks! The clothes will be fine.” he said, dodging another hug.

Henry snickered softly, out of Rachel's hearing. He snuck around and inspected the clothes she put together for them.

They were nothing fancy, buttonless white shirts and coal black pants. The stitching for both of them looked to be black too, but upon closer inspection it was actually a dark green, it seemed she had a lot of green lying around.

He wondered if she would notice if they took out the thread later, or if this was a ‘gift’ they'd have to rewear, like with his extended family.

“Well, when you two are done, come back to the kitchen and I’ll make you something more filling than cookies!” she said, and muttered, “God knows you two don't eat enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” they said in unison. 

With another squeak and a giddy grin she shut the door behind her.

A few minutes later, the door slowly creaks open. And two heads pop out.

Archer was losing his mind. Maybe he saw wrong? Or was finally going mad like the general public believed.

Surely something had happened to his head because he could have sworn he just saw a child.

Two even.

“Uh…did you see that?” he asked Bird, welding pen loose in his grip.

Bird looked up from adjusting one of his contained moss cultures, “Hmm? See what mate?”

Archer was leaning comedically far in his chair to see out the door, cord stretching to its limit.

“Just. Two little…I don’t know, ghosts maybe? One of Maijabi’s do you think?”

Bird raised an eyebrow, “Something on the loose in the society again? Should we tell the others?”

“Uh, could be my imagination.” he said, but set the pen down where it wouldn't burn anything. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned.

“Well, I’m overdue fer a break anyway, it’s been a while since anything interesting’s happened around here.”

Flowers was on the hunt.

She was on her way to the kitchens for a bite when she saw a short shadow dart through the common room.

Fortunately she had all sorts of equipment in her pockets, a true scientist is always prepared! But for some reason her emf reader wasn’t picking anything up.

Not under a couch… not behind this case…

The clack of shoes alerted her to someone approaching but she was more interested in the sound of wheels or metal boots.

“Hello Flowers, what are you looking for?” Tweedy then, she should remember to ask about some more batteries before he left. Her mosquitoes were too small to include a charging port.

“A small robot,” she said, checking under a table, “ ‘bout waist height. I think one of Pennybrigg’s creations is on the loose.”

“Oh, is that what I saw? I thought Ito shrank someone again.” he laughed loudly.

“Yeesh, that woman can be cruel when she's pissed off. Still can’t believe Dr. Jekyll taught her how to do that.” she shuddered.

Tweedy leaned on an armchair, derailed from whatever he’d been doing, “Actually I heard it was Hyde, everyone forgets he is Jekyll’s lab assistant.”

“Ah, well I’ll believe Hyde did that.”

On the floor above, Lavender rushed in, skidding to a stop before the railing. A large net slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me! Has anyone seen any kids around here?”

Flowers and Tweedy looked up at her in shock.

“Kids?! I thought that was a robot?” Flowers gaped.

“Well *I* thought it was one of our creatures. I saw something slip out of our lab and was chasing it, but it turns out there's actually human children running around the society!” Lavender wheezed.

“I can’t emphasize enough how dangerous this place is for kids.”

The two on the ground floor looked at each other, slack-jawed, then scrambled to help her search.

“Well, we’ll just hope none of your creatures slipped out after them!”

By now it had spread throughout the society that somehow, for some reason, there were children there.

A good amount of lodgers were gathered in a random hallway, loudly trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is it true? Are there really children here?” someone asked.

“Sure are!” Pennybrigg laughed, “I saw them with my own eyes!”

“Huh, I thought that's what that was but I didn't think anyone would be dumb enough to let kids in here.” 

“Does anyone know how many? We can’t have any left behind that's for sure.”

“Just two. I had to chase them out of my lab.” Griffin huffed, “The damn brats laughed at me.”

That earned a few snickers from the very mature adults in the room.

“How’d they even get in here is my question.”

“Well, it’s not like we keep the doors locked, it's probably just some curious teens here for a lark.”

“No, they looked younger than that. What if they're lost and need help?”

“Has anyone seen Dr. Jekyll? He’ll want to know about this.”

“Screw Jekyll! We don’t need him to hold our hands all the time, we can find two kids by ourselves!”

“But if they get hurt it’ll reflect badly on the society!”

The crowd murmured in worry, with people either confirming they locked their labs or resolving to. Luckett cursed and sprinted off right then, almost losing his hat in his haste.

“Then we’ll just find them before they get hurt! Come on, less talking, more looking!” someone said, clapping their hands loudly.

With that the crowd split off into different hallways.

“I GOT ‘EM!”

Twenty minutes later there came a cry from Ranjit Helsby.

Like a flock of birds the lodgers descended upon him. Cheering and pushing to see his catch.

“You cheeky buggers can’t hide from us!” Helsby crowed.

The exploratory bathynaut was carrying one child in each hand.

Scruffed and struggling like kittens, the two were yelping and crying for help.

They seemed to be about the same age. One was brunette, with a healthy flush, and dark brown eyes. He was yelling to be put down and kicking his legs in the air.

The other was smaller, frailer, a little pale but was squirming and kicking the same. He had a wild shock of blond hair, and quite the set of lungs, his voice quickly growing hoarse from his shouting.

The outfits they were wearing were odd. They weren't anything fancy, though they certainly weren't the rags worn by street urchins. Bizarrely, neither of them were wearing shoes. Just plain clothes with visible stitching.

Contemplative, Flowers reached into her pocket.

“Oh Helsby, put them down already!” Cantilupe cried, “They’re damn near the verge of tears!”

Sure enough the boys looked like they were about to start bawling. With the blond starting to hiccup, and the brunette's lip wobbling dangerously.

Pouting, Helsby did, trusting the wall of lodgers to prevent their escape.

Predictably the boys were off the second their feet touched the floor. Everyone reaching arms out and bumping into each other to catch them.

However they didn't try to escape, simply darting for the nearest person wearing a dress. Who happened to be Chabra.

They crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance. She startled but didn’t pull away. The small boys took hold in fistfuls and buried their faces in her skirt.

Chabra leaned down and awkwardly, cautiously, put her hands on their backs.

“Aww, guys we scared them! They're just babies!” Archer cooed from the crowd, triggering a flood of coos from everyone else.

The blond one peeked out to give a glare, but it was watered down by his red nose and big eyes.

“W-Who are you people? Leave us alone!”

Lavender curiously offered her skirt to the boy closest to her, the brunette.

He eyed it for a moment, then took the bait, reaching a pudgy hand out to the fabric. He didn’t grab on though, only running a hand over it a few times.

Incapable of going one at a time, the lodgers began bombarding the two with questions.

“Are you lost?”

“Do you need us to find your parents?”

“Who sent you??”

“Wot? Nobody-”

“Yeah what? They're literally children!”

“That's what they want you to think!”

“Do you want to see me set this plant on fire?”

“What are your names?”

“Hen-er- Ed-”

“Henderson you say, I had a cousin named that, but my uncle's name wasn’t Hender!”

“Oh, shut up Bryson!”

“No my names-!”

“Do you know someone by the name of Rachel Pigdley?”

The two boys look up at that.

Amidst the swarm of questions, Flowers had managed to win their attention, the other lodgers quieting down attentively.

The boys hesitate, suspicious. They whisper to each other, not even Chabra able to hear despite still leaning at an awkward angle.

“Do *you* know Rachel?”

Flowers puffed in pride at her hypothesis being confirmed. She relaxed her grin into a softer, hopefully reassuring smile.

“I do, she's the Day Manager. Next to Dr. Jekyll, she's the boss around here. Though she’s quite nice when you get to know her.”

Pushing someone out of the way, she approached the boys and carefully knelt by them.

She reached into her pocket. And turned it inside out.

“You see? Rachel’s a friend of mine. She sewed some pockets into my dress for me.” Flowers showed the boys the stitching on her inner pockets. The thread was a lighter shade of green than theirs, to match her dress, but visibly the same pattern and spacing.

She could have done them herself but these ones had been thanks for fixing an alarm clock Hyde had broken when he came in a window once.

This more than anything seemed to convince the boys. They let go of Chabra completely and leaned over her pocket like curious birds.

“Yeah! Rachel patches up some of my stuff too!” Sinnet jumped in.

He raised the elbow of his shirt, where a large brown patch was surrounded by some soot that had never washed out.

Some of the others pitched in, getting the idea.

“Yeah mine too!”

“And me!”

The two boys seem convinced and relax fully. A few people let out sighs of relief that they wouldn't have crying kids on their hands.

“Do you live here too?” asked the blond, looking around at all the people.

Sinnet looked at him quizzically, “Too?”

“Yeah, like Rachel and Robert.”

“Oh, yeah! Can't say I know any Roberts, though.”

“They mean Dr. Lanyon dear. Dr. Robert Lanyon, our co-founder?” Lavender sighed.

“Huh, I didn't think he liked kids, you suppose they’re new recruits of some kind?”

“Do we look like babysitters? Half the things in this building could kill a child like *that*!” Luckett snapped his fingers.

To everyone’s surprise the two boys gasped in excitement, “Really?!”

They didn't look scared, they looked eager. And… curious?

“Er…yeah actually. Do you… want to see them?”

Lavender smacked the man on the shoulder, “Luckett!”

“Come on! You saw their faces!  Remember when you were that age and curious about the world? I'd bet anything these two are scientists!” he nodded confidently.

That got some excited whispers. Everyone turned to look at the two boys.

Their mismatched eyes were open as wide as possible, jaws dropped. “You-you’re scientists?” asked the brunette.

Nods from the crowd.

They looked at each other, then back. “We’re scientists!!!”

“That settles it! Let’s give them the grand tour!!”

The lodgers broke into cheers and lifted the boys up, prancing up the stairs as fast as they could.

As the others raced towards the nearest lab, Cantilupe and Maijabi followed at a more leisurely pace.

Once they reached the landing, the rapid click of flats managed to reach their ears.

Glancing over, they watched as Rachel ran through the halls and the common room. Calling out and frantically checking behind furniture.

“Oh, there's Miss Pidgley. I was beginning to think something had happened to her to have left those boys alone so long.” said Cantilupe.

Maijabi squinted, adjusting his eyepatch, “Hm, least she could’ve done was give us a heads up if there were new lodgers. It’s not like her.”

She paused to take a breath and called out again, “Edward! Henry! Edwaaaardd!!”

“Ah, that explains it, Hyde’s on the loose again.” Cantilupe giggled.

“Ha! That'll keep her busy fer a while. Suppose we’ll have to ask about the boys later then.”

Cantilupe nodded in agreement and they carried on behind the others.

Rachel checked the candelabras to make sure no candles were knocked over.

[crownmemes]

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 26

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I guess your family didn't teach you many manners, huh?"

"You gave me an empty gun?"

"How I spend my money is not your business!"

"From now on, it's my rules. If I tell you to shut your mouth, you shut your mouth."

"Are you so blind that you're unaware we're on the verge of a grave crisis?"

"I don't presume to know everything about your life. Why do you think you can guess at mine?"

"Wait a minute! You used me as bait?"

"You can't have everything you want just because you want it."

"How come you can't be smart like that?"

"I think you finally overstayed your welcome."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You're in my pyjamas!"

"Just what were you doing under my table?"

"I'm getting a little weary of this attitude."

"You know, the next time you make a plan like this, you could at least let me in on it!"

"There are times I think you don't take me seriously. I think that ought to change."

"That is a part of my life that I don't discuss with anyone, and I don't feel that I know you well enough to discuss it with you now."

"I'm very sorry - did I give you the impression I was asking?"

"Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"I have said all I intend to say on the matter."

"What is it I'm supposed to have done?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Are you trying to destroy this family?"

"What is it about you? A death wish?"

"I'm not in the habit of making mistakes."

"Aren't you getting a little tired of this? Because I know I am."

"I sincerely wish I wasn't hearing this."

"Can you leave me alone for five minutes, please?"

"Why don't we stop pretending that I'm brilliant and you're simple for one moment?"

"The sooner you face the facts, the better."

"Let's not start this tedious argument again."

"If I wanted schooling, I'd have gone to school!"

"I'm going to be special. You'll see."