#maybe they weren’t good anyways and the universe wanted me to save a few bucks

[maybeicanbesaved]

stopped at wendy’s to finally try the peppermint frosty/peppermint coldbrew and they already don’t have them anymore 😔😭<////3

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone’s Symphony | Prologue | Hades

Hey lovelies— this will either be a long fic or a short series, depending on how it best plays out. I decided to upload a sneak peak— let me know what y’all think and do enjoy!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 2.5k (and counting)

Next

Master List

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies— a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies.

Right?

Wrong.

“You’re to make sure she is secured at all times during the next three days— do not leave Miss Y/l/n’s side under any circumstances. Understood?”

Bucky blinks twice, his brows creasing as he stares down his commander, a stubby, burly man with beady eyes. It’s a trial run— he can’t say no. He wants to, he just can’t afford to. Not if he wants a job. Still, he sees no reason for this to be on him. He’s a soldier— a good one. A dangerous one. Watching over little girls isn’t in his job description. He’s a fighter— a monster.

“I need an affirmative, Barnes.”

He bites back a scowl. He’s not trying to get demoted, he knows he’s on thin ice. But, like, isn’t there anyone else? Hell— Wilson is right next to him! Surely he’s better. He’s charming, at least. A flirt. He would be perfect! Wilson would keep her safe. So would he— maybe. Definitely from the threat. From himself, though— well, three days is a long time to avoid sleeping. Even for him.

“Barnes!”

Damnit.

“Understood, sir.”

Wilson’s amused chuckles sound from beside him, his hand landing like a ton of bricks on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky contemplates the repercussions of punching the smug bastard in the middle of a briefing. It can’t be more than a pay dock. He isn’t making that much anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. It would be worth it to wipe that grin off his face. But, no, he can’t. He’ll have to do it later.

“Someone’s on babysitting duty.” Wilson snickers, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide his goading from the commander. “Remember Barnes; no candy after seven.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” He grunts back, just barely stopping his metal arm from flying out and smacking him— from squashing him like the bug he is.

“Think she has a bedtime?”

“Think you could shut up?”

Wilson flexes his fingers, holding them up slightly. Just enough as to not get caught ignoring the briefing but also enough to make sure Bucky notices. “Woah—” he says under his breath, that stupid smirk still heavy in his tone— “someone’s touchy today.”

“It’s a bad decision and you know it.” He says it simply— gruffly— it is the truth after all. He’s dangerous.

Wilson’s face softens, the glee filtering from his tone. “You’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to have another conversation about this. You’re a good person. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault. It might not be his fault but he still did it. He still feels it. That makes him bad— if not morally than at least physically. He’s a liability.

“Y/n Y/l/n—” Bucky focuses back on the commander; he may as well learn what he needs to do— “the twenty-five year old heir to the biggest communications technology manufacturing companies in the world. They do dealings with a range of chief institutions including our own White House—”

If Bucky’s teeth weren’t pressed together hard enough to make him wonder if they’re going to disintegrate, then his jaw would be on the floor right now. She’s the what? Did he just say twenty-five? He can’t even remember what he was doing at twenty-five— whatever he was doing it certainly wasn’t that. Granted, he probably doesn’t really want to remember what he was doing. Soldier things. Dangerous things. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air.

“Her immediate family have all turned up dead within the last six months—”

Bucky flinches— this time his jaw does drop.

“Holy shit.” Wilson mutters from next to him— Bucky can only nod. No more jokes about babysitting then.

Some pictures appear on the screen behind the commander, each one more gruesome than the last. It is nothing overtly sinister— nothing he hasn’t seen before— nothing worse than anything he’s seen before. Or worse than what he, himself, has done. He shivers, staring at the photos. Two men and a woman, each with a scarlet circle blown through their foreheads. What the fuck.

“Other executives have been found dead as well—” more pictures, more bullet holes— “She is the last one. We don’t know who or why— our mission is to find out, execute, and above all keep Miss Y/l/n alive—”

The pictures change, finally showing the woman who is to be in the soldier’s care, and his heart stops. Not for any normal reason, though— not because of how obscenely beautiful she is or because of the way her eyes pierce through the junky projector as though she were actually in the room with him. Not because of how soft she looks or how he can see the pink sheen of her lip gloss or the way those glossy lips are curved into an open mouth smile— like the picture had been taken mid laugh. No. His heart stops because of how god damn fragile she looks.

In the picture she seems to be at a University with some friends of hers. They’re backed against a brick facade, shoulder to shoulder like some sort of preppy mugshot. It’s probably supposed to be comical— Wilson lets out a hmph next to him, clearly seeing it as well— but Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh. Not given the circumstances. Regardless though the picture gives him the information he needs to know; that she is a head shorter than the males in the picture. That seems normal— a head isn’t much in the scheme of things. The size difference is nothing.

Nothing unless, of course, you’re a giant super soldier whose genetically modified to be larger, stronger, and faster than the average man. Deadlier than the average man. He won’t be just a head taller than her— he’ll be at least two. Maybe more. And that’s just the height— he doesn’t even want to think about the rest. He is going to be stuck for three days, in what will most likely be a cramped safe house, with a girl who he could potentially break by bumping into her too hard. He can see it now: he takes the corner too fast and the next thing he knows she’s sprawled at his feet, her limbs bent at grotesque angles and her glossy lips flattened. All because he didn’t think to check.

This is going to be a long three days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As it turns out, there are no safe houses— not legitimate ones at least. What there is, however, is the Wilson’s old family home in Delacroix, Louisiana— a semi falling apart, two-story build with robin's egg blue, fading paint. It is nestled deep into the bayou, hidden meticulously between towering trees. It is miles from any main roads and on the bank of a mostly dead river. Foot traffic is scarce and boats rarely pass on sunny days, let alone during the rainy season— the season it just so happens to be. Perfect.

Well, the location is perfect. The rest is a god damn shit show.

“You ready?” Sam doesn’t look at him— he knows better than that, opting instead to continue staring out at the bayou from behind the wheel.

Bucky, hunched over in the passenger seat, eyes also locked on the blue home, shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Sam sighs and Bucky tries not to tense at the sound. Please, not another lecture— not right now. He tries to ignore the man, gaze pouring over what he assumes is supposed to be a charming porch. Under a dim but sturdy awning there waits a white swing with a long bench seat and some floral pillows. Across from it are two rocking chairs swaying softly in the Louisiana breeze. One has a matching blanket draped over the back. It is supposed to look cozy— he knows it’s supposed to and he is sure to everyone but him that it is cozy. To him, though, it looks like everything he doesn’t have. Like warmth and sunny days and peace. Things he wants and things that make his skin crawl because of how foreign they are to him.

“You’re not going to hurt her.” Sam taps his hand on the wheel, sounding out a pattern that plays more like bullets ricocheting through the cab of the truck than whatever melody it actually is.

Bucky grinds his teeth together. Now he’s looking at the window beside the porch. Is it a kitchen? A mudroom? A den? He isn’t sure, there’s a white curtain pulled across the frame, blocking his vision from whatever waits for him on the inside. Blocking his vision from her. For a moment he thinks he sees the curtain move— a shadow of a hand passing along the edge. He turns away— he doesn’t want to scare her if she’s trying to size him up before they meet. It’s the least he can do. God only knows how terrified she already is.

His stare lands on Sam— an invitation for the soldier to finally look away from the bayou. “But I could, right? That’s what matters here— I could hurt her.”

“No, Buck, you couldn’t— you wouldn’t. You aren’t evil or whatever it is you think you are.” Sam raises a brow and Bucky scowls— it always feels like he’s in his head.

Of course he would never tell Sam Wilson that— like a dog left to fend for himself, he would rather fight.

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea what I think.” He can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for snapping— isn’t that what wild animals do?

Ever the patient animal rescuer, Sam rolls his eyes at the bite. “You’re a good man, Barnes.”

Bucky stares back for a minute, not sure how to even broach an answer, before breaking, snapping his gaze back to the inviting home— his kennel for the next three days. He clenches his jaw, trying not to slam his head against the dashboard for being an idiot. Even Bucky understands that it’s bad when he breaks the stare first— he’s been told before that he has a staring problem. He just doesn’t want to look Wilson in his eyes and explain to him exactly why he’s wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to let him think what he wants.

“Whatever.”

Maybe he wants just one person to truly believe that he isn’t the bad guy— even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“I thought old people were supposed to be mature.”

Bucky flashes him a forced grin, one that tastes like the three hours of sleep he got last night and the five hours of self-loathing, shoving open his door and following it with his foot. “That’s me— the mature one.”

Sam barks out a laugh; either Bucky’s grimace— grin— worked or Sam is choosing to ignore it. “You’re old, not mature— there’s a difference, pal.”

“Hmph.” Bucky jumps out of the truck, yanking the duffle bag over his shoulder as his boots sink into the spongy grass.

His skin dampens immediately, a combination of the marshy climate and the grey clouds hanging above his head. A few droplets fall against his face and he slings a hand over his brows, turning towards his fate for the next three days. Without the barrier of the truck between him and the house, he almost feels like a normal man again. The weak, destructible kind. Theoretically, if the house were to fall on top of him right now he would survive. He would be pinned under the rubble, yes, but alive. It just doesn’t feel like it— it feels like he would be crushed. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end— his hackles rising as he tries not to bare his teeth— or fangs— at this new kind of threat. If only people could see him now; The White Wolf afraid of a charming, bayou home.

What a joke.

He shakes his head, pushing the passenger door shut with a sharp clang. Of course he isn’t afraid of a house— then he really would be an idiot. No, he is afraid of something else entirely— something much more sinister. Bucky is afraid of suburbia; of normalcy. What, with a metal arm and a brain hardwired to kill— it only makes sense he would also be programmed to steer clear of anything half-way decent. Especially pretty, fragile girls with glossy lips. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed, his vibranium fingers clenching around the strap of his bag. What is he even doing here?

A familiar, mechanical buzz fills the air and he cracks an eye back open in time to see Wilson leaning his head out of the passenger window. “Look, man— it’s three days. The fridge is full, the wifi is on, and it’ll rain so much she’ll probably nap the entire time. Pretend you’re at home doing whatever it is you would normally do. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky nods, sticking to his guns and letting the soldier believe what he wants. He tells himself again that it is because it is easier that way. “I gotta go, Wilson.”

With that he pushes his way to the door. His feet sink further into the grass with every step, curling around his ankles as though trying to warn him against entering the house— or trying to save the poor girl inside. He can’t decide. Warning or trap. Both. A warning for her— the princess; the little girl in the forest— and a trap for him— the rabid wolf. He steps onto the porch, his boots echoing off the concrete. To him it’s booming. He doesn’t want to think about what it must sound like to her, especially with everything the commander said she’s been through. A giant coming to kill her is his guess. Movement to the left catches his eye, the curtains shifting again, and his neck flushes.

“Hey Buck?”

He sighs— again— and turns over his shoulder for what he hopes is the last time— he just wants to get this over with. “What, Wilson?”

He knows before the man speaks that the cheshire grin on his face can mean nothing good— still he waits for the answer.

“Remember to tiptoe.”

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: part 1

Intro <-

Yang:So how we doin this? Drawing straws or... well we actually don’t have straws here so-

Weiss:It’s obvious that you wanna go first.

Blake:Extremely obvious.

Ruby:All over your face.

Yang:Hey now, don’t call me out like that! We all have so much to sort out here. I don’t even know where to begin. Differences could start and stop anywhere for all we really know.

Blake:From what it seems, Beacon itself would have one or two minor changes, but the real changes start after the fall. At least, for you three that is.

Weiss:You saying you’re different?

Blake:Unless you three started going on dates with Jaune at Beacon, then yes, I’m different.

RWY:(They’ve been together that long!?)

Yang:Okay, starting from Beacon...nothing really stands out too much. Jaune and I were just friends. *cringes* Back then, a certain faunus caught my eye.

Blake:Ah...right. I guess that tracks in practically every universe.

RW:Oh yeah it does. You two are joined at the hip.

Yang:Haha, really? Glad to hear it. My Blake and I are best buds! Remnant has never seen such a dynamic duo! Can’t say it didn’t take a lot of time effort after a rough patch. We actually dated in my world.

Blake:Same.

Yang:What!? How long?

Blake:I don’t know, it was pretty on again off again.

Yang:Well for me it was after Haven. Both of us had gotten pretty serious. All the growing we’ve done together and apart had brought us closer. However, Adam unintentionally put a wedge between us. His attempt to change and the problems that came with it were-

Yang stopped midway and saw the confused faces of her otherworldly teammates. They were shocked, confused even. Especially Blake, who looked the most shocked of all.

Yang:Umm did I say something odd?

Blake:Adam, he...isn’t dead?

Yang:Oh, well I guess that’s the start of the major changes then. Blake and I fought Adam at Argus. Stabbed him through the chest and watched him fall down rocks into a river.

Ruby:That lines you with my world. Dude died that day. Like any normal person should.

Yang:Well Adam is anything but fucking normal. Man has the craziest luck. A young women, the winter maiden in fact, she saved his life. She’s not exactly normal either. The maiden, Jacquelyn, ended up sticking by him to see if she could change his ways. This naturally meant we’d run into them again. And that’s how things fell apart.

Blake:What do you mean?

Yang:You were fully committed to seeing if Adam could actually change. I wasn’t, so we constantly butted heads in any situation involving him. Then we would fight about things that had nothing to do with at all. Eventually, we broke it off. We remained on decent terms but I was pretty heartbroken about the disconnect. Enter our lovable blonde idiot. Jaune did everything in his power to cheer me up.

Weiss:Sounds like him. Always such a bleeding heart. That boy just can’t help himself. Let me guess, his kindness and concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy?

Yang:Hehe, guilty. It was more of his willingness to laugh at my puns. Jaune’s always been interesting to talk to. He tries to act cool and calm even though he’s terrible at it, then comes clean right after. Before I knew it I was telling him things I hadn’t talked about with people before. I could tell he looked at me like most guys do, but also genuinely wanted to listen to me. Talk about playing unfair; he got defenseless. Suddenly I was smiling again. Anytime with him was time well spent. Then one day, I kissed him.

Ruby:Happily ever after?

Yang:Not even close! Hahaha!

Weiss:Why do you sound proud?

Yang:It’s funny looking back at it to a certain degree. Gods, I was such a brat. More than a few fights are on me. Between Blake, Raven, and other experiences, my insecurities flared up in ugly ways over nothing. It even got us to break up too. I was officially done with dating. My Ruby was out in an uncomfortable position.

Ruby:I bet! I’d never want you two fighting. Especially in my world. Picking between the person I love and my sister!? I don’t know what will happen.

Yang:I kinda do. *sets up* You’d start dating Jaune because you’ve looked at him since Beacon. The two of you would confide in each other and share a special kind of love, but it would be bittersweet. All because your sister still pines for him and never met to make him leave, and Jaune never says it, but he hates how things fell apart. He’s faithful to you and would never do you wrong, a guy to truly cherish. So... you let him go. Watch him walk back to your sister like you asked, because my happiness was worth that much to you.

Ruby:....

Yang: In my world at least. Honestly it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do. We must’ve cried over that conversation for hours. I felt so guilty and you only smiled, hugging me tight. Jaune and I had a few more stumbles. Nothing serious though. Eventually we moved in together when the world was saved. You and Oscar got together officially which made me happy. Even made our weddings a competition of who’d make dad bawl his eyes out the most. You won by the way; Raven came back into our family and into dad’s arms. Last but not least I had a baby. Yujin Xiao Long, my fucking pride and joy from above.

Weiss:Wow, that’s a lot.

Blake:What am I doing? Did I marry Sun?

Yang:Yep. You and blondes Blake, I tell ya.

Weiss:Hold the phone! Who am I with!?

Yang:Pretty sure you’re technically single. Buuuut, Neo and your have gotten pretty friendly from what I managed to interrogate out of you.

Weiss:That’s, highly unexpected. For a number of reasons.

Yang:Better believe it. Besides Cinder, a few crazies, and Salem, a few people made something of themselves. Dying sucks after all.

Ruby:You have a dead Cinder?

WBY: You don’t?

Ruby:*crosses arms* Hmph, I’ll wait my turn. Yang, you said you’re the only mother from our team. If Blake and I have been married for quite some time then what, we don’t want kids?

The joyful sunshine from Yang slipped into grayer skies. Her smile faded and it increasingly got harder to look at this Ruby without thinking of her own.

Yang:Are you sure that’s something you wanna know? I’ll tell you, but I didn’t want to bring down the mood with the problems where I from.

Blake:Problems? How big of a problem.

Yang:The biggest we’ve faced. It’s...a lot.

Ruby:Well we’ve listened this far. *takes hand* Lay it on us.

Yang:Pfft, oh boy. So...umm...another secret war came up. One that caused us to leave our friends and family for over a decade.

Weiss:A decade!?

Blake:What gets worse after Salem!? Who tries anything after a grimm queen!?

Yang:So a majority of Remnant was still unaware of her, but a fight like that can only be kept under wraps so tightly. Plenty of people still learned fractions of the truth. A few of those people weren’t exactly nice guys. They idolized her efforts and became her followers that wanted to keep her will alive, starting with taking revenge on the people who defeated her. We were so unaware. So caught up in normalcy. They ambushed us, and I mean everyone. We...we didn’t come out unscathed. Ren was crippled badly. Weiss, you almost your brother. Jaune’s family got hit but thankfully lived. The real casualties were aimed to hurt Ruby.

Ruby:Oh, of course. S-So, either you’re about to say I had no time to start a family, or...

Yang:...

Yang:When I tell you the look you made when you learned what happened to Oscar, to Qrow... that’s the moment it felt like my little sister left forever. Till this day you don’t smile like you used to. Very recently, now that it’s finally over, you’ve started looking better, but those ten years were hell. We choose to go out and fight again, avoiding contact with family. I haven’t had a real opportunity to be in my daughters life.

Ruby:How old is she?

Yang:Sixteen soon. Left her when she was four so you know. *tearing up* I missed everything. Just about anyways. Ironically it was Raven and Adam that helped her through the years with Jaune and Dad. Eventually we came back and ooohh boy was Yujin not thrilled in the slightest. Hehehe. Her right hook is really strong. I only had about a week with her before things got complicated again. *wipes eyes* But it’s okay. We left on good term. Something I definitely don’t feel like I deserve.

Blake:I can’t believe a thing like that would be possible.

Yang:Cults are a huge problem in Remnant now. You’re definitely aware of that. You actually oversee a little group from the shadows to deal with them in secret. An idea you got from experience. Adam works for you and everything. Hate to admit, but he’s become the guy you wanted him to be. Even has a family. I’m grateful to him. He personally kept my girl safe.

Blake:To think I’d hear you say that. Now I know this isn’t my world.

Yang:Don’t get me wrong, I still will hit him if given the chance. My life hasn’t been charmed and sacrifices too great were happening way too many times but it finally has gotten to a point where everyone feels like we’re taking steps towards a better future.

Weiss:Moving forward?

Yang:Yes, I was trying to avoid the phrase but yes Weiss, we’re moving forward. Still... *looks at Ruby*....

Ruby:W-What?

Yang:It’s unreal seeing you like this. My Ruby has become so strong and endured but hasn’t really picked herself up completely. All her tragedy stemmed from the loss of Oscar and Qrow; her last talk with Oscar was fight about kids too. That’s the entire reason she went off alone in the first place. Looking at you I can’t help but question my own choices. If...I just let her stay with Jaune, then maybe-

Ruby:Nope.

Yang:Huh?

Ruby:Look, if I know anything about your world, then it’s gonna be me and I can tell you without a doubt your Ruby doesn’t blame or would consider her own happiness without you. She loved you enough to take the chance to find love again. You really think there’s anything you could’ve done differently at that point. That girl is as stubborn as they come! *smiles* So buck up cowgirl. You deserve it.

A sense of warmth came over Yang as she heard those words. This other Ruby smiled at her with the same love as her own; completely caring about Yang’s feeling before her own. Yang felt so...unburdened. She couldn’t help but cry a little, laughing softly as she did. Who would’ve thought love could transcend worlds? It was so vindicating, therapeutic even.

Yang:Ruby, you’re something else entirely, you know that?

Ruby:It’s my curse. All I ever wanted was normal knees but the world said “no, special eyes!”

Yang:Well I guess I should thank the world then?

Weiss:You said your Ruby is getting better? That’s good. Still, it must be pretty weird looking at Jaune. Can’t imagine how lonely it must feel losing a love twice.

Blake:It never numbs.

Yang:Geez you two, lighten up. We can’t all be depressed. Ruby also didn’t lose Jaune. Actually....there may or may not have been an interesting...arrangement for a brief period of time.

Ruby:Ehhh what?

Yang:Hehehe well, hahaha, ummmm a decade is a very long time without feeling any kind of pleasure in a bleak situation. And you know me, I have to share things with you all my life.

Ruby:OH MY GOD!!!

Blake:*grinning* Yooooo! You loaned out Jaune!?

Weiss:That’s....accurate; in a lot of ways.

Ruby:That’s so scandalous! How could you!?

Yang:I didn’t force it! I gave the option, you said no, then you changed your mind because things got real stressful. Like come on, a decade of death and loneliness.

Ruby:Sigh...yeah. I can see it. Still, it’s so filthy. He’s a married man. What, so I’d just look at you and say “Yang I’m gonna sleep with Jaune, don’t come in the room.”

Yang:....

Ruby:What?

Yang:....Nothing.

Ruby:Bullshit! What is it!?

Yang:*scratches head* Well, I was lonely too, and a week is only so long-

Weiss:Oh so it was a group thing!!?

Ruby:WHAT!?

Yang:Only sometimes!

Ruby:SOMETIMES!?

Blake:HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THAT IS AMAZING!

Ruby:Why are you laughing!?

Blake:Because that’s just so extreme, and not, all at the same time. I could totally see that happening.

Weiss:Same. Dang, Jaune slept with sisters. That’s dangerously close to being like your dad.

Ruby:That’s different!

Blake:Is it though?

Yang:Eh, I don’t see the problem. We’re all grown and make choices. Plus I’m the one who guided you through awkward teenage changes. It not like we didn’t share a room for years.

Ruby:That doesn’t make it okay.

Yang:Eh debatable.

Ruby:*red* It isn’t though! How could I do something so bold!? So taboo!?

Weiss:It isn’t like you’re the one who did it. Just a version of you.

Ruby:Not better!

Yang:Awwww it’s okay Ruby. Let’s hug it out. Hehehe *opens arms*

Ruby:Don’t touch me!

Weiss and Blake laugh until their sides hurt as Ruby tries escaping the bear hug that terrorized her. Yang’s world found interesting for sure. Weiss finally decides to help Ruby out.

Weiss:Got a picture of Yujin?

Yang’s eyes lit up and pulled out her scroll. Her team huddled around her and collectively cooed like that parents they are at the sight of a blonde young girl with gorgeous blue eyes with a black combat school graduation cap and gown and a certificate proudly raised up high. If it wasn’t for those eyes and shoulders length hair, they might’ve mistaken her for Yang.

Yang:She’s going to Beacon early because she’s fucking awesome like her mom.

Ruby:I think you mean her aunt?

Yang:I know what I said.

Weiss:I bet she’s just as hardheaded.

Blake:What do you think your kid is up to right now?

Yang: Well...*smiles*

xxxx

The girl in question sat at a work bench with oil on her face and her hands busy tinkering with gauntlets. She looked over at blueprints in a journal. If they were right, then she was definitely doing something wrong. How her mother made something so complex was crazy!

Yujin:Come on Yujin. You can fix a car, making gauntlets into a sword that don’t break should be easy!

Footsteps came up from behind her and a plate stacked with sandwiches. She looked up and smiled at her dad that gave her a wink, then kissed her forehead.

Jaune:Haveing fun, you grease monkey.

Yujin:Jokes on you, I like monkeys. Just a few more attempts and I’ll have the coolest weapon in Remnant. That entrance exam is as good as aced.

Jaune:Not if you don’t have a landing strategy. Tomorrow we’re going on a trip.

Yujin:Does it happen to be near a cliff?

Jaune:Who can say? Rule one of being a huntsman, be prepared for everything.

He ruffled her hair and left, laughing evilly. Yujin could tell he’s been waiting for this day. She pulled out her scroll and searched through a collection of videos labeled “mom” and found a super early one. She hit play and watched her mother give a peace sign to the camera as trees increasingly got closer from below.

Yang:Beacon rules!!!! Wooohooo!

The camera flipped and focused on a familiar blonde flailing through the air like a doll in the distance.

Yang:Oof, hate to be that guy! Wait, that’s vomit boy! Hahah, hope he survives. He owes me shoes. Poor dude. I guess he needs more training in flirting and landing. Wait, eugh I think he barfed again! Hahaha!

Jaune:Stop watching that one!!!!

Yujin:Hahaha but it’s the best one. The ending is priceless.

Jaune: *walks back down*

Yang:Well if he survives this I guess I can off him at least I can offer him mints and company. Fake it to ya make Jaune. Between me and Ruby, at least you’ll look like a player. Heh, nah, I don’t think I can support a bunny onesie.

Yujin and Jaune:*grinning* And then she did! *high-fives* Arc charm, baby!

[dontcare77ghj]

Rain

Bucky x reader x Natasha

Notes: So, it’s been raining all day and someone requested a WinterWidow x reader with a bit of angst. Hope you like it!

The three of you had met on a rainy day. You and Steve had been friends for a while after meeting at an art class and had been out together when it started raining. To save the art supplies the two of you had bought, Steve brought you back to the tower. 

You loved the rain but didn’t want to ruin the supplies you hadn’t even gotten to use yet, so of course you agreed to go back with Steve. 

“I think everyone’s out today. We could set up in the living room.” Steve suggested, leading you into an elevator.

“Sounds good. What are you going to do for your landscape?” You asked him, brushing your wet hair out of your face.

“I was thinking something with a forest. Just very green. What about you?”

“I want to do something with rain. Maybe with a cliff or rolling storm clouds over an ocean. I’m not a hundred percent sure yet.” You shrugged as the elevator dinged.

“Hey punk.” A man said as the two of you stepped out. “I thought you were out today?”

“I thought you two were on a mission?” Steve asked in response, leading you over to a couch where a red head and the man sat.

“That’s Scott and Sam.” The woman told him. “Steve aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Yeah Steve, aren’t you going to introduce me?” You teased the man.

“Bucky, Natasha, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Bucky and Natasha.”

And that was your first introduction to the two former assassins. It was not your last interaction with the two and it was only six months lar when Steve finally had enough of your mutual pining and set the three of you up.

“What are you two doing?” Natasha asked as she watched the two of you from the doorway. “You’re going to catch the worst cold of your life. Or pneumonia.”

“I have a fantastic immune system.” You said, turning to her with a large smile gracing your face and hair matted to your skull. “I almost never get sick.”

“And I don’t get sick, ever, you know this Nat.” Bucky smirked, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. 

“How have I been with you both for a year?” Natasha sighed but smiled slightly as she leaned against the doorframe. “How the hell did the two of you survive without me for so long?”

“Luck?” Bucky shrugged, dipping you low to the ground.

“And because you have amazing patience and love us?” You guessed as you and Bucky spun closer to the woman.

“That must be it.” She laughed as you grabbed her hand and pulled her to you. “No! It’s pouring!” She shrieked.

“I think I heard pull me into the rain, didn’t you Y/N?” Bucky questioned pulling you both into his chest. “I think we better do as she asks.” He said, moving the two of you further away from the doorway.

“Bucky, I swear to God.” Natasha growled as you laughed heartily. 

“You swear you love the rain? Me too, Tash.” You giggled, taking her hands in yours and twirling her around.

“You too are impossible.” Natasha finally laughed, wrapping her arms around you. 

“But you love us.” You grinned as Bucky stood behind you and wrapped his arms around the two of you. 

“You’re damn right I do.” Natasha said, pressing her face into your neck. “Now, I do have to ask.” Natasha started, lifting her head after a minute. “Why are you two out here anyway? In singlets no less.”

“It was Bucky’s idea.” You said, making the man attempt to shush you. “He wanted to see which of us could stay out here longer.”

“You know, even if you do beat Bucky, you’ll catch the flu right?” Natasha questioned you, arching an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah but it’ll be worth it.” You shrugged, leaning back into Bucky’s chest. “Besides this is the best weather ever.” You smiled.

“I can see you want to scold us,” Bucky sad, smiling sheepishly at Natasha. “But maybe you can just enjoy this for a little longer, before you start yelling at us?” He suggested, beginning to sway the three of you.

“Come on, Nat. Just a little longer.” You pleaded, playing with the ends of her soaked hair.

“Why do I always give in to you two?” Natasha questioned, not sounding mad at the fact.

There were no more words said between the three of you as you began to sway together. The only noise came from the still continuing rain, pattering onto the ground around you and Bucky humming a song from his youth.

It was as if everything else had faded, leaving only you, your two loves and the tranquil rain. Nothing mattered in that moment as the three of you danced together in the rain.

Nothing could ruin that moment, except;

“Get the fuck inside right now you three!” Steve yelled, appearing in the doorway. “You’re going to get sick!”

“Spoilsport.” Bucky groaned as the three of you pulled apart. “We’re coming you punk.”

“And when we do, we’re going to talk about your language. Absolutely vulgar, Rogers.” You said, making him sigh and Natasha and Bucky laugh.

“Maybe I should leave the three of you out there.” Steve grumbled, walking away.

“We should actually get inside.” Natasha said, asking each of your hands and walking you towards the building. “Before we all get sick.”

“Totally worth it.” You smiled.

“I hate blindfolds.” You groaned, clutching tightly onto Natasha’s hand. 

“Funny, that’s not what you said the other night.” Bucky chuckled, hands gently squeezing your shoulders as he continued to lead you

“I hate walking while being blindfolded.” You amended. “I swear to God, Barnes, you better not let me fall on my face.”

“I’m not going to let you ruin your face, trust me.” Bucky promised.

“And I promise to just let you not fall.” Natasha told you, squeezing your hand gently. “Okay now there’s stairs here, so I’m going to walk in front of you.” She said, her hand letting go of yours before grabbing both your hands.

“Are you sure I can’t take the blindfold off?” You questioned the two as you nervously climbed the stairs.

“Positive don’t even think of touching it.” Bucky told you. “Nat, make sure she doesn’t try to touch it.”

“Already on it.” Natasha said. “Alright, Buck hold on to her hands, I’ll grab the door.” She said before letting go. Bucky took your hands in his and pulled your back into his chest.

“A couple more steps.” Bucky guided you. “Okay, you can take it off now.” He said, letting go of your hands.

Slowly you pulled off the strip of fabric and blinked quickly at the sudden brightness. You knew you hadn’t left the tower but had had no clue where the two had walked you to, until you’d pulled off the blindfold. Now you could see you were on the roof, a table had been set up under a shelter and before you stood Natasha and Bucky, bathed in the glow of the sunset.

“What are you doing?” Natasha questioned you as you took out your phone. 

“I’m taking a photo of this moment. I need to draw this later.” You smiled, quickly taking several photos. “This is perfect. I love you both so much.” You said, putting the phone away and rushing towards the two to throw your arms around them.

“We love you too, doll.” Bucky said into your hair.

“Now let’s sit you down and get you something to eat.” Natasha said, gesturing you towards the set table.

“Okay so we do have a surprise for you.” Bucky said long after the sun had set. “Close your eyes.” He ordered you.

“I don’t know why but I’m suddenly scared you’re going to throw a pie in my face.” You said, causing Natasha to giggle.

“It’s nowhere near close to a pie.” She assured you, squeezing your hand.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.” Bucky said. As you opened your eyes, you felt the air rush from your lungs.

Natasha and Bucky stood before you, each holding the side of a large canvas. It was not a painting that called the canvas home, but merely four words.

WILL YOU MARRY US?

“Fuck, yes!” You screamed, jumping from your seat and throwing yourself into their arms. “I love you. I love you so much.” You murmured repeatedly, pressing your lips to any inch of skin available.

“We love you too, dorogoy.” Natasha said, feverishly meeting your lips.

“So, so much.” Bucky added, responding eagerly. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out two rings, he slipped one onto your finger and then onto Natasha’s. It was almost as if the universe understood the moment as it began to rain heavily.

Laughter began to bubble in your throat as sheets of rain fell from the darkened sky. 

“This is a hell of a coincidence.” You smiled up at your fiancés.

“Perfect timing, really.” Natasha smirked. 

“Well whatever the reason, I say we take advantage of it.” Bucky said, pulling the two of you into the rain. He wrapped his arms around the pair of you and began to slowly dance.

“This is the perfect moment.” You sighed, leaning your head onto Bucky’s chest. “I hope it never ends.”

Rain. The act of weather had been a part of the best moments of your relationship. It had been there for the good, the bad and the simple times. There was nothing you loved more than dancing outside with your partners as it fell around you, there was nothing your partners loved more than watching your face light up as the first drops fell.

It only made sense to have something you loved most in life around you as you lay dying.

Three weeks. Three weeks ago you had been taken from the home you shared with your husband and wife of two years. It had been three weeks of absolute agony. Three weeks of praying for safety and or death.

You weren’t sure what was happening that day as you were dragged out of your cell and shoved onto a van’s floor. You were barely conscious during the ride, you barely felt it hours later as they tossed you out of the van and onto the asphalt.

As the van skidded away you remained laying there, your chest moving very shallowly as you struggled to breath. A long breath escaped your body as you felt the first few drops of a cooling rain. 

At the feeling of the soothing water you allowed your eyes to flutter shut. As your consciousness ebbed from you, you could only hear,

“Y/N!”

Non-reader POV

“Have any of you slept at all?” Tony questioned, handing out coffees to Steve, Natasha and Bucky. When none of them answered, Tony let out a sigh. “You need to sleep, this is not healthy. And that’s coming from me.”

“We don’t have time to sleep.” Natasha grumbled, adding vodka into hers and Bucky’s coffee. “Too much to do.” She added, continuing to type into her computer.

“Far too much to do.” Bucky agreed, taking some reports from Steve. “You’re not going to be able to help her if you collapse from exhaustion.” Tony argued. “We’re not going to be able to find her if we sleep.” Steve told him, placing the reports with no information on one pile.

“Correct, Stevie.” Natasha said without looking at their friend.

“Excuse me everyone.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted before a fight could erupt again. “But it would appear Y/N is at the gates.” She said, causing the four of them to rush to a stand. “I would suggest you hurry, her vital signs are not good.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. get Bruce and Cho to the hospital wing. Inform them on Y/N’s status.” Natasha demanded the A.I. as they all began to run to the front gates.

“Y/N!” Bucky cried out as he caught sight of her broken body. Rain plastered his hair to his face as he reached the crumpled form of his wife. Her body felt small and fragile as he held her in his arms and ran her towards the hospital wing.

Natasha’s heart was in her throat as she ran alongside Bucky and Y/N. If she had been alone in that moment Natasha knew she would have cried at the sight of her wife’s greying skin and her bruised form. It was only the fact she was around Steve and Tony and that her wife needed her to that she remained strong.

“Save her!” Natasha yelled as they reached the hospital wing where, Bruce, Cho and a team of other doctors were waiting for them. It took everything in Bucky not to protest as Y/N was snatched out of his arms.

"Outside." Tony ordered the three of them. "You can't be in here hovering. You'll stress them out and they won't be able to help her." He said, ushering them out of the room.

Bucky let out a growl as Tony pushed him out of the room. Sensing Bucky's aggression at the billionaire, Natasha and Steve both placed a hand on his arms and pulled him away from the man.

It had been two hours since they found Y/N at their doorstep. Two agonisinly long hours with no updates. In those two hours the rest of the team, who had all grown close to the H/C woman in the last five years, had joined them waiting outside the room.

Bar Steve, Natasha and Bucky, the rest of the team were all waiting anxiously aching the three in worry. Steve was leaning against the wall and had not moved in an hour and a half. Natasha was pacing, muttering continuously in Russian. And Bucky was alternating between watching Natasha and glaring darkly at the floor.

It had been two hours since they found Y/N when thy heard the sound they had been dreading. When they heard the sound of the flatline.

The team all jumped to their feet at the noise. Wanda buried her face into Vision's chest, who wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. Tony wrapped an arm around Clint who found it hard to stand as he and Thor watched in worried silence.

Steve let out a strangled cry as he watched the doctors try to bring his best friend, best friend apart from Bucky, back to life.

Natasha seemed to stop functioning at the noise and felt her knees give out s she finally allowed herself to cry. Bucky was quick to pull his wife into his chest and whisper soothing things in Russian. He made sure no-one could see her tear stained face or his as he buried his own face in her hair.

Please God, Bucky pleaded, please just let her live. Please God, if you only hear me once, let it be now.Please let Y/N live. He thought as he once again heard the loud, echoing sound of a flatline.

"No!"

"Sit your ass back down, Y/N M/N Romanoff-Barnes." Natasha growled, gently pushing your shoulders back down.

"Nat, I'm fine. I just wanted to sit in the chair by the window." You said, leaning back onto the pillows.

Natasha and Bucky had been incredibly protective in the past week. After you had been dumped in front of the compound and brought into the hospital wing you coded twice on the table. The team had been able to bring you back and fix what had been done to you but you'd landed yourself in a coma.

You were out for nearly two months before you finally woke up. You'd barely been awake for thirty seconds before you were attacked by a red-head, muttering furiously in Russian. Quickly followed a long haired man, expressing his relief in quick paced English.

Your husband and wife had refused to allow you back home until Tony upgraded the house to their standards. Instead, you'd spent three days in the hospital wing under the eagle eyes of Bruce and DR. Cho before being allowed to return to Natasha and Bucky's room.

The two had only allowed you to move from the bed to shower and to use the bathroom. You understood why the two were so worried and a small part of you found it endearing but you really needed to move.

"Y/N, you could rip your stitches. You can't walk around just yet." She stressed, sitting next to you.

"But it's raining" You whined, staring out the windows longingly. "If I can't go out there, I want to at least watch it." You said, looking up at your wife.

"Bucky said he'll be back in a soon. If you just wait until then I promise you can watch the rain." Natasha promised you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

You let out a hum as you laid your head on her shoulder and resolved to watching from the bed for now.

"Steve dropped off some new sketch books." Bucky announced, entering the bedroom after a few minutes. "And some of those pencils you liked." He said, placing a bag on the bedside and kissing you and then Natasha in greeting.

"Just the man we were waiting for." Natasha smiled, getting out of bed. "You are going to help me move the bed, so Y/N can watch the rain." She told him.

"You got it, boss." Bucky smirked. Carefully, Bucky picked you up and temporarily moved you onto a chair and then helped Natasha move the bed directly in front of the window.

"What do you think?" Natasha questioned you as Bucky put you back into the bed.

"I think I must have saved the universe twice in a past life to deserve the two of you." You sighed happily. Natasha and Bucky smiled happily as they climbed in on either side of you. "I love you two. So much."

"We love you too, dorogoy." Natasha said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Always." Bucky added, kissing your forehead. With that the three of you drifted into silence and watched the rain hit the window pane.

There was no better feeling than to be alive and with the people you love.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @hopingforbarnes @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @rvgrsbrns @jelly-fishy-babie @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot

Show me your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/message me any comments, ideas, pairings, taglist requests, or whatever you wish.

Coming soon;

Wanda x reader x Vision

Steve x reader x Wanda

Bucky x reader x Loki

Natasha x reader x Tony x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Tony x reader x Steve

[kanene-yaaay]

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kanene’s note: Okay, I’m- aaaaa

I’m very proud of this one because it’s a little different of what I use to write and it was cool to try a new something. I didn’t even wrote the laughter because I was writing this next to my family and I didn’t wanted any of them asking why my characters were laughing so much xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Switch!Émile and Switch!Remy (It is def romantic. They are married and very gay and there is a lot of kisses in it-)

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 2700 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* Just two silly and very mean boyos being two silly, teasy and ticklish boyos. xDD

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

                                [~*~]

- Émile ~

 He didn’t know from where this came from. In a second they were on the couch, smiling and watching Steven Universe, and in the other a cold shiver ran across his body, making him turn to his husband, just in the exact moment to see he taking off his sunglasses, locking his glare on him with those sweet, dangerously warm eyes and grin. Just like that. It took a heartbeat before Émile realized what was about to happen, a wobbly smile beginning to control his features as he felt himself almost paralyzed, Remy starting to tap his fingers on the lenses of his own glasses, his malefic smirk never fading.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 They stared each other, Émile’s gaze finally changing to his fingers, another round of goose bumps spreading across his spine, the adrenaline taking over his veins and giving him the enough strength to dash in full speed through the hall.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Which leaded the poor, almost giggling, adult to his current state: hiding behind his room’s door and wishing with all his will power that this plan would really worked as well as it had when he watched in the cartoons.

 (He tried to ignore the voice in his mind reminding him how all that chases usually ended up in the end, the thought only being enough to heat his face.)

 - Émile ~ - It was in days like this that one wearing glasses could swear that Remy was a witch. Because there wasn’t any other realistic, rational and plausible explanation about how much the giggles trapped in his throat got louder, bouncier and even more difficult to control just with the slight sound of his voice, obligating their owner to press his hand further around his mouth, lightly biting the tip of his tongue. – You had better hide well, because you know what is gonna to happen when I find you, don’t you?

 Émile shook his head, his back forcing itself on the cold wall.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 - Oh, gurl, maybe you don’t even remember anymore… Now, we can’t fusion like this, can we? Let’s me remind you, then. ~ - The chased hold a pouty whine when heard these words, already feeling the beginning of a blush spread in his neck. Remy knew very well how teases could be as unbearable and unnerving as the tic… I mean, The Thing. – First, I will carry you aaaaall the way back to the couch and maybe my fingers will slip in tweaks and squeezes all over your hips, who really knows, ya know? But you better don’t squirm that much, because then I will have no escape but be obligated to bring my other hand to better hold you and just hope that this one is not more slippy then the first, right?

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 - And then: The couch. Nothing different will happen there, really. I will just lay down with my extremely ticklish, helpless husband to take a nap, and, if my glorious lips will be random blessing your incredibly sensitive neck with a lot of Goodnight Kisses and my hands will keep lightly scratching, squeezing and poking all the length of your sides, sometimes even giving a little attention to your hips, because no way in hell I will be sleeping in a hard pillow, it’s none of your business, giggly boi. – Émile couldn’t help nor stop the pitched squeal that escaped from his mouth, eyes widening and breathing immediately stopping, the others giggles also begging to escape. - Oh, and, by the way, better keep your mouth very shushed while this. We don’t want the Tickler Master waking up, am I right?

 Silence.

 Remy’s nonchalant tune still full filling the air, which didn’t carried the sound of his steps anymore. The cartoon lover knew there was no way for him to save himself and, in a surrender act, just let his high, excited giggles run happily across the room hiding his face in flames behind his tremble hands. Seconds later, he heard the sound of his door being closed and his hide spot exposed.

 - But we both know that you just can’t contain yourself, my so poor, so defenseless lee. – Émile playfully screamed as he was lifted up in the air, quickly being carried in bridal style. He opened his eyes enough to see Remy in a bat of eyes deviating his glare from his form, the tender smile taking pieces of seconds before changing to an evil grin, fingers suddenly tweaking his kneecaps and hips, leading the carried to jump, a squeal signaling the flow of giggles that followed it.

 - Please, Remy, please!! – Each new squeeze was a snort interrupting his words, making him try to start again only to get the same result and repeat the cycle all over, resulting in a more helpless babbling than anything else. The said stopped, adjusting his hold in order to sneak his thumb in that damn spot right between his shoulder blades, switching between kneading and prodding while leading to an even more no-understandable sentence. - No there, no there, no there!!! Pleasepleaseplease-

 - Huh? Whatcha you are trying to say, hun? That I’m the most handsome husband in the entire world? That you are so sensitive that only a few squeezing and prodding are enough to transform you in a blushy, laughing mess? – The one being held felt his laughter increasing, the words spreading tingles in all his others ticklish spots, even the ones which weren’t being attacked. He shakes head, denying. – Is that you love all these teases and specially when I tickle tickle tickle you? Huh? Use your words, babe.

  – Nonononono! – Émile arched his back just to find another attack to his hips, bucking the said as Remy buzzed his fingers in the exact point where his sides and hips connected, and generating loud crackling as response. – You a- nah! You are mean mean mean!! – His arms danced to a place to another, too much occupied with the crazy sensation to really focus in stopping it, Remy increasing his efforts in order to make the snorts start to bloom amongst his laughter and squeals, no needing too much to succeed. – Remy!!!

 - Yes, gurl? Geez, you should love my name. It seems like you can’t even spent a whole real minute without saying it! – His tune was still nonchalant. However, he leaned down for a heartbeat in order to steal a peck from his beauty, giggly and cute as fuck, husband, who obtained a new shade of red creeping down his neck. Nooooice. – Anyway, what did you wanna tell me? Be quick, I still having a lot of places to knead, scratch, scribble, wriggle… This whole ‘Tickle your extremely ticklish husband, like, really, reeeeeally ticklish, like seriously, this guy is a whole tickle spot himself, a alive version of Tickle Me Elmo, and, when he became a helpless mess just tease him more and more until the big, rational, Émile Picani turns in just a poor, so poor, blushy lee.

 - REMY!!

 - What? Can’t handle the truth? Boo-hoo, then.

 Émile didn’t answered, unless you considered his fast, absolutely incoherent, stumbling words a kind of response, choosing to clench is hands in his shirt and hide his face in flames, instead. His laughing being so strong that reverberate through the attacker’s chest, who couldn’t stop feel like a villain as he stared with a gigantic grin adorning his lips the ribs that such act let defenseless. Well, he internally shrugged as he took a deep breathe, suit himself. His arms were growing tired anyway.

 Émile thought he was going to melt in any moment, the teases still heating his sensitive skin and increasing the tickles in a way that should be definitely illegal, but in the moment he felt the raspberry, spreading, taking over his nerves and T I C K L I N G he died.

 And screamed, for sure. Oh, and also gripped something while kicked and trashed as if Mabble’s life was depending on it (not his own life, of course, since he was already dead). Some part of his desperate brain noticed he was falling, but the laughter exploding from his mouth and the impossible to ignore feeling quickly expelled any other thing.

 He opened his eyes, breathless as his watery vision focused in the form mostly layed onto him, their giggles flying and filling the entire room. After some heartbeats, Remy finally got up, his hands resting on the floor and sustained the weight of his body. Their eyes met.

 - I’ve forgot how much of a kicker you are. – Émile just curled up a little more, pulling his tongue out in a very mature and hard to win, statement

 - ‘s not my fault your arms are weaken than Deadly Arms’ ones.

 - Excuse you?

 - Nuh.

 - I beg your heck pardon?

 - No, you let me fall for you. Twice. In love and on the floor. I’m ignoring you until the end of ours married days.

 - Oh, is that so? – Remy replied, adjusting his position so his hands would lay each one in the sides of his husband’s head, who immediately recognized the smile beginning to shine and exploded one more time in a flow of giggles, his arms in front of his body, attempting to conjure a kind of shield.

 - Wait wait waitwaitwait!! Nonono! – A yelp cut his sentence when a hand tweaked his thigh. - I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

 - Yep, gurl, you will b- And his threat was interrupted when Émile pushed his shirt and connected their lips, stealing his words, breath and any and every coherent thought from his head, his giggles still floating from his mouth, which leaded, if that was even possible, to the coffee lover melt further, allowing himself to be carried away by the tenderness and love, sighing and deepening the kiss.

 …Until that dirty, evil, nasty cheater digs his fucker fingers in his damn stomach, which ruined the romantic moment and absolutely did NOT made Remy Tough Picani release a half shriek half snort that DIDN’T resulted in the only one wearing glasses coos softly, excuse you.

 - Awww. – Émile gave him an innocent smile, quick turning the tables and sitting on Remy’s legs, his fingers swinging in a dance that consisted in craving his thumbs right above his waistline and vibrating his others fingers in his torso, the maddening sensations culminating to free, belly laughter escape from the ‘victim’s’ mouth. Eyes tightly closed, wrinkled nose. – What is the matter, my dear? The cool, bad boy Remy can’t take some ti-tickly tickle tickling in his tummy-yummy-yummy? Huh? Huh? Can’t he? Because he is super hype dyper sensitive, aren’t you? Yes, you are! You are!

 - OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!! – Remy could feel his face, against his own will power and threats, melt in flames. His laughter being replaced by hysterical giggling as his husband changed his technique to spidering, slowly walking his fingers up before quickly drag his nails in random patterns the way down, going up and down one time more and after that a couple more of times, always managing to catch four or five snorts. – THIS IS SO DUMB, FUCK.

 - Now, now, Mister Ticklish Master. Let’s not be a Squidward to the Tickle Monster, alright? He just wanna to hear aaaaaaall that adorably, lovely, helpless giggles of yours!! – Émile lowered down and touched their noses, his smile increasing as he felt the other’s laugh hitting his cheeks, his tune now in flying in joyful whispers. – And what a cute laughter you have! Definitely the most lovely, sweet and favorite lee of the Tickle Monster!

 - ‘m not- ‘m not cuteyourbi-nOPLEASENOTTHERE- His words stumbled in each other, specially when his shirt was lifted and a finger began to squirm and scratches his bellybutton, his legs now kicking while his hands tried to get enough strength to stop the marvelous move. However, exemplary falling as the attacker focused some quick prodding in the exposed axillaries, receiving what was suppose to be an angry snort. Émile couldn’t help but coo one more time. – I’M. NOT. – He couldn’t help the squealing cutting his sentence. - CUTE. FUCK OFF!

 Émile made a soft sound of sadness, pouting even if his husband was still with his eyes tightly closed, unable to see it.

 - Now, it’s a pity that you don’t believe in the words of your own husband. – He switched to lightly scribbles and pokes at his sides and lower ribs, making sure to rub circles in each one of them while also gave his ‘victim’ some room to breathe and understand his words.

 - Well… maybe, maybe he would… – Remy tried, really tried to frown and looks angry, but that was really hard with the giggles still interrupting his words. His body melting in the gentle, good touch. Totally against his will, for sure. - ... if his husband wasn’t being a jerk and tickling him.

 He stared directly at Émile, therefore he didn’t lose the slightest which red freckled his cheeks, smirking, wobbly that is true, but also proudly in being the only between both who managed to say ‘tickle’ without shuttering. Sadly, though, he also didn’t lose the way his eyes and smile widened, showing that the other had an idea.

 Butterflies started to panic in his stomach, especially when Émile’s gaze focused there with a ratter crazy gleam, his next phrase coming out as a soft, dangerous purring.

 - You know… all of this made the Tickle Monster a bit hungry… and he heard that some lil lil lee has a very yummy yummy tummy right here. – His hands squeezed his belly, as if to prove his point. Remy jumped, the adrenaline running all speed across his body as the words starting to weight in his brain.

 - Wait, WAIT! Émile!!! – The one being called slowly moved towards his target, ignoring the squirm and pleas from his husband, who grew more and more desperate as his attacker innocently smiled and looked at him, his head gradually lowering to his most ticklish spot. – Émile, Émile, please, I’m actually begging you. I’m begging you!! I’m cute, see? I said it!!! Émile!!!!

 - I’m listening. ~

 - No, you’re not! – His euphoric, hysteric giggles already began to take over his sentences. – No! Fuck!!

 - No? – Émile’s lips already were resting on his belly, the word sending shivers across his nerves, which was not helped by the fact that the other absently shook his head, demonstrating his saying.

 - No! No!

 - A no to ‘no’? So that is a yes?

 - nO.

 - No? But what about the ‘yes’?

 - Stop it! Oh my gosh, I’m gonna to get a bitching divorce!! It’s a no to your yes!

 - Got it! It’s a ‘no’, then?

 - Yes!

 - A yes? Okay!

 Before any other protest could fly from his mouth, a shriek did it first. And again. And again. And one more time, almost as fast as the nuzzled raspberries buzzing and the nibbles, together with the ‘nhom nhom nhom’s’ sounds, spread and madly tickled in a total oblivion to his kicks, pushes and loud, thunderous laughter painting the air.

 It didn’t took too much before the cartoon lover stopped, already aware of the other’s limits, and touched their foreheads again, Remy’s breathing and reminiscent giggles being the only thing breaking the silence which involved them in a calm, cozy, warm feeling.

 - You don’t look at me like that, your traitor. – His tune was free of any harm, his bright gaze and blushed cheeks locking his attention. Émile couldn’t help himself but kiss the pout out of his face. – And don’t you dare to kiss me. – Quick kiss. - I don’t trust in your sweet lips anymore. – Soft kiss. – They are a hell of a trap. – Giggly kiss.

 - I love you.

 Their eyes met, one more time, and Remy finally gave up, swimming in that deep, caring moment. Their hands intertwined themselves.

 - I love you, too. – He lightly poked Émile’s ribs, winning a yelp before receiving the same treatment. – But only sometimes.

 - Uh huh.

 - What? It’s the truth!

 - Sure it is, dear.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 Their heart did, beating in unison.

[thistangledbrain]

Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month

Day 5!

“Special Interests”

Have a quiet Autie in your life? That won’t last long if you tap into their special interest. We can’t shut UP when we find someone who’s genuinely curious about what lights us up.

Every older Autie I know has at least one special interest, sometimes several.

Mine? Dogs. Primarily.

And I mean EVERYTHING dog, but starting with behavior. Then in no particular order, health/genetics, various breeds and their traits, training....literally everything. Even the genes that define coat color & pattern, and what physical genetics are tied to behavior (if you’re curious about that, start with the Russian studies about domesticated foxes and what happened to their red coats, the more tame they became). It was horses when I was younger, but I soon moved to dogs when getting into my late teens (more affordable and accessible I guess lol). And if I don’t know the answer to your questions, we find out together, because I *need* to know, too. 😉 I can talk dogs with you literally all day and never get bored...which helps socially, too (I’ve mentioned that most of my closest friends are dog people) - I have a larger network of friends than most other auties I know, and it’s because of a shared passion for all things dog. 
Then there’s the sciences, but particularly quantum & theoretical physics. I. Fucking. Love. Physics. LOVE IT. Unfortunately, my brain hits a wall with more advanced mathematics, so I can’t “do” physics on the level I want to. Luckily for me, my oldest son is also pretty obsessed with it, and he is now pursuing a degree in physics....so when he comes home, we sit down with his notes and he breaks it down for me (the language behind the experiment or action). I have pictures of his notes saved on my phone, for simply the silly reason that I like the patterns of the math (it’s the “universal language”, if you didn’t know), and like to daydream about understanding it. (He struggles with the math as well...we are both HEAVILY right brained...but he manages.) If there’s a documentary out there about physics (plus many lectures), I’ve probably seen it multiple times. Idk why quantum physics in particular interests me...maybe because it’s almost like magic. ☺️ Quantum entanglement fascinates me, and the theory that things aren’t what they are unless/until you observe them...I can get stuck absolutely obsessing over these things.

Nature/animals are the big background special interest that the specifics tie into, though (and this ranges from astrophysics to the life cycle and structure of an ant colony - and even human psychology). Concerning observable animal/plant nature though (and this is a big one for me), Sir David Attenborough is my hero lol- no one else answers the questions I have, and opens up the natural world for me, like that dude. It was Mutual of Omaha’s nature shows when I was a kid, now it’s him. Sorry not sorry, but a doc on the secret life of plants is *fucking riveting* to me. Science is my JAM! 😆 I am happy to recommend any docs to any other fellow science nerds (Through the Wormhole, The Elegant Universe, and Cosmos are all MUST SEE - if you’re a nature nerd, of course Blue Planet, Our Planet, Life...gosh. So many great series). When I get on a science kick, I get the same feelings I get when I’ve tapped into a difficult dog’s psyche, and we start to figure things out. It’s an absolute thrilling obsession, and I am very restless until all my “why/how” is answered. It’s never enough - I never know enough, and I never will.

It’s also an area where my perpetual 2-3 year old is consistently mostly satisfied. I mean that’s the whole scientific community in a nutshell LOL! “WHY?” “HOW?!” When I was a kid, I’d have to write down all my questions that weren’t answered by our Encyclopedias, and wait till the weekly library trip to find the answers I sought. Now, I have a smartphone and Google LOL....and I cannot even begin to describe how consciously thankful I am for that quick access to answers!! Questions will *eat me alive* sometimes, so answering them in a timely fashion is sooooo satisfying 😆

I guess I’m a bit of an artist/creative personality. I’m unhappy when I don’t have space to create....but that space is pretty damn large, because I’m into almost all of it (you can’t exactly fit a miter and bandsaw into your apartment studio, so I’m very grateful I have the space for the power tools LOL...)

From building things to fabric crafts, I love it all. I get way burned out if one of those things become a “job”, though (ehh except being paid as a regular employee of a historic renovation construction firm LOL) - something I HAVE to do. Then it’s not enjoyable anymore. I had started down a path of marketable creations, and they were in high demand...but then it became something I HAD to do for money, instead of wanting to do for enjoyment - and I haven’t touched that particular craft in 8 years or more now (which frustrates people, because I was good at it). 🤷🏻‍♀️ That’s one of those things I really can’t help. My oldest son seems to be sort of similar....he’s commissioned several pieces (and secured his first few at a VERY young age), but he also tends to get a little frustrated when he’s expected to create something, instead of the urge naturally striking him. The whole beauty and satisfaction from art - for me anyway - stems from pure imagination without constraints. When you’re doing something to please someone, it ceases being art, and turns into just...a skilled task you completed. That’s how I look at it, anyway. So even though I could actually make my art into a career (at least supplementary income), it ceases to be enjoyable for me *at all*, unless I’m creating something for someone who means a lot to me. That, and I really just prefer to give my stuff as gifts. It makes me feel good to see people light up with joy over what I’ve made for them, whatever it was. (I also do a shitload of remote training with people and their dogs, for free. I point folks towards the trainers I respect if they need extensive in person work, but lots of folks don’t have several hundred bucks to sink into understanding their dogs better...so...I just help where I can, now. I think it *used to* frustrate my husband, but he absolutely understands now & is cool with it.)

Oh. And rocks and minerals. I’m an obsessive rockhound LOL - and a cousin is a geologist, so he can break down how and why each is so unique, how it formed & why, etc. I’m actually currently converting a large yard sale antique wardrobe into a piece that can showcase Sir Tommy on one side, and my extensive rock and mineral collection on the other (waaaay not extensive enough, but you might be surprised how expensive quality specimens are. Take moldavite for example...fascinating thing...little chip of it about the size of your pinky nail will run you $20 +, because it’s rare. And yes I am fascinated by the metaphysical value attached to these minerals, and why that’s even a thing.) The way minerals form - let’s cite Aragonite as an example - just captivates me.

So I guess those are my main special interests! If you have a *young* Autie in your life, try to expose them to various things. To find a “special interest” is to find a way to ground ourselves. Special interests are a bit different than...well, I’m not sure what words work for stim interests that you can escape into for NT’s, but it’s less of an interest, and more of an obsession for us. It consumes us.

So anyway, EVERY Autie has a special interest. It could be science, it could be gaming (that’s a big one with lots of males, and not a small one for Autie women either, because it’s an escape you actually have to engage your brain in) or computers; it could be mathematics or art. It could be animals and nature. But eventually (for those of you with wee Auties), Your Pet Autie ™️ will find something that they absolutely obsess over & gets them excited to share their knowledge or creations with you. I encourage parents of auties to help them explore the world and find their niche. It helps us navigate your world, and find a way to be at home in it. It also gives us something to fixate on other than our bumbling attempts at fitting in to a world not built for us.

Circling back - if you know an autistic in your life that you want an “in” to get to know, start with their special interest. (Of course we recognize when you’re doing it just for the merits, versus when you actually want to learn something from us, but we appreciate both, really. It gives us a chance to ...idk. Feel important, maybe. At least that’s what it is to me, and my boys. We love to feel needed for our knowledge!)

Special interests are truly your “in” to an Autie, regardless of what their subject is.

So that’s MY take on the special interests. What lights your beloved Autie up?

[marquiswrites]

White Christmas

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Reader, Tony Stark [Guest Appearance]

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader,

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1535

Warnings: FLUFF, small language

Author’s Notes: Written for @mypassionsarenysins for their  #mypassionsarenysins1k challenge! My prompt was “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby. This was super fun to write and gave me a chance at some sweet sweet fluff to balance out my usual Angst and Mystery categories. I hope that you enjoy! [also, nothing against Las Vegas for the people who live there, but I too live in a desert, and no snow on xmas is a sucky tradition]

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

One hundred and ninety four days.  

That’s how long you and Bucky had been undercover in Las Vegas. Trying to catch out a Hydra base that was somewhere in this miserable desert. It was far too cold for the fact that there was absolutely not a single snowflake in sight. 

You pouted once more, leaning over the balcony of the hotel suite that they had put the both of you in. Under the guise of foreman overseeing the construction of yet another Casino and hotel. It gave you both reason enough to be in the city for as long as you had been, and to chat up the other managers and foreman. But you had made little to no headway on figuring out whether the intel was good. 

And now here you both were, on Christmas eve, in weather more suited to fall or even late summer. Clear and dry.

After so long on the east coast, or even the occasional trips to Europe, it was depressing. To put it plainly. And to make it all worse, you were with the one Avenger who couldn’t stand to be around you for more than a few minutes at a time if you weren’t actively working. 

You and Bucky made a good team, Natasha’s training had helped you to come far in hand to hand combat since your first days with the team; and your enhanced ability made Bucky an absolute force of nature, strength and endurance expanded even past the capabilities of the super soldier serum, with absolutely no side effect due to the increased healing component. You worked well together, and your histories with Hydra helped you to understand each other on a level that none of the rest of the team shared. 

But he also absolutely refused to acknowledge your existence half the time. Maybe it was because he was finally regaining memories, maybe because it was of the fact that you had grown up a Hydra Princess for the first half of your childhood, privileged compared to how he was tortured. Likely it was just because that was how he was. Reticent with most of the crew, except for Sam and Steve. 

And you were so desperately in love with him that it hurt. Sending flutters through your chest every time your gazes met. Your mouth ran dry with his every smile, though it was usually saved for when you were actively on the job, a facade, no matter how real it looked.

Now you were stuck with each other on Christmas. 

Happy holidays to you.

You tucked your hand against your cheek. Sighing to yourself once more as you watched the lights of the Strip. You were far enough away that the noise fell away across the desert, so much quieter than anything that you were used to. 

Which made it worse that you didn’t realize Bucky had joined you on the deck until he was clearing his throat. “If you want, you can always go and do somethin’. I’m not about to make you miss christmas just cause Stevie’s got a stick up his ass about this case.”

Jumping out of your skin, you whipped around to find Bucky leaning against the open sliding glass door. Shirtless. 

Which made you lose all ability to form words until it was almost too awkward to pick the conversation back up. 

“You alright there, killer?” A raised brow suddenly brought you back to your senses. 

“Uh yeah… just got caught up in my head.” Lifting a hand to rub at the back of your neck, shrugging slightly while you flicked your tongue against your lips. “But… what do you mean?”

Bucky chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair to push it back from his face. Possibly the most distracting habit that he had, well, the second most distracting at any case. “I mean if you got plans for the holiday. Go and catch a show. Get some drinks. Ice skate. Don’t have to be cooped up in here with me the whole time. Sad way to spend christmas, Doll.”

“I don’t mind. I mean… Everything is probably packed anyways, and there’s no snow or anything. Doesn’t really feel like Christmas, you know?” Shrugging once more as your gaze dropped. Missing the way that Bucky frowned at you. 

“Yeah, guess that’s right. I’ll leave you to it then.” Bucky pushed himself off of the door jam, turning back inside. Leaving you with a growing pit in your chest. That niggling of anxiety that you tried to ignore most of the time. Resigning yourself to spending the rest of your evening out here, avoiding him in the hopes of keeping you from making a fool out of yourself. 

It was quickly approaching midnight as you finally pushed off from the balcony, shuffling your way back inside the hotel room. Trying to keep quiet so you didn’t wake Bucky. 

The only reason that you stayed out this long was to try outlasting the man’s seemingly incurable insomnia. Making it to the door of your room, pulling it open just to freeze as you caught sight of Bucky sitting on the edge of your bed. “You’re up late.”

You wet your lips and huff a laugh. “Says the man who never sleeps.”

“Did enough of that in Cryo. Come on, have something I want you to see.” Bucky stood, offering you your heaviest jacket and a pair of boots. Leaving you tilting your head up to him in confusion. 

“Umm… I mean…”

“Doll, trust me.”

You wanted to tell him that you trusted him with your life, but those weren’t words that you said to people who couldn’t stand your company for more than five minutes. Instead just nodding dumbly. Slipping your feet into the boots, and the jacket over your arms. Watching as Bucky pulled out a blindfold, then swallowing tightly as he tied it around your eyes. “We’ll be there in just a few moments.”

It certainly felt like more than a few moments before you felt the car stopping. Listening for the opening of Bucky’s door, then the way it shut. Your own door opening, with a hand reaching gently from yours to lead you from it. 

“I hope you know how very kidnappy this feels.”

“Don’t worry, Doll, if this is kidnapping, it’s the gentlest I’ve ever done.”

“Buck… That really, really doesn’t ease any of my concerns.” You manage to laugh as he guides you through what you are assuming in a parking lot. Ears straining as you caught the unlatching of a door, lifting a hand to feel the edge of it to confirm your thoughts. 

“Smart, Doll, but stop cheating.” The warm laugh comes once more, bringing a heat to your cheeks. Warm in comparison to the sudden chill creeping along your skin. No wonder that he had  wanted you to wear the coat. Your brow furrowing in confusion. Then wetting your lips as he moved to untie the knot at the back of your head, gently pulling the cloth from your eyes. 

When you open your eyes, you can feel your breath catch in your throat. You heart skipping several beats as you stare out at the ice rink. Completely covered in snow from a machine blowing it in from one corner of the room. “But… how?”

“Made a call to Stark.” You can feel him shrug from where he stands just behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Sending chills up your spine. 

“But… why?”

“Because you deserve a White Christmas, Doll. And if I can do that for you, even if just for this one night, then I’m damn well gonna make it happen.” 

In a sudden flurry of emotion, you twist on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips finding his in a desperate sort of gentleness, not caring how he might pull away at any second. Not caring that this might ruin any hope of him reciprocating those feelings. Just needing to express how much it meant that he would do this for you. 

And then slowly melting in his arms as he met your kiss in return. A hand moving to cup the back of your head while his free arm slipped around your waist. Cradling you in place against him. Keeping you there, lips gently sliding across yours, for what felt like an eternity before he was pulling back to grin almost shyly. 

“Well… if I had known it only took a bit of snow for you to notice me…”

You blink up at him before your forehead thuds against his shoulder. “We’re such idiots…”

“Yeah you both are, now get out there and enjoy the snow before they have to open this back up to the public. And turn off your coms next time old man.” Stark’s voice suddenly rings out across the loudspeaker system as a spotlight lands on you both. Leaving you and Bucky to both groan with embarrassment before bursting into a quiet sort of laughter. Bing Crosby’s classics gently filtering through the air as your gaze meets Bucky’s once more. 

“Come on, Doll, let’s go enjoy our white christmas. Together.”

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 9: Warmth

The incoming chill of late fall might be making Paris cold, but the love of friends and family keeps Adrien and Marinette warm. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. 

The letters in front of Marinette swam as she tried to focus on them, her laptop screen getting blurry intermittently as she blinked away the gnawing tiredness at the edges of her mind. Between her exhaustion and the lingering after effects of her cold from last week, she was having an awful time studying. Maybe she should have tried getting back onto a regular sleep schedule, but there was too much to do after being bed ridden for a few days.

Thankfully, there was the power of energy drinks to save her. The caffeine was probably the only reason she was even still awake right now. Not that being conscious was a huge help if she couldn’t process what she was reading. After a few more minutes of unsuccessfully staring at her screen, she sighed and leaned forward, rubbing her forehead.

Once she wasn’t hyper focused on her work, her attention drifted to a conversation from a couple boys at another table. They weren’t very loud since they were all in the campus library, but she could still hear them pretty clearly. Without meaning to, she listened in.

“...Crazy, right?”

“Man, you’re super lucky. That would’ve been just the thing to make calculus less dull.”

“What? Haven’t you had a class where that Agreste kid just waltz in with a boxed lunch?”

Marinette froze. They couldn’t be talking about…?

“He’s been in so many frickin’ classes but of course he doesn’t show up to any of mine.”

“Bummer, dude. It’s pretty hilarious, and kinda cute.”

“Well, he was a model. Or is he still one? That was pretty ambiguous-”

“No! I mean he brings the lunches for his girlfriend.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Feel bad for his girlfriend though. Must be a little embarrassing, ya know?”

Meanwhile, Marinette buried her scarlet face in her laptop, being careful to keep it between her and the two boys while they kept talking. Maybe it would be worth eating proper meals just to keep Adrien from these over the top antics.

Despite her embarrassment, Marinette’s stomach growled treacherously at the thought of his boxed lunches. She wondered where he was right now...

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

“Geez, dude, can’t even go easy on me for a minute, huh?” Nino threw his control down in faux anger. “Have I even one a single match yet?”

“Hm…” Adrien tapped his chin as he pretended to give it some thought. “Well, you did beat up my character when I went to the bathroom. Does that count?” Adrien ducked out of the way of a playful punch aimed at his arm. “Ooo, too slow, turtle boy.”

“God, you’re such a smug dick,” Nino said with a grin. “Can’t believe I ever thought you were an innocent homeschooled boy.” He leaned back, settling his controller on his lap. “How’d you even get so rockin’ at this game?’ His eyes narrowed and he pointed a figure into Adrien’s face. “And you’d better not say ‘natural talent’ or I’ll send M that clip of you drunkenly crying to that one Inuyasha scene.”

“We’re all friends here, shelly, no need to pull out the big guns.” Smirking, Adrien held his hands up in surrender and shrugged. “Well, you know how Marinette is into the Mecha Strike series. Ever since we started dating, every time a new title would come out, I’d get it for her. Then we’d play it a ton. Early on, it was after dates, but after I moved in, we’d stay up late and fight into the early morning.”

“Sounds like you were having a ton of fun,” Nino said with a small smile. “You ever actually win any of those matches?”

“Hell no. Why do you think I like playing against you so much? I got years of pent-up frustration to take out.” They shared a laugh. Adrien stared wistfully into space. “But yeah. It was like a sleepover every night with the person I cared the most about.”

“Harsh, dude.”

“Hey, you’re a close second! And that’s saying something since she’s literally the love of my life and light of my heart.”

“...Yeah, I can see how you two and your over-the-top ideas of love mesh together.” Nino snapped his fingers. “Speaking of crazy acts of love! Weren’t you making tons of trips to M’s university? What happened with that?”

To his surprise, Adrien blushed and he rubbed the back of his neck. “About that… Turns out, doing it once is cute. Two or three times is adorable, but getting annoying. But apparently two meals a day for three weeks - minus her sick break - is crossing a line.”

“Bummer. So she chewed you out?”

“If by ‘she’ you mean ‘all of Marinette’s professors’ then yes.” Adrien sighed dramatically. “Now I’ve been banned from interrupting all her classes, at least for the semester.”

Nino laughed at a pouting Adrien. “Uncool of them, but I get it. Can’t have some stray cat runnin’ around, getting everyone all riled up.”

“Anyway… at least she got a few weeks worth of regular meals out of it. I just wish it could have gone on for a little longer.”

“It is what it is, big cat. You did what you could and that’s what’s important.” He pulled out his cellphone and started composing a text.

“Who are you talking to?” Adrien craned his neck over, shamelessly reading over Nino’s shoulder.

Nino leaned away from his prying eyes. “It ain’t for nosy cats, that’s for sure. If you gotta know, its for my babe. She’ll think you getting banned is hilarious, and I gotta be the one that tells her.”

“Oh sure, laugh at my pain.”

“That’s the plan, dude.”

Adrien shook his head, but there was a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving Nino to send his message in peace.

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

A few days later, the apartment was quiet once again. Nobody had come over to visit, which was more the norm for his life. On some level, the stillness bothered him, like there was something missing. Or maybe it was just because it was harder to distract himself if there wasn’t any noise or energy in the house.

Either way, today Adrien didn’t mind as much since the solitude would make this a little easier. He didn’t want word of his plan to leak out before he was ready or else Marinette might catch wind of it and clam up. Which wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Marinette herself.

Adrien hung up the phone and took a seat at his kitchen table. Normally at this hour it would be covered in fresh ingredients for whatever he was planning on making that day. But where chopped vegetables usually sat was instead advertisements and a few bank statements. The latter was probably unnecessary - he knew without looking that’d he’d have enough for what he was planning. But it was reassuring to see, at least.

Knowing Marinette, it was good to have as many loose ends tied up as possible, and leave nothing to chance. He loved her to pieces, but she could work herself into an anxious lather if he let her.

“Are you sure this will work out?” Adrien worried at his lip as he sightlessly looked over the papers.

“Listen, kid,” Plagg said as he gnawed at a wedge of cheese. “You want to help her, right? And she isn’t budging despite everything you’ve done so far, yeah?”

“Yes…”

“Then trust me. I’ve known more than a few Ladybugs in my day and most of them are way too stubborn for their own good. And we both know Pigtails hasn’t bucked that tradition in the slightest.”

“I know, but… it’s a big step. Shouldn’t we talk it out as a couple?”

“Maybe. And I’ll grant that Pigtails is a great planner.” Plagg gulped down the last hunk of his cheese, letting out a satisfied sigh once it hit his stomach. He shook his head and looked back at Adrien. “But she’s also her own worst enemy. If it isn’t urgent, she’ll just plan and plan and plan forever without actually doing anything.”

Adrien smirked, remembering the times Marinette had shared - after some help from a bottle of wine - some of her more… creative plans to confess her love to him. At least, until he beat her to it. Maybe Plagg had a point.

“We can always plan together later,” Adrien said with a nod. “I just need to make sure she doesn’t reject it out of hand.”

“That’s the spirit, kid. Now, onto the important matters - where’s my second dinner?”

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

Tonight was their anniversary, a chilly December day, and Adrien wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He’d gotten permission to leave the bakery early. Probably way earlier than he’d needed to, but Tom and Sabine had insisted that he take the whole afternoon off. Especially Tom, Adrien remembered with a smile, who could barely hold back the tears as he waved Adrien off.

A quick stop at the market for fresh ingredients and Adrien was home.

As much as he had wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant or do something special with her, he knew that the best way to spoil her now - after the semester she’d been having - would be a nice relaxing night at his apartment, eating a home cooked meal and cuddling in front of the television.

And by all the kwami was she going to get the best meal and the most snuggly cuddles he could possibly make. She deserved nothing less.

He became a man possessed, putting all those cooking classes to good use as he crafted the greatest lasagna he could make. While that was cooking in the oven, he began gathering all the softest blankets and pillows he could find and stacking them on his couch. Half the fun of a pillow fort was making it with someone else, but he knew she’d rather be able to collapse into it as soon as she got there.

It was just as he placed the finishing touches on the fort that he heard a knock at the door before it swung open.

When his eyes met hers, a big grin spread across his face as his heart raced. She wasn’t even a step inside before he’d rushed across the room and swept her up in a hug, holding her off the ground with his arms just below her waist.

She laughed as she pressed her hands against his shoulders for support. “At least let me put my stuff down first, you ridiculous man!”

He simply grinned up at her, eyes sparkling with happiness as he slowly let her down just enough to put them face level. He kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered:

“Happy anniversary, bugaboo.”

[pantstomatch]

untitled winterhawk mess for lissa!

SO HERE’S THE THING. It’s creeping up on midnight (my time) and I promised @lissadiane I would write her whatever she wanted for her birthday (today) because she’s amazing and, listen, I’ve been extremely dependent on her, she’s all I’ve ever wanted in a writing buddy and just, like, A FRIEND, and it doesn’t matter that we live so far apart, I feel like I get to see her every single day. She is literally the only reason I ever write and share anything. So anyway, BECAUSE IT IS HER BIRTHDAY, and because she asked me to write Winterhawk on SGA, I have... done this.  I have no actual idea how to write anyone in the marvel universe, so this is just... you know... hopefully not terrible. (the second half is rushed for time, shhhhh, just pretend this is balanced and maybe someday it’ll be magically fixed). HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISSA!! I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY DESPITE THE CAR THING.

The only reason Bucky tolerates diplomatic missions is because Steve's simultaneously the best at them and the worst. It's both a Steve thing and a Stark thing. Steve's got a sixty percent probability of becoming indignant on someone's behalf, and Stark's got a much higher likelihood of blowing things up. And that's only if he hasn't already accidentally insulted someone important on purpose. When things go well, they go great—one planet has a god damn statue of Steve, which Bucky finds hilarious and Steve hates with passion—which is the only reason they're still getting sent on these milk runs.

Bucky's got his palm along the outside of his P-90, pointed at the ground as he stands fifteen paces behind Steve, Stark, and Wilson.

The planet's delegation consists of two old pale guys in robes—par for the course—and a haggard nutbar that Bucky's pretty sure they're trying to sell as a wizard.

He notes Wilson watching all their hands, and scans the perimeter for threats.

The settlement is mostly a tent city built on the ruins of a more prosperous time. Half-crumbled brick and mortar, dull canvas tarps staked down over top.

For all the technology of the Ancients, the Pegasus Galaxy has basically been beaten back into the dark ages. He fucking hates the Wraith.

He's got his eyes on the sparse woods to their left when he hears a soft scraping sound. He barely tenses, forces a natural sweep of the tree line, back over the other three members of his team, and then lazily focuses on a narrow, dirt alley that snakes down behind a line of crumbling buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches a thick stone slowly lift and shift. Grubby fingers appear, palms wrapped in worn cloth, gripping the edge.

Bucky forces himself to keep still, stance open.

A tuft of matted, brown-blonde hair pokes up, Bucky catches a fast look of blue eyes, busted nose and a split lip.

Graceful and quick, the kid—youngish, slim, rag-covered, barefoot—gracefully climbs out of the hole, and then promptly trips over his own feet. He catches himself on nothing, arms spread out with an almost silent whoosh of air.

Bucky spots what looks like a quiver of arrows on his back and a motherfucking bow, and rolls onto the balls of his feet, wondering if this is some kind of ambush. He slips his fingers down to lightly cover the trigger of his gun.

The kid just crouches down to heft the stone cover back over the hole, though, and when he lifts his head again, their eyes catch.

Panic moves fast over the kid's face before disappearing into a cocky quirk of lips. He winks at Bucky, lifts his finger in a 'keep quiet' gesture, and then flees around the turn of a tent before Bucky can even snap his mouth shut.

Huh.

"Buck?"

Bucky blinks once and says, "Yeah, Stevie," without looking away from the alley.

"Everything okay?"

A hand lands on his arm, the one attached to the hand still caressing his P-90, and Bucky looks up to see Steve's face schooled into Earnest Concern.

"Peachy," Bucky says. "Hey," he gestures to the hole the goddamn street urchin just popped out of, "where do you think those stone covers lead to?"

Steve shrugs. "Old sewer? Sophisticated Ancient underground bunker? Weapons store?"

Bucky feels his lips twist into a frown. Steve's eyes are twinkling.

"I know you're joking, Rogers," Stark says, swanning over, "but just because there hasn't been another Genii infestation, doesn't mean there won't be."

"I think calling them an infestation is offensive," Steve says.

"Are we done here?" Bucky asks. His skin is crawling. They're being watched.

"Nope." Stark claps Bucky on the arm and Bucky growls at him.

Stark tells him to, "Chill out, tiger," because he's a raging asshole, and the only reason Bucky doesn't punch him in the face is because Steve ducks his head to hide a smile.

Jesus.

Wilson moseys over, thumbs looped into his belt and gun draped across his back, even though he must notice Bucky's still on high fucking alert. "I don't know about you guys," he says, "but I can't wait to get off this weird-ass planet. I am not letting that grand high poopah dude read my chakra or whatever the hell he was twitching about."

Stark's face is practically plastered to a tablet but he waves a hand and says, "I believe the appropriate term, Wilson, is probe."

Over Steve's shoulder, Bucky sees the kid again, this time rapidly skirting the edge of the woods. He rolls his lips and doesn’t say anything and hopes it isn't a mistake.

*

Two days later, Bucky's cursing at the general motherfucking shittyness of their luck with his hands tied behind his back.

The 'jail' is one of the few buildings mostly still standing; dim light filters in from the single high window, and also weakly beams through the gaps in the stone walls. A solid push would probably take them down, Bucky's got enough rage to really put his back into it, but he'd prefer to have his hands free.

Fucking diplomats.

"How's it going, Stark?" Bucky asks through gritted teeth. He's hot, he's sweaty, his hair's all over his face and all he can do is scrape at the ends with his shoulder.

The only good thing is that Steve and Wilson weren't served the same fate. Steve's probably still in the 'talking them around' stage of negotiations, where he tries to explain that Stark didn't really mean it, and Bucky wasn't trying to assassinate anyone by accident, and it's sweet the way Steve always alwaysthinks that's going to work, even when it never does.

"It's going," Stark says absently. "Can't you bludgeon your way free with your robo-arm?"

"It's off," Bucky says.

At that, Stark lifts his head and an eyebrow, gaze slipping down the metal of his arm twisted behind his back.

"No," Bucky says, manfully resisting rolling his eyes. "They fucking turned it off. Nutbar wizard has the ATA gene."

"You mean old Turkey Face? Yeah, that guy's a treat," Stark says, and then his arms loosen and drop with a sigh and tiny robot with a saw climbs up over his shoulder to say hi.

Just as the little gizmo starts in on the ropes binding Bucky, the door slams open and street urchin kid gets tossed in with a yelp, and a shouted, "Sure! Be that way! See if he doesn't eat you, now!"

A guard kicks him in the leg, but he bounces up almost immediately and clings to the small slotted hole in the wood. He says, "Kidding! I'm kidding, please don't hurt him," and curses under his breath.

"Hello," Stark says, like he's real interested.

The kid's tall, but probably not as tall as he will be. He swings his arms when he turns and then leans up against the door, watching them warily. His mouth quirks up in a smile, though, and he says, "Hi. What are you in for?"

"Treason, apparently," Stark says dryly. "And failure to acknowledge the royal 'we.'"

Street urchin nods a lot, says, "Sure, sure," and paces to the small window and back to the door again. His lip's crusted over and his busted nose has radiated out into a black eye.

The tiny robot finishes Bucky's ties and he shakes out his hand in relief while the street urchin keeps one eye on him, and the other on the door. He's backed himself into a corner, arms crossed.

Bucky silently moves toward Stark and shifts so he can still see the kid.

Stark says, "Did you forget how to use your words, Barnes?" but reaches out for the latch underneath his arm, the Ancient tech lighting up in response to his own ATA gene.

Bucky doesn’t have one, the synthetic never stuck, and he's never considered it a liability before.

Stark, frowning, says, "We need to get you better non-Ancient tech attached to this thing. Give me a week after we get back. You can be a little lopsided in between missions."

"Gee, thanks," Bucky says.

His arm powers up with a whirl and a few clicks of the plates shifting. He's highly aware of the kid gawking at him as he lifts his arm and folds his fingers into a fist.

Stark waves him forward and says, "After you."

Bucky grins at him, feral around the edges, and punches straight through the wall.

Shouting from the guards kicks up as soon as they crawl through the rubble.

The kid says, "What the fuck was that?" blue eyes big.

Bucky only feels a little guilty when the awe and hesitation are what get the kid caught.

"Aw, man, no," he hears faintly as he takes off down the dirt path, conscious of Stark keeping pace beside him, because that's his job. Not saving some raggedy teenager who doesn't even have enough sense to wear shoes.

He's gonna see those big blue eyes in his nightmares. Jesus Christ.

He slows to a jog and then skids to a stop.

This sucks.

Stark says, "Hustle up, Barnes," and Bucky shakes his head.

"I'm going back."

"You want me to tell Rogers I lost his best friend to a sad-eyed alien that looks like a half-grown man-child?"

"Steve would go back," Bucky says, because it's true. Mostly true. He's pretty sure if it were between Bucky and a stranger, Steve would unhesitatingly go for him.

But Bucky's always been the only exception that feeds his martyr complex, so whatever.

Stark sighs like Bucky's a heavy burden. He says, "You don't have any weapons."

Bucky wiggles his metal fingers.

Stark pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "Take Tiny with you."

*

Tiny shoots tiny missiles. Tiny is Bucky's new best friend. Stark is never getting Tiny back.

Bucky goes for mass chaos over finesse, and has just enough time to grab the kid by the scruff of his neck and haul him backward before a wall falls on two of the three guards that were holding him down.

The shouts and explosions have brought out half the town and most of the diplomatic delegation, and Bucky sees Steve book it sideways in all the confusion, Wilson bringing up his rear.

This mission is officially fubar, unsalvageable, and Bucky just wants to get back to his tiny bunk in his tiny room with his own private tiny bath. Halfway down the street, he lets the kid go and hopes he just keeps running. It's not his problem anymore.

The Stargate is in an open field almost two clicks out of town. Bucky and Steve are the only ones not panting by the time they reach the dial.

"You came through the ring," the kid says, staring up at it with his mouth hanging open. "You came through the ring."

"Yep," Stark says, rapidly dialing out, sending his ID code through as it whooshes open. "What's your name, kid?"

"Clint." He rubs a hand over his mouth, staring at the rippling portal like he's never seen it open before.

"You going to be okay, son?" Steve says. He drops a meaty palm on join of his neck, squeezing once and then letting go.

"Oh yeah, sure," Clint nods, "but, uh," he drags his gaze away from the 'gate and up at Steve, "this planet is really small, and they were gonna cut my hand off, so, you know, anyway you can see yourselves letting me tag along?"

Steve's face goes dark. "What." Oh no.

"And Lucky and me don't take up much room, swear, except for the fact that Lucky actually does, but, uh—what?" Clint seems to finally notice how Steve's gone expressionless.

Stark whistles through his teeth and says, "Are we in Aladdin?" and Wilson snorts a laugh even though he says, "Not funny, man."

Steve says, "They're going to what?"

"Uh." Clint darts his gaze from Bucky to Steve and back again, like Bucky can somehow stop this clusterfuck of a situation.

Luckily, Bucky speaks fluent Steve. He hitches a shoulder and says, "He means you're coming with us."

"Oh, but. I mean, that's great," Clint says, but he doesn't look like he thinks that's great. He looks wary. He looks like a kid who was hoping for the best but clearly expecting the worst, and doesn't trust an inch of it—or them. "Don't you want to know why?"

"It doesn't matter why," Steve says—it totally matters why, Bucky thinks darkly, but keeps his mouth shut—and claps Clint on the shoulder, urging him forward.

Clint staggers and stops, digging his bare heels into the dirt, and blurts out, "I was stealing food."

Steve's eyes go soft. "That's okay, Clint."

"No, but. I was stealing food for him." He jerks his chin to something behind them, and Bucky whirls around to see….

It looks like how a dog would look like, if no one had ever seen a dog. If someone had just said describe a dog to me, and then drew it with their eyes closed.  It's… an approximation of a dog. Floppy ears, lolling tongue, tail that wags like a flag. Big, four-footed, furry all over, but with too many teeth for its mouth and eyes too wide-set on its pointed skull.

It is, quite frankly, disturbing as hell to someone who emphatically knows what a dog should and should not look like.

Clint's shoulders slump. They're ridiculously sharp under his threadbare shirt, and he's woefully underfed. This beast looks sort of fat.

"It's okay," Clint says.  He's sad. Hell, Bucky's sad. But, like, that thing can't come to Atlantis. It might eat everyone.

Which is why he's actually too stunned to protest when Steve says with deliberate, forceful calm that Bucky knows is absolute bullshit, "He can come too."

Wilson squawks. He says, "Steve."

Bucky tries to murder Steve with a glare, but Steve doesn't take an order he doesn't believe in, and doesn't offer anything he isn't prepared to back up with his whole soul. It's one of the things Bucky both loves and hates about him.

"Sheppard's gonna have a field day," Stark says gleefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, blue eyes, the first step's a doozy."

*

Clint throws up all over the 'gate room to absolutely no one's surprise.

Also to no one's surprise, a bunch of guns get immediately pointed in the not-dog's direction until it bounds over and licks Bucky in the back of the neck. Christ.

"I have to go debrief," Steve says. "Buck, can you take Clint and, uh…"

"Lucky," Clint says, swiping at his mouth while gazing narrowed-eyed around them. Bucky doesn’t want to say he's casing the place, but he's a self-admitted thief.

"Can you take Clint and Lucky down to medical?" Steve gives him puppy eyes behind Clint's back, which is the only reason Bucky says yes.

Stark says, "I'll be in my lab." He jabs a finger at Bucky. "Barnes, arm. Tomorrow or Wednesday, whenever you're feeling it."

Bucky's tempted to not feel it at all, but on the other hand it's his arm, and he'd like it to work better.

Wilson mutters something about taking a, "Goddamn bubble bath."

Steve lifts his fingers like a boy scout but says, "Two hours. Full reports or I'll make you go talk to Sheppard. He'll hate it just as much as you will."

Clint follows Bucky out of the 'gate room, and Lucky follows Clint until they're stopped by an over-excited scientist from the xenobiologist lab. Bucky has no idea what her name is, but she's really insistent on quarantine and scans and people not accidentally dying, so he lets them herd Lucky down a split in the hallway.

Clint says, "What are they—" before cutting himself off with a sharp clack of teeth.

"He's going to the animal med bay," Bucky says. "We're going to the people-shaped one." Can't say human, he guesses, but Bucky actually knows fuck-all about the genetics of the Pegasus Galaxy. Supposedly they were all cut from the same Ancient cloth, so who the fuck knows.

In the infirmary, Dr. Biro tuts over Clint's clothes, his dirty hands, his crud-encrusted feet, and shoves a pair of scrubs in his hands before flipping the curtain around him closed.

She says, "Well," to Bucky with her hands on her hips.

"I guess… call Captain Rogers when he's done?" Bucky says.

Her eyebrows deepen into a V. "You don't want to wait."

Did he want to? Kind of. He's just not sure he should. He didn't make the decision to bring Clint back to Atlantis. He's definitely not his responsibility. At all.

Bucky sits down on the edge of an empty bed with a sigh. He needs a shower, and he needs to write up his report, and apparently he needs to make sure a too-thin alien street urchin isn’t going to die on them, too.

A half hour later, Bucky's half asleep sitting up. But Clint's got a mostly clean bill of health—dehydrated, half-starved, lacking nutrients, but in great spirits!—and is eighty percent dirt-free. He needs a shower, but his nose is taped, a butterfly bandage on his lip that definitely won't last, and the scrubs show-off his lean build and the bruises on the back of his arms, like fingerprints. He looks older and taller, even though Biro says, "He's eighteen or nineteen, he can't remember, and age in years is an Earth construct I still haven't figured out how to apply to multiple planets outside our solar system."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Clint wiggles his toes in the fuzzy socks Biro had given him. He grins, "Hey, look."

"Real fancy, Clint," Bucky says. He quirks an eyebrow at Biro. "So he's good?"

"For certain definitions of good, sure," Biro says. "I want him hooked up to a IV for an hour and then someone can come collect him."

"What's an IV?" Clint asks, watching curiously as Biro takes hold of his arm and starts tapping along the veins.

Bucky wants no parts of that. He nods at Biro, says, "Good luck," and then slips out the door.

*

Bucky has a routine in between off-world missions. Breakfast at 530AM, followed by a two hour sparring session, followed by a second breakfast of whatever fruit they have on hand, preferably sitting on the highest balcony he has access to.

After that, it's a toss-up between a nap and a run around the serpentine corridors on third floor. Lunch, usually with Steve, and then he reports for duty wherever he's being rotated in for the day—control desk, lab security, clearing out and constructions. He winds up the time before dinner swimming laps off the southeast pier, if it isn't crowded. Very infrequently, he's bullied into team movie nights by Wilson. It's nice. Structured, but not too structured.

His first job after the bullshit mission where they found Clint is to… find Clint.

"What do you mean he's gone?" Bucky asks Steve, falling in step next to him as they walk down the corridors toward the living quarters. "Can't you just have Atlantis pinpoint his vitals?"

Steve's mouth tightens. "Apparently his biometrics haven't been entered into her systems yet. No one's seen him since I dropped him off after medical."

Bucky stops. "That was two days ago, Steve."

"Yeah, I know." Steve swings on him, visibly irritated. "But Corporal Jamison didn't see him leave his room, and when he finally went in to check—"

"Finally?" Jesus, did they not think Clint was eating? Or his... not-dog thing?

"Yeah." Steve looks real pissed about that, and it's only slightly mollifying. And then he looks hangdog and guilty, because of course Clint's their—Steve's—responsibility, and the thing Steve's gonna focus on most is that Clint hasn't been coddled enough to his satisfaction, and not the fact that he's a unknown variable in what is, technically, a hybrid civilian-military war zone.

Frankly, Bucky's more worried about that too. Not that he'd eversay anything about that out loud.

Steve says, "When he finally went in to check, there was zero signs of Clint anywhere. So that's where we're going to check first."

"The place where he isn’t," Bucky says, but follows Steve when he starts moving again anyhow.

"The place Clint somehow got out of without using the door."

Clint's assigned room is small, located on a less used corridor in the living section. It's sparsely furnished. There's a narrow bed, and round table with two chairs, and a postage stamp bathroom. The bed doesn't even look slept in. There's a pair of boots shoved into a corner. A folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on a chair.

Bucky idly picks up the gray Air Force shirt and says, "So he's in sock-feet and the scrubs Biro gave him," hopefully, "and no one has fucking seen this guy for two days?"

One of the chairs is at a weird angle, spun around from the table and halfway into the cramped 'living space' that boasts a skinny tower bookshelf.

Steve places his hands on his hips and goes, "Huh."

Bucky skims fingers over a light dusting of debris on the shelf and then glances up at a roughly 12x24 vent in the ceiling.  "D'you think his collarbones unhinge like a cat's?"

Steve says, "Well. Shit."

*

Clint could basically be anywhere on Atlantis. The main problem, though, as Bucky sees it, is that so could Lucky.

"So how can he hide a hundred and fifty pound… dog," Bucky generously allows, "in our recycled air system?”

The duct work threads all over the city, spilling out into every room, and god knows he's probably sleeping in there too.

Steve says, "Good question," and radios Colonel Sheppard, who lets out the longest, loudest sigh Bucky has ever heard in his life.

Steve and Bucky are unsuccessful in their mission that day, because a) the damn not-dog is still quarantined in the xenobiology lab, and b) Bucky almost punches Colonel Jamison in the face when he says he told Clint no when he asked for him.

"Now we know why he bolted," Steve says, looking like he wants to punch Jamison, too, "and we know where he was going. But we don't know why he didn't get there."

"Well," Dr. Simmons pushes her glasses up her nose. "The xeno labs are routed through a different ventilation system, since everyone was complaining about the smell."

Lucky is licking at the glass partition, staring longingly at Bucky, and he still looks like half a horror. An incomplete sketch. What comes for you in the dark and lives under your bed. Christ.

"So he's lost," Bucky says, which is why they had to end up gathering all two hundred and fifty three inhabitants of Atlantis in the 'gate room and commissary and then run a full scale vitals search on the rest of the compound.

No one is happy about it, even when Sheppard says everyone can get an extra jello.

Lost for two fucking days stuck in the vents without anyone knowing, and, god, Bucky just really hopes he got to sneak out to go to the bathroom.

An hour in, Bucky's lounging along the wall of the commissary, dreaming about all the ways he's gonna take Jamison apart in the gym, when Stark shouts, "Got 'em. Unless another bird got stuck in the tower again." He looks up at Steve. "The spire overlooking the west end."

Bucky swears under his breath. He's out on his Second Breakfast balcony. "Let me go," he says without really meaning to.

Steve looks as surprised as he feels. "You sure?"

Bucky nods. "Hold everyone from another twenty minutes, just in case he disappears."

"I'll let you know if he moves," Stark says, tapping at the tablet. He flicks his fingers over the screen and then spins it to show Bucky. "The transporter at the end of the hall only goes up to three, but it'll still be faster than going all the way around to the 'gate room. You might want to take the stairs the rest of the way."

If he thought he had the time for it, he'd stop and bring Lucky, too. He's only a little relieved that he doesn't.

He doesn't bother with stealth. He figures if Clint hasn't moved in the ten minutes it's taken Bucky to advance on his position, making noise isn't going to make a difference. When the door whooshes open, the high winds hit Bucky like a smack in the face. A storm must be heading in.

Clint's sitting on the ground with his legs dangling out under the railing.

Bucky drops down next to him and nudges him back a little, just for his own peace of mind. Clint doesn't react other than shifting further away, bringing his legs up to hug his knees.

"So," Bucky says after a long, quiet moment, "Jamison refused to bring you your dog and you go off and sulk, making the entire fucking city of Atlantis waste hours searching for you."

Clint glares at him. "What." He scoffs. "If I asked you, you woulda just let me have him?"

Bucky opens his mouth to say yeah, except who the fuck knows what he would have done. He would have at least asked the xenobologists if he was safe.

Clint snorts like a punk.

Bucky wants to wring his skinny neck and also, inexplicably, make him eat an entire plate of mashed potatoes.

He says, "Have you eaten anything?"

Petulance melts into a smirk. He says, "Maybe," which Bucky is taking for yes, and also the high probability that he’s been breaking into their stores.

Bucky sighs. This is going to be a full time fucking job. "Come back to your room," he says, "and I'll see what I can do about Lucky."

*

Clint makes Bucky feel old.

"You're not old," Steve says, determinedly sawing into his too-dense waffles. "We're not even thirty yet."

"Steve," Bucky says seriously, reaching across the table to cover his hand with his. "Steve, you're thirty-two."

Steve's mouth drops open, then snaps closed again. "No, I'm…. am I?"

"Stark's forty-one."

"No," Steve says, scandalized.

Clint befriended Romanov five days after he stopped hiding in the vents and they haven't stopped running rings around every single other person in the city since.

Clint can shoot an arrow at a bullseye two hundred feet away with his eyes closed.

He's bendy. He does handstands and walks across tables. He swings up into the rafters of the ‘gate room because using stairs takes too long.

Bucky's knees crack when he crouches down to pick up a dropped fork.

He's in shape, he's in great shape, and he's more active now than he ever was on base back on earth, but he also wears a brace on his left knee, and has to use reading glasses and if he were at home he has a sneaking, depressing suspicion that he'd have trouble driving at night.

Clint makes him feel old, and the only fucking reason that it matters at all is because he's definitely, maybe gotten a little crush.

It's been two months and Clint's filled out considerably and apparently has the arm strength to climb up the outside of Atlantis all the way up the second breakfast balcony—on a dare, because he's reckless and young—and it's fucking with Bucky's head.

Competency is hot. The fact that Clint trips over Lucky whenever he goes to open his room door and routinely falls off chairs like it's his job—he tilts them back way too far and can't seem to help himself—sadly doesn't detract from this at all.

Bucky wishes it did. In fact, it should.  There's nothing sexy about a lap full of tough chicken, gravy and rehydrated rice, and yet…

So Bucky feels beat and old, even though he's twenty-nine and lied like a rug to Steve about it—Steve's hilariously susceptible at 5:30 AM—and Clint’s probably a good ten years younger than him and also an alien.

It's never going to work.

*

Romanov has been on permanent team rotation ever since she justifiably shot Rumlow and sent him hurling into space out the back of a puddlejumper.  She subs for people stuck in the infirmary or if teams need an extra assassin on hand.

She teaches Clint how to fight dirty and gives him a gun and not even Sheppard has the balls to complain about it.

Bucky turns down every single request to spar with him because he's not a masochist, but he still manages to claim the seat next to him on the movie nights Wilson guilts him into going to.

He knocks their shoulders together and watches Clint's eyes light up when he says, "Hey."

Clint sits like an acrobat, knees and elbows in weird places, and Bucky feels all the points that press against him like fire.

They're watching Jaws and Clint's breath is fast, but Bucky can't tell if that's a Clint thing or a something is wrong thing, and he nudges his fist into the side of Clint's thigh.

"Okay?"

Clint turns to look at him, pupils blown in the half-light. "What?" he asks with a lick of his lips.

"Um." Bucky wants to reach out and curl a hand up under the hinge of his jaw. Without the tape and bruises and swelling, he's got smooth cheeks and a slightly crooked nose. "Are you okay?"

Clint's grin blooms across his mouth in honest, open affection and Bucky feels like he's been donkey kicked in the chest.

Bucky scrambles to his feet and ignores half the room staring at him like he’s lost his mind and books it out of there.

*

The next time Bucky sees Clint, he’s sitting on a table in Stark’s lab, swinging his feet and humming what sounds like Chariots of Fire.

“Bucky!”

Bucky winces at the volume, and Stark puts a hand on Clint’s knee to get his attention and mimes dialing it down.

Clint points at Stark and says, “Tony’s fixing my ears.”

“I didn’t know anything was wrong with ‘em,” Bucky says, watching the way Clint carefully watches his lips.

“He’s got truly horrendous tech in them that someone cobbled together out of what looks like twigs and bubble gum,” Stark says.

Bucky peers over his shoulder. It looks like regular wires and doodads to him, but he knows fuck all about that kind of stuff.  “Those were in his ears?”

Tony hmms absently, but then he pins Bucky down with a look and says, “I haven’t forgotten about your arm either. Who made that crap, anyway? Hammer? Ancient tech is good, but mine is better.”

Clint stares curiously at his arm, but doesn’t say anything.

Bucky was down here for a reason, but now he can’t remember why.  He’s losing it, mind and body. This is the worst.

Suddenly Clint waves his hands and says, “Oh! Guess what?”

“Uh… what?” He swears he’s usually more suave than this. He used to have game. He used to charm the pants off of ladies and men alike. His mouth feels too big.

“I’m 22 earth years,” Clint says proudly. “Tony figured it out.”

“Clint,” Bucky says, throat dry. “You weren’t even sure how many of your years you were.”

Clint shrugs. “Eh.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Okay, so…”

“Barnes,” Stark says, clacking what looks like a pair of tweezers together, “take the kid to lunch and a slow bone before I choke and throw up on all this tension.”

Bucky freezes. “Did you just. Did you just say slow bone?”

“What’s a… slow bone?” Clint says, head cocked, and this is when Bucky realizes that Stark hadn’t been facing Clint but Bucky is, and now he has to kill himself.

Stark arches an eyebrow at him. “That is not my fault.”

Bucky ignores him and rolls his shoulders and bites out, “Lunch.” He jerks his head toward the door and mans up. “Coming?”

*

There is a single glorious planet in the Pegasus Galaxy that boasts no less than fifteen different kinds of dinosaurs, and the fact that they have to keep going back to it to get a certain herb that both the botanists and medical doctors go gaga over is a source of unending joy to Bucky.

He fucking loves Dinosaur Planet.

He keeps trying to convince Steve to let him bring back an egg.

He knows the only reason Steve volunteers their team for these missions is because of Bucky. Stark usually insists on sitting them out, which is why they have Romanov with them this time instead. He has absolutely no idea what military organization she’s a part of, but she’s definitely not a scientist. No one’s willing to fuck with her after the Rumlow situation.

She’s got a cold, calm eye that gives Bucky the willies, but he doesn’t have a problem with her. They don’t have problems with each other.  

Except, apparently, for right now.

“Uh.”

Romanov has her arms crossed. “Well?”

“You realize you’re ruining Dinosaur Planet for me, right?” Bucky could be getting run down by a T-Rex right now.

“Answer the question, Barnes.”

Bucky could have lived his whole life happily never having heard Romanov ask him if he was interested in boning Clint, Jesus, and he knows this entire clusterfuck is Stark’s fault.

“What answer is the one least likely to get me stabbed?” He’s not above lying to Romanov if he has to.

Luckily or unluckily, Romanov seems to take that as whatever she actually wanted to hear, so she nods smartly and then gestures over his shoulder with a lazy, “Incoming,” and that is how they spend the rest of the day dodging pterodactyls.

Bucky can’t wait to come back.

*

Clint doesn’t hesitate. Whether it’s shooting an arrow, sparring, eating, swimming, talking—Clint just goes for it, all in, even if he ends up making a fool of himself.

Bucky admires that.

He’s also extremely tired, hot off the Dinosaur Planet, and three minutes ago he was dead to the world face down on his bunk.

He scrubs a hand over his face until the blurry shape in his doorway in front of him resolves into Clint’s grinning face. “Huh?” He’s almost entirely sure it’s the middle of the night, but the city does weird things to his circadian rhythm.

“Sam told me what bone means.”

All Bucky’s body parts wake up and freeze at once. “I’m going to murder him.”

Clint says, “I hope it can wait,” and then lunges forward and kisses him. Kind of. It’s aggressive enough that Bucky thinks maybe it’s his first kiss, which is goddamn charming and almost irresistible. He’s just so enthusiastic.

Bucky slides his hand up to cup Clint’s cheek, rests his metal one on the small of his back, settling him into slowing down. He eases out of the kiss with, “It’s the middle of the night, Clint, and Stark’s probably watching us through his peephole.”

Clint’s mouth is red and his eyes are wide. “Oh,” he says, but looks out of it enough that Bucky’s ninety percent certain he hasn’t understood a word Bucky’s said.

Bucky says, “Go to bed, Clint.” His legs hurt from running from dinosaurs all day and he needs at least another four hours of sleep before figuring out how to handle… this.

“Right,” Clint says, but doesn’t move.

Bucky reaches out and squeezes his hand. “G’night,” he says, and the steps back and slides the door closed behind him.

*

The only thing that Clint loves more than Lucky is pizza, and the only thing Lucky loves more than Clint is also pizza, so Bucky sweet talks Corporal Lovett into making him a pie in exchange for three chocolate bars he’d been saving. It’s an approximation of an earth pizza, and it’s only 9 in the morning, but he’s due for second breakfast anyway.

Bucky rings the bell on Clint’s quarters and tries not to be skeeved out by the echoing wooffrom Lucky, like he swallowed an actual dog and that dog is making that sound from the bottom of his throat. Lucky’s cool. Bucky gets along great with Lucky if he doesn’t think too hard about him.

Clint’s normally open face is wary when he sees him. He’s wearing shorts and an old t-shirt that has ‘Barnes’ across the right breast that Bucky’s been missing for over a month. He’s still wearing the fuzzy, slouchy socks from that first day in medical.

Bucky says, “Pizza?” holding up the tray, and Clint’s grin finally reaches his eyes.

Clint takes the pizza with a too-subdued, “Uh, thanks?” and Bucky swoops in oh so suavely and slides a hand onto the nape of his neck, tugging him into a swift kiss.

If they’re doing this, Bucky’s gonna do this right—they’re gonna date first, second breakfast, lunch, dinner—and then they’re gonna bone.

[rockinthebeastmode]

Finn Says

A/N: Well I planned on doing a Halloween fic in the Dirty Little Secret universe but came up with this mess instead. This is the result of a prompt @rinnship asked for, as well as a request for Dom!Finn. He’s not quite as rough as he should could be but hopefully everyone will enjoy anyways!

This is set between I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor and Dirty Little Secret but neither are required reading.

You can find the rest of my fics here.

@mmfdfanfic @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus@lilaviolet @laurielau@hey1tskat1e@tinakegg@kneekeyta@likeashootingstarfades @girl-looking-out-window@stinemarine @lurkernolonger@crystalgiddings1993@milllott@milymargot @vivammfd @finn-nelson-for-the-win@ifinallyknow@isthistherightwayround@believethaticanandiwill

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list and if I missed anyone :)

*SMUT AHEAD*

Finn Says

Finn didn’t know what being in Hell felt like but he was sure this entire day came close.

It was a normal summer day out with the gang to everyone else but Rae had other plans in mind. They’d only been shagging in secret about a week but already, Finn was under her spell and completely powerless against her. She’d spent their late breakfast at the chippy feeling him up under the table, followed by whispering sweet naughty things into his ear unbeknownst to their mates around them out at Rutlands. She’d pinched his arse at least twice since they’d arrived at the movie theatre and if he hadn’t been half-hard for the past several hours, maybe his patience would’ve lasted longer.

When her fingers fluttered along his lower back as they all walked into the movie, he stopped and pulled her to the side. The gang continued down the hall as he pinned her to the wall, his hand along the side of her neck. Her mouth parted as they met eyes and Finn dragged his thumb along her throat.

“You’d better stop, girl,” he warned lightly, his face inches from hers. She raised her brows and clasped a hand around his wrist. She easily broke his grip on her neck but gasped when his hand fell to her collarbone and pressed her harder against the wall.

“Or what?” she quipped, biting back a grin. His reply was cut off by Chop’s voice echoing towards them.

“Raemundo, Finn, let’s go!”

The others went along the next to last row of seats, Chop and Izzy sitting a few seats away. Rae went to follow Archie down but Finn dragged her up a step and pulled her down the last row. He eased into the seat behind Chloe, keeping his hand on Rae’s arm until she sat next to him with a huff. She waved a hand towards the back of Archie’s head in front of her.

“I wanted to sit by Arch, knobhead,” she whispered, ripping her arm from his grip. More people filed into the theatre and he leaned into her as the lights fell.

“It’s my turn now.”

***

Nothing was said between them for the first half an hour of the movie. Finn kept his focus forward as Rae fidgeted next to him, waiting for his inevitable counterattack. Finn smirked as she shivered when his hand went to her leg. He ran his fingertips along the inside of her thigh before starting to write.

“Wanna play a game?”

Rae bit her lip in his periphery and slowly brought her hand to his thigh to reply.

“What is it?”

Finn waited a few minutes to answer, watching as Rae’s attention went from the movie to him and back again. Her hand on his thigh went higher and he stopped and flipped it, swirling letters into her palm.

“Let’s play, ‘Finn Says’.”

Rae inhaled sharply and he met her eyes steadily, a challenging smile forming. At her nod, they faced forward, the movie continuing loudly in front of them. Finn glanced at the people around them, noting that no one had joined them in the back row, and when he was sure they were engrossed in the movie, his fingers tapped against her thigh.

“Finn says…” he paused, his lips flattening as he thought, “Knickers off.”

Rae gestured to her leggings with a frown and he slowly smiled as she realized she’d have to remove both. She sighed before lifting her arse and pulling her leggings and knickers down, leaning forward to maneuver them over her converse. She settled back and fixed her skirt before facing him with a brow raised.

“Finn says…touch yourself.”

Her eyes widened and Finn smirked, sure he’d won already. She licked her lips as she looked around them and to Finn’s happy surprise, her hand slid to the bottom of her skirt before disappearing between her thighs. Both their breathing turned shallow and Finn leant over the arm of his seat into Rae’s space, his hand forcing her to face him. Rae’s eyes were glassy as they met his, her teeth set on her bottom lip to bite back her moans.

“Finn says...open your mouth.��

Her lips barely parted, a small noise escaping and barely covered by the movie. He brought his index and middle fingers to her mouth, holding back a growl as her lips closed around them and she sucked. Her tongue circled them and he moved them deeper down her throat, grinning as she slightly choked and sucked harder when his fingers retreated.

Finn stayed quiet as his hand joined hers under her skirt, his wet fingers teasing her opening as her fingers rubbed small circles above. Her eyes squeezed shut when his fingers entered her, smoothly moving in time with hers. Her breathing sped up and her other hand lifted to her mouth, muffling a cry. Her fingers started to slow and he brought his face close to hers, whispering harshly in her ear.

“Finn says...don’t stop.”

A well-timed scream in the movie covered Rae’s answering moan and her legs began to shake, her head dropping to the back of the chair. Finn felt her clench around his fingers and watched as her mouth opened to silent cries. He bit his cheek roughly when she breathed his name as she came down, their hands moving from under her skirt. He checked the people around them swiftly and took her hand, forming letters.

“Finn says...on your knees.”

If Rae was worried about getting caught, she didn’t show it as she slid down her seat and went to her knees in front of him, her feet mere inches from the back of Chloe’s head. He bit back a groan at Rae’s expectant look as she knelt before him and leant forward to whisper to her, his hand going to her hair.

“Finn says...suck me off.”

She easily grinned and her fingers nimbly unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. Her mouth was on him seconds later and Finn’s hand tightened in her hair, his eyes staring unseeing at the movie before lowering to her bobbing head in his lap. He didn’t expect to last long, given the day’s events, but he took all he could get, bucking slightly into her mouth and cursing under his breath as he met the back of her throat, her fingers tightening on his thighs.

When Rae ran her tongue along his slit, he grunted and fisted a hand in her hair. She moaned around him, the vibrations almost matching the ambient end music from the movie. She unexpectedly cupped a hand under his balls through his boxers and he cried out lowly, Rae sucking and swallowing him down. She moved back to her seat as the movie faded out into the credits.

Finn shakily put himself away and closed his jeans, Rae’s body leaning into his over the armrest. The credits started to roll down the screen as he brought his face close to hers, both of them panting against each other.

“Kiss me.”

The command left his mouth and she leant forward, her lips moving over his. He ran his tongue over her lips and kissed back, her hands fisting in his shirt. Too soon, the lights went up, breaking them apart hastily. People started to stand in front of them, stretching and heading for the stairs. Chop and Izzy remained latched together down the row but Archie and Chloe stood and turned to Rae and Finn.

“Well, that was a waste of ten quid,” Archie grumbled with a head shake, “Wasn’t even scary.”

“I thought it was alright,” Chloe replied, Archie shrugging. She glanced over at Rae and her brow furrowed, “Weren’t you wearing leggings, babes?”

Finn bit back a snicker as Rae stiffened and forced a smile.

“Bit warm in here, innit?” she chirped, moving down the row with Finn in tow. As they descended the stairs, Archie clapped a hand to Finn’s shoulder.

“What’d you think, then?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, mate. I think I fell asleep,” Finn retorted, grimacing when Archie raised a brow at him.

“Didn’t you suggest we see this one?”

Finn was saved from answering when Chop and Izzy appeared beside them and ushered them out towards the doors. Rae fell back to join Finn behind the group.

“Looks like I won,” he said, smirking when she shot him an incredulous look.

“Bollocks you won,” she scoffed, bumping her hip against his, “I did everything you said.”

Finn grinned mischievously as he linked their arms, leaning closer to talk into her ear.

“Y’did but...well, I didn’t say to kiss me, did I?” he replied, laughing as she shoved him away, her lips quirking.

“You cheeky bastard,” she hissed, moving ahead of them closer to their mates. He bit his lip as he watched her join Chloe and start talking before going to Arch’s side, his arm going around his shoulders.

“So what’d I miss?”

[akaiikowrites]

If you're still taking prompts, is there anything I can do to convince you to do more sheith daddy kink? It is so fucking hard to find it done well, and holy shit YOU DO IT SO WELL. Literally I will pay you money to make it happen again, open a ko-fi or a PayPal and I will be there with bells on if you do more daddy kink stuff.

Summary: Shiro needs rest. Keith will bully, bribe, or beg his way to victory.

Notes: also on ao3. daddy kink for you, lovely anon. both for actually donating to my ko-fi but also for suggesting a ko-fi in the first place, bless. also because i will never turn down a chance to write daddy kink for sheith. thank you again, nonnie! i hope this fulfills everything you were looking for. could be considered a sequel to this, but stands on it’s own. takes place somewhere between s2e3 and s2e7.

Tucked into an alcove, Keith shucks off his jacket, boots, and pants until he’s left in one of Shiro’s tee shirts—the one the dips low over his collarbone to show fading hickeys—and his boxer briefs. Ruffles his hands through his hair. Bites his lower lip until it feels puffy and achy. Looks around the hall before he darts across the way and into the map room.

As the door hisses shut behind him and the locking sequence engages, he lets his eyes run over the silhouette Shiro presents. Bent over one quadrant currently held by the Galra, lips set into a firm line, strong and sure against a map of stars. Enough to make Keith’s mouth dry and his palms sweaty.

Much as Keith likes playing long odds, this entire plan suddenly feels fundamentally flawed.

Shiro looks up. Even in the dim blue half-light of the room his eyes find Keith unerringly. “Keith?” Already he’s straightening, hand swiping away the quadrant he’d been examining. “What’s wrong?”

Crossing the space between them, he reminds himself of the last month of sleeping alone and watching Shiro drive himself to the breaking point. Keith’s not much of an actor but he doesn’t have to be. Not for this. Stopping inches away from Shiro, he tips his head back so their gazes meet. “D-daddy?” Keith hates how his voice cracks on the word. He swallows around a tongue that feels too thick.

But he loves watching the transition that happens. How Shiro focuses on him, intense and predatory, hands already reaching to draw him in closer. “What’s wrong, baby?” Hands settle on his hips and thumbs press into the jut of his hipbones just above the elastic of his boxer briefs.

It takes a few critical seconds to decide on a strategy. Part of him—a big part—wants to see if plain old sex will do the trick. But the other part reminds him that it didn’t work the last three times. The chips are down. Time to go all in.

Hooking his own fingers into Shiro’s belt, he pulls himself closer until there’s only a whisper of space between them. Lets himself focus on the way Shiro’s hands fit nearly all the way around his waist, equal parts protective and possessive, and shoves himself clear over the cliff in his mind with the hope that those hands will catch him. “Daddy, have I been bad?”

Shiro swallows. “What?”

“Have I been bad?” Keith’s voice sounds small. Not frightened, or petulant, but small. Biting his lower lip, he dares another look up at Shiro and it’s not intentional but the words come tripping out anyway. “You haven’t been paying attention to me.”

“No,” Shiro says, “No, baby, you haven’t…” Frustration colors the edges of his voice and he looks away. It’s almost enough to worry Keith until he feels Shiro’s Galra hand slide under his shirt to stroke down his spine in a soothing motion. The frustration, he understands, isn’t towards him. “It’s not you,” Shiro says finally. “I’ve just had a lot of work to do.”

Work. Keith resists the urge to wrinkle his nose. It’s not work. It’s punishment for not saving Ulaz. But that’s something to tackle at another time.

Behind Shiro, about a half a tic to the left, is a chair. One of the many scattered in the map room to allow for planning meetings or contemplation of the universe. Or seducing busy paladins.

Keith doesn’t give Shiro time to realize what he’s doing. Just shoves and tumbles with Shiro back into the chair. It creaks warning but holds beneath their combined weight. Landing positions are awkward but Keith adjusts quickly. Gets his long legs on either side of Shiro’s hips and links his hands behind Shiro’s neck. By the time he’s settled, Shiro’s blinking at him in narrow eyed bemusement and the hand at his back has settled on the dip of his spine in silent warning.

“But I’ve missed you, Daddy,” Keith says. Beneath him Shiro goes still. When Keith shifts, he feels Shiro’s half hard cock press into his thigh and resists the urge to grind. They’re not there yet. “Do you want to know how much?” Embarrassment curls hot in his gut. Already he can feel the flush starting to cover his cheeks and his chest in uneven, blotchy color. But for the first time in nearly a month, Shiro’s entirely focused on something other than his own self loathing, and that’s enough to keep Keith going. “Why don’t you move your hand down, Daddy?

Shiro’s catching on. Of course he is. Golden Son of the Garrison doesn’t miss much. Slowly, he drags metal fingers down from the dip of Keith’s spine to the cleft of his ass. Doesn’t bother to push the boxer briefs down, which somehow makes it worse when he presses a testing finger against Keith’s hole and growls low at the way it gives easily.

“You did this?” he asks. Keith shudders and nods as Shiro’s finger works in deeper. “Fingered yourself open for me?” The contrast of heat and cold, the way Shiro gets deeper than he could reach himself, the intensity of finally having Shiro focused on him again is undoing Keith faster than he can keep up with. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes,” Keith says, dragging the word out over too many syllables. Shiro’s added another finger, pressing hard against Keith’s prostate in a way that’s making it hard to focus on anything but the toe curling flicker of pleasure that’s too much and not quite enough.

Warm, human fingers cup the back of Keith’s neck. He’d flinch, because he hadn’t realized Shiro’d moved his hand, but then Shiro presses his thumb just beneath Keith’s jaw in a way that forces him to tip his head back. They’re kissing, slow and deep and filthy, perfect counterpoint to the drugging feeling of Shiro’s fingers. When they pull apart there’s a thin string of spit connecting their lips and that’s enough to make Keith blush an entirely new shade of red.

“Tell me what you need,” Shiro says. Three fingers, now, and if they weren’t in such an awkward position he’d probably try for four. Shiro’s teeth bite blue-black bruises into Keith’s exposed neck even has his thumb forces Keith’s head back another precious few centimeters. Every so often his hips roll up, thrusting the heavy line of his arousal against Keith’s thigh. “Be good, baby, tell me what you need.”

Stars spin around them. The map room is still turned on. Somewhere in here, the quadrant that Shiro had found so important is still spinning along. Earlier Shiro was obsessed with proving himself to the universe. Now he’s just obsessed with Keith.

Victory thrills along Keith’s spine.

Rubbing one hand up along the shaved scruff of Shiro’s undercut, he says, “Need you, Daddy. Need you in me. Please.” That gets another growl, and metal fingers pressing hard enough against his prostate to have him seeing stars, and then he’s lifted clear off Shiro’s lap in a display of strength that has him moaning.

It’s a delirious handful of seconds. Shiro yanks down Keith’s boxer briefs so they catch around his thighs, undoes his own belt and zipper, pulls Keith’s back flush against his chest before lowering Keith down slow. “Guide me in,” he commands. Keith reaches down blindly and grasps the hot length of Shiro, lines it up, tries to breath through the stretch. By the time Shiro bottoms out Keith’s breathing out in harsh whines, stuffed full in a way he barely knows how to accommodate after a near celibacy for a month. The material of Shiro’s pants is rough beneath him, as anchoring as the hand Shiro’s used to ruck up his tee shirt and pressed over his heart in a blatantly possessive gesture.

“So good for me,” Shiro breathes. “My baby boy. God, so good for me.” The way he thrusts up into Keith holds none of his earlier urgency. It’s meant to take Keith apart by degrees.

“Daddy.” Keith’s voice won’t stop breaking and he can’t even bring himself to care anymore. He lets his head fall back on Shiro’s shoulder and reaches up to grip Shiro’s wrist. Maybe he could fight to chase his release. Make Shiro fuck him rough and deep. But he likes this, likes the slow build of pleasure curling in his gut, likes the way he feels like the literal center of Shiro’s universe.

Coming is less like a bang and more like a whimper. It’s rolling through him before he recognizes it and he’s literally whimpering an overstimulated chorus of, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” while Shiro chases his own release.

Heat chases through him, punctuated by Shiro’s drawn out moan, hips bucking to get him as deep in Keith as he can be. Sweat cools slow between their bodies. Around them, the stars spin on. “Fuck,” Shiro says. With feeling. Keith feels a laugh bubble up in his chest and he lolls his head just enough to press a kiss to the sharp line of Shiro’s jaw.

Eventually, they get up. Dress. Shut down the map room. Keith grabs his clothes from the alcove in the hall. For an entire minute they stumble down the hallways in the dark before Shiro swings Keith up into his arms. Keith doesn’t even protest too much. Mostly because he quickly falls into a half doze that he only wakes from at the hiss of a door opening.

Something soft gives way beneath him and he rolls instinctively. Pillows, blankets, all of them smelling like Shiro. They’re in the bedroom, then. Keith reaches blindly and catches Shiro’s human wrist. Cooing low in his throat, he murmurs, “Stay, Daddy.”

There’s a sigh. Heavy and half exasperated. But Shiro sounds all fond as he says, “I’m going to.” That’s good enough for Keith to release him.

In a doze, he listens to Shiro move around the room. The lights dim, eventually, and he feels the bed dip to accommodate Shiro’s greater weight. When an arm hooks around his waist he goes with it easily until he’s tucked halfway under Shiro like the world’s most lethargic teddy bear. “G’night,” Keith mutters.

Briefly, the arm around his waist tightens.“Thank you for tonight,” Shiro whispers, slow with pleasure and exhaustion, pressing a kiss to the curve of Keith’s neck. “You’re so good to me, baby.” Keith feels his lips curve up into a victorious smile. They drift into sleep like that. So tangled up that it’s hard to tell where one of them begins and the other one ends.

[redsector-a]

Clint hadn’t gotten a good look at Bucky when he’d arrived home from the mission. Hell, he’d barely remembered to take his ears out before he’d collapsed on the bed next to the lump that was his husband, burrowing up next to him and sighing as a cool metal hand stroked his hair briefly before he fell asleep.

Rolling over the following morning netted him a note rather than some good morning kisses and he realized with a start that the sun in the window was higher than expected. He’d slept in. Not too late thankfully, but still. He loved breakfast foods and therefore he hated missing breakfast. And good morning kisses. Usually he could get those whenever he woke, but he needed a Bucky for that and there was no Bucky to be found so he picked the note up and actually focused on it.

There’s a shake in the fridge and some blueberries to snack on. Don’t ruin lunch, I’ve got plans. Meet me at our beach spot at 11:30. - Love, Buck

Love, Buck. Clint smiled widely and enjoyed the way his heart still beat a little faster at the tiny shows of affection Bucky and he shared. He hoped it never got old. It hadn’t so far at least.

Speaking of, the day wasn’t getting any younger and he glanced over at the clock to see it was 10:30. Plenty of time for a shower and snack before heading down the beach. There was another note on the fridge reminding him only to drink the shake and not ruin lunch (I mean it Barton) Clint rolled his eyes but behaved, his stomach growling in protest at only getting the snack as he exited the cottage and made his way down to the beach.  

There was a collection of rocks not far from their home that the two of them considered ‘their spot.’ It was shaded enough to be comfortable even around high noon but still warm enough that they didn’t get cold even in the sometimes timid central California summer.

Clint hadn’t been there too long, leaning against one of the rocks and sunning himself like a cat when he saw a figure in the distance. He wasn’t entirely certain at first it was Bucky, the cream color sweater and light pants weren’t his usual style, but it didn’t take long to confirm that the stride was the same as his husband’s. He’d cut his hair while Clint had been away and that was fine, he looked good no matter the style of his hair - Clint was just used to it being longer, but the outfit…

“You can have me right here, sand and all, I don’t care,” Clint managed, his eyes not straying from taking in the sight of Bucky. And oh God that got him a crooked smile and an eye roll. He loved that reaction. “Jesus, you’re a walking wet dream.” He wasn’t exaggerating - Bucky was always handsome, but this new look…damn.

“Eloquent as always,” Bucky replied with a laugh, ears pinking just a little at the frank admiration in Clint’s voice and gaze.

“You love me for it,” Clint replied softly as Bucky set down the bag he was carrying and pulled out a blanket for them to sit on.

“That I do,” Bucky replied equally soft, and Clint kneeled then clambered onto the blanket, swaying into Bucky’s body and capturing his mouth in a kiss.

He’d missed this while he was away. Missed the solid warmth of Bucky to fall asleep with, missed the quiet of their cottage and the sleepy little town they lived in. But Wanda had been shaken up since Nigeria, and Pietro had been a handful because of her being upset, and Steve and Tony had asked him for help…

“How’re the twins?”

“Better,” Clint replied, fighting against the urge to let his eyes drift shut as Bucky stroked his hands up and down his back. “Mmmm…little lower babe.”

“No sexy times on the beach, Barton.” Bucky replied and a woman laughed as she jogged near them.

“Hey Mrs Kirkland!”

“Hey boys! Good to see you back Clint!”

“Good to be back!” He called out to her retreating form. “Now who is the naughty one?”

“Still you darlin’ they know us too well.”

“Fair point,” Clint replied, letting Bucky guide them both into sitting positions. He turned and pressed his face against Bucky’s chest and neck and inhaled deeply. Yeah. It was good to be home. He allowed his eyes to drift shut this time, relaxing against Bucky as he rummaged through the bag for whatever he’d had planned for lunch. The sound of the ocean creating a lazily comforting backdrop and Clint said a little silent thanks to Tony for the weather proofing he’d added, each generation getting better and better with both that and sound quality, to Clint’s hearing aides. Even the salt spray wouldn’t bother them, though they weren’t close enough right now for that to be a worry.

“Nora says hello,” Bucky said as he opened what sounded like a takeaway container.

“You got my breakfast from Nora’s?” Clint’s eyes snapped open. And sure enough - piled high in the container were eggs and bacon and diced potatoes.  In another container were several pastries, and beside that, a thermos of coffee. His stomach growled it’s approval. “Seriously - right here, take me now.” Bucky’s laugh was a comforting rumble against him - until he leaned in to press a kiss under Clint’s ear.

“I don’t think you want to let that food go cold, darlin’. Besides which, I was planning on a little afternoon delight when we got back to the house.” Another kiss and his voice went a skosh lower. “And if you’re up to it and very good I thought maybe I’d ride you until neither of us can form words as a second round tonight.”

And Jesus fuck - he’d mostly been kidding with the teasing but now heat stirred in Clint’s stomach.

“Th-that sounds like a plan.”

“Good.” Bucky’s voice was full of promise and Clint said a silent thanks to the universe, or any deity that was listening, that he was lucky enough to have married this man. That he’d been lucky enough to have been saved by him, and saved him in return.

They ate in comfortable silence and Clint contemplated the same thing he always did after a mission - retirement. It got harder and harder to leave each time he was called out. He never hated it, he still felt a rush of satisfaction, but it just… He didn’t feel he needed to do it anymore. The drive was gone. Well…needed maybe wasn’t the right term, he wasn’t sure he’d ever needed the work at any point in his life to feel worthy or anything like that, but…maybe in a way he had. Now though, at least for the last few years anyway, he found enough contentment in life just spending time with Bucky. Poking around their house and the village. Going on vacations to new and interesting places.

“I think that was it.” He said after they’d finished the food and had been simply basking in each other’s presence.

“Hmm?” Bucky breathed into his hair.

“I think that was the last one.”

“Yeah?” Bucky sounded casual, careful, like he meant to sound a little distracted.

“Yeah.” Clint sighed, but it was in contentment, not resignation. “Maybe we could get a boat. I’m great with boats - it could be fun.”

“You’re serious,” Bucky said and Clint scooted forwards a little so he could turn and look at him. Bucky raised a hand to caress the side of his face. “You’re really serious this time.”

“I am. If you’ll have me.” It wasn’t like he was gone all that often, but he did spend a decent chunk of time away when it happened and part of him was still concerned that Bucky wanted that time to himself. That he needed Clint to be gone sometimes and wouldn’t want him home 365.

“I meant what I said last year Barton. Til death do us part, always and forever.” Bucky raised Clint’s left hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, just under his matching ring. “And I’d love nothing more than to putter around in a boat with you.”

“Yeah?” Oh there was that little bit of hope that made him sound small. Vulnerable.

“Yeah.” It was only one syllable, but it packed so much emotion.

“Okay - barring the actual end of the world you and me and our beach chairs, maybe some pets-”

“Cats and dogs both.” Bucky said, decisive.

“Okay, definitely some pets.”

“Who’s looking out for them when we get that cabin in the Adirondacks?”

“Gimme a second, I’m envisioning the tasteful scruff you’re going to sport then-” And Clint lasted about three seconds before breaking into laughter as Bucky nuzzled his current scruff against Clint’s neck. The laughter lasted even when he stopped, mostly because Bucky had joined him in his amusement and it took a while for the two of them to calm down.

“I love you,” Clint said eventually, settling back in against Bucky’s chest.

“Love you too,” Bucky replied as they sat back to watch the waves roll in, everything in their little corner of the world just about perfect.

Timestamp about...four years after the end of You rearrange me till I'm sane

[micahrodney]

Thread; Chapter 1 - Lost Boy

The following was a commissioned piece for MatthewCaveatZealot. Awakening with a start, Neil managed to bash his head on the ceiling of his dorm room. He collapsed back into his loft bed, running his hands across his temple.  He had always known this was a distinct possibility with his sleeping arrangement; there was barely three feet of clearance between his mattress and the unsettling popcorn-style stucco which always left flakes in his bedding. The only damage appeared to be a mild contusion, and a slightly hurt ego. The boy glanced at the alarm clock, which was inelegantly tucked into a corner of the frame, cord precariously taut.

8:35 AM

“Shit!” Neil cursed.

In his panic, he practically hurled himself over the rail of his loft. Fortunately, his faded blue bean bag chair – presently covered by a week's worth of dirty laundry – broke his fall. Fishing in the bureau just beneath his bed, he managed to dig out a clean pair of jeans and a grey tee.

As he reached for his bookbag, he noticed he'd left his computer on. The dull white of a Lotus document was burning into the monitor. Upon reading the salutation of “Dear Erica” the previous night's phone call came rushing back to him; three years discarded in two minutes.  He had trouble saying what he needed to say in that call. Truthfully, the shock of it had rendered him phased out of reality. There was a hollowness that consumed him upon hearing those words, an emptiness that had to be embraced lest it consume him.  

He couldn't even bring himself to cry.  Tears would only validate the nightmare.  That had to be it:  a nightmare.  One that he would wake up from in a day or two when she called him back and apologized.  When she remembered how happy they had been together and realized what she was giving up. After a few hours, he had passed from denial to bargaining. Every possible scenario played through in his head simultaneously, from magnanimous acceptance of her apology to him banging at her door and pleading to take him back.  That was when the rational approach of writing her a letter presented itself.  

Without bothering to save the document, he flipped the switch. The dull fizzling sound was always a strange comfort.  To Neil, it represented the end of a day.  Maybe that's how he should view Erica: just another chapter in his life that he would move past.  And maybe, like the document itself, there really was nothing worth saving there anyway.  

--- 

Voxton was once a whistle-stop town just outside of the state capitol.  It was the home of an active farm community, and the state's number one exporter of unemployed drunks looking for better opportunity in “the big city”.  Then somebody decided to build a college there in the wake of the 1973 stock market crash, presumably with hopes of turning the state's fortune around.  

McCain University – presumably named for its founder, though Neil had never bothered to find out – had grown to become something of a Mecca for the technically inclined. If you wanted to break into engineering or computer science, you went to McCain, assuming your parents weren't wealthy or connected enough to ship you off to MIT.  

Thanks to a grant from the Governor, the school had an entire campus building dedicated to the most powerful machines on the market. Perhaps this was why Neil insisted upon using a personal computer from the 80s, despite the fact that his father had offered many times to buy him something newer.  

The IBM 386 was more than a little dated, but the chunky machine could do the important things in his life.  Sure his classes had him learning on top-of-the-line Power Macintosh hardware, but it had been the computer he grew up with.  Its impressive 32 MB memory was stuffed with the text-adventure games of INFOCOM.  While his first love would always be Zork, it was the murder-mystery Moonmist that made him want to become a writer.

These dual interests had conflicted before, and while Neil's father was supportive he was also wary.  Writing, after all, was a hard market to break into.  But computer technology was in high demand and only rising.  When he had embarrassingly tried to connect with his son by saying maybe he could learn to make “some of those Nintendo games”, Neil had politely laughed and agreed to consider it.  The boy's consideration didn't take long.  As a lawyer, his dad always was the better negotiator.  Perhaps it was overkill to mention that it is what his mother would have wanted.

Neil opened the door to his usual morning haunt, a student-run coffee shop called “The Junction”.  The place was barely bigger than his dorm, but they also had the best muffins in Voxton.  He stumbled up to the register and barely sputtered out his order before his bookbag slipped off of his shoulder, sending his notebooks scattering.  

“Damn,” Neil cursed.  “Sorry, Angie.  A blueberry muffin and a coffee to go please!”

“Running late again, Neil?” The senior asked, tying her long ebony hair back with a scrunchy.

“I know, they're lucky to have me as a student,” Neil mumbled bitterly, shoving the papers haphazardly back into his bag.  

“Four bucks. Your dad's Amex, I trust?”  Angie replied, extending her hand.  

“Cash today.  I forgot to grab my wallet, but luckily there was a five in my jeans,” Neil chuckled benignly, handing her the bill.  

“Moving up in the world.”

“Tell me about it.”  

“Lemme grab your breakfast, champ,” Angie smirked.  

Neil took his change and leaned back against the bar.  The place wasn't really all that bad.  Sure two people couldn't walk side-by-side behind the bar, but the little brick shack was alright. He had particularly liked the ironic name.  Before the University reclaimed land for a parking lot the place had been a rail depot. The result were tracks that didn't lead anywhere just behind the restaurant and for few miles north and south respectively.  

“And in offbeat news today,” droned a local news anchor on the 16 inch TV in the corner of the bar. “IBM supercomputer 'Deep Blue' went six games against chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov yesterday. Although Kasparov won the match with four games to Deep Blue's two, this is the first time a computer has ever defeated a world champion under tournament regulations. Truly this is a sign of things to come. Just how more advanced can these computers get?”  

“Neil!” Angie called, snapping her fingers in front of his face.  “Muffin, coffee, late for Computer Theory 221, remember?”  

“Right, sorry!” Neil sputtered, grabbing his food and bolting out the door.  

---

“Mr. Brown. How nice of you to grace us with your presence.”

Professor Barker was generally a nice guy, but Neil had tried his patience one too many times.  Tardiness was just one of Neil's offenses against the would-be silicon valley elite.  In short, Barker didn't like his attitude.  He didn't like that Neil would sit through his classes, mind clearly on other things. But what he hated worse was the fact that Neil continued to ace every assignment in spite of his lackluster classroom performance.  It wasn't Neil's fault that he felt he got very little out of the lecture hall experience, preferring instead to study on his own time.  

“Sorry, sir,” Neil apologized half-heartedly.  “Rough night.”  

“Wait until you become an adult, then you'll learn what a real rough night is,” Barker scolded.  

The aging technician looked like a slightly sunkissed Steve Wozniak.  He had the beard and the plaid collar shirts, but his face was a bit more rugged.  Barker had learned computers while serving in the Army during the 70s.  The synthesis was a computer nerd who looked like he used to beat kids up for their lunch money.  

“Now that Mr. Brown has found his seat,” Barker sighed.  “Let's resume. Where were we now?  Ah, yes! The potential of virtual reality.  Now, this ain't your 'Virtual Boy', we're talking about actual virtual reality.”

Barker was nothing if not fond of the sound of his own voice.  The lecture was more or less him pontificating about the achievements that had been accomplished with the budding technology and his wild-eyed fantasies of future use.  Of particular note, Barker's assertion that we could one day use virtual reality to explore the entire planet's history in first-person seemed especially romantic.  

“Imagine, if you would, you put on a visor and are instantly transported to the wild west.  With a few mouse clicks, you are in the Roman Empire, or watching the building of the Great Pyramid of Giza.”

A loud digitized beep came from the clock just over the door. It was already 11 AM.

“Ah, well, I seem to have rambled on right to the end of class,” Barker chuckled. “Alright, that's a good stopping point anyway.  I'll let you head out.  Mr. Brown, a word.”

The students began to pack up and make their way towards the door, as Neil marched down the steps of the lecture hall, prepared for his weekly chew-out session.  The beard of the middle-aged educator seemed to twitch in anticipation and annoyance.  

“Neil, do you want to be in this class?” Barker asked bluntly.  

“Yes sir,” Neil stoically replied.

“You know the class starts at 8:30 AM every Monday and Wednesday, right?”

“Yep.”

“The winter semester has only just started and in the six classes we've had together you have been on time to one of them.”

“That's correct, sir.”

Barker sighed and waved his hands about in front of him as if he was grasping for something to strike him with.  

“I don't know what you expect from me,” Barker steadied his hands and pointed a finger in Neil's face. “But I know I expect from you. I can't have you barging in after the class starts.  If I have to lock that door, I'll do it.  Your work is good, but if you want to stay in my class I expect you to show up on time.”  

“I understand sir.”

“Well, I hope so,” Barker grumbled. “I'm not kidding about that lock either.”

---

Monday was, by design, Neil's easiest day.  He only had the one class, and he used the remainder of the day to run errands.  So as soon as Barker let him out, his first stop was to the Store24 to pick up some groceries.  Considering his food storage options in his dorm was a mini-fridge and the top shelf of his closet, he only wound up with two bags and a twelve-pack of the store-brand cola.  

He dropped off the bare essentials of sustenance and took a brief moment to tidy his room.  There wasn't much cause to impress anyone, but he felt compelled to use the time. It felt better to accomplish something – anything – rather than waiting around for the day to end.  

The next two hours were spent overseeing a load of laundry in the dormitory laundromat. It was pretty depressing, featuring bare stone walls and illuminated by a single dirt-specked window. with a line of six washers and four driers on opposite sides of the room from each other.  There was a table in the middle, slightly off-set from the window in a way that mildly infuriated Neil. There were technically chairs, but two metal folding chairs took a certain wear-and-tear over the decades and had never been replaced.

Neil found himself sitting on the edge of the table, staring out that window and reflecting on the bizarre dream that had woken him with such a start.  The events of the day had driven out most of the fantastic experience from his mind, but bits and pieces still lingered.  Those omnipresent voices, speaking in grand detail about him.  An idyllic planet that was repeatedly destroyed. The beast from within the pit, as Neil was bound and helpless on a web of light.  

He considered whether or not he wanted to try and duplicate the effects of his lucid dreaming again tonight. Was it a story worth picking up? Or did he want to find himself once again at the genuine mercy of some phantasm?

A low blare came from the drier, in what was more than once mistaken for a fire alarm.

Discarding the shards of his recollection, he set about folding his clothes for about five minutes, before hastily shoving the rest of his clothes into his basket and resolving to just “do it later”.  This was perhaps his favorite lie.  

So it was, at 3:00 PM, Neil found himself back in his room with nothing else on the docket.  The young scholar now had to decide between drowning his mounting sorrows in video games, television, or – if he were feeling particularly adventurous – both at the same time.  

Looking to a torn up photo of Erica on his desk, he considered what he would be doing if last night's conversation had not happened. The weekends were theirs and sometimes she would visit him Monday night as well, to hit up a movie when it wasn't crowded with people.  She wasn't a terribly social girl, and Neil had always done his best to accommodate that.  

They both used to joke about how she was a “cheap date”.  She was the kind of person who genuinely enjoyed an experience-driven rendezvous.  Erica would much rather walk through the Voxton arboretum or take in one of the free community light-shows at the planetarium rather than actually go out and spend money.  

On their first date, Neil had nearly blown his chance with her by trying to flaunt his dad's wealth.  He had been given $100 to “impress the girl” with.  Erica, in that way she always did, knocked him flat on his ass.

“I'm not here to get to know your money, I'm here to get to know you,” she said, before insisting on having dinner at the cheapest restaurant in Voxton, where she paid for her own meal.  

The wake-up call had worked, and he loosened up considerably; enough so that she was agreeable to a second date.  In spite of the rough start, they had gotten along famously.  But apparently not as well as he had thought.

A knock on his door disrupted Neil from his day-dreaming.  

“Hey man, open up.  You're decent, right?”

Neil chuckled as he opened up the door.  His friend Damian could only be described as “dashing”.  The heart-throb of choice for all the girls when they were in high school together, his looks had only improved with age.  

“Did they finally let you in?” Neil teased.  

“Dude, they let you in,” Damian retorted.  “If I wanted in, I'd be in.  But money is good in the sales game.”  

“You work in retail.”

“Retail sales.  If I sell ten computers, they give me $50 of store credit,” Damian replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “Anyway, we doing dinner?  My treat.  Gotta cheer up my sad-sack friend, don't I?”

“Damian, you don't have to-”

“Nah, brother, I insist,” Damian smiled, patting Neil on the back.  “Breakups hurt. I've been here, and you're gonna be fine.  We will eat, drink, be merry and this weekend we will go out dancing and find a girl to make you forget all about her.”  

It was this benevolent nature that led to the two becoming friends in the first place.  In middle-school, they were both slightly awkward, but Damian had the further disadvantage of being an immigrant.  His mother Tabitha had fled Egypt shortly after that assassination of Anwar Sadat, carrying along a four-year-old Damian with her.  

The pubescent Damian was dealing with bullying and trying to adapt to both a new country and a stepfather who Neil had never met.  The two had met while Damian was hiding out in the library during one fateful lunch and they managed to hit it off over Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles. Neil had just started reading The Black Cauldron, but Damian was already on Taran Wanderer. A young boy's excitement to talk about his favorite fantasy series led to the longest-lasting friendship either of them had enjoyed. 

“Damian, I'm not sure if I really want to 'forget' about her, you know?” Neil sighed. “But I don't really need to get into that now.”

“Why not now?” Damian asked. “Take the time, friend.  Dinner can wait.”  

“It just seems kinda,” Neil struggled to find the words.  “Pointless.  I mean she's made her decision.  I have no idea why, but she made it clear she was done with me.”  

“Your feelings aren't pointless,” Damian replied, tapping his chest for emphasis.  “It's all we really have in this world.  Of course, if you don't want to talk, I won't make you.  But, uh, make a decision quick.  I skipped lunch.”

Neil laughed and opted to continue keeping his thoughts concealed. At least for now.  

“Alright.  Dealer's choice,” Neil said.  

“What a dangerous power you've given me,” Damian chuckled.  “Thai food it is.”  

---

This one is hard to position.  The thread is destabilizing.  

Neil was not dreaming.  The voice was not in his head. It was just on the opposite side of his dormitory door.  The room around him was shrouded in darkness, and only the door was illuminated.  If he could just reach out and grab the handle...  

A terrible weight was dragging him down, and his limbs felt as though they were made of concrete.  A biting cold was gnawing at him, and there was a presence just behind him. Somewhere in that darkness, a great unseen thing wanted to devour him.  Panic seized him as he flailed his useless forelimbs at the impossible contraption.  A doorknob; he had seen thousands of these.  But his brain could not process how to manipulate one.  

With looming annihilation mere inches from him, he resorted to throwing all of his weight at the wooden barrier, hoping it would yield under the force of what, to Neil, felt like two tons of his own mass.

If the thread is lost, we lose the Binder.  This is unacceptable.

“Nox?” Neil called out, vaguely remembering the kindly voice from the other night.  

We are here, Binder.  Patience.  We will pull you into our realm.  You will not be sundered.  

At this pronouncement, a hideous shriek invaded Neil's mind. The darkness wrapped around the young man and began to flay him, leaving crimson marks on his arm.  By the time the third sinewy tendril had lashed him across the face, he felt an uncomfortably familiar tug around his midsection as he was dragged out of the darkness and through the door, beyond which lay the sea of stars from his prior visit.  

As the distant sparks sailed past him, the memory of that Eden weight heavily upon his mind.  He wanted to see it again, and yet he could not bear to watch it be destroyed once more.  The thought of having to relive the same disaster over and over again throughout eternity was unbearable. How many times would he have to suffer the same loss?  How many people would abandon him to the darkness of his own mind?  

Hey Neil, it's Dad.  Hope you've had a good Monday.  You're probably out with Erica, but I just wanted to get in touch with you about... well, your mother's remembrance.  It won't be a big social gathering like last year's.  Basically just gonna be your siblings and me, but we wanted to coordinate with you. Just give me a call back when you can.  I love you.  

His father didn't know yet.  Of course, why would he?  That was only last night?

Focus on the moment, Binder!

Rem's voice was as stern and monotone as ever, but with a renewed sense of urgency. There was a planet on the horizon, but it was no paradise.  The world was molten rock and scattered space-dust, perhaps one in the process of still being formed.  Or was this was had remained of the other world after the disaster?  

See past the reality of your eyes, Binder. They are not a reliable path to truth, Nox urged.  

He is weighed down by his emotional attachment to his own thread.  We are losing him, Rem added.  

The planet was quite hot, and Neil felt his flesh beginning to sear as he drew ever closer to it.  He closed his eyes as he fell through the atmosphere of a dying world, the weight of his grief dragging him into oblivion.

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #178

VM 3x11 Poughkeepsie, Tramps and Thieves

Stray thoughts

1) Okay, all the cuteness and fluff in this opening scene should’ve been a warning sign that this episode wasn’t going to end on a happy note for LoVe, right? I mean, tell me this doesn’t read as a piece of fanfic.

VERONICA: Are you gonna eat that? LOGAN: This? VERONICA: Yeah, that fry in particular. LOGAN: That was the plan. VERONICA: I'm just saying, if you weren't, or if you were just gonna consume it out of obligation or to meet someone else's expectations, I know someone who might be willing to take it off your hands. VERONICA: Maybe add a little ketchup, make it worth a girl's while.

VERONICA: You're welcome.

Of course, I’ve embraced the notion that Rob Thomas is actually writing LoVe fanfiction a long time ago.

2) Ugh, Weevil’s so sad about the Dean’s death. Of course, he is! How many people have actually given a rat’s ass about Weevil? Not that many, and the Dean was one of them.

3) So, Lamb is more of an idiot than I thought. I mean, this is how responds to Keith’s burn…

He doesn’t understand his own sarcastic comment is actually a self-burn? Like, you can actually read his lips (“Oh, fuck”) when he realizes what he just said?

4) “ You're just like the rest of them, aren't you? You just want to use me for my skills and pay me for my time and effort.”

5)

MAX: If you don't find her, I'm taking a bath with my blow-dryer.

6) This is one of Veronica’s traits that always rubs me the wrong way, probably because people mocking others’ interests is a personal pet peeve of mine…

MAX: It was Comic-Con. VERONICA: You didn't get all sweaty in your Wookiee suit, did you? MAX: Yuk it up. You know, it's not all Trekkies and Star Wars nerds. I was there because Dave Gibbons has a new graphic novel that he scripted as well as drew. VERONICA: [sarcastically] Sounds cooler now. 

Get off your high horse, Veronica. There’s nothing uncool about liking stuff. That mentality sucks.

What’s worse, she’s clearly a closet nerd, since she can both deliver and understand geeky references.

7) Now, this is the Veronica I love...

MAX: Have a seat.

VERONICA: No, thanks. It's easier to be nosy if I can mill about.

 8) And I love this little Easter egg...

VERONICA: You know Mac and Parker? This is their room.

MAX: Who?

VERONICA: Uh, this photo.

MAX: No, that's from the around-the-world party. That's my roommate, Brian, and my friend, Fred. I think that room was supposed to be Canada, but it was kind of lame.

9) This is gross on so many levels…

VERONICA: The glass-is-half-full version: Chelsea's not getting married. Max is overjoyed. MAX: Are you serious? VERONICA: Yeah. The half-empty version is...she's a hooker. VERONICA: Brian and Fred, as demented as this sounds, thought you'd have more confidence with girls if you...lost your virginity.

10) And this is something the show did a lot during this season, and I honestly appreciate it:

MAX: Can you still find her?

VERONICA: Um...yes. But she'll still be a prostitute.

MAX: I'm not stupid, Veronica. Okay, we had something. I know it. There's some things you can't fake.

VERONICA: There are some things women are universally known for faking, and this girl is a professional.

MAX: When I dropped her off at the airport, she had tears in her eyes.

VERONICA: Are you sure she wasn't thinking of the cab fare back?

See, Veronica’s fieldwork in the world of P.I. has given her hands-on experience on how seedy and corrupted everyone is. Expecting the worse and jumping to conclusions has become second nature to her. She can’t help it. It doesn’t help that more often than not, her instincts are right. But on occasion, people surprise her and prove her wrong. This will be one of those cases, at least in the sense that Wendy really had feelings for Max. And every time Veronica is proven wrong in her preconceptions, it feels so refreshing because Veronica is judgmental and jaded to a fault. And like Logan told her a few episodes ago, she’s not always right. She still believes she is, though.

It still kind of feels this pattern of Veronica having preconceptions and then being proven wrong was building up to something bigger, you know? Veronica had become more prejudiced and prone to snap judgments at the same time she became more reckless and cocky with her detective work. As the season progresses, her sense of infallibility and almightiness gets stronger. But she is never forced to face the music. I think it would’ve been a great arc if she was.

11) See point 6) above.

VERONICA: That explains why Chelsea was into comic books. Chelsea's a dude.

12) 

13)

KEITH: Will you be home for dinner?

VERONICA: No, I'm meeting two hookers over at Logan's later.

KEITH: On a school night?

VERONICA: Off-peak hours. Save a few bucks.

KEITH: You're not really.

VERONICA: Fiona and Lizette. They're just a couple of gals putting themselves through college. Man, quit bringing me down with your bourgeois hang-ups.

14) This conversation pretty much sums up Logan’s and Veronica’s issues and insecurities as well as their relationship’s shortcomings in this season.

VERONICA: So, have you...ever been with one? LOGAN: An escort? VERONICA: Yeah. LOGAN: Do we really want to go there? VERONICA: I guess we don't have to now. LOGAN: Come on, that wasn't me answering the question. VERONICA: It kinda was. LOGAN: No, it wasn't. That was me knowing there's a land mine and trying to figure out where to put my foot. VERONICA: Well, I guess you picked your spot. Look, why not dispel any romantic notions? If we see each other, warts and all, and still like each other, that's a real connection. LOGAN: Well, maybe I enjoy my romantic notions. Maybe I don't care to see any warts, you know, yours or mine. Now you see, you're smiling, all right, so I think it's all fun and safe, but it's a slippery slope from "Have you ever been" to "How many" and "How often." VERONICA: So you've been with multiple hookers on several occasions. LOGAN: I'm not having this conversation with you.

On the one hand, Veronica claims she wants to know about Logan’s sexual exploits so that they can disregard any “romantic notions” they might have about each other and love each other as they truly are. On paper, that seems like a solid statement. And I’d buy it if she wasn’t prying on Logan’s sexual exploits, to begin with. Veronica has always been terrified of Logan cheating on her, with has more to do with her own insecurities than him giving her actual reasons to suspect him. Other than the one time he “cheated” on Lilly with Yolanda (and I think it’s fair to quote Ross Geller’s “we were on a break” defense,) Logan’s always been faithful. Yes, he does sleep around when he’s single, but when he’s in a relationship with someone he loves? I think Logan would cut his own dick before cheating. Veronica knows this. She’s had first-hand experience on how loyal and faithful Logan can be. And she had a first-row seat to Logan and Lilly’s relationship – he was the cheatee, not the cheater. So the fact that she wants to dig in Logan’s previous sexual relationships has to do with her own insecurities as regards how she won’t measure up to Logan’s former sexual partners. She probably feels inexperienced and inadequate. She might even think he could get bored of having sex with her (I know, she’s delusional! Logan could never get tired of her! NEVER!) And so she’s been restlessly waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Logan to cheat on her pretty much since they started dating.

On the other hand, there’s Logan claim that he’d rather avoid this conversation because it is quite literally a landmine. He’s honest, of course. And right. Nothing he could ever say would satisfy Veronica. And that’s the problem. That’s his own insecurity when it comes to her. But the difference is, his insecurities are well-founded. We already got a glimpse of this when the whole Mercer-and-the-hotel-on-fire thing came up. What frightens Logan more than anything is that he believes he will never be good enough for Veronica. And Veronica, more often than not, makes him feel wanting. So, you see, fessing up about his sleazy past won’t exactly paint him in a boyfriend-material light. Logan’s smarter than that. Moreover, he knows he’ll probably feed Veronica’s mistrust because for some reason she has this internalized misconception that if you are a sexual being, then you’re prone to cheating.

15) 

VERONICA: Sorry, Lizette. Looks like we're gonna have to reschedule. Pay the girl, Max.

LOGAN: If we're paying her anyway...

VERONICA: Honey?

16) Look at this goofus face when the two lovers are finally reunited! You truly believe this guy could cheat?

17) Ugh, and then…

To Logan’s credit, he didn’t even bat an eye when she showed up. But then…

VERONICA: No, Madison is pretty much the physical embodiment of all things I loathe. If Dick starts dating her again, you're gonna need to get a different roommate.

He can’t look her in the eye because he knows, he knows what her reaction is going to be once she finds out he slept with Madison (even if they weren’t together when he did…)

18) I fucking love this moment…

The way Keith just looks at her like actually taking note of her advice? It kills me.

19) Favorite!

20) 

WENDY: Oh, my God. Thank you. That's the thing about being a working girl. Easy to break into, not so easy to get out of. It's not like I'm one of the big earners, but I have this client, a judge. VERONICA: Ooh, a judge? Which one? WENDY: Cramer. VERONICA: No freaking way! My dad busted him for taking bribes, and the old bastard still got re-elected. WENDY: He is the kinkiest out of all my clients. No sex, he just likes to sneak me into his office at the courthouse. All he wants to do is have tickle fights and walk around in my shoes.

And while Veronica is delighted with this piece of information, Max is…

…the opposite of delighted?

21) “For what little it's worth, I was totally wrong. You and Wendy do have something. You two are great together, and I'm sorry. And this just plain sucks.” You see? How nice is it to hear Veronica admitting she wasn’t right?

But, of course, literally one minute later…

VERONICA: It's purple makeup. The bruise was a fake. You've been had. They duped you. Nicki didn't get worked over by her pimp. She and Wendy just conned you out of a grand. MAX: That's crazy. VERONICA: Crazy? She screws people for money, Max. That's what she does. VERONICA: I'm sorry. That wasn't- MAX: No, I'm an idiot. VERONICA: You're not. From where I stand, Wendy's the idiot. And now we must crush her.

No evidence other than the stained cloth and yet she thinks she’s figured it all out. And she’s ready for payback. Ugh, I wish they would’ve gone somewhere with this pattern of behavior!

22) You see what I mean?!

LOGAN: This is a bad idea.

VERONICA: It's blackmail. It's the go-to idea. In case of emergency, break glass or blackmail.

LOGAN: Uh, excuse me if I can't get jazzed about my girlfriend extorting a judge.

VERONICA: Look, I'm not doing a back handspring about it either, but I'm getting Max his thousand dollars back, and I'm taking away Wendy's best client. It works on so many levels.

MAX: You don't have to do this.

Like, even Max tells her she doesn’t have to do this. And she ploughes ahead

23) And, let’s be honest, she gets off on it…

VERONICA: I can't believe I had to blackmail a judge just to get some alone time with you.

24)

VERONICA: But seriously, folks... have you? LOGAN: What? Ever been with a hooker? Why does it matter? VERONICA: I just want to know. I assume the answer is yes. Look at it as an opportunity for me to show you how cool I can be. "Hooker? Who cares?" LOGAN: Well, here's your chance to be cool. Stop asking. VERONICA: I just want to get to a place with you where we can be really... intimate. LOGAN: That's what the female praying mantis says before she bites the male's head off. VERONICA: I'm just saying, buried secrets tend to surface when I'm around. LOGAN: Maybe that's because of all the digging, huh? VERONICA: I'm giving you the chance right now to come clean. You tell all. I tell all. Go from there. LOGAN: Hm, fine. Ask away. Ask anything you want. VERONICA: Have you ever been with a hooker? LOGAN: No.

She’s giving him a chance to “come clean” as if he’s committed some sort of crime. And she can’t help her smile when he confesses he’s never been with a prostitute.

25) So was he talking about the beach girl or Madison? Or, possibly, both. 

VERONICA: Were you with anyone while we were broken up? LOGAN: Landmine. I fooled around with this horrible girl who meant less than nothing to me, and I couldn't regret it more. Thinking of it makes me ill. So, there. Presto. Intimacy. Still love me? VERONICA: Yes.

26) You see Veronica? You’re not invincible…

27) 

VERONICA: You just handed over a hundred hundred dollar bills.

MAX: Yeah, I was there.

VERONICA: And what guarantee do you have that-

28) To be honest, I love how Weevil treats Wendy in this scene. Like, no judgment at all! He’s just happy to see someone he knows and wants to say hello! You’re cool beans, Weevs.

WEEVIL: Hey, I-I know you.

VERONICA: Weevil, this is Wendy.

WEEVIL: Fiona, right?

WEEVIL: You used to dance at the Electric Lady. My buddy was a bouncer up there.

WENDY: You must be thinking of someone else.

WEEVIL: No, I don't think so. You have a tattoo, red dragon, left cheek. Am I right?

29) Okay, so that lasted as long as a un pedo en una canasta. (sorry, I like this idiomatic expression in Spanish and I’m not even trying to translate it.)

MAX: "The-the day we met was one of the best days of my life. I-I fell for you that day, but you didn't know what I was then, and now you do and it shows in the way you look at me. It shows in the way you touch me but I'll never regret it. You made me realise what I was missing. Love, Wendy."

30) UGH UGH UGH…

MADISON: Oh, Logan and I hooked up in Aspen over the holidays. I guess you two were split, huh? I was in town and thought he might have some free time, but, oh, well. Oh, and, as a friend, he's not so big on the one-piece numbers.

[itdisneymatter]

Day 09 - Seaworld & Universal

TLDR: Seaworld this morning. Lunch pretty much inside a Shark aquarium. Amazing experience! Hit a few Roller Coasters including Manta which we've done before and Kraken which we haven't. Met some penguins and seen Killer Whales and Dolphins do all sorts of clever stuff. Finished up in Seaworld. Started Universal Studios. Done some Simpsons stuff, Robert won a ball, I won MIB (again) and we rounded things off with Escape from Gringott’s and buying wands in Diagon Alley. Absolutely packed day but it was excellent!

It seems like as time goes on, it's a little more difficult to wake up each day, especially sleepy-head Grace who proclaimed she was awake during the night and only got ONE minute of sleep! :P What I will say is even with the 17hr days, the weather and the rest does make a difference and makes you feel a whole lot better in general - I've been suffering from intermittent headaches of late, but haven't really had any since I left.

We're just on our own today for Seaworld so no pickups required (which means no coffee unfortunately :( ) , and as Seaworld is not far down the road, we were in the park within about 30 minutes of leaving the room. We picked up a big litre cup with unlimited refills for around 20 bucks when we got in the park. Not only does it do free refills but it does free Icee refills (which is kinda like Iceblasts) so for this alone I would pay double. The cup had lots of facts and figures on it too like Mako, the longest and fastest roller coaster in Orlando, to reach speeds of 73mph and heights or around 200ft... :| Yeah I'll maybe pass on that one thanks.

We were a littler later to the park that intended so we headed for the Sharks Encounter, the restaurant we had booked for lunch. This place had a huge aquarium on the far wall filled with loads of sharks! And Ann got us a table right at the side of the tank - awesome! We got carried away watching the sharks and other fish and taking loads of photos that we forgot at times we were in there to have lunch. And what do the serve at a restaurant which has sharks literally swimming around it? Seafood! When we finally did order, I went for the Lobster Bisque which was a pretty damn good soup (and the best thing I had in there), and some tempura prawns with sticky rice. Ann went for the mussels and then Seafood pasta. Food was pretty good in general - though the kids didn’t seem to have an appetite (well except Patrick I don’t think there is any time he doesn’t have an appetite). The kids still loved it though, due to the amazing views.

Coasters, Cuties & More Coasters

So we had Manta next, which after a huge (HUGE!) lunch, was probably not the best thing to be doing. Patrick & wee GG weren’t in for it so Ann had to take Roller Coaster Robert first, while I waited with the kids then did Child Swap when they returned. It meant Robert go to go twice which he loved (though Patrick was getting bored and may have regretted his decision NOT to ride Manta). I've been on this one before and its brilliant but just as were due to board we were hit with technical difficulties and they had to stop the ride, which when you have a full stomach of seafood, doesn’t fill you with the greatest of confidence. Last row when we finally did board which Robert said was the fastest, and it certainly did go fast, but it was still awesome!

In stark contrast we then visited the wee baby Penguin Puck over at Empire of the Penguin. Easy going ride even if we chose the wild side, and is one of Gracie's favourite rides - she even brought her own wee Penguin cutie (our name for TY Beanies) along for the ride. Nice ride but the highlight is when you finish and you get to meet real life penguins in their own environmental conditions (which is freakin' freezing!).

Now here’s another comparison photo from today...

And fours years ago (on the exact same day as it happens)...

Ain’t she just the cutest??? :D Anyway, The Kraken next, the one I was waiting for - a 3D VR experience on a huge roller coaster (or under the sea in the VR world). Me and Ro on this one and Ann was feeling too well and the other weren’t interested. Essentially all you see and hear is what's on the VR headset you are wearing while at the same time riding an actual coaster through big drops, banks, turns and loops (running at a top speed of 65mph according to my cup). We have a less than used PS VR at home and I love it, so this was going to be fantastic! Or at least I thought. Unfortunately my visuals reset their orientation so I was going one way but being shown another, very disorientating and not a very pleasant experience at all. A little disappointed but Robert had a good time on the ride which is all that matters really.

Its Showtime!

After that we had to run to the other end of the park to reach the Orca show - this one being Ann's pick of the day. A number of Killer Whales doing all sorts of things and really good to see a big push on education about care and conservation of these mammals within the Seaworld programme. Gracie loved this and she was shouting and screaming whenever the Orca and I think she couldn’t have stayed in the same spot for the next few shows.

And once that was done we then crossed to the other end of the park (AGAIN) to catch the the last Dolphin show of the day. Show times really screw with your park flow at times! Slightly different from before as there wasn’t really any birds or high wire stuff to speak of - they just really concentrated on the Dolphins and there were quite a few of them. This time, the family wanted to sit in the Splash zone, which they did, though I opted for a higher vantage, not to avoid the water, well just to avoid the water getting on to my camera. It turned out they didn’t really get soaked which Gracie wasn’t too happy about and she wanted to do it again so she could get bigger splashes!

Homer & Harry

It was late afternoon at that point and we did all of the things we wanted to do, so decided to call it a day. We missed a few animal encounters and one or two of the later shows but as we have free parking ticket we could pop down for a quick visit one evening if we wanted to. We though at that point it would be a good idea to head to Universal Studios (to catch up on a few of the rides we missed the other day), for the last few hours instead of turning in early. It was exceptionally hot today though (over 100 degrees) and no rain for the first time in a while, so we popped back to the hotel room, which was on the way, for a quick shower and change. It was just after 6pm so no parking fee - result, we might just need to do this more often! We got into the park relatively quickly, though there were still loads of folk going in, and went the opposite direction to the way we normally go to hit The Simpsons first. We stopped by Doc Browns train for a quick pic before getting to our destination.

When we go to The Simpsons ride it started raining!!! That's like the third time in a row (including the last visit two eyars ago), when it started raining when we get to this point in the park - its bizarre! The Simpsons sheltered us from most of it which was good as we were only packing my camera and left the rainjackets at the hotel room to save carrying an extra bag. The Simpsons though even though it replaced my most favouritest ever ride - Back To The Future - you cant fault it, hysterical family fun.

With the rain not really coming to anything, though we still had to occasional claps of thunder, we stopped to grab the boys a bite to eat in the form of a Krusty Burger, while I took Grace on Kang & Kudos, a wee fairground type ride going round and round and up and down in spaceships. We were travelling in a spaceship called Citizen Kang (they all had punny names), and Grace was the primary pilot on this one. I also took a nice wee video and a few photos on my phone but got reprimanded while I was on the ride so had to switch it off :(

Before we left The Simpsons land, Robert wanted to have a shot on the Basketball stall. He LOVES basketball and is pretty good at it, even having inherited both his parents shortish genes. Shooting 1-3 hoops got you a specific prize, and he wanted a new Basketball, which was two hoops. BAM! First one went in right off the rim. That's a winner right there! Next one he missed. It was all down to the final ball to get him his preferred prize. We told him to take it calm and line up the shot (like my advice on Basketball is any good, but I need to try). It went up.... and IN! Woot! Well done Roro, he got the ball he wanted and was all happy with himself and so he should be!

Next one was one of my faves, Men In Black! A shooting game were you score points by shooting aliens and win enternal glory among your family. After Toy Story the other day I had this one in the bag though Ann seemed to think she was going to give me a challenge. Well let the scoreboard do the talking shall we? :P

GG: 209,875 (ka-POW! :P)

PG: 20,750

Roro: 19,725

Ann: 11,525

Wee GG: 7425

Our final area was Diagon Alley and we didn’t have a lot of time left before the park closed so managed to get on to Escape from Gringotts which had a low wait time due to the time it was. We were waiting to go in and at that moment the Dragon on top of Gringotts sent out a fireball and Gracie literally jumped out her skin. It was really funny but she didnt think so (Im pretty sure shell laugh at it later ; ) This ride is great and the journey to getting on the ride is equally as great, through the bank, passing goblins and moving painting along the way, getting to see Bill Weasley give a wee intro and then down a huge elevator before putting on the required 3D glasses and boarding the minecart. Special effects match that of Forbidden Journey with a few extra characters inc luding Bellatrix and Voldemort thrown in. A definite ride we will be returning to when we visit the park again in the next few days.

Expelliarmus!

We had been planning to pick up some Harry Potter wands and we had a few minutes before heading home to pop into Ollivander’s which was pretty quiet (its usually not). The kids picked interactive wands this time, and allow they didn’t get an opportunity to use them this evening, well bring them back and do a full afternoon of Harry Potter goodness. We have a few wands already so Gracie opted for Ginny's, Robert her brother Ron & Patrick picked Snape's (without missing a beat). They all got they own wee wands bags and they skipped out of the shop and down Diagon Alley to head for home.

In preparation for a late night blog update (its been a long day), I picked up a Starbucks Toasted Coconut Cold Brew (which tasted real good), as the others popped into Transformars for the last five minutes in the park (I think they were the last ones on for the day).

Still not satisfied with getting to the exit without doing anything else we popped in a wee cult classics shoppy to look at the comics and memorabilia. I opted for Harley Rebirth Vol.1 and Patrick, The Killing Joke Noir  - a really really nice book and Patrick go into a Joker lore conversation with the attendant who was even geekier than me. Exhausted we finally reached the exit and through Citywalk and as we passed the Cinema, Robert asked if we could go see the new Despicable Me movie as we missed it the other night. 10:30 at night and he wants to go to the pictures! LOL!

Tomorrow well have our first real water park (finally, say the kids) before heading off to Magic Kingdom in the eve for some Fireworks fun. And Patrick don’t impart any of his wisdom on us today so Ill make sure he gives us double for tomorrow's update! :) See ya.