#stop why do those costumes actually kind of fuck like where did they get them

[millenari]

Cats parody on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. Featuring these people:

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

The video version of James Acaster's Hecklers Welcome is finally out, and it's much better than the audio version. If you like James Acaster and you want to know what stand-up show he's written now, I highly recommend checking out his HBO special. Listening to the audio version on to top of that is something I'd recommend only if you're a completist (which I am), or if you particularly hear James Acaster get sidetracked by discussions with teenagers - which, to be fair to all involved, did get rather funny at times. But not nearly as funny as the actual show, which can now be seen on HBO.

The HBO show is still fairly annoying, frustratingly. Every time he goes to a new topic, instead of trying for a nice, unobtrusive edit point like a normal fucking special, they transition via about half a second of James Acaster drumming, or doing yoga, or playing tetherball, or there's a guy in a dinosaur costume walking around. I guess the dino guy was probably meant to represent his demons or some shit? There was a story about yoga in the show. And we know he's really into drumming, and used to be in bands, and this show's about his history of public performing. No idea why he was playing tetherball. But whatever the reason behind this cool experimental editing idea, holy fuck is it ever annoying. Every time I start to get really settled into enjoying the show, it's been a while since we've heard a heckle, I'm thinking - "okay, James Acaster's just going to perform this lovely show he's written, no distractions this time," I get taken out of the enjoyment by a jump cut via shots of his drumming for no fucking reason.

It's just occurred to me, right now, that that could have been part of the point. Maybe? Trying to demonstrate how a show never goes smoothly. There are always audience members who heckle or stand up or cough too much, the room is too hot or too cold or there's a buzz or hum from the air conditioner or you can hear the construction outside - whatever it is, you'll never the perfect, distraction-free show, and James Acaster has now learned that trying to control every variable is pointless, so he's leaning into the distractions. And to represent this, has added artificial annoying distractions into the film. Was that the intention of those cuts? Probably not. If it were the point, I'd at least give them credit for being clever, I guess. But still, way too annoying to justify the point being made, I just wanted them to stop.

The HBO show did have some heckles, but none that derailed the entire gig the way the audio version did. Given that, I guess it is kind of cool that he's released both versions. You can hear the actual show - the HBO version - and the experiment where he lets hecklers take over - the audio version. It's an interesting comparison, for the completist. But only for the completist. Everyone else should just watch the actual show.

There is no such thing as a perfect stand-up show. A live event will always have distractions; even if the audience is perfect, there will be something in the venue that can take you out of the experience. A film is supposed to solve this, of course. They can edit out the hum of the air conditioner, the coughs from the audience. You can get it from the comfort of your own home, climate controlled to your taste. Lights set up to your taste. And you don't need to tense up too much if you hear the audience get involved, because you know it can't have gone that badly, or it wouldn't have been left in.

That was an interesting thing to me when I went to London/Edinburgh this summer, and saw, I think, 35 live shows in two weeks (most in Edinburgh, obviously, but some in London as well). Whenever someone from the audience spoke up - for a heckle, or even just for crowd work - I would have this brief, initial, automatic reaction of feeling like it's okay, if this goes badly it would be edited out. Because I've seen/heard so much recorded stand-up, I'm used to thinking that automatically (though actually, in the last two years the majority of recorded stand-up I've heard has been from bootlegs, where nothing's edited, so I'm not sure why I still have that instinct). Then I have to remind myself that no, this is live, I might be in for an incredibly awkward interaction, with no editing process to smooth it over. And then, I do get tense.

Watching stand-up live is much, much better than hearing a recording, obviously. It's better to be in the room, the immersive experience, the atmosphere in the air, where anything could happen. And it's better to experience the whole show, exactly as it was performed, rather than having that thing in the back of my head that thinks "I wonder what edits they've made here?" But the counterpoint to that is that anything could happen, including awkward interactions. The trade-off - the sole advantage that and edited stand-up special has over watching a show live (or hearing a bootleg) - is that at least you don't get the awkward crowd interactions. I hate knowing a show's been edited, because I want to know exactly what was said in the room. By the performer. But the audience getting edited out is nice.

So James Acaster has found a way to give us the worst of both worlds. We don't get the fun experience of being physically in the room, but also, we don't get the comfort of knowing that the heckles have been edited out, the distractions smoothed over so we just have the show. They've left in the audience shouting, and any time we start to get too into the stories he's telling, there's a shot of James interrupting his own show by playing the drums.

I think the first thing that comes to most people's minds, when they hear the word "heckle", is someone from the audience yelling "You're shit!" or something similar. I'm pretty sure there are some people who actually think it's not a heckle if it's not an insult. There are people who've shouted positive things in the show and think they're not a heckler, because they were being nice.

But actually, a heckle is anyone from the audience who talks when they've not been explicitly asked to do so, and as far as I can tell, the majority of heckles - these days, at least - are just audience members trying to be funny. Shouting out a callback or a punchline, or a catchphrase of the performer, or some experience they've had with whatever's being talked about on stage. Something they think will amuse the rest of the audience - or, even more cringe-worthy, they think they'll amuse the performer. And I can't stand that. I'd rather hear someone shout "You're shit!" than shout "Papadams or bread?" any day (no one actually shouted "papadams or bread?" in this show, it's just the type of thing they might have shouted). My entire brain contorts itself into a tiny ball, whenever I hear someone try to be funny, but they don't realize that they're actually being incredibly annoying.

I know that most people don't like hearing someone try and fail to be funny while actually being annoying, but I really cannot stand it, to the point where I think I've probably got some issues or something related to it. This whole show was about James Acaster going to therapy and realizing what parts of his past have giving him the maladpative reactive patterns he has today - I probably have some history or something that makes me so unable to hear people try, and fail, to be funny at inappropriate times. Perhaps when I was in school, the kids who spoke out of turn while trying to be the "class clown" also tended to be the bullies? It's not even that, though. I don't feel afraid of the people who heckle, the way I would of a bully. I feel frustrated that they're interrupting the show I want to see, and I feel a lot of frustration toward them, but that frustration is dwarfed by the absolute oceans of unbearable second-hand embarrassment that I feel for them. I hate it.

So that's what James Acaster's Hecklers Welcome is. There are annoying distractions, there's some second-hand embarrassment of audience members trying to be funny (there is exactly one audience member who came up with a heckle that actually was funny - an incredibly rare occurrence, not just in this show but anywhere - but that moment was immediately ruined by lots of other audience members trying to jump on the bandwagon in un-funny ways, which reminded me of the way that in the kindergarten class where I work, any time a kid gets any attention for doing something well, all the other kids have to immediately try the same thing because they need attention too). They've done their best to replicate the negative aspects of seeing a show in person, while you still don't get the positives of actually being in the room, of knowing exactly what the performer said, instead of wondering what was between the edit points. I still think the only really good way to experience stand-up comedy, if you're not able to physically be in the room, is an unedited bootleg.

However, you do get to see the material in the show Hecklers Welcome - which is more than I can say for the audio release. And it's really, really good material. I'd thought, for the last couple of years, that this "hecklers welcome" gimmick is a mildly interesting idea, as experimental comedy, but it's only justifiable if at the end of it, he releases a filmed version of the actual show, done properly. So that all those people who paid for tickets on nights that got ruined by heckler distractions - those people still get to see the material eventually. It's fine if he messes around with individual nights on a tour, I guess (though people might not think that if they were the ones who paid for tickets and commutes and maybe babysitters and things, and then they were among the majority of audience members who did behave themselves throughout the show, and they didn't get to see the material they paid for because of a couple of hecklers), as long as he releases a definitive version eventually, free of derailment.

I can't say he's fully done that, and I'm disappointed to say so. However, the material does get performed. It's really, really, really good material. It's a really, really, really good show. Basically, it's worth it. Most people's stand-up comedy would not be worth sitting through distractions, in an edited stand-up special, just to see the show. James Acaster can get away with it because he's very, very talented ("James Acaster can get away with it because he's very, very talented" should possibly be the tagline for his whole career), and I think this might be his best show yet. So I really recommend watching the HBO version, if you've not been lucky enough to hear it live, on a night when the audience didn't fuck it up. If you have already heard it like that, then you should probably skip the version where he keeps playing the drums during it.

[fuesch]

Agatha All Along 1x09

- Into the flashbacks right away? They'll hold the answer then to how Agatha is still around. But also: Finally the flashbacks! Can you imagine how silly that would have been with Agatha already dead?

- Wow, that lemon thing is hardcore.

- Oh, Nicky was supposed to be stillborn! And Agatha knew Rio already.

- Ah, so the name Scratch comes from Nicky being made without magic, okay. Yeah, I mean, if you get yourself some random guy for babymaking, you wouldn't name you kid after him. And I guess Harkness was out of the question because of Evanora.

- Nicky got to be at least 6! That really was generous of Rio, special treatment indeed. So was Agatha just bitter that she got to love Nicky so much and in hindsight it would have been easier to let go of a stillborn?

- OMFG, The Ballad of the Witches' Road is their song, they made it up together!

- "I can cast illusions" Is that what happened, did Agatha fool future!Rio like that? But then Rio would have known, would have felt it, no?

- Oh, poor Nicky knows he's doomed.

- Agatha is so sweet with Nicky. ;__;

- So the Road really was Agatha's scam.

- I assume for the first time in Agatha's life there was more purpose behind killing witches and Rio took them as bribes.

- This episode is such a sob fest. How dare they do that to me again.

- "I bury my own heart here with you my child." So after that Agatha really let loose with the murdering?

- "If one be gone, we carry on" This is where that line came from. Ouch!

- Oh that montage through the times. Dramatic, showing her descend, but also what a fashion show! 90s!Agatha, oh myyyy!

- No wonder Agatha suspected Teen to be a Minimoff, the only other witch with that kind of power was Wanda.

- Oh, Agatha's a ghost! Looks good on her, though I'm a bit sad that her original costume is already gone. And I bet she stole the idea for silver hair from "Ralph".

- Soooo, it was more important for Agatha to get Death off her back (she really achieved the ultimate "fuck you") than to keep her magic. Although I guess the point of amassing so much power was to escape death. And now she can exist anxiety-free.

- "If you actually do the math on it, you saved a life." Agatha, I appreciate that you're trying to help, but this is not how math works. "I was gonna kill them all in my basement on day one." Oh yeah, you and what power? They knew not to blast you.

- Jen had to dig herself up and fucks off. That's it? That's all we get?

- And that shot of Jen flying off hurts in another way too: On the left we have the sun going down, on the right we have the moon with its illuminated side pointing right.

- "If you wanna be a witch, get used to this feeling." Heyyyy, stop trying to corrupt my boy!

- Whoa, the door to the Road is still there.

- Man, and I thought Agatha would be happy if she got to see Nicky again. I would understand why bringing him back to life wouldn't have been what she wanted (because then she'd live with the constant anxiety of losing him again), but why not hang out with him in the afterlife?! Does she feel guilty about that last day, that she didn't kill those witches thus cost Nicky his life?

- Gonna be weird for the WitSec guys who discover the memorial in the basement floor.

- Ugh, they did the frustrating thing with all the unanswered questions again! Does Billy have his memories back? Is he both boys? After having her hyped up by Lilia, we don't get to see Jen or her power after the Road. What's the nature of Agatha's power stealing? Considering how important and intriguing Agatha & Rio's relationship is (in a way they're equals, she couldn't be a danger to Death), I had expected more of their backstory. Why did Evanora say Agatha was born evil? My god, we're basically missing the whole maiden part of this ep called Maiden, Mother, Crone! When & how did Agatha get the Darkhold? We still know nothing about Señor Scratchy. Can that little demon at least feed himself? You know, I wouldn't have expected all of those answered (at least the Billy ones they'll have left for the next time he appears), but definitely more than they did.

[scoopertrouper]

ahoy, maties. i return not with a prompt fill, but with a Steve POV companion piece to this post-S2/pre-S3 post-stancy breakup prompt fill because i'm sick in the head. read at your own risk.

3,400ish words (somehow) of nonsense under the cut.

~*~*~*

i'll be alright [it's just a thousand cuts]

He sees her sometimes.

It’s not like he’s, like, looking for her. He’s not, because no matter what Robin says, Steve’s not a maso…a macho…a mecha…okay, like, one of those weirdos who gets his rocks off by getting smacked around or whatever.

He’s not.

It’s just that it’s kinda hard to totally avoid her. According to her brother, Hawkins is, like, smaller than Thor’s thumbnail – and Christ, he really needs to stop hanging around those little dweebs if that’s the kind of shit he’s absorbing – so it’s hard not to see her. Anywhere. Everywhere. 

But it’s usually only just out of the corner of his eye. A flutter of flowery skirt disappearing between the aisles at Melvald’s, or the bounce of perfectly set brown curls right as she’s crossing Main Street, walking with quick little steps that are so purposeful.

(Steve used to spend most of free period making a mess of those curls, tangling them between his fingers, testing how far he could go before she’d swat his hands away. They were soft as one of his mom’s silk scarves, but somehow still not as soft as her lips when they’d curve against his, her little body arching between his hips and the creaky leather of his backseat.)

He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that whenever their paths cross, she’s always just out of focus, blurred at the edges like a messed up Polaroid. 

It’s no secret that Steve’s no great lover of the language arts (no matter how many long lectures Henderson’s given him – from the front seat of Steve’s car, that Steve drives him around in – about why that’s hurting him with the chicks). 

But he thinks maybe if he did give a shit about similes, or metaphors, or any of that crap that he’d mostly slept through in second period English, that it’d be a pretty decent way to sum up their relationship. A couple pictures that might’ve been pretty if they hadn’t gotten all smudged up.

Oh, and her new boyfriend’s a photographer. How’s that for poetic?

Anyway, Steve would have to be an idiot – more of an idiot – to actually go looking for her. So he doesn’t. Because he remembers how much it had hurt, forcing himself through the last seven months of his own goddamn senior year, seeing her every day and feeling tender as a walking, talking bruise, long after the worst of the damage to his face had faded. It’d been almost fucking unbearable, catching her eye only to see exactly how far he’d fallen reflected in them. 

Back then (a whole two months ago) he hadn’t even tried to play it cool, had figured it was still common enough knowledge that she could step on his neck, no questions asked, and he’d probably thank her for it. Ask her to do it again, if only to keep her undivided attention for just one more second.

But that was then. Now, he’s moving on. 

Mostly. 

Trying to. 

It’d help if the universe would cooperate – if, at the same time he’d lost Nancy, he hadn’t also somehow lost every bit of mojo that made Steve Harrington that guy, especially when it came to the ladies. 

Because it’s definitely gone, and he didn’t need Tracey Wiltshire – who’d rocked full headgear until, like, the end of sophomore year – to stammer out some lame blow-off to confirm it.

It’s painfully evident every time he looks in the mirror, because he doesn’t see Steve Harrington – basketball star, swim captain, somebody who’s somebody – anymore. He just sees some loser in a shitty Popeye costume (which itches, Jesus). A loser who got laughed out of goddamn Tech. 

Whose dad barely throws him more than a dismayed glance over the morning paper – when he’s around to read the morning paper, that is. 

Who constantly finds new and creative ways to get splotches of Rocky Mountain Fudge where Rocky Mountain Fudge should never be, and takes home maybe ten bucks in tips on a good night. 

Of course Na - Tracey wouldn’t want to waste her time on a dipshit like that. Who would?

But he’s not gonna give up, because he knows the only sure way out of a slump is to shoot through it. Besides, it’s not, like, not fun, letting Robin bust his balls nonstop on the days that they’re teamed up. She’s pretty ingenious, like, he wouldn’t be surprised if she goes home after every shift and shuts herself away in her little dork hidey hole until she’s got at least ten new zingers locked and loaded.

(Most of the time it's fun. More fun when she’s not leveling him with big SAT prep words, because then he has no choice but to try to return fire without revealing that he still has no goddamn clue what a charlatan is, no matter how many times Nancy’d drilled him on it last summer. And – surprise surprise – that usually doesn’t end well for him. 

But come to think of it, she has kinda backed off from that lately. So maybe it’s more fun for her the other way, too.)

Anyway, he keeps trying, and ultimately racks up more “You Suck” ticks per shift than Robin has room for on her whiteboard (she’s been talking about starting a ledger, and yeah, that’s exactly what he needs, his failures all neatly leather-bound and cataloged in permanent marker). 

You know what, though? It’s fine. It can’t last forever, right? Steve’s a pretty positive guy. Eventually, some girl’s gonna want to buy what he’s selling, even if what he’s selling isn’t a whole bunch more than a final fling with the homecoming king. One last stop on the Hawkins Express before it’s all frat boys and keg stands at Boilermakers tailgates.

(He can only imagine what Robin would have to say about that.)

On one Saturday in late June, he thinks he might be on the verge of a breakthrough. Thinks he’s maybe a free scoop of mint chocolate chip away from talking Lisa Kurtz into the back row of the 7:15 showing of Cocoon – because he’s always kind of wanted to see if her boobs really are bigger than her hair, and he’s running out of time to find out. 

Things are going well, so according to the current logic of Steve’s life, that means something’s gotta step in to ruin it. And boy, is that something a doozy – all five-foot-four of her, freshly permed and pretty in pink kitten heels.

It’s been two months since Steve Harrington fully laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler. Two months since he’s admired – before he can stop himself – the little dimple in her chin and the delicate curve of her neck and shoulders, today draped carefully in a demure sundress. 

Once upon a time, Steve would have taken great pleasure in wrecking that dainty piece of cotton, fisting it in his hands and bunching it all the way up to her waist.

“Hi,” she says softly, biting her lip, and Christ, how Steve wishes she’d stayed in the blurry outer rim of his brain. Because he’s looking right at her, and it’s blinding, the way she just fucking glows for no good reason. It’s worse than that time in fifth grade, when he’d maybe (probably) burned his retinas after Tommy dared him to stare straight into the sun for five whole minutes (he’d made it about fifteen seconds). 

“Hey,” he finds it in himself to reply, and he congratulates himself on the way he stays so chill, right up until Lisa’s cup of mint chocolate chip tumbles out of his nerveless fingers and splatters all over the floor and a little bit all over her shoes. 

(She’s not happy. There goes the 7:15 showing of Cocoon, along with his only shot this week at a mark in the “You rule” column.)

Now his date’s gone, stormed out in a cloud of Windsong so thick he can taste it, and gone too are his chances of escaping this encounter with minimal humiliation. Perfect.

(Thank god Robin’s still on her break. At least someone up there is still doing him a solid or two.)

Nancy’s eyes flick once, twice between Steve and the door.

“Am I…interrupting?” she asks slowly, as if this isn’t a public dining establishment, as if she doesn’t have as much right to be here as any other prospective paying customer. There’s a glint in her eyes that he doesn’t even try to decode. He’s not dumb enough to think he can still read Nancy Wheeler. 

(That he’d ever been able to read her.)

“Not a chance,” Steve lies quickly, flipping the ice cream scoop with suddenly numb fingers. “Always room for one more on this flotilla of flavor!”

He’s pretty sure that was the right way to use “flotilla”, the way he’d overheard Robin say it last week. Like, ninety percent sure. Well. Sixty.

Also, what is wrong with him?

But Nancy smiles that little smile she used to give him every time he said something painfully dumb that she found charming in spite of herself, so no permanent damage, he guesses.

Not that it matters anymore. Because it doesn’t.

“A flotilla, huh?” she plays along. “That’s…a lot of flavors.”

“Thirty-two, to be exact,” he replies on autopilot. “They, uh, wanted one more than Baskin Robbins.” Goddamn it. He swears he used to be able to talk to girls. This girl, in particular.

“Oh,” she blinks. “Interesting.” 

Okay, so. The last time Steve and Nancy had spoken for real, they’d just broken up. Billy Hargrove had basically made scrambled eggs of Steve’s brains. And yet somehow, it had still been less of a disaster than the last minute of his life.

Steve has to salvage this somehow.

“It’s…really not,” he admits. “But you’re sweet to pretend.” Without thinking, he moves to drag his hand nervously through his hair and comes away with his cap instead. Oops.

Still, though, they both laugh, and that’s better. Good, even. Getting back on track. He’s not a total lost cause. 

“So, uh, what brings you to Starcourt?” he follows up, and that’s safe enough. Neutral. Boring. “Feels like most of Hawkins has been through here, not that that’s saying much. Haven’t really seen you around, though.”

That’s less safe, but she doesn’t seem offended. In fact, she’s still smiling, and Christ, Steve remembers why he hasn’t gone looking for this. Why he’s pointedly avoiding asking if she’s here alone.

“Well,” she says with a sly little curl of her lips, “I’ve been pretty busy. But – someone told me I was missing out on thirty-two flavors of ice cream.”  It's almost flirtatious, until she steps forward and winces. “Actually, I think one of them’s on the floor.”

The floor…? Crap. Lisa’s ice cream. It’s still splattered all over where he dropped it.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Steve starts, warmth creeping up his collar. “I can - I can get that cleaned up.” 

Ignoring Nancy’s protestations, he scrambles for the mop bucket they have to constantly keep within reach. Of course, it’s nowhere to be found – which means it’s definitely in the back room, which means he definitely can’t get it without drawing Robin’s attention. He pauses, debating.

“No – look, Steve, most of it’s still in the cup, I can just – I can just throw it away.” 

Steve is circling the counter to assess the damage just as Nancy is crossing his path to get to the garbage can, and they’re one perilous step away from unwittingly splitting a hefty splotch of Maritime Mint Choco Chip when his reflexes kick in.

On instinct, his hands wrap around Nancy’s bare shoulders to stop her just before they collide and – oh. Oh.

See, he hasn’t touched Nancy Wheeler in damn near nine months, and now his - his skin is on her skin. She’s soft, and warm, and his palms look so big against the slim curves of her arms. He can feel exactly where goosebumps are prickling against the pads of his fingers.

This angle also gives him a perfect, painful view of the swoop of her neck that he’s never quite been able to put out of his head. There’s a dull flush creeping up her collarbone, and for one unhinged moment he wonders what she’d do if he just buried his face there, pressing his lips heavy against that searing hollow until she’s gasping, like he’s done so many times before.

He catches her gaze. Her eyes are bright under the fluorescents, and he can’t help but picture them glassy with alcohol and resentment, punctuated by a sullen mouth and punch-stained blouse. Staring him down like he’s some kind of Upside Down pond scum. Bullshit.

He has no idea what she sees now, but it probably isn’t much of an improvement.

Steve swallows, and steps back.

“Sorry,” he says roughly, retreating back behind the safety of the counter, heart pounding. Nancy looks relatively composed as she neatly disposes of her trash, but he at least still knows her well enough to notice how her fingers curl tightly around her purse strap, the only sign that she’s a fraction as shaken as he suddenly is. 

Ask her what she wants. Ask her what she wants and give it to her so they can start pretending this conversation never happened as quickly as possible. 

“So, uh, busy? What’s – what’s up in the world of Wheeler?”

For fuck’s sake, it’s like his mouth is completely disconnected from what’s left of his brain.

“Oh, uh.” Nancy looks startled, like that’s not what she’d been expecting him to say. “Yeah. I got an internship at the Hawkins Post with Jonathan.”

So. No tiptoeing around it. Steve gives himself credit for not flinching like he wants to, for nodding his head like that simple statement hasn’t landed like a gunshot.

“Nice. Probably a way cooler gig than dishing out sorbet to all the Jazzercise moms,” he cracks, only half joking.

She doesn’t laugh, though. Her face drops and she kind of hunches in on herself, and he instantly feels like shit even though he doesn’t think he said anything to be sorry for, doesn’t know what could’ve made her react like that. Good one, Steve.

“You might be surprised,” is all she gives him in response. He doesn’t know what to make of that. And honestly, it’s not his job to make something of it anymore, so he lets it go, and they linger in awkward silence for a few seconds. 

For once – this one time only – he wishes that snot-nosed Sinclair brat would barge in, flanked by her entourage of equally snotty, pint-sized little dweeb friends, loudly demanding free samples of every flavor. That would at least give him a way out of this.

“Hey Steve?” Nancy looks at him like she’s steeling herself, and he recognizes that look, used to dread it back when they were dating. Time, he finds, hasn’t really changed the way he feels about it.

“Nancy?” he parrots back, defensive for no particular reason.

“The reason I came here today – that is, I just wanted to see if…” She cringes, trails off uncharacteristically, and he waits her out, with mounting unease. 

Patience isn’t his strong suit, but he’s found that for Nancy Wheeler, he’s usually willing to try to be the things he’s not. For all the good it does. Did.

She sighs, and tries again.

“I just wanted to ask – how, how are you –”

“Hey, honey, if you’re gonna get your ice cream, get a move on. I still need to stop at the dry cleaners.” A bottle blonde perm pops into the shop, and Steve nearly exhales with overwhelming…relief? Disappointment?

Saved by Karen Wheeler. 

She pauses, and Steve sees her notice him in real-time, watches the surprise dawn in her eyes as she identifies who’s behind the counter. “Oh. Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler.” Karen’s always been nice enough to him, but he’s never been too sure how much she actually likes him. Like mother, like daughter, he guesses.

She gives Nancy an indecipherable look, and honestly, these Wheeler women have got to cool it with all the weird mind reading shit.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Nancy replies to the question spoken out loud, a tad clipped, before turning back to Steve. “So,” she says, drawing out the “o” and tapping the case. She seems to have set aside whatever she was gonna ask. “I – I guess that’s my cue, then. Any recommendations?” 

Steve’s already mid-scoop, and he’s absurdly pleased to watch her eyes go wide as he slides the cup of strawberry across the glass to her, with just a tiny flourish.

“Oh,” she stammers, “is that –”

“Strawberry,” he interrupts. “Your favorite. If – if that’s still right.” He doesn’t think that much has changed. 

“It is,” she affirms, and there’s a dusting of pink across her cheeks that Steve refuses to believe is anything more than a reflection from the neon sign.

“On the house,” he says when she goes for her purse, and it’s softer than he means it to be, less cheerful – but thankfully steady. He can’t help but smile at her, and she returns it, a tiny, kind thing. 

“Thanks,” she says after a moment. “I’ll…see you around?”

Not if I can help it, is what he thinks.

“Sure,” is what he says instead. “Anytime you need a scoop, I’ll be here.” 

Nancy raises her spoon in a minute, unbearably cute farewell salute, and the swirl of her dress is the last thing he sees of her as she disappears into the food court.

(On her way out, she takes her $2 and drops it into the tip jar, and he pretends it doesn’t smart a little.)

“Well, well. Do my eyes deceive me, or are we looking at another tally for Team “You Suck”?” 

Shit. Robin. Great. He hadn’t even heard her come out from the back.

Steve recognizes the dangerous note of glee in her voice, but for once he doesn’t have the energy to try to head it off at the pass. 

“You know,” Robin continues, “Between this and the truly spectacular crash and burn I know you were hoping I wouldn’t see with Lisa, I think that makes today some kind of record-breaking –” 

She must pick up something unusual in his face, though, because she cuts off abruptly. “Steve?” 

“Huh?” He knows he’s gaping at the door like a dumbass, but it’s too hard to find the willpower to tear himself away while he’s also blocking out the trace after-scent of Nancy’s baby powder-soft perfume. 

Robin doesn’t seem to know what to do when they’re not actively playing by whatever rules she’s silently set for the Shit on Steve Variety Hour. After a minute, he feels a nudge to the side of his foot, and he knows instinctively that it’s the toe of one of her battered Chucks. 

He doesn’t look, but he’s pretty sure she’s staring at him like he’s the weirdo.

“You…okay, dingus?” She sounds genuinely concerned, and that’s what jolts him out of it. Because no way in hell is he gonna spill his guts about Nancy Wheeler to Robin-whatever-her-last-name-is in front the sample spoons and a few carved up tubs of hard serve.

Even if Robin’s not, like, totally tragic. Maybe she’s even kinda cute. If Steve squints. Hard.

“Dude, not the shoes,” he finally mumbles, though she’d barely touched him. Her silence is heavy and unimpressed, perfectly matching her face (as Steve discovers once he finally gives in and spares her a glance).

Reflexively, he hitches his shoulders up in a stiff shrug. Arranges his face into a smile that he hopes is more cool and carefree than psychotic.

“Course I am,” he says, and it comes easily. He returns her nudge with one of his own and ignores her scowl. “I’m always okay. I’m…I’m Captain Okay.”

Jesus. He’s glad that one never made it into the yearbook.

Robin seems willing to at least pretend to buy it, though, and as she threatens him with the dry erase marker (though he notices she doesn’t make a single tally), he feels the grin he’s pasted on edge into something more genuine. He almost believes it himself, in fact. He is okay. 

Will be okay.

(He has to be.)

[lacie-crying-ruby]

Of the Fool

"To make it easier for everyone and myself, let's just say I hate everyone equally."

-

He wasn't going to go back. Didn't matter what had happened, didn't matter if the world was going to stop turning or freeze over and burn down afterwards, he didn't care!

He wasn't going back.

Leaving the northern lands of the demon realm was never a nice thing to accomplish, bothersome even on his best days.

This obviously wasn't one of them.

Having been severely injured, insulted and screamed at, it was an understatement to say that Shang Qinghua was feeling like shit now.

-

The system popped up in front of him again, right as he somehow managed to roll away from another wave of definitely deadly ice crustals.

[Want to go back host?]

Shang Qinghua pushed the [accept] bottom on the screen.

-

It didn't quite turn out like he wanted to

[Custumor has unlocked the final destination route. Where does customer like to go?]

"Home!"

[Understood. Customer is returning to where he belongs.]

"This isn't-"

[Custumer perhaps misunderstood. The place where customer really belongs naturally is in that of the creator.]

"But this means-"

[Congratulations! Creator finally has taken his righteous place as a fallen god! Congratulation! Congratulation! From now on, creator has obtained the halo he was wishing for all this time!]

"This is... Actually, this is awesome, I love it. Yes! I deserve that halo! I deserve to be acknowledged for all the work I do! Let's see if anyone dares to hit me now!"

-

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

[Customer has unlocked the secret route. Naturally, to not mess up timelines, Customer was send back to the original timeline. Customer is allowed to do as he pleases from here on, this system is merely going to act as a guide if questions arise.]

"Can I go back again?"

[System dosen't understand why customer would though. Didn't customer hate his first experience? In here customer can indulge in all of his fantasies to his heart's content.]

-

[Does Costumer want to switch timelines?]

"I want to get out!"

[Friendly reminder that Customer has powers to defend himself-]

"Get me out, get me away from here, take me away!"

[Understood. Proceed into change of time.]

-

"What..."

[System made sure to pick a timeline in which no one would dare to hit customer once he made it clear that he is not to be hit.]

"This is Mobei-Jun as a child!"

[A child is weak and can't hit or threaten you. Customer has no reason to be scared of a pathetic little child, so there is no need for customer to be afraid anymore.]

-

"What is he doing here?!"

[Because he became the vessel for a god before his time came, Shang Qinghua has become deserving of full-filling his heart's biggest desire: To kill the one who betrayed him.]

"The Shang Qinghua who became a vessel didn't even get to have the mind to desire! I was born as him!"

[System acknowledges this and therefore chose the one who has desires to be rewarded for.

-

"You've started to become nice to me.

"Why are you doing this? What goal do you crave?"

"Honestly? I took a look at every other candidate for the throne of the northern lands and made the sad conclusion that you're by far the best fucking shot this time has to offer."

"Are you starting to get scared of me? Don't be. I won't betray you unless you do so first."

"Those are quite the words for a little prince. You lied to me once already. Don't forget that."

-

"Are you a god?"

"You just try to repay my kindness with betrayal and violence, see where that get's you."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Good. Because I don't like traitors. You are going to live and work hard to stay alive."

-

"Well, I guess we will have to make a king out of you. By all means, don't do something stupid and die, alright?"

-

"Don't you dare!"

"He killed me! It was by his hand I died! After everything I did for him!"

"After you tried to kill him!"

"Only after he caused that much chaos! For what would I need a rabid dog as a king?"

"That's not what happened!"

"That's exactly what happened! So much got destroyed, and still that fool would continue to play to his stupid sick father's whims instead of finally-"

"Shut up! Shut up!"

"Fine, you are angry because your sheming didn't get you anywhere and everything you ever worked for went horribly wrong! Fine! I get it, welcome to my life! But that was then, this is now and this is a child! And we already used all that to get him out of the certain-death situation!"

"Yes, so that I could kill him myself!"

"No killing of children!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!"

"I didn't want to know that!" ... "We won't do that!"

But then, surprisingly, the evil SH lowered his sword. "Whatever you say goes, your highness."

"Good. Now- now we will have to find a way to get this one back to safety."

"Let's just leave him here. If this world is still yours, then he will be found any moment now."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Just that the one finding him should be someone who isn't going to immediately kill him."

"You should trust more in your powers."

"I don't do it on principle."

[sapphireclawe]

*raises hand* This is a tangent that's vaguely related to this, but how many games are there of "thing children enjoy but creepypasta" now? Hell, as a kid I could find a video, full gore and everything, of Cupcakes on YouTube. (I was horrified by this because I saw it tossed around with no warning, and then looked it up, and stopped watching it. I was maybe 13ish. Also I am an avid advocate for saying WHY something belongs in a certain category as opposed to the trend of trying to make content creators hide this kind of content in untagged spaces to prevent, y'know, demonetization over being impure only to traumatize children watching it without any kind of filters)

There's games where you have to not only escape Pinkie Pie and save the others, games where you try to escape Sonic.EXE only to fail and die horribly, there's a version of that with Sally.EXE and one with fucking Rainbow Dash.EXE which are all... what the actual fuck. If it were tagged "horror", "gore", "characters you love are now monsters" shit like that, and possibly suicide warnings for some of the games above as well (I'm not a fan of Doki Doki Literature Club but Dan Salvado DID put a warning before playing so that's on me for trying to play it so he gets a pass)(and relating back to the above everyone wants to be FNAF, BATIM, or DDLC but try to market it to kids which... yikes) then there would be way fewer people waking up at 4 AM with nightmares (myself included).

Also on the topic of "games that REALLY should have warnings" and "games that kids played for some reason", why was there an obsession with fucking Corpse Party of all things? Like, the first 10 minutes into the game you wind up not only seeing one girl hanging herself, but if you fuck it up, there's two girls hanging at the first "you failed, bad end # whatever" and the artwork for that is immensely disturbing. There's also ghosts of kids missing their tongues or half of their fucking heads, and YOU SEE THE GRISLY BOTCHED DECAPITATION IN THE GHOSTLY FORM.

And then we have fucking Slenderman. It's basically a game based on either Dead by Daylight or the mock DBD game from the series Reboot (in which you collect a certain number of pages from a book and then put them in the book in order to end the game) where you're hunted by Slenderman while you try to collect all 8 pages. I don't know why this was popular in 2012-2013, nor do I know why suddenly afterwards there were a LOT of "creepypasta" characters that were either glorified serial killers with no rhyme or reason to victims or uwu-beaned versions of those characters that are 90% able to be traced back to Roblox specifically, but the fact that THIS exists

I took this photo in the leadup to Halloween. I don't even know what the younger generation is chasing for horror games now but I feel like Poppy Playtime is trying to cash in on the horror game for kids thing way too hard, and causing a lot of problems.

Also yes, you can find cheaply made FNAF costumes that are glorified "murdered kids" vibe costumes as opposed to straight up the cool shit with glowing eyes and everything that cosplayers make. And FNAF party stuff, BUT I see one reason to do this that would be interesting: market that towards the young adults/teens who see FNAF cosplay and want to do a themed birthday like being a kid but have it feel more "adult" by it being based around kids being fucking killed. Or rather, so adults can do Pizzeria Simulator IRL for fun. Or an inside joke for new parents that the kids don't get yet.

Sorry for the rant tangent.

[reviewsclown]

Dune 2021

Odd that this movie doesn't start with a 10 minute monologue about world-building, though I guess the average 2024 movie watcher probably wouldn't be able to handle that, it feels a little needed though perhaps. Like there's just no explanation for why they don't have computers and why the guild spacers are needed, leaves you confused about the situation.

Honestly there aren't many complaints to be had about the story or whatever in this one, there are some bits that don't fit in properly if you have seen the first movie, namely the fremen saying 'lisan al ga'ib' when the atreides arrive to arrakis, they haven't yet seen him know their ways as if born to them, though I feel like the fact that emperor Pam Shaddah the IVth is orchestrating the harkonnen and atreides combat, if that is still true and not an original concept of the 1984 movie, it seems like something that should be known or mentioned. This movie seems more knowledge-able about its colonial nature than the 1984 movie, but it has been ~40 years since then, people now know racism is bad (arguably). Duncan Idaho is clearly a U.S. soldier it feels, with the ribbing he got for having 'gone native' for using fremen tech. They inhabit the land but don't respect the people that know how to live there. The story of Dune has always been a bit 'white savior' and that's unavoidable. They did the 'worm eating a spice miner' scene very well, it was a bit epic-action-music in a rude way, but it was very cool to see Paul has a weird angst moment where he's upset his mom did eugenics to make his life bad. It's an odd scene, I don't think it needed to be added and probably exists purely to add angst to Paul. I felt like the scene where Paul and Gellina run from the worm and into some cliffs where they're ambushed by fremen, might've been at the same cliffs in the 1984 movie? It really almost looks like that, and if not, those scenes are at least extremely similar to the original movie, very cool. They did the amtal scene very well too I think. There's a stronger energy in this movie than the previous one that paul is changing as a person and the way he thinks, through his exposure to spice, being the kwisaatz haaderach, the box of pain with the Bene Gesserit, he's not the perosn he started this movie off as for better and for worse, he's becoming the kind of person that can fulfill the fremen prophecy and have a war in his name.

Aesthetically, this movie is very awesome, if a bit extremely grey at times. the ship designs fuck hard and the costume designs are pretty good. Reminds me of the third star wars trilogy in a way, with the really good, if gray, sci-fi CGI. In general this movie a lot more brutalist in all its architecture, notable in the change in Giedi Prime and Arrakeen, Giedi Prime is fine though because it's all flat gray stone that extends into the darkness, Arrakeen looks like brown and gray greebled trash. While the shield effect isn't the awesome weird opaque fighting polygon team of the 1984 movie, it's still done in a pretty good way with the blue outline that turns red when being forced through, it looks awesome when Arrakeen is getting attacked and you see missiles slowly go through the shields on ships, the whole thing shaking out red as the missile is stopped before it explodes soon. Timothee Chalamet was a bad choice for Paul Atreides, this is obvious nothing more needs to be said about this, Duncan Idaho is aquaman and Leto Atreides is another popular actor, because the only actors that can get hired for movies are actors people already know.

The musics pretty solid in this one, big fan of 1984s music so I was going in honestly expecting worse, but it's really not that bad, they do some stuff that's interesting in both good and bad ways.

Final Review: I gotta say this was actually extremely good and it's got me invested in seeing more of this, splitting dune into 3 parts may have been the path to go, you get more depth to the characters and the large plot that will come to pass. You gotta see this one.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[clownprince]

I don't usually reblog things with a second response since it gets So long lmao but this would absolutely not fit in the replies 😔🤘

Yeah, those instances I mentioned, I more view them as moments where he was like... almost giving Joker the opportunity to change things? Excluding TKJ which was obviously more direct. But like, with the other instances. I mean, Bruce isn't stupid. Joker would rather saw off his own arm than genuinely ask for help from anyone, especially from Batman. And Bruce knows that. So in that way they're all kind of empty gestures. Almost like Bruce is just doing it so he can say he tried.

I would say, though, that in Cacophony, Bruce might very well have been intending to offer to rehabilitate Joker (again). Joker mentions that it seems like he was hoping it would be a fresh start for them; an opportunity to change things between them, maybe get Joker to agree to actually try to get better, while he was in a (supposedly) more stable mental state. But obviously we can never know conclusively because Joker just completely demolished any hope Bruce might've had that things could be different between them.

And with the n52 instance specifically... showing Joker the playing card... I hate to say it but I really can't blame Joker that much for interpreting it like he did. Because Bruce literally just showed up, showed him the card and dipped. Like... Bruce. King. What the absolute fuck does that mean. Honestly I don't think he even fully knew what his intentions were with that; regardless of what he said to Alfred, it just seems to me like an incredibly bizarre and reckless attempt to get closer to Joker. Not even necessarily with the intent of helping him, just to get more intimate with him somehow. It's just so unhinged honestly.

And yeah, the pattern of Bruce (with some exceptions) not supporting his rogues when they turn good is definitely a pervasive one and quite... disturbing? I do think that aside from just the fear of being left alone, it's also possible there's just... the general jealousy that naturally comes from seeing people get better when you're still unwell. Like, I know from personal experience that seeing people get better while you're still stuck in mental health purgatory can be truly one of the most distressing and frustrating experiences of all time, regardless of your feelings towards those people and regardless of whether you want them to get better. This is purely speculative, really, but I can totally see Bruce just feeling bitter about it like... why do these objectively bad people get to recover while I'm still stuck in practically the same mental space I was as an 8 year old newly-orphaned child? How is that fair? Why should they get to heal?

But yeah honestly Bruce and most of his rogues have such horribly mutually-enabling relationships, it's so bad. Joker and him especially, it's like they're both holding each other underwater. The fucked up symbiotic relationship he develops with costumed criminals is always so, so upsetting to me because regardless of whether it's his existence that causes the rise in that new breed of criminals, it just gets to where he's the only one who's equipped to deal with all these insane supervillains. So it escalates to the point where even if he wanted to stop being Batman, even if he wanted to get better and live a normal life, that's not really a choice for him anymore. And I could also see that feeding into the bitterness he might feel about his rogues getting rehabilitated, like, that's not even an option for him.

And besides all of that, there really is something... bizarrely comforting about suffering with someone. Like, knowing that you're not the only one who's broken mentally. I feel like Bruce probably gets a sort of solace from his rogues in the sense that well, at least he's not the only one who's broken, at least he isn't suffering alone. They're all in the dark together. And I think that's definitely a big factor in his enabling of Joker and other rogues. I've always thought that his enabling behaviors came from an insane sort of compassion; he indulges Riddler's obsessive-compulsive tendencies, Joker's self-destructive masochism, etc. because he knows that they need it as much as he does. It's so fascinating and upsetting and mutually destructive it makes me crazy ngl. But yeah, if his rogues try to rise above their illness and genuinely get better, I definitely think that would be a terrifying thing for him because what if he's left alone suffering by himself in the darkness? Like he was before Batman, arguably. And besides that, there's also this little segment from Batman 629 that just... wow.

God, I love this scene so unbelievably much. The fact that the first person he hallucinates is Joker... Joker calling him out for keeping him alive to continue their game, calling out their similarities, how easily they could have gone down the other's path, and then possibly one of my favorite lines from any comic ever. "Where are you without me? Where are you without any of us? Damaged goods, baby! You can't hate us as much as you hate you!! It's just not possible!!"

Whew. It's so good. And horrifically true! Because without anyone to fight back against, Batman isn't a force for justice, he's not doing any good, he's just a broken little boy in a costume desperately trying to make sense of a world that's seemingly lost all of it. Without anyone to fight, he doesn't have any greater meaning, any greater purpose, he's just... damaged goods. And I fucking love how this is all coming from his head but it's so similar to some of the shit that Joker's actually said. It's just... totally proving Joker right, lmao.

Switching topics slightly, and just as a side note, yeah, the theme of Bruce (and others) dehumanizing Joker has been around like pretty much since DC was a thing, it's just around DOTF/n52 that (to my knowledge) it's been more or less a consistent attitude; there haven't been any instances of him really reaching out since the card thing in DOTF (I believe?). (However I am on my hands and knees praying that Zdarsky or someone else might change that soon.) That's why I was kinda focusing on that n52 era. Oh and I was going to bring up Secrets; the only reason I didn't is because I wanted to focus on Rebirth continuity and idk if or when Secrets is part of that continuity lol.

But anyway, even ignoring the wildly different takes of various writers, Bruce is such a contradictory mess. I do absolutely believe that he does genuinely want Joker to get better, and the same for most of his other rogues, and I do think he genuinely cares about a lot of them on some level (although canon is infuriatingly inconsistent about this), but I also do definitely think that he needs them to be the way that they are currently.

I definitely think that it's frustrating to him that he can connect with Joker the way he does but not enough to save him, and I think Joker's refusal to heal mirroring his own just adds to the frustration. I think he hates that he can't save the both of them; he hates himself for his own refusal to heal, because I mean, it's canon that he knows how fucked up he is and he doesn't want his loved ones to end up like him in that regard, but it's also pretty evident that he doesn't feel like he has the option to not be Batman at this point, he's just too far gone. And I think he also hates the parts of himself that don't want Joker to get better, that don't want either of them to get better, ever.

Acknowledging Joker as human just reminds him of all of this; it's so, so much easier to dehumanize him and ignore all of it. But it's still very much Bruce taking the easy way out, which is frustrating to see as a reader. Especially since we know that he is capable of seeing Joker as human, and there's very likely a small part of him that will never be able to fully dehumanize him. (Zdarsky. I'm on my knees. Please please Bruce character development... I am begging...)

I keep going back to Bruce's mindset in Joker War, and especially what he took away from it, because... it's fascinating how impersonal and yet helplessly personal he is, regarding Joker.

It's obvious to me Tynion has worked with Snyder, especially on works involving Batman & Joker, because Bruce barely sees Joker as a human being. It starts with the way Bruce talks about Joker when fighting the fake Designer:

-- Batman (2016) #93

Bruce equates Joker to the abyss. In a move that surprises no one, he asserts once again that others don't understand Joker-- he isn't a common serial killer, he isn't insane, he's something else.

The theme continues as the plot progresses:

-- Batman (2016) #95

I don't really like that Tynion used a flashback to Bruce and Joker's first interaction in The Man Who Laughs to establish that Joker was this incomprehensible force of evil, even then. It's an inaccurate reading of the comic, and it oversimplifies Joker. There's a lot to be said about how this approach to Joker as less of a person and just a cardboard cut-out of Pure Evil is boring, one-dimensional and has unfortunately infected a lot of people working with the character over at DC, but alas-- not trying to go into the Doylist side of things in this post.

However, the flashback mentioned is meant to tie in to Bruce's hallucination of Alfred later on, the one that gives him the strength and motivation to keep fighting:

-- Batman (2016) #98

Alfred is a figment of Bruce's mind, hence... it's Bruce who puts Joker and death on the same level. Joker is a kind of inevitable force of destruction, something he can't hate. You cannot hate a hurricane, you cannot hate an earthquake. You cannot hate death or an abyss that consumes, because that's simply its nature. What it does.

...And yet. Despite how seemingly impersonal his way of seeing Joker is, there's still a part of Bruce trying to understand, trying to make sense of Joker. There's a little story in Detective Comics detailing Bruce's thoughts during Joker War, in which we see Bruce pondering the following:

-- Detective Comics (2016) #1027 -- The Gift

"Is that the lesson?" It's reminiscent of the questions Bruce addressed Joker through the listening device planted on the corpse in Batman (2016) #93: "Why attack me like this? What are you trying to prove?".

But it's more than an inner conflict. After the conclusion of Joker War, after Bruce walks away (while knowing Joker had the tools to disarm the bomb and would not die), Bruce tells Selina his true thoughts. God bless her heart for pushing his emotionally constipated ass:

-- Batman (2016) #101

Bruce thought of everything Joker did in terms of a lesson. He's thought of Joker's actions as that for a long time now, and there's a painful paradox to it; the points Joker makes about Batman always hurt Gotham and the people around Bruce, but part of him still listens. Part of him still tries to make sense of what Joker is saying and learn. And at the end of the day, even after all the death and destruction Gotham went through as a price... he thought that Joker was right.

He even proceeds to put those lessons into practice. He moves to a townhouse in Gotham, he tries to be closer to the city and belong to it, not be apart from it. Start over, change. And yet, in his new base of operations, we get this:

-- Batman (2016) #106

Out of everything in the original Cave, all the trophies and the reminders, Bruce brought the Joker card with him. There's no other personal element in there, nothing else meant to be decorative or more than just practical. Nothing else but the card on the floor. It's especially interesting when you take into account that Fear State, the major arc that follows Joker War and Ghostmaker's introduction, is about all the ways in which a traumatic past defines or breaks people.

And yet Bruce carries this piece of the past with him. It'll never cease to fascinate me, how much Bruce intellectualizes and dehumanizes Joker, so he can avoid his personhood and the true parameters of their relationship... all while asserting to himself and to others how he's the only one Joker sees as alive in a cold dead world, how he's the only one who matters to Joker. How he's the only one who understands how Joker works, how he's the only one who can stop him.

(Don't even get me started on Miracle Molly being Joker-coded, or Khoa as a psychopathic individual on the side of good Bruce forgives murder for, because hoo boy. Actually I might make a separate post about Fear State, and then another about Ghostmaker... goddammit, brain.)

[benjinoff13]

Black widow suits: Age of Ultron

It’s finally time for me to talk about my hatred for natasha’s Age of Ultron suit, if you don’t like negativity this post isn’t for you because I really don’t have anything good to say lmao

Let me start off by saying that I am biased, my opinion on the suit is influenced by the fact that I really don’t like Age of Ultron, it was one of the mcu movies that had the most potential to be amazing but it was just executed so porely 

Now let’s talk about why we’re really here, I’m gonna make a list of reasons why I don’t like the suit 

1. Fabric

The material just straight up annoys me, I don’t like the way the folds look idk how to explain it but it just looks cheap, rough and uncomfortable, I’m a big fan of using different kinds of fabric (like with the Winter Soldier suit) but it just doesn’t work here, the stitches look bad, and there is a lot of unnecasary patches that just don’t look good like the ones on her shoulders 

2. Glow thingies

Those goddamn glow sticks, what was the reason???? So enemies can spot her better? It just doesn’t make any sense, I wouldn’t have minded it if it at least looked good but it doesn’t 

3. Gloves + weapons 

Why so big?? I’m guessing betweeen Avengers and Age of Ultron Stark might have created some new weapons for the group including Natasha which is why her widow bites look different than in the other movies but they just look so heavy and unnecessary, she always did fine without that canon strapped to her wrists so why add them now? Again it looks cheap, it’s giving CW instead of MCU, I also just really don’t like the red gloves it’s a good idea in theory but it’s was executed porely, it would have worked better if the suit had been all black, I also don’t like that the gloves cover her fingers, I think fingerless gloves like the ones in Black Widow work way better, it’s definitely easier to work a gun that way and it doesn’t get hot and sweaty like normal gloves would 

3. Boots

WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK ARE THOSE?? I’m not gonna pay too much attention to the heels cause we all understand that that’s stupid by now but overall they’re just ugly, how does she tighten them?? Where are the laces?? Why the fucking platform, what are those straps underneath her calves? that would be so annoying while running I’m just so tired by now I’m actually getting fed up looking at this picture so I’m stopping now 

4. Chest

Now, as someone with a similair chest size to natasha I am telling you it is horrible. This?

is NOT going to work, just look at her chest in the Age of Ultron suit compared to the Black Widow suits 

The black widow suit does what a sports bra does, it pushes your boobs closer to your chest so it’s compressed and that way they don’t move around when you run, jump etc, now when you compare that to the Age of Ultron suit you see that that suit is doing the exact opposite, it has boob cups (I hate them so much) so the stichting underneath and around the boobs and the additional fabric actually lift them up and bring them out more, it kind of has the effect of a push-up bra and that would really really get in the way while fighting and exersizing believe me, your boobs would go absolutely everywhere, it hurts and it slows you down, it does. not. work, it’s just a bad design, I wouldn’t be surprised if the costume desginer got told to design it that way by the men in charge of this movie 

Anyway that was my presentaion. Does anybody have any questions? 

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.  

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo. 

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy. 

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships. 

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate. 

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?” 

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise. 

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum. 

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed. 

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks. 

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.” 

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you. 

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is. 

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.  

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support. 

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle. 

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this. 

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.  

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway. 

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you. 

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck. 

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal. 

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw. 

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.” 

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him. 

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it. 

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought. 

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble. 

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later. 

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again. 

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding. 

Both of you looked ridiculous. 

“Stay away, fiend.” 

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you. 

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t. 

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible. 

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself. 

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring. 

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time. 

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes. 

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you. 

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again. 

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst. 

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm. 

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying. 

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again. 

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment. 

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.  

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you. 

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up. 

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech. 

“Suppose that’s two points for me?” 

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something. 

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him? 

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know. 

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again. 

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Round-up of comedy hours I’ve watched for the first time in the last week or so:

Chris Flemming – Showpig (2018)

Available on YouTube.

I wrote a post about this one already so I won’t get too far into, but I’ll say I really liked it. It’s fun seeing Chris Flemming live – obviously I’m five years late to see it actually live, but still, I’m used to seeing him on his own in videos so it’s fun to see him perform for a live audience. Recently listened to his Comedian’s Comedian podcast episode and learned he did start as a stand-up, got into the YouTube videos from there but was a live performer first and foremost. And you can definitely see that in how good he is at live stand-up. It’s much better than it would be if it were the other way around, a YouTuber doing a live thing.

Chris Flemming has such a dedicated cult following, it’s fun to watch him thrive off the audience’s energy. You can see take how much they enjoy his schtick, use that to lean even further into it. Throw away a line the way he normally would on a YouTube video, but this time there’s a whole audience laughing so he can’t just roll right along like usual, he has to stop to let the laugh happen, and that could mess up the rhythm, except that Chris Flemming is so tuned into the crowd that it works fine. He looks like he’s having a great time, getting the instant feedback, the acknowledgement that all those little lines he glosses over in his videos are worthy of that kind of laugh. And they are.

I still think my favourite thing about Chris Flemming is the causal use of odd similes and metaphors and other little language things, finding uses for words that the vast majority of people would just never be creative enough to think of. My second favourite thing about Chris Flemming is when he doesn’t take a breath for like 85 seconds straight because he has to finish his run-on sentence and a pause would fuck up the timing. My third favourite thing might be his running joke of using “Rob Thomas” as shorthand for everything boring in the world.

Lazy Susan – Forgive Me Mother! (2020)

Available as an episode of that Soho Theatre Live thing, which is on Amazon Prime UK.

I hesitated for a while to watch this one, because sketch comedy isn’t normally my favourite thing. I think as a rule, I’m often not as into visual comedy. The word “as” there is important – obviously I can find visual jokes funny. But a lot of my favourite comedy is stuff that would work just as well if it were audio only (or stuff that is audio only). Even in pure stand-up that doesn’t have visual elements, I don’t often enjoy it when they bring their appearance into things. Though I don’t think that’s just a quirk of my sense of humour; I’m pretty sure it’s objectively (as objective as anything comedy-related can be) annoying how often stand-ups will dedicate at least a few minutes of a set to discussing their appearance. I think I enjoy those kinds of jokes even less than most people do, due to me just not being much of a visual person when it comes to taste in comedy.

Again, obviously, lots of exceptions. Prop comedy can be hilarious, when done very well… but if it’s not done very, very well (in my subjective opinion, I guess I should say “if it’s not done in a way that really, really appeals to me), I’ll get very bored of it very fast. Same with comedy costumes and things. I guess jokes about the comedian’s own appearance are sometimes funny – maybe one in about every fifty of them I hear are things I actually find funny. And I suppose it’s technically possible that there would be a ventriloquist act out there that I’d find funny, though I haven’t seen one yet.

I’ve realized this week that this may be why I don’t watch a lot of sketch comedy. Most sketch comedy is fairly visual, and I tend to not be drawn much toward any visual comedy. Sketches I do enjoy tend to be ones where most of the humour comes from the dialogue. When I watch or listen to comedy compilations, I want to be into the cool cabaret or drag or theatrical stuff, but a lot of the time, I find myself wishing they’d get back to the straight stand-up acts.

With, again, lots of exceptions. Some sketch groups that made it to TV created some incredible TV comedy. Bit of Fry and Laurie is one of the most technically perfect comedy TV shows I’ve ever seen. Last week I spent a whole afternoon re-watching individual Mitchell and Webb sketches on YouTube, laughing quite hard when I managed to not think about the transphobia thing. I mean, some of my favourite comedy when I was a kid was classic sketch-based comedy legend stuff, like Beyond the Fringe and Flying Circus and Ripping Yarns (which were, of course, made by totally unproblematic people who never make me wince about transphobia or any other issues, it’s a pity that John Cleese died in 2007 and therefore hasn’t said a word to anyone since).

Anyway, all of that has almost nothing to do with Lazy Susan. It’s just a tangent about why I think I’m often not that into sketch comedy the way I am into stand-up. Having said all that, I enjoyed the Lazy Susan special a lot. It was classic sketch comedy. Felt slightly like a student theatre-type thing, with the two chairs set up to be used in different ways in different sketches, and the costume changes, and things like that. Though to be fair, I might only think of that as student theatre-ish because I don’t watch much sketch comedy so my only real association with that stuff in a live format is student theatre.

They were just funny. Pretty much every sketch was fucking funny. The throughline tied it all together, when they’d sometimes come back as themselves between sketches and let a story play out that way. I liked the overarching story, I liked the sketches, I liked both the comedians at the centre of it. I liked the loose and fleeting themes, and I liked the way they kept skirting around the idea of having more of a theme. I liked the characters. I liked the ideas. I came out of it saying I’m sorry that I thought I wouldn’t much like this.

The Delightful Sausage – Nowt But Sea (2022)

Filmed for NextUp at the 2022 Edinburgh Festival.

After I enjoyed Lazy Susan so much, I decided to pick another sketch group and watch their hour, to see if I’ll like that too. And I’ll be honest… not for me. It’s good, I’m pretty sure. It got nominated for that award that isn’t called the Perrier (and hasn’t been since like 2007, but all the comedians I hear talk about it still call it that so it’s that in my head), so I’m pretty sure if you like that sort of thing, this is a good example of it. Just not sure it’s for me.

Parts of it did make me laugh. Some of their jokes, especially near the beginning and before they got too far into the story of it, were quite good. I thought the two main performers were naturally funny. I just had trouble getting on board with the physical theatre and the story of it, I kept wishing they’d drop that and get back to making jokes. Which is unfortunate, because I hate comedy fans who watch comedy that does anything narrative or experimental or thematic or emotional, and say, “Get back to making jokes.” I like a lot of things in comedy besides just straightforward jokes. But this just wasn’t really my thing.

Simon Munnery – Hello (2007), Fylm Makker (2013)

Obviously Simon Munnery is a staple of 21st Century British comedy, so it’s weird that I haven’t seen these full specials by now. Though I’ve seen and heard so much of him, in so many different bits and pieces elsewhere, that a lot of the material ended up being stuff I’d already heard. Not that I minded hearing it again, because most of it I enjoyed. I think I first saw Simon Munnery when I watched Stewart Lee’s Alternative Comedy TV show last year, and since then I’ve heard a lot of compilations and things that feature him.

Hello is just over two hours, and I think is meant to cover most of the material he’d done up to that point in his career, which was 2007. Definitely worth watching if you’re interested in Simon Munnery’s work but don’t know where to find it, because those two hours will pretty much catch you up (well, up as far as 2007, but he had a lot of years in comedy behind him by then). Most of the bits didn’t really connect, I’d heard them individually in other places because they were easy to cut out.

Most of it was very funny. Some of it wasn’t really my thing, but most of it was, and what was, I really liked. His props always made me laugh. Pretty sure the hardest I laughed was at this list of quotes he did at the end, though his Alan Parker character came close. The Alan Parker character was very funny. I liked the slam poetry too – it was bad enough to be a solid lampooning of the sort of student activist who does slam poetry, while also being good enough to be entertaining on its own. Some of it wandered into territory where I didn’t quite follow, but that never lasted long. It was great.

I think until I watched this, I didn’t quite appreciate how good some of his one-liners were. Or his other quick jokes – longer than one line, shorter than narrative stand-up. It wasn’t themed, there wasn’t a story or a message, but it still felt coherent and put together with intention. It felt like foundational alternative comedy, like if you ask me what “alternative comedy” is, I’d say it’s a term with too many definitions to be particularly useful and I’m not sure it really means anything, but also, I’d point to that Simon Munnery show and say “it means that”.

Fylm Makker was different, it was its own show rather than a “best of” compilation. Had a very Alternative Comedy gimmick of doing the whole thing into a camera that projected onto a screen on the wall behind the stage, and he kept switching between his own face and illuminating some props he had. I admit he lost me a little in some of that stuff. I don’t find cardboard cutouts quite as funny as your average Simon Munnery fan probably does, but fair enough to him having so many of them, as I’m pretty sure the type of comedian he is attracts the type of fan who really enjoy cardboard cutout-based prop comedy. And even if that wasn’t all for me, a lot of the jokes made me laugh. Some of the format stuff made me laugh. Some of the writing made me laugh. He did his Venn diagram joke, I think the only one he repeated from Hello, and that seems like a good choice, I think I agree with that being the one joke you’d pick as being so good its worth repeating in future years’ shows.

Paul Foot – Swan Power (2023)

Filmed for NextUp last week.

Do you (like me) actually find early Russell Brand (like, Goth Detectives-era Russell Brand) quite funny, but feel vaguely guilty about that because he’s turned out to be so many flavours of horrible person, so you can’t actually enjoy him? Well, may I recommend: Paul Foot. The humour of Russell Brand’s style, in the voice of a man who to the very best of my knowledge has not spread vaccine disinformation or committed any sexual assaults, also he does all that stuff better than Russell Brand ever did anyway. Does that amusing style with creative and witty ideas, not just a bunch of stories about taking drugs and sexually assaulting people. I don’t think I’ve written much about Paul Foot on this blog before, but I really like him.

I’d already heard some of this latest Paul Foot show on the Melbourne Comedy Festival’s YouTube channel, they put up videos of short sets that various comedians did at their galas. I watched a bunch of them, and I think the one Paul Foot did was my favourite of the lot:

So this is the full show from which that bit was taken, I was very pleased when he filmed it for NextUp so I could see the rest of it. And first of all, I’ll say, I absolutely loved that first joke in the YouTube clip and he cut it down in this version of the full show, and I have no idea why. The line “they are, though” (watch that YouTube clip to the get the context of that line, the whole clip’s under five minutes long and it’s so worth your time) made me laugh so hard when I heard it, and it’s not in the full show. I mean, I assume it was in the full show when he was doing it in Melbourne, but it’s not in the thing he filmed for NextUp a couple of months later. He did tell that joke, but an abridged version. No idea why he’d cut part of that joke from the show; clearly, he knew it was a good bit, since he chose to showcase it at the gala. Perhaps he feared being cancelled for heterophobia. Self-censorship comes to us all, he should go on one of those podcasts about it. (Seriously though, why the fuck did he cut it?)

Anyway. That minor gripe aside, I thought this one was excellent. Everything I like about Paul Foot, and a few things I haven’t heard much from him but really liked. All these unconnected bits in a show that didn’t have a particular overt theme, but I came away from it feeling like it did have an underlying one. There were only a few really specific callbacks (and each of those was delightful), but also a few topics came up multiple times in wildly different ways. Those topics included euthanasia, gruesome deaths, violent tragedy, and accusing celebrities of crimes. So, you know, the mark of a comedian who’s been doing this a long time, to develop enough confidence in his ability to run around all over those topics in his offbeat way, and be pretty sure it’ll work. And it does, every time. I didn’t think there was a single weak bit in this show.

A little bit of political messaging, especially near the end, about racist statues and misogynistic YouTube comments. I thought that worked really well too, playing on a few points he’d made earlier, but so subtle and dressed up in so much other stuff that it didn’t feel at all forced. It’s the sort of thing that would get called quirky and possibly even whimsical but it is in fact full of really solid writing that’s based on anger and confusion and just a lot of reality. It’s a style that should be lighthearted and material that isn’t, which is a combination that I think works so well. I really, really recommend this one.

[redhoodieone]

His Girl

Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.

As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.

Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.

Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.

But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.

“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.

Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.

And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.

Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.

“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.

“Yeah, and…?”

“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”

Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”

“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”

“Because you’re shallow.”

“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”

“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”

“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.

Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”

“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.

“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.

“What?” Dick asks quietly.

“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”

“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”

“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.

“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.

“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.

“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”

Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”

Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.

“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.

“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.

Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”

“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.

“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”

“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.

“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.

Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.

“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”

Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.

“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.

“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.

“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.

“It doesn’t!”

“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”

“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”

“You already did.”

That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.

Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.

“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”

“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.

“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.

“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.

By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.

“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.

“Leave me alone, Dick!”

Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.

Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”

“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”

Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.

“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.

Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.

“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”

He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.

Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.

He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.

“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.

“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.

“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.

“That’s not true, Jay,”

“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”

Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.

“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”

“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

taglist. if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you!!

@anikazoldeck • @hakunamatatayqueen • @alilsumnsumn • @sukunaslefttesticle • @hawksyoongi • @rivviespens • @kenmas-nintendoswitch • @myumyutie • @unicorngluttony • @bloomyagi • @shantellmcintosh • @queenhxla • @yeyehdom • @persies-main • @yikes-buddy • @nnmesis • @thehandsresisthim • @hinatabokeboke • @joongsite • @amazinghefi • @sarcasticambiguity • @mr-bombastic • @i-am-literally-deranged • @ch0pi • @aonjuh • @www-bubblefish • @meliorist-midoriya • @maizurie • @idkdude776 • @midarislonglostlefteye • @queerloser17 • @franklyrobin • @ravioliplease • @ashsera • @chirumi • @yamashiro888 • @xxjosiexx • @krstnn • @bbsista • @seij6hs • @franklyrobin • @chirumi • @melodysakura

[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

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

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

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

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

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

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

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

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

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

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

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

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

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

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. ���You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

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

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.”