#wilson the whale

[clownowo]

this is my wishlist for TGAA's 10th anniversary. i hope we get TGAA merch. hopefully from Fanthful.

@ capcom:

[emolionsrawr]

*at a grant nash BBQ*

buck: *staring off into space*

eddie: he's about to say something really funny or absolutely horrifying

tommy: what?

hen: just wait

buck: did you know these two orcas trained other orcas to kill sharks by taking out their liver and testicles?

eddie: yep horrifying

tommy: wait, really?

buck: yup, off the coast of africa there's these two orcas called port and starboard and they hunt sharks to eat their liver and testicles, they tag team them, one goes for their fins while the other takes out the liver, so far they've taken down five great whites, they even killed khaleesi, who was being tracked and traced for research purposes

tommy: oh my god really?

hen: *looks at tommy and smiles*

eddie: *whispers to hen* he's perfect for him

hen: *whispers back* i know!

buck: yeah! port and starboard have even started teaching other orcas to do the same! so far port and starboards record of how many sharks killed in a day is seventeen!

tommy: oh my god, that's insane baby, what else have port and starboard done?

buck: well they also hunt copper sharks and some fish, they even chased the great whites away from africa for seven weeks! but this isn't even the first time orcas have done something like this, in the early 1900's there was this orca called old tom who would help whalers hunt baleen whales, he even tugged the boats into the right position to get the whales, this happened in the port of eden new south whales in australia, you can actually go and see old tom's skeleton in eden killer whale meuseum, and on his teeth you can see marks from where he would pull the roaps! and old tom even has missing teeth because the whalers had this thing called "law of tounge" where they would strap the dead whales down so old tom and his pod could eat the lips and tongues, on the night where he lost his teeth logan, one of the davidson whaler friends tried to bring the whale in instead of pinning it down for old tom to eat, and old tom was pissed and tried to stop him, and he lost teeth, old tom died from starvation, when old tom died they thought he was 35, but the davidson family swore old tom helped three generations of their family with whaling, old tom was actually in his 90's when he died, they called old toms pod the killers of eden which-

tommy: would make an amazing true crime shark podcast name

buck:

eddie:

tommy:

hen:

buck: *tears up* you get me

[exactly103]

my fav moments from d&dads s2ep1

[zarthhearth]

Instant Crush

[realbeefman]

how am i meant to post about toxic yaoi under these conditions

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Frank Godwin]

* * * *

God’s Grief

Great parent who must have started out with such high hopes. What magnitude of suffering, the immensity of guilt, the staggering despair. A mind the size of the sun, burning with longing, a heart huge as a gray whale breaching, streaming seawater against the pale sky. Man god or beast god, god that breathes in every pleated leaf, throat sac of frog, pinfeather and shaft— god of plutonium and penicillin, drunk sleeping on the subway grate, god of Joan of Arc, god of Crazy Horse, Lady Day, bringing us to our knees, god of Houdini with hands like a river, of Einstein, regret running thick in his veins, god of Stalin, god of Somoza, god of the long march, the Trail of Tears, the trains, god of Allende and god of Tookie, the strawberry picker, fire in his back, god of midnight, god of winter, god of rouged children sold with a week’s lodging and airfare to Thailand, god in trouble, god at the end of his rope— sleepless, helpless— desperate god, frantic god, whale heart lost in the shallows, beached on the sand, parched, blistered, crushed by gravity’s massive weight.

Ellen Bass

[Thanks to Anthony Wilson Poetry]

[gior-gio]

Sketching for a Cast Away illustration

[gummyartstradingcards]

[maxwell-grant]

Since he’s probably Oswald’s closest Marvel equivalent, being a relatively-unpowered crime-boss who semi-frequently becomes Mayor… any thoughts on Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime?

It's a comparison that's frequently made by Big Two fans and it's easy to see where it comes from, certainly they're the most iconic gangster/mafioso villains in their respective companies, but I don't think Kingpin is the closest Marvel has to Oswald because A: If anyone has a prior claim on Comic Book Gangster, it's definitely him, and B: They simply don't work in comparable or equivalent fashion. You can even boil down a key difference to the fact that The Penguin is inherently a small man trying to be bigger, and The Kingpin is the biggest man who ever lived. That's not a joke about their sizes, that's how they operate as characters and villains: Oswald is underestimated, ridiculed, diminished, and driven in large part because of it. He is the underdog, he slips under the radar, he slips through the cracks, he is a cockroach who lives to thumb his nose and pull the rug under the bigger bastards who think they can step on him. Wilson Fisk IS the bigger bastard who steps on people, he is the biggest bastard in the world.

He is an unsurmountable force of crime at the top of every possible advantage that a criminal can possibly weaponize, he is a titan of wealth and privilege as willing and capable of crushing your skull with his bare hands as he is of murdering your entire social circle with a phone call. He is "the ill intent", the biggest and strongest gangster of all time, and even if there are bigger and stronger bastards than him, they certainly aren't gangsters like him, they certainly aren't meeting him in his playing field of choice. There isn't really a DC equivalent to Wilson Fisk - there were certainly attempts to make Luthor and Cobblepot more like him, there's no shortage of imitators or knock-offs like Blockbuster and Tobias Whale, but the Kingpin is a league of it's own among comic book gangsters. Like Luthor and Joker and Doom, like the top dogs of the genre, he's become an Archetype in his own right.

I talked about his Spiderverse version a little while back in regards to how much I liked him in that movie and what his design represented about him, Fisk as this black hole obelisk who drains the color of every room he's in and suffocates the world visually as well as metaphorically, far from the most interesting character in the movie but one that you can pin all these other more interesting things on, and I think that's also applicable to a lot of what he does as a Spider-Man villain. Now, he's a GREAT Spider-Man villain, easily one of the best, his arcs in Ultimate Spider-Man alone should be more than enough proof of concept for that, but even if he's not necessarily the most colorful or intimate or dangerous villain to hang a Spider-Man story on, he is maybe the most villain to hang a story on - the entirety of Marvel's street level vigilantes and organized crime exists under his shadow, and you can blow up his scope to the moon and back as a way to build up all the other characters you can squeeze more dramatic stuff out of. Whether it's in TAS, where he is so undisputably atop the pecking order that everyone else is bouncing off his fixed presence, or in the Insomniac games, where he stood tall as Peter's main villain for 7 years until the game begins with his downfall as a way to kick off all the strange new threats he'll be up against, Wilson Fisk is The Crime Man to rule all Crime Men, as entrenched and emblematic and secure in his kingdom of Manhattan as Dracula is to Transylvania and Dr.Doom is to Latveria.

Unlike the vast majority of Spider-Man villains who regularly enjoy redesigns and rewrites and do-overs, official and fan-made alike, Wilson Fisk is practically the same character in every iteration, there's very little need to seriously rethink or readjust who he is and how he does things because he is perfectly simple and perfectly timeless - we have now two Ultimate Spider-Man comic runs that have brought significant overhauls and revisions and new spins to established Spider-Man characters, and in both of them, Wilson Fisk is a major character, and he is completely and utterly unchanged from how he already works in the mainline universe. Even if you don't want to use Wilson Fisk, you can't neglect Wilson Fisk, you have to show how he fits into things, you have to show what he's up to or how he allows or makes way for what's happening without him, you have to give him his cut. This imutability of his is another thing I'd say is a major difference between him and Penguin - Oswald demands change, he demands growth and adaptability, he demands different surroundings more suited to him, he wants to grow and grow and make a nest that's suitable for him, he can't fit into existing systems so he breaks them to remake them as his own. That is simply not the case with Wilson Fisk.

Unlike The Penguin, unlike some of the other great comic book supervillains, Fisk has no intention whatsoever to change anything about how the world works - as far as he's concerned, it worked just fine up until these costumed irritants arrived, and even they just became another part of his conglomerate in time. Fisk really doesn't have or need any kind of big philosophy to justify himself, rather, he takes it as fact that he's operating under the way the world works and under a merit he's achieved by being the man he is. He is content within society's morality, because he is at the top of society and therefore that morality will always bow to him. The legions of costumed enemies orbiting his life are merely dissidents going against the order of things that places him at the top, tools to be used and bugs to be squashed and little more.

And this is true even of those whose power and scope stands above his own - they are not players in his game, and if they are, they are distractions, diversions, things that he can deal with. When he loses to billionaires like the Stromms in Zdarsky's run, when he has to playy ball with bigger villains, when he is ousted in a power play, it is humiliating, and he doesn't deal well with humiliations - but he can take humiliations, he knows he can give back, he can ultimately rebuild his pride as he rebuilds his empire time and time again. Spider-Man is annoying and powerful and infantile and annoying and an enemy and really really annoying, but he is no existential threat. He is not terribly concerned about Spider-Man, which is part of what makes him such a fun Spider-Man villain, that he never sees it coming when Spidey gets serious and just brings him down (peak example of this being Back in Black), that he is this larger-than-life bully/shitty grown-up who actually can and must be defeated. And if a lot of what makes him a fun and great Spider-Man villain is contingent in the ways that he doesn't lose sleep over Spider-Man, part of what makes him a stronger Daredevil villain is the precise opposite: he desperately wishes he could be this dismissive towards Daredevil, who is for all intents and purposes weaker than Spider-Man. It's his relationship with Daredevil that brings out the best of him as a villain and the worst of him as a person alike.

Against Spider-Man, the Kingpin is a very strong enemy, the figurehead of the kind of crime that is Spidey's daily routine, a powerful and oppressive force ruling over NYC who is nevertheless a step down from the Green Goblin or Dr Octopus or the Symbiotes and all those other genetic nightmares and obsessed masterminds that plague his life. No matter how clever or vile his schemes are, Spider-Man can still beat them, and Spider-Man can ultimately always triumph over him in a fight, and Fisk can always rebuild because Fisk builds empires as easily as most people breathe, and things rarely if ever get personal between him and Peter. Against Daredevil? There IS no bigger threat than Kingpin (well, The Hand I guess, but they're boring as shit), Kingpin is the mountain that Matt always crashes against in due time, and it is always personal. The Kingpin is his biggest and strongest enemy, able to run mental laps around Matt and someone that Matt cannot in fact beat in a fight, their battles are drawn out miserable slugfests where Fisk usually thrashes him around like a ragdoll with few conclusive victories and whatever victory Matt has is hard-won and usually via cheap shot.

Matt has an infinitely harder time dealing with Fisk than Spider-Man does, which is part of why it is Kingpin's appearences in Daredevil comics that made him comic book villain royalty: Matt has no real advantage against him other than his senses. He has no intellectual advantage, no physical advantage, and he can't even claim to be more determined or driven, Fisk is fueled by an equally horrendously powerful will and protectiveness towards what belongs to him, This City. There is nobody and nothing in the world that Matt hates more than Fisk, and there is nobody and nothing in the world that Fisk hates more than Matt. They've taken turns shattering each other to the point that those slugfests are the least of each other's offenses against each other.

Even besides the sheer accumulated history they have against each other, it's in the way they unforgivably violate each other's vision of the world. If the Kingpin was the invincible man of vision who loves the city and must steer it even if smaller people disagree with him, if he was truly so secure and untouchable at the top of the world, he wouldn't be having such a colossal hard time dealing with this one guy and he wouldn't be reduced to a base animal thug every time he shows up, let alone lose and be humiliated. If Wilson Fisk was as correct as he needs to be, if the strength of his love for Vanessa/the city/what belongs to him was as powerful as he wants it to be, Daredevil would never get the upperhand on him.

And if Daredevil is a man who dedicates himself 100% all the time to protecting the city and it's people, if Daredevil commits unlawful deeds to preserve human life and fight for justice, if Daredevil struggles with the innate contradictions and hypocrisies and nature of what he is and does but can nevertheless push past them all to do the right thing for others, every second the Kingpin lives, every second Fisk lives because he lets him, chips away at the assurance that he's doing the right thing, that he isn't just wasting time. If Daredevil's vision of the city was correct, if Daredevil was right about his beliefs and worldview, there wouldn't be a Wilson Fisk out there getting away with the things he does. They hate each other for that same fundamental reason: If the world was ruled by the principles I need it to be, in order for me to be who I am and do what I do, you wouldn't exist, and you wouldn't be in my way again and again.

As a Spider-Man villain, he is one of the greats, a core component of his world, a highly versatile and even necessary figure to have and an excellent villain to dictate proceedings. As a Marvel Universe villain, he is an indispensable facet of any criminal element, the Mt.Fuji that the streets of Marvel rest upon, someone who can be added to any storyline and be grafted into many characters to oppose or assist them, or even create and kill them. As a Daredevil villain, he is undeniable as one of the top supervillains, bordering on main character a lot of the time. An implacable unstoppable force of nature as well as a villain of history and brutality and drama and a character who brings intrigue and tragedy and even complexity, even as it all ultimately comes down to that raw hatred between them, the splinter in each other's eye, an infection in their world that just keeps taking and taking and taking without stopping.

It is an unforgivable offense to Wilson Fisk that there is a man out there so beneath him that he cannot break, cannot bend, cannot stop, and who makes such a mockery of everything he's built himself to be by existing, just as it is unforgivably offensive to Matt Murdock that there is a man out there named Wilson Fisk who thinks he has the right to be who he is, and do what he does. To be a man who not only cannot care about human life in any capacity other than what he thinks belongs to him, but whose continued existence attests to a world that validates him, that doesn't care about those lives either, where there is no accountability and no justice and no salvation that cannot be bought and sold. Fisk isn't just an embodiment of cruel, bottomless indifference, he stands for a world that agrees with him.

It would take too much work to defeat him, he just walks unscathed if you do, and even if you defeat him there will just be someone else to step in temporarily. And so it is with a heavy heart that the people of New York accept that the blood of countless runs through the streets, so long as the big man gets to give them their cookie at the end of the day for their hard work and agreeability. He is too big, too clever, too strong, and too invincible - and that's why Peter needs to stop him, that'd why Matt can never stop trying, that's why they can never let him be, otherwise Marvel New York would just be regular New York.

They'd have to accept a world where Wilson Fisk gets away with everything, and who could live with that?

[formlines]

The Creation of the Killer Whale Clan Mask

John P. Wilson

[childrenofred]

Wilson watches the tentacle retreat, and for a moment, they consider diving after it...but instead decide to simply take a seat on the ground and watch, curiosity riddling their features. Even as a mutant, it's not everyday that they get to meet a gigantic sea creature that returned one of their only two methods of communication, after all.

A whale ? They aren't sure which species of whale had tentacles, but then again, this is their first time ever meeting a whale. Sure, they'd seen other mutants, but...none really aquatic. Leatherhead and the other turtles, sure, but not someone that had to stay in the water all the time. ( To be fair...Wilson wasn't even sure they knew how to swim. ) This was an entirely new experience.

Thats interesting. I never met a whale before. Only other turtles and a gator.

They erase the board for more room and continue writing.

Are you a NICE WHALE or a MEAN WHALE.

     AFTER THE CHILD took back the marker, the tentacle casually slid back into the waters. Frankly, Superfly had little intention in sticking around  ( or…more accurately, sticking his head out of the water ); it just so happened that the object fell with a clatter before proceeding to roll straight into the water right in his line of sight. At that point, it only made sense that he return it himself.

     However, upon seeing the child immediately start scribbling something down, he paused out of curiosity. When Wilson flipped the board around, the sea mutant had to tilt his head slightly to one side, peering out one giant compound eye — something that Superfly had long grown accustomed to having to do in order to get a look at anything. Even still, he had to squint slightly to see it, then promptly blinked at their inquiry.

     “ Uhhh. Well— sorta ?  Not quite. “ Technically he’s a LOT of things, but he’s not sure how to articulate that to them. “ I’m more of a WHALE, actually. “

     As if to prove his point, he lifted his tail out of the water — which, when phrased so simply, seems like a casual action. But in reality, it looked as though a massive object emerged from the ocean in the far distance, dripping a waterfall’s worth of water and sending rippling waves that gently crashed against the edge of the dock. Once the waters calmed, however, it was clear that it was a whale’s tail. He even gave it a little wave, as though to confirm to them that it’s attached to him.

[the-writerwoman]

@strandedtoodeep Here’s the Librarian Logan 😁 he’s paired with a Wade who volunteers twice a week to do story time for the kids in the children’s section of the library.

I hope you like it 😊

The library was Logan’s fortress. It was a place of order and quiet, two things he valued more than most people. He enforced both with the kind of intensity that earned him nicknames like “The Library Tyrant” from the frequent users of the library. To Logan, it wasn’t an insult but an acknowledgment of his authority. If the patrons didn’t want judgmental stares or sharp-tongued quips, they shouldn’t ask questions like, “Where are the books?” in a room literally filled with shelves of them.

Vanessa, his boss and the one person Logan genuinely liked, tolerated his behavior because she knew he was worth it. No one else could keep the library running as efficiently as Logan. Beneath his gruff demeanor, she knew he cared. About the books, the institution, and, grudgingly, the people. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Vanessa was also the only person who knew Logan had a secret fondness for historical romances. A well-worn copy of The Duke’s Forbidden Desire sat discreetly hidden among the war histories and biographies that lined his locker. He read it during lunch breaks, retreating into the world of dashing dukes and forbidden trysts, a guilty pleasure he would take to the grave.

And then there was Wade.

Wade Wilson was the polar opposite of Logan. Cheerful, approachable, and full of energy. Twice a week, he descended upon the Children’s Corner like a whirlwind of chaos and joy. He brought stories to life, weaving magic with his animated voices, exaggerated gestures, and uncontainable enthusiasm. Parents adored him, kids idolized him, and Vanessa treated him like a younger brother.

Logan, however, remained unmoved. Or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself.

~~

Logan was reshelving books near the Children’s Corner one day when Wade began reading The Snail and the Whale to a group of enraptured children. Logan wasn’t paying attention at first. His mind focused on alphabetizing until Wade’s voice drew him in.

Wade had a knack for storytelling, but this was something else entirely. His voice dipped and soared, matching the rhythm of the prose, soft and soothing one moment, excited and adventurous the next. Logan found himself lingering, captivated by the cadence of Wade’s words.

He wasn’t prepared when Wade looked up mid-sentence and caught him staring. Their eyes met, and Wade’s lips curved into a knowing smile. Logan felt his cheeks flush. He turned on his heel and practically fled. Behind him, Wade didn’t miss a beat, continuing the story with a grin that didn’t leave his face for the rest of the session.

~~

Vanessa leaned against Logan’s desk, sipping her coffee as he furiously stamped due dates on a pile of books. She watched him in silence for a moment before breaking it with a smirk.

“So,” she began, her tone far too casual, “Wade told me you were watching storytime yesterday.”

Logan’s hand froze mid-stamp. “I was not watching,” he snapped. “I was working.”

“Uh-huh.” Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘working,’ you mean standing there like a deer in headlights while Wade charmed the kids and you?”

Logan glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vanessa grinned, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “He said you ran off like a teenager caught sneaking into a PG-13 movie.”

Logan groaned and rubbed his temples. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“Because,” she said, setting her coffee down, “it’s hilarious. And because I’ve been waiting years for someone to get under your skin.”

“No one is ‘getting under my skin,’” Logan muttered, but his flushed ears betrayed him.

Vanessa tilted her head, studying him. “You know, he’s a good guy, Logan. Maybe you should try being more…” She waved her hand vaguely in his direction. “Friendly.”

Logan crossed his arms. “And why would I do that?”

She smirked. “Because you could use more friends. Besides, Wade has this way of charming people. It blindsides you and you end up liking him before you even know it. And maybe you don’t mind that as much as you think.”

Logan scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the point.” Vanessa grabbed her coffee cup and headed for the door.

~~

Logan was deeply engrossed in The Duke’s Forbidden Desire when the door to the staff room creaked open. He didn’t look up, assuming it was Vanessa, until a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Well, well,” Wade drawled, his grin practically audible. “Caught you red-handed reading the dirty stuff at work have I?.”

Logan snapped the book shut, shoved it under the table, and glared at him. “It’s not a dirty book.”

“Any book with the word ‘Desire’ on the front of it is dirty. It’s a universal law,” Wade replied, plopping himself into a chair like he belonged there. His grin widened at Logan’s embarrassed glare. “Didn’t know you were into dashing dukes and scandalous love affairs. Got a favorite trope? Enemies to lovers, maybe?” he gave him a pointed look like Logan was supposed to understand some hidden meaning in his words.

Logan’s grip on the book tightened. “It’s none of your business.”

“Relax, man, I think it’s cute.” Wade leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “You’ve got layers. Like an angry little onion. I love the glasses by the way. Serious dedication to the sexy librarian look.”

Logan snatched his glasses off of his face and stood abruptly, clutching his book in one hand like a lifeline. “Shut up,” he snapped and stormed out the room.

Wade’s laughter followed Logan out the door.

[meanwhile-on-the-road]

House and Wilson went on a tour boat of the bay and saw three whales. It might’ve been the same whale three times, but who were they going to tell? Afterwards, they ate lunch in a diner and House got them paper cars to fold and Wilson bought them a sundae.

[fleurrypoet]

Hi can you write a few headcannons on how James Wilson would comfort reader if she’s just recently married to him and pregnant(she hasn’t told him yet) and she’s worried about his infidelity to other women affecting their relationship? Thank you 😊

This is a good one thanks for the request 🥰 hope you enjoy

If their already married I feel like the reader would have been different to James's other wives as from like the minute they started their relationship she would've told him that she did not want it ending how the the rest of James's marriages had ended. so like James would have reassured her multiple times that it wouldn't end up like the rest. This is why it does take them awhile to get to the marriage stage not because they don't love each other but because Wilson is afraid of messing it up and the reader is afraid of what it will end in.

though they do because they love each other and no doubt they have talked multiple times about children and it is clear that they both want kids. like all the reader has ever wanted was to be a mother and she can't wait to see James as a dad. though lets face it their both busy and recently married so I think they put it at the back of their minds figuring they will have the conversation again in a couple months or maybe a year.

though then the readers period is late like two months after their honeymoon and she puts all the symptoms such as sickness and fatigue all together and realises that she is pregnant. She is over the moon the one thing she has always dreamt of is coming true and it's happening with the man she loves. though then it washes over her the fear of James leaving, of him finding comfort and love in another woman and leaving the reader and baby alone. their is a big part of her that is telling her she is wrong and this is what James wants. But then the other part is referring her back to the fact that he cheated on his previous marriages ended in him cheating.

i feel like this goes on for days Wilson doesn't notice her pregnancy symptoms probably because they are masked by her pulling away from him which he can't understand why. she starts to spend longer hours at the hospital and going in before James so he basically hasn't really seen her in a couple days. considering the fact that James's third marriage ended in his wife cheating on him he starts to get a bit worried that maybe this is happening again. so it all boils down one night after dinner the reader has barely spoken all night and he just comes out and asks her if she's cheating on him.

the look of shock on her face tells James instantly that he was wrong and she's not but she's upset questioning why he would even suggest that she was the one cheating when he's the one prone to it. James explains why he though she was and it just led to her breaking down into tears realising that her being distant led to her husband questioning himself good enough for her.

so in the midst of it all she just tells him she's pregnant quickly followed by her spewing out what she'd been thinking about him leaving and cheating on her now that she is pregnant. James is overjoyed at the fact that he's going to be a dad but it pains him to think that his past mistakes have put his wife through all this stress so early in her pregnancy.

at his point all he can do is hug her and remind her that he loves her. then once the crying from both of them has subsided James leads her over to the couch and reassures her that he will never cheat on her. she half jokingly states that she will look awful when she's the size of a whale or when she's all tired from a crying baby keeping her up. though James reminds her again that he wants to be a dad and he loves her, stating that she wont look like a whale and he will also be tired from a crying baby but nothing will change the fact that he wants this and he wants her.

they both just end up spending the night on the couch as close to each other as they can planning their future and feeling relieved that the finally talked about what was bothering them.

[geethingy]

TLC

fandom: the falcon and the winter soldier

w/c: 1149

summary: How Sam convinced Bucky to sleep on the couch AKA Bucky is introduced to ASMR.

a/n: I love TFATWS and I want to write for them more but I cannot for the life of me think of good scenarios. Inspired by my own love hate relationship with asmr.

~~~~~~~~~

“Paid good money for that sofa you're disrespecting.”

Bucky sat up from his position on the floor. Sam's silhouette stood with crossed arms in the doorway, outlined only by the kitchen light behind him. He looked ridiculous. Bucky stretched to reach the lamp switch.

“I’m kind of an active sleeper. Figured I’d do less damage starting on the floor.” Bucky rubbed at his neck.

“Mm-hm.” Sam walked over to the couch and sat, meaning he didn't intend to let Bucky sleep just yet. “Sarah’s concerned.”

Embarrassed, Bucky dropped his hand slowly. From the moment he stepped inside the Wilson family home, he wondered if he was completely overstaying his welcome. He wouldn't have blamed them for feeling uncomfortable housing an ex-assassin. There were children in this house.

“She sent me in here to convince you to get off the damn floor. ‘C’mon Sam! Give the hobo your bed if it's better on his old joints than the couch.’ Hmph.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s kind of her.”

Sam glared at him. “Keep dreaming. You're funny if you think you're sleeping on my bed.”

Bucky shook his head with a frown. “No, the couch is comfortable. Very comfortable. Feels like I’m gonna sink right through it.”

Sam’s glaring expression changed to something more real. Was that a rude thing to say?

“Look, I get it. But you're making me look like a bad host. Sarah won't even let the cat sleep down there.” Sam said softly. “You’re just not used to feeling comfortable yet. All it takes is some TLC.”

“TLC?”

“Tender love and-”

“I know what TLC means.” Bucky said, more guarded than his therapist would have approved of. Sam was brave for this, Bucky thought. By now they had gotten comfortable, perhaps even extended their boundary past ‘a couple of guys with a mutual friend.’ They were friends, yet even so Bucky didn’t know what to do with clear affection. Sam knew this. It was brave in the same way as sticking a hand out to a dog known to bite.

Bucky sighed and looked up at Sam. “Are you offering?” he asked, genuinely.

“Just get your ass up here.” Sam said.

--

He pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds as Bucky sat next to him.

“We can start with this.” Sam said, holding out his tools as he explained. “Have you heard of ASMR? Stands for auto sensory… something or other. People listen to it to go to sleep, sorta like whale sounds or white noise. You know how certain sounds make you go all relaxed and tingly?”

Bucky frowned, not liking how that sounded. But Sam continued with an eyeroll.

“Well, that's the gimmick. It's pretty awesome and knocks me out like a baby. Gotta be careful not to find the freaky ones, though. There are a lot of weirdos out there..” Bucky’s frown deepened skeptically.

“Man, nevermind. Just, here-”

Bucky violently ducked his head away from Sam’s hand, instantly snatching the earbud Sam started to shove into his ear. Sam chuckled, to which he scowled at.

“I don’t know about this, Sam. I'm not a big fan of…” He squinted at the title of one of the videos on Sam’s phone. “Brain tickling? That doesn’t sound relaxing at all.”

Sam reached over to tap the video immediately as Bucky made a noise of disapproval. He stood and patted Bucky’s shoulder.

“Alright, now lay back and close your eyes. Ugh.” Sam reached forward, smoothing out the dubious eyebrows on Bucky’s forehead. “Relax your damn face. Trust me, man! This stuff is powerful.”

Bucky was entirely unsure about this, as nothing about what Sam had been trying to sell sounded appealing. But because Sam was good at this sorta thing, he obliged. He laid back and shifted to get comfortable, snatching up the blanket that was on the floor with a metal hand.

He looked up at Sam, who was staring the whole time he adjusted himself.

“Are you gonna watch me sleep?”

Sam scoffed. “Sounds exhilarating. Sleep tight, Buck.” He switched off the lamp for Bucky, and left him alone with the ASMR.

As the video played, Bucky was caught off guard by the quality of the sounds.

There was a sweet spot in Bucky’s lower back he hadn't known about. And for reasons unbeknownst to him, the amplified scratching sounds coming from the video ignited the nerves in the same spot. Over and over again. He felt ridiculous for flinching, but he could hardly control it.

skrich skrich skrichskrichskrich.

It sounded like it was right behind him. His eyebrows pinched together in discomfort. He surprised himself by not throwing the earbuds across the room.

As weird as it was, it was also kind of nice. A tingle would start at the base of his skull, before shooting down that dip in his back. Relaxing chills overtook Bucky’s body after each ticklish pulse that sparked his spine. He found himself embracing the sounds and their unbearable, incredible effect. It reminded him of nails on his back, a sensation he had trouble remembering with how long it had been since he received such tender treatment. But he knew it was enjoyable. Even when the nails strayed to spots that were too sensitive to stay still for.

Bucky couldn't stop the smile that followed after the next jolt, so powerful it made his leg jump. Like when you pet a dog just right. He wondered if this ASMR garnered the same reactions from Sam. If that was why he liked it so much.

A laugh startled Bucky to open his eyes. He thought it might have come from himself until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His face flushed as he tore the earbuds out of his ear.

“How long were you standing there, you creep?” Bucky asked, worried about how much Sam might have seen - and clocked.

“Just came out for a bit to see if it already put you to sleep. Looks like you were loving it.” Sam said, grinning. There was no judgement in his tone, only teasing. Bucky can handle teasing.

“It's nice. It’s freaky, but it's nice. I was almost asleep till you came back out.” Bucky said accusingly. Sam started to say something back, an apology about interrupting his tickle-time, but Bucky wisely put the earbuds back in and flipped over on the couch to ignore him completely.

“Alright alright. Get your beauty sleep, White Wolf.” Before finally leaving him alone for the night, Sam fluttered his nails up and down Bucky’s exposed back and neck. He shrugged him off with a giggle-laced fuck off.

“Goodnight Sam,” he called out before he shut his bedroom door. “Thanks.”

[all-pacas]

not sure where this came from but did you want a story from the fifteenth annual oncology benefit? of course you did!

featuring chase md in his element (lying to strangers), park/adams, and violence!

-

The benefit has a vague eighties theme, and Chase watches with interest as Dr. Thurmel, the new head of Oncology, makes a joke about it in his welcome speech. He listens as long as he figures is minimally polite and then slides towards the bar to beat the post-speech line: “Vodka tonic,” he says to the man at the nurse’s station-turned-bar, and then, joking to Park, who is lingering with her elbows on the counter already: “Planning on getting wasted?”

“Isn’t it disrespectful?” she asks. Chase has no idea what she means: Park has the bad habit of starting conversations mid-sentence, but she nods towards Thrumel.

Chase wracks his brain and comes up with nothing. “I wouldn’t say the comb-over is a good look, but not sure how it's disrespectful.”

“This is the first oncology benefit since Dr. Wilson… you know,” Park says. “Why is it eighties themed?”

“We’re here to earn money for the hospital, not memorialize,” Chase points out: he very much doubts Wilson would have minded the purple streamers and Duran Duran soundtrack. He takes his drink from the bartender and takes a sip: watery, not much actual alcohol. Foreman had sent him an e-mail reminder this morning: As a department head, you are expected to attend the benefit; annoying, because Chase actually had been planning on it without the reminder, thanks.

Looking around, he’s not entirely sure why. Coworkers in fancy dress, rich donors from the university or schlepped down from Manhattan, lackluster decor, watery drinks. He’s struck by an embarrassing impulse for nostalgia: to tell Park about the time House dragged them all from the party to chase some white whale.

Chase drains his glass too quickly, wincing at the burn. “I didn’t think parties were your thing,” he teases lightly; Park is still, well, parked where she is, elbows on the counter.

“It’s important to have good relationships with your colleagues,” Park says, and something about the way she says it, pointed, makes him frown —

“You avoiding neurology?” Chase guesses, scanning the crowd for her former colleagues. He catches a glimpse of Adams, dressed nicely, complete with pearl earrings, talking to some rich looking older men, then finds Park’s old boss schmoozing it up with Foreman.

“No need,” Park says glumly. “I haven’t existed to them for twenty months.”

“Huh.” A relief, honestly. Chase isn’t sure enough of his new-ish job as department head to know if he’s supposed to defend his employee’s honor — or something — in the case of conflict. House probably would have declared all-out war, but. “We could do something about that,” he offers gamely, but he’s relieved when Park’s mouth thins and she shakes her head no.

He orders another drink.

“What about you?” Park asks. “I thought parties were your thing.”

“This isn’t a party,” he smirks: in truth he’s been going to hospital benefits as long as he can remember, paraded around in support of his father; this sort of thing is boring but it’s an environment in which Chase knows he thrives.

“There’s girls,” Park says pointedly, probably trying to tease him: she waves her hand, accidentally gesturing at Adams as she laughs coyly at a donor’s joke. Chase wonders: rich girl, were her parents the rich donor type? He doesn’t know. He probably won’t bother to ask.

“You’re a girl,” he says.

“Sorry, but I no longer have any sexual interest in you,” Park says, very seriously.

He blinks, puffs himself up with mock outrage. “What? But, Park, after all this time, I…“ Chase laughs at her expression, unable to keep up the act any longer. Park scrunches up her face in annoyance, her gaze darting away —

A-hah. “Dr. Adams looks good, doesn’t she?” he muses. She is, there’s no doubting that, and her dress is tight-fitting and he very much enjoys looking at her in it.

“From our boss, that’s inappropriate,” Park reminds him.

“True,” he says, remembering dimly Cameron, years and years and years ago, fuming that House had compared her to lobby art. He tries not to smile. “It’s fine from you, though.”

Park glowers. Chase pretends to be busy with his drink and watches her glower, take a loud breath through her nose… and glance back over at Adams.

“You should ask her out,” he says, partially in the spirit of friendship and partially because it would be very funny to watch.

“Didn’t you once tell me it was inappropriate to go out with a colleague?”

“And as you so prudently reminded me, I also once was married to a colleague, so who’d take my advice?”

“She’ll say no,” Park says, annoyed. “And if she doesn’t say no, it’ll be a pity date, or a friend date, or a bad date. Or it will be a good date, and we’ll break up because we are very different people who want different things in life, and then you, as our boss, will have to deal with the repercussions of our bitter falling out. Every day.”

“Well, your contracts only last another six months,” Chase jokes, although actually he hadn’t considered that at all and feels a shudder of horror at the idea of Park and Adams, both very obnoxious when in a bad mood, heartbroken and punchy about it.

“I’ve never gone out with a girl before,” Park adds, deflating.

“It’s not that difficult,” Chase tells her, although part of him is still worrying if he’s made a bad call and should stop this train before it goes any further. “You talk to them like you’d talk to anyone else.”

“I think, since I am actually a girl, and you’re not, that I probably know more about talking to girls than you do,” Park snaps, clearly flustered.

“But I’ve dated way more of them,” he points out wryly, and Park glares up at him: from her expression — more petulant than angry — he doesn’t think he’s in immediate threat of being punched.

She glances over at Adams again, realizes what she’s doing, and crosses her arms in a huff, turning her back to Adams and the bar counter entirely. “My bisexual crisis is not the same as you sleeping with half the nursing staff.”

He tries not to pull a face. “It’s not a crisis. You like her. She’s into you —“ Park glances up: Aha, he thinks again—

“How do you know?” Park asks, suspicious of Chase lying.

He is lying, actually, so he shrugs. “From how she acts, I suppose.” When he thinks about it, Chase decides it could be true. Adams complains about Park frequently, but goes out of her way to keep talking to her: they enjoy bickering way more than Chase ever could. “I asked her a while ago,” he admits, a little reluctant. “After the Russo case. If you two weren’t… getting along, yeah?” It had been intensely uncomfortable: Chase was, is, determined to be a more hands-on boss than House was, to actually try to manage his employees, but actually having a talk about interpersonal affairs? He’d put it off for months, but Park and Adams had a shouting match in Russo’s room and Foreman had more or less ordered him to sort them out. Chase had said something like if you have a problem with Park, and Adams had blinked up at him: I don’t, she’d said, honestly surprised. “She said she liked you,” he says, which isn’t true, but was his general impression all the same.

“You’re lying,” Park says.

“I am not,” Chase lies.

“You’re a shitty liar,” Park says.

“Want me to ask her out for you?” Chase grins. “I will. It would be very funny.”

Park whacks his arm. Lightly, for her, so it still stings. “No!”

“I think I’m going to,” Chase decides, draining his glass —

“No!” She hisses, slapping at him again. “Chase!”

Chase shrugs her off — Park is violent but small — and strides with purpose in Adams’s directly, walking slow enough that Park can overtake him or rush ahead if she chooses. Disappointingly, she does neither, and he reluctantly lets her call his bluff: he does still have to work with them both another six months, after all.

He finds himself in the middle of the party, surrounded by small groups of threes and fours, the DJ now playing John Mellencamp. Alone, undistracted, Chase feels the stirrings of nostalgia — fourteen, fifteen, sneaking into the bedroom of his first girlfriend and her stacks of Madonna and Kylie Minogue tapes… sneaking out of the oncology benefit with Cameron one year, when things were good between them… avoiding her and at the same time desperately wanting to find her another year, which looking back on it seemed like premonition…

He regrets his conversation with Park. Dimly, distantly. He should have stayed near the bar, but he can’t go back now; that would be giving up in some way. That would be admitting he feels…

“Dr. Chase,” Adams suddenly calls, as he’s standing around like an idiot: he blinks and she’s waving him over to her, twenty feet away, still with her donor couple. “This is my boss. The head of Diagnostics,” she says, warm and formal and very fake:

“Fantastic to meet you,” Chase says brightly, approaching and shaking hands with her donors, who introduce themselves as Mr and Mrs. Morse.

“Head of Diagnostics? Are your age?” Mrs. Morse clucks.

Chase accounts for her husband and age as he grins over at her. “I’m good at what I do,” he jokes, correctly: they both laugh.

“I was just telling them about the sort of work we do,” Adams says primly, her expression letting him know she doesn’t find him all that charming.

“Diagnostics sounds simply fascinating. Like you’re medical detectives or something!” Mr. Morse enthuses. “And you hardly see any patients?”

“We do a lot of consulting for other departments, but our patient load is necessarily low,” Chase explains smoothly: his smile feels plastered on, and Adams chimes in to elaborate on his point. Her parents were definitely rich donor types, he decides: she’s good at this.

So is he. He answers the couple’s questions, wondering how much of this Adams has already told them, that Mr and Mrs Morse simply needed reiterated by a man, joking and smiling indulgently whenever Adams talks — she’s mad, getting madder, great, she’s going to tell him off later, probably, but in the meanwhile Chase just keeps talking. He tells the couple about the time House treated the Black Death — it’s always popular with these types — and hopes Adams doesn’t stomp on his feet anytime soon, because she’s wearing at least three inch heels: “On it like, well, fleas on a dog,” he’s saying, and then sucks in a breath as his prediction comes true.

“Oops,” she says, pretending to have been jostled by some invisible passerby.

Chase thinks about it for half a second, and decides what the hell. “No problem. Hey, would you mind getting me a drink?” Her eyebrows go into her hairline, and oh, he’s so dead, but he can’t help but smirk at her outrage. “Thanks,” he adds, turning back to the Morses: “The mad thing is, the black death isn’t even the oddest disease we’re run into over the years.”

Adams turns and goes, radiating outrage from her pores: he’s so dead, but it really was very funny. Mrs. Morse asks Chase if he’s ever worried about catching one of these deadly illnesses, a question so common he has a standard answer prepared: he assures her of the low risks, the safety precautions they adhere to, his spine twinging with remembered pain. As he talks, Chase keeps an eye on Adams’s walk to the bar, the way she drapes herself angrily over the counter, turning to Park to complain and commiserate.

Park looks unsubtly in Chase’s direction, glaring. “It’s really a fantastic job,” Chase says insincerely, his best smile plastered on as he gives Park a subtle thumb’s up. Worth it. “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”