#while steven bulks up to kill

[sexysilverstrider]

my flying team is 50/50 sometimes they cant do jack shit other times they demolish everything in sight

#its all about planning w this team #somethng i dont like lol #i need to plan out falkners fly properly #n darach defogging everythng n feather dancing too #while steven bulks up to kill #fafar plays pokemon masters

[peribytes]

listen to my vision of Fragments Human AU...

steven is a high school theater-kid-turned-jock (he's having a crisis at this stage in his life and is trying something different) who just made it on the football team. he's concerned about his throws so he goes to jasper, his weird aunt (derogatory) bc he knows she likes sports (she's a veteran and is like. aggressively into fitness stuff) to help him practice. she's like oh thank god he finally dropped theater maybe he's not gay (she's gay in denial btw). and they do drills in her backyard for hours after school and it's awful but bc of this combined with the protein shakes he has for breakfast every morning plus puberty, he's suddenly bulking up and his throws go super far and hard. this keeps up until one day he throws the ball at just the right angle with just the right amount of force that it knocks jasper out on impact. steven freaks out thinking he just killed her so he calls an ambulance and she stays in the hospital for a while and everyone back home thinks she's dead until later when they see a new facebook post from her that says "i lived bitch! #ProudAuntOfAFootballStar"

#steven universe #this flashed before my eyes while on a walk

[gayautobotwolves]

The Beastbots (its oc time <3)

Just making a list of their names+ a vague idea of who they are.

For a quick summary: The beastbots are a squad who stay isolated from other botbots and are typically always in up high places, watching things from up above, they’re essentially the botbot version of a predacon.  Previously a line of robotic dragon toys with the lore on the box and everything, probably from a book series or tv show, the details don’t really matter, however one of them is far different from the rest, ordered from a completely different toyline on accident. 

Midnight Viper- The leader of the squad, doesn’t take anything from anybody and chooses to keep her squad far away from the other botbots, it’s for their own protection. A sorta purple and black shadow-dragon vibe going on with some faint green coloration here and there. Surprisingly friendly, she just doesn’t really like hanging out around the other squads in whole, but she does like a few individuals. The tallest out of the group, while her squad is made up of some rather big toys, she’s the biggest one. Reaches close to a human’s knee when standing at her full height. Her fellow beastbots (excluding Bubbles) are all shorter than her, but not by a large amount, they’re still rather large compared to other botbots.

Thunder Strike- Midnight’s second in command alongside Blizzard Seeker, she takes her role very seriously and follows that little backstory on the back of her box to the letter. She’s got some serious horns and spikes that rival that of her commander, does not hesitate to kill when she has a good reason to, hasn’t actually killed but she’s like 2 seconds away from it. Think Yellow Diamond from Steven Universe, very sparky and very gay.  Gold/white color scheme with hints of blue on her underbelly, her eyes are a bright turquoise blue.

Blizzard Seeker- While not as cool and collected as you’d expect, Blizzard keeps a level head and acts to neutralize Thunder’s constant boiling anger. Essentially part of the team’s impulse control, the other part being their lotus dragon friend. Blizzard seems to be able to stand cooler temperatures, and gets more easily overheated, she’s slept in many freezers throughout the mall, has a few favorite spots that she’s created dens in. Blizzard is one of the more bulky beastbots, she’s still pretty agile, but not as swift as Thunder Strike is. The strongest tail on the team, unless you count Viper’s tail, which has a sharp stinger at the tip. 

Willow Blossom- A dragon that looks almost just like a lotus flower, she’s the calmest beastbot in the entire squad. Willow is a big fan of music, and has a couple instruments of her own, which were probably accessories for her back when she was simply a toy dragon. Willow lacks the bulk that her fellow beastbots have, but she more than makes up for it in her extremely quick and precise movements, Bonsai would be great friends with her, they’re a lot alike. She’s very light on her feet, so it’s kinda difficult to hear her coming half the time. Scares the living daylights out of other botbots this way, even if it’s not on purpose. She also loves to sing and perform, which is one of the few things that bugs her about being isolated, the others are a lovely audience, but she longs to perform for the other botbots. Sometimes she sneaks off to play down by the fountain, which is why some bots whisper of a siren by the fountain water, with her angelic singing and sweet guitar playing. Nobody has really SEEN her, at least up close, though.

Shining Fractal- Covered in crystals, could blind a man in she were caught in too bright of a light, Fractal is practically glowing and she loves to show her beautiful crystal scales to all who will lay eyes on her. Rather carefree compared to her friends, not entirely stuck up per say, but she does get very stuck on her reflection at times and might be a little obsessed with how she looks. This gives her a bit of a struggle because she wants to look perfect constantly, she’s a beautiful crystal dragon so she must not have any smudges or even be the slightest bit unkept. Fractal doesn’t like being seen as anything but perfect, so she spends a lot of time shining herself to sparkle like brand new. Willow is trying to help her with her self-consciousness when it comes to her appearance, it’s a work in progress.  Aside from her personal issues, she’s extremely sweet and loves to give her friends makeovers, very much into fashion and such, will stop whatever she’s doing if you present her with a shiny object. Her nest is full of things like marbles, sparkly rocks and those little plastic gemstones from those capsule machines. 

Bubbles- She doesn’t have lots of lore, she’s hardly bigger than most botbots, Bubbles wasn’t even meant to be where she was when the cloud hit. She was ordered on accident, though the worker hardly paid any mind and just put her next to Viper, so when the cloud hit and they all woke up, the two immediately bonded. Bubbles acts far more childish and is rather innocent compared to the rest of her squad, but she’s happy being with the beastbots. Viper considers Bubbles as her own child, and is completely willing to fight anyone who claims that the cutesy little dragon bot doesn’t belong in the beastbots. Bubbles loves to play games and she’s extremely talkative, a little too much for some, but her squad couldn’t imagine life without her constant conversation.

#botbots #transformers botbots #botbots oc #botbots ocs #The Beastbots #my oc #my ocs #transformers botbots ocs #transformers botbots oc #transformers ocs #transformers oc #I love them ur honor #might add a couple more later on #and change some things #its all about development y'know

[ceealaina]

Title: How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Months Ship: WinterFalcon Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Protective Sam Wilson, Enemies to Friends to lovers, Snark, Pranks, Humour, Sexual Content, Happy Ending LInk: AO3 Summary:  When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in. Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?  Word Count: 14,901

Mission Parameters: Kill the mark, Captain America, by any means necessary. 

Means: Violence, murder, subterfuge, lying, distraction, seduction… Seduction. 

Mission Strategy Means Updated. 

Means Target: Natalia Romanova. Negative. Subject Immune. 

Means Target: Steven Rogers. Negative. Subject--t-t--t-t- no no no. Not St- error. 

Asset reset. 

Means Target: Sam Wilson. Positive. Means Selected.

***

Looking back, Sam supposed it all started back in Washington. When the steering wheel had been ripped out of his hand while he’d been driving, his initial reaction had been sheer terror, along with a healthy dose of ‘what the fuck’ because, again, he’d just had the steering wheel ripped out of his hand while he was driving. 

But there’d been a moment on that overpass when, for just an instant, the Winter Soldier had stilled, head tilting curiously as he peered at Sam. And then again, after Sam had kicked him in the back to get him off Steve. Of course he’d followed that up by kicking Sam about three times as hard on the helicarrier and then pulling his damn wing off, so he hadn’t thought too much of it. 

Only then it kept happening. 

After they’d ended the Hydra mess at SHIELD, and taken down the helicarriers, and Steve had been found half-drowned on the riverbank, they’d ended up in New York. Or, more specifically, they’d been co-opted to New York when Stark had shown up approximately five minutes later and immediately started coordinating with Natasha to get a handle on everything from clean up and PR to arranging care for Steve. The next thing Sam knew, he was moving into an apartment in Avengers Tower that already contained half his furniture. 

There’d been the whole awkwardness with the revelation that Barnes was likely responsible for the death of Tony’s parents. Steve had hemmed and hawed about what to do with the information and while he’d still been dithering Natasha had gotten impatient and just told Tony herself. There’d been a lot of screaming and yelling and things had been pretty tense for awhile, but in less time than Sam would have expected, Tony seemed to come to terms with the fact that Barnes hadn’t truly been responsible. And as an added bonus, he managed to convince Steve not to take off after Barnes half-cocked and without a plan. 

Only, as it turned out, he wouldn’t have had to go far because Barnes, it seemed, had followed them to New York. 

He and Steve were on a run “together,” which mostly consisted of Steve being an eternal asshole and lapping Sam around the park. He was just passing from under one of the bridges when something slammed into him from the side, knocking him into the grass. It wasn’t as painful as it could have been, but he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he yelped loudly when he rolled over to find the former Winter Soldier looming over him.  

“Um.” Sam swallowed hard, felt his heart pound in his chest. “Hey there.” 

Barnes didn’t speak, just stared down at him. Trying not to spook him with any sudden movements, Sam drew his legs up, trying to regain his footing. But the second he started to pull himself into a seated position, Barnes moved, giving him a hard enough shove that he found himself flat on his back again, although it hadn’t hurt. 

“Okay,” Sam said, holding his hands up. “You want me here, that’s fine.” 

For just a second he could swear that he saw the hint of smirk on Bucky’s face. 

And then Steve’s voice came from further down the path, yelling Bucky’s name. Sam turned automatically at the sound of his voice, and when he looked back again Bucky was gone. By the time Steve zoomed up beside him (not even winded, the asshole), Barnes was long gone. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, looking at him in concern.

Sam nodded, pulling himself to sitting and waving Steve off when he moved to check him over. “I’m fine,” he grunted, brushing dirt off his knees. “He just… Pushed me.” 

“He… Pushed you?” Steve repeated. He looked confused, but Sam could see the smile twitching at his lips. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“At least he’s getting less violent?” Steve offered. “That’s gotta be a good sign, right?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam agreed, taking the arm Steve offered and letting him pull him to his feet. “That’s a huge consolation for me. Maybe he confused me for you too, huh?” 

***

The next time it happened, Sam was alone, coming back from a dentist appointment, of all things. He was on a relatively quiet street uptown, no one else in sight. He was checking his phone when there was the clank of metal on metal. Before he could look up he was suddenly being doused with a large spray of water. 

“What the fuck?” Sam hollered as he was drenched immediately, coughing a little as some of the water got in his mouth. It took him a minute to realize that it was the fire hydrant that he was being sprayed with, another minute to figure out which way was up and get out from under the spray. “What the fuck?” he asked again, coughing and trying to catch his breath. He leaned against the wall of the building and when he looked up he caught a brief glimpse of a very familiar figure standing on the other side of the spray.  

It was, at least, a warm day, so Sam didn’t risk hypothermia on his trek back to the tower. That was about the only consolation he had, and by the time he made it home he was uncomfortable and cranky. He couldn’t even be surprised when the elevator opened on the common room floor instead of his own to reveal Steve and Tony. They were arguing amicably over something but stopped when they spotted him, eyes going wide in twin expressions of surprise. 

“Um.” Steve snorted and Tony elbowed him. “What the hell happened to you?” 

“Your boyfriend,” Sam grumbled, shoving past them because as long as he was here he was going to steal some of those cookies that Tony bulk ordered. 

Steve gaped after him. “My… How…” He started before Tony elbowed him again. “Wait, you mean Bucky? Bucky did this?” 

Sam shot him a look over his shoulder. “Who else would I be talking about?” 

“Right,” Steve agreed, still looking confused. “But why?” 

“How the fuck should I know?” Sam asked. 

“I think he means more ‘how.’” Tony offered. “Was it an ambush? Did you go after him?” 

“Do I look like I got a death wish?” Sam asked with an arched eyebrow. “No, man. I was just walking down the street and all of a sudden I got attacked by a fire hydrant.” 

“A fire hydrant?” Tony repeated incredulously. “That’s… A less than effective means for a murderbot.” 

“No shit,” Sam agreed. “I wouldn’t have even known it was him if he hadn’t stuck around to gloat.” 

He saw Tony mouth a ‘what the fuck’ to himself, before shrugging. “Maybe he’s breaking through more of his brainwashing? Little less murder in the bot?” 

“Don’t call him a murderbot,” Steve told him absently, still frowning like his brain hurt. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard this story before?” 

***

And then there was the bush. 

It had been weeks since the fire hydrant incident, and for all anyone could tell, Barnes had ghosted. No one could track down any sign of him, not Natasha with her super spy skills, not Tony with all his tech and algorithms, and not Steve with his can-do attitude. 

Sam was supposed to be meeting Steve for a late dinner, some tiny, hole-in-the-wall place that Steve swore by. Steve, of course, was running late, and Sam was waiting for him outside (since the last time Steve had been ‘running late’ he’d ended up sitting alone at a table for nearly an hour while the servers gave him pity looks, thinking he’d been stood up). One minute he’d been dicking around on his phone to pass the time, and the next thing he knew there’d been a vice grip around his arm, another around his mouth, and he was being hauled into the alley around the corner. 

(Though if anyone asked, Sam had not been so distracted that he’d let someone get the jump on him, world’s greatest assassin or no.) 

It had taken him a second to catch his bearings after he was practically thrown against the wall and when he looked up there was Bucky, looming over him. Sam could barely make out his face in the shadows and felt his heart start to race. 

“ Hey man,” he said, trying to keep calm. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” 

There was a noise near the front of the alley, and suddenly Bucky was brandishing a knife, holding it threateningly in his hand. Sam tamped down on the reflex to yell; he didn’t know what Bucky’s reaction would be to that, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that taking him on in wingless hand-to-hand would be anything other than suicidal, so his best bet was to stay calm and try and work some other way out of here. 

And then, while he was still weighing his options, Bucky’s other hand came up. For the briefest of seconds, Sam thought he was holding a dead animal of some kind (it was a scary situation, he could forgive his eyes for playing tricks on him) but when Bucky threw the lump at his feet, it turned out to be some kind of bush. 

“Uhh… What’s this?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

Bucky blinked at him. “Yours,” he replied, voice sounding gruff and unused. “It’s… Yours.” 

“Um.” 

And then, while he was still trying to figure out what that meant, Steve’s voice sounded from the street, calling his name. Sam’s head shot up and before he could think the better of it he was shouting back. 

“Here! I’m down here!” 

Bucky snapped his head to stare at him, eyes wide and wounded before he turned and ran deeper into the alley. In the scant seconds it took Steve to reach him, Bucky had disappeared again. 

“What the fuck are you doing in the alley?” Steve asked before he caught sight of Sam and the look on his face. “Shit. Are you okay?” 

“Uh.” Sam reached down and picked up the bush. “Your friend’s back.” 

Steve stared down at the plant in his hand and some kind of realization cleared across his face. “Oh,” he said, the word coming out on an exhale. “You okay?” 

“I think so,” Sam said, before shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m good.” 

“Okay, good. I think we should go back to the tower. We’ll order in.” 

Steve steered Sam out of the alley with a hand on his lower back, and he didn’t need it but it was reassuring enough that he didn’t tell Steve to knock it off. He also didn’t let go of his plant. 

By the time they made it back to the Tower, Tony and Nat were waiting for them after Steve’s frantic texts, and Sam was feeling a little less shaken. 

“Did he just…” He shook his head as the elevator deposited them on the common floor. “Sorry, man. I thought he was gonna kill me, but he just brought me a bush.” 

Tony looked at Sam like he was a fucking idiot. “D’you mean a plant? Like a bouquet but manly? You know, to match his… Murderlicious aura?” 

Sam gave him a withering glare. “I know you don’t know me that well yet, but I’m not an idiot, Stark. It’s a goddamn bush,” he explained, holding up the bush in question. He could feel his ears heat with suppressed frustration. 

And it was a goddamn bush. He felt a small modicum of satisfaction when Stark’s eyes widened as he took in the root structure, the clumps of dirt falling and breaking all over his precious floor. Sam was half expecting a reprimand, even had a snarky response ready, but Tony wasn’t even looking at him. He only had eyes for Steve, which Sam figured wasn’t anything new. 

“Steve, oh my god.”

Steve sighed heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So you see it too, then?” 

“Oh my god,” Stark repeated.

Sam finally put the bush down, since it seemed nobody was about to yell at him for dragging it in here. He felt weirdly reluctant to set it aside, even though it was heavy. “What?” he asked, resigned. 

“Sam, don’t freak out,” Steve started, and Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Steve either didn’t notice or didn’t care, moving forward to take Sam’s shoulders in both of his big hands. Sam would have laughed at him for being so cheesy, if not for the painfully earnest look on his face. “I think… I think the Winter Soldier has a crush on you.” 

Sam blinked back at him as Natasha, who up until now had been observing their exchange with mild interest, cracked the fuck up, laughing so hard she actually grabbed Tony’s shoulder for support. Sam could feel his ears definitely heating up now, the flush migrating down his neck and back. 

“Like a big crush,” Stark emphasized, spreading his arms wide to demonstrate his point. “Huge.” 

Sam sighed and shook Steve off, rubbing at his forehead. “You all don’t have to sound so thrilled about it,” he grumbled, with a particular glare for Natasha who was still cackling in the background. “Damn.” He sighed and sank onto one of the couches, leaning forward to rub at the tension he could feel building in his neck. He gave a half-hearted kick at the bush, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt that went through him when he did. There was something weirdly endearing about it in a sad sort of way, the tendrils of dirt clinging to the roots. He cleared his throat, feeling weird about the direction his thoughts were taking. “What did the bush do to him anyway, kill his parents?” he asked to cover up his fascination with it. He was pretty sure nobody present was a mind reader, but since he apparently hung out with superheroes now, you couldn’t be too sure (especially Natasha). 

There was a beat and he looked up to see Steve staring at him with wide eyes and Tony looking mostly exasperated. Sam just shrugged, out of fucks to give. 

“Too soon?” he asked Tony, giving him a slightly guilty smile. 

Tony just rolled his eyes. “I can’t decide if I like you, or hate you,” he told him. 

Sam shrugged again. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

That got him a laugh before Tony clapped the still horrified looking Steve on the back. “Relax, Cap. We’ve all moved on. The question now is what to do about this boytoy of yours.” 

“We were never like that, Tony, you know that,” Steve told him with the voice of someone who had said it a thousand times before. 

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “Who said I was talking to you?” he asked before the two of them turned their gaze back onto Sam. 

“Wait, no, what?” Sam held out his hands, palms up. “He’s not my anything.” 

“You know,” Nat said, apparently finally managing to get ahold of herself. “I hate to say it—,”

“No you don’t,” Tony interrupted, grinning at her. 

Nat shot him a smirk back. “But we could use this to our advantage.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, staring over at her with wide eyes. “We could what now?” 

Nat just rolled her eyes. “Oh, relax. I’m just saying, if Barnes likes you, we could use that to our advantage. Let him come to you, let him start to trust you, and then get him to understand that we’re not here to hurt him, we want to help him.” 

“But it’s demeaning,” Sam protested, wincing at the blank stare that Nat sent his way. “I mean, it’s not… It’s just…” 

This time both she and Tony cracked up, snickering to each other, and Sam shook his head at Steve. “What have you dragged me into, man?” he grumbled. He was working with a bunch of assholes. Steve just shrugged helplessly as Natasha gave a very unladylike snort. 

“Relax, Sam,” she told him again. “Don’t act like you’re the world’s first honeypot. I’d offer to do it myself, but clearly I’m missing a key element or three. And he already likes you, which is half the battle.” 

“No one’s asking you to marry the man, Samwise,” Tony added. “You don’t even gotta put out. Just… Let him know he can trust you and then bring ‘im in when the time is right?” 

“Please, Sam?” Steve added, all hopeful and heart-eyed. It was those eyes that did it, those big, blue Captain America eyes looking so damn eager that Sam found he couldn’t say no.  

“Fine.” Sam sighed, burying his face in his hands against the headache he could feel coming on. “Fine, let’s do this.” He looked up at Steve, narrowing his gaze slightly. “Those eyes of yours are dangerous, man.” 

“Tell me about it,” Tony sighed. 

***

The problem was, Bucky may have liked him but Sam still had no idea how to track him down. He was likely tracking them -- three different encounters seemed like too many to just be a coincidence -- but Sam had no idea what would trigger Bucky to actually show up.

Natasha had been worried that if he showed too much a pattern then Bucky might get suspicious and take off, and Tony had started working on a code that would create an algorithm for when and where Sam should go, and Steve had wanted to create a list of everywhere he might be so that he could scope out hidden spots to watch from ‘just in case’ (Sam wasn’t sure if the ‘just in case was for himself or Barnes). 

Sam had ignored them all, and taken to sitting at the same bench in the same, relatively quiet part of Central Park at the same time every morning (weather permitting), holding two cups of coffee. Surprisingly, it had only taken eight days before a shadow had loomed over him and Sam had looked up to find Barnes staring down at him. 

“Hey man,” he said, hoping the supersoldier super senses didn’t extend to hearing the way his heartbeat still insisted on doubling up at the sight of him. He extended the hand holding the coffee cup that he hadn’t been drinking from. “Coffee?” 

Bucky blinked down at him, and it was hard to tell when he had that resting murder face, but Sam was pretty sure that was the look of an assassin who was taken aback. There was a long moment where they just stared at each other and then, slowly, Bucky reached out and took the coffee from Sam’s hand. An even longer moment, and then Bucky sat down beside him, leaving a careful amount of space between them. 

“It’s just black,” Sam told him, more for something to say than because he thought Bucky would actually care. “I didn’t know how you took it.” And then, after another long moment of silence, “Steve’s not coming, by the way. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Tony does, or well, Tony’s ceiling robot does, because I’m not an idiot, so you know. Don’t try anything, I guess? But Steve’s not coming, so you can relax or whatever.” 

He chanced a glance over at Bucky. He was staring straight ahead, face revealing nothing, but Sam thought his shoulders were just a fraction less stiff than they had been. 

“So everyone seems to think you have a thing for me,” Sam said. “That’s cool man, but we’ve gotta talk about your flirting skills. Are you secretly in the second grade? I didn’t have pigtails to pull, so you had to sic me with a fire hydrant instead? Anyway, that kind of aggressive technique isn’t really the done thing anymore. Toxic masculinity is a thing, my man. Can’t be afraid to show your feelings, you know?” 

There was a beat of silence and then Sam yelped as Bucky reached out and shoved him off the bench, knocking him to the ground and spilling the remnants of his coffee all over himself. 

He wasn’t hurt, beyond his pride, and Sam had to admire that a little. He was under no misconceptions that Bucky couldn’t have seriously injured him if he’d wanted. Still, he took his time rolling over only to find that Bucky had immediately manspreaded over the entire damn bench, taking up all the room he had without Sam beside him. “Asshole,” Sam grumbled, giving him a flat stare.

 Bucky seemed unphased, taking a long swallow of his coffee before getting to his feet. “Sugar,” he told Sam, the only word he’d spoken at all. He stared down at him a minute before he tossed his coffee cup in the trash can and walked away. 

It was barely there, but Sam could just see the barely hint of a smirk on Bucky’s face. “Yeah,” he sighed, picking himself up off the muddy ground. “This’ll work.” 

***

He was waiting when Bucky showed up three days later, two cups of coffee in hand once more. He didn’t offer him one this time, just held his hand out, but Bucky took it anyway and sat down on the bench beside him. He waited, taking a slow sip of his own coffee, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Bucky took a sip of his own and then stilled, face neutral. 

“Hey man, you said you liked sugar. I figured more is less. That’s the saying, right?” 

Bucky turned to face him, and though it was one of the more terrifying experiences in his life, Sam met his gaze head on. “How much?” Bucky asked, voice low, and Sam wasn’t sure if the shivers it sent up his spine were fear or arousal. 

“I don’t know,” he told him casually. “Like twelve packets?” 

Bucky blinked at him exactly once and then, still making eye contact, he knocked back the entire cup in one go. 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “So that’s how it is, huh?” 

Bucky shrugged, and there was that hint of a smirk on his lips again. “Guess so.”

***

They carried on like this for a while, meeting in the same spot week after week. And gradually, Sam started to notice the shift in Bucky. That little, crooked, half-smile appeared more frequently, and for longer. He still wasn’t a talker, but he spoke more at least, responded to Sam’s incessant chattering. Admittedly, it was mostly affirmative grunts and one-word answers, but slow progress was still progress. 

Or at least, that’s what Stark kept insisting. Sam had joined them for movie night, something of a habit of late, but with Bruce at a conference and Nat and Clint on a mission, it had turned into a debrief of the Bucky situation. 

Which had then turned to Steve, well… Sam didn’t like to use the word whining, since it seemed unbecoming for Captain America, but that was pretty much exactly what he was doing, sulking in the corner of the couch with his arms folded across his chest. 

Sam busied himself with a carton of Chinese food, and fought back a snicker when he caught Stark’s eye over top of the cardboard, and Tony gave a truly impressive eye roll. 

“Steve. Steven. Stevarina. Come on, we’ve talked about this,” Tony told him, clearly doing his best to fight back his exasperation. “Your buddy’s spent more than two thirds of his life being brainwashed. He was never just gonna walk it off and waltz back in like nothing happened. It’s gonna be a long haul, and he’ll probably never be completely the guy you grew up with. We talked about all of this, remember?” 

“Ad nauseum,” Steve grumbled, emphasizing his reluctance with a needlessly heavy sigh. Sam hastily turned his laugh into his cough, and then coughed harder when Tony winked at him, lips quirked in a grin of his own. Still, when Tony took a seat beside Steve and offered him a box of chow mein, Steve took it with a mumbled thanks. 

“Look, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this really is progress,” Tony insisted. “Remember, he’s pretty much on his own. He’s got no support system, no therapist. He’s just working through his trauma by blowing up Hydra bases -- allegedly -- and hanging out with… Sam.”

Sam eyed him and swallowed down a mouthful of noodles. “I feel like I should be offended by that, but usually people just treat me like I am their therapist, so thanks for that.” 

Tony saluted him with his own carton. “Progress,” he insisted. 

“It’s true,” Sam agreed, rubbing at the bruise on his thigh that was leftover from his last exchange with Bucky. “I made a dumbass joke and he made a noise that I think was maybe almost a laugh. Of course then he punched my thigh in retaliation, and I’ve been bruised for the past few days, but I’m pretty sure he could have shattered my femur without even thinking about it, so if he’s thinking about it, I’m calling it a win.” 

He carefully didn’t tell them how he kept rubbing at that bruise because he kinda liked that edge of pain -- and something about the reminder of how goddamn strong and controlled that asshole was was really doing it for him. 

Steve sighed, but he looked a little mollified. “I guess,” he grumbled, although he cracked a smile when Tony tossed a fortune cookie at his head. 

“Look,” Tony told him. “We all know Captain Patience you are not, but we’re getting there babe, I promise.” 

Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “Babe?” 

Tony shrugged. “I call everyone babe. You haven’t noticed?” he asked, like Steve wasn’t blushing up a storm and frantically trying to hide his smile with a faceful of cookie. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

***

“So.” Sam reached into his jacket pocket and shuffled through the cards he pulled out. “Have you ever been escorted out by security?” 

Bucky turned to look at him with a blank stare. 

“Right, fair point. You’d probably just kill security.” He shuffled through again. “If you could take a selfie anywhere in the world, which location would you choose.” 

When he glanced over, Bucky was still staring at him, a slight furrow in his brow that Sam definitely wasn’t privately thinking of as adorable. There was a slight moment of silence as Bucky blinked at him and then, 

“Kazakhstan.”

“Yeah?” Sam waited, but apparently there was no additional information coming and after a minute Bucky just turned to look back out over the park. “That’s it, man? No further explanation needed?” 

There was a slight shrug from Bucky. “I like the architecture in Astana.” 

Sam sighed. “Of course you do.” 

He shuffled a few more cards, wrinkling his nose at a couple of them. “Oh! If you had to perform at a karaoke bar, which song would you choose?” 

“Okay,” Bucky finally said. “What the fuck are you even reading?” 

It was probably the most words that Bucky had said to him all in one go, and Sam did a little internal victory dance before he flashed the back of the cards at Bucky. “Tabletopics,” he said. “Questions to start great conversations. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, Barnes, but you’re kinda terrible at starting conversations, man.” 

Bucky actually almost fully smiled at that, lips twitching, before he twisted his face up like he was in physical pain. “You’re an idiot,” he told Sam, voice gruff. 

Sam shrugged it off, flicking through some more cards since these ‘conversations’ weren’t really going anywhere. There was a mostly comfortable silence and then Bucky spoke again, voice grudging. 

“Call Me Maybe.” 

Sam laughed so hard he accidentally scared off a couple pigeons and this time that was definitely the hint of a smile on Bucky’s lips. 

***

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete idiot?” 

Sam turned and grinned wide at Bucky’s dry voice, popping a french fry in his mouth as obnoxiously as possible. He’d had the worst hankering for fries ever since his run with Steve that morning, so he’d grabbed an order along with their regular coffee order. He hadn’t offered any to Bucky, and judging by the way he kept side-eyeing the bag, Bucky was a little put out about that.

“Come on now, handsome,” Sam teased, unable to resist goading him further. “Don’t be like that.” 

He gave Bucky a wink and reached into the bag for another fry only to have Bucky’s hand shoot out faster than he could see and close around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Sam swallowed hard, eyes locked on the metal hand wrapped around his skin. It didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t budge his hand at all, and to be entirely honest, it was making him squirm a little. If you’d asked Sam yesterday if being held immobile was one of his turn ons he would have said no, but apparently yesterday Sam was a moron. His breath caught in his throat and it was another minute before he pulled his gaze away to find Bucky smirking at him. Bucky gave his wrist a tight squeeze before using his free hand to pluck the fry out of Sam’s fingers, popping it in his mouth. 

“Thanks,” he told him. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “There’s that Barnes charm I’ve heard so much about, huh?” he asked, rubbing absently at his wrist. Bucky gave him a nonchalant shrug and Sam couldn’t help grinning grudgingly back. There was still a smirk on Bucky’s lips, but underneath that he looked genuinely pleased and Sam felt something warm settle at the base of his spine in response. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he told him, making a show of looking Bucky up and down, letting his eyes linger over his chest and arms. Bucky rolled his eyes, but Sam could swear he preened a little too, chest puffing out at the attention. 

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky huffed after a moment, eyes carefully focused on the ground in front of the bench. There was a flush crawling up the side of his neck and Sam huffed out a soft laugh before crumpling up the fry bag, tossing it into the trash, and getting to his feet. Immediately Bucky’s head snapped back up. “Where are you going?” he asked, the gruff tone of his voice not quite hiding how disconcerted he was. 

Sam shot him a wide grin. “Well, I’m still starving, so I’m gonna go find some more food. You coming?” He didn’t wait for an answer before heading off down the path and it was a minute before he heard Bucky fall into step just slightly behind him. Bucky had snuck up on him any number of times -- making Sam jump was a favourite pastime that he and Steve apparently had in common -- so the fact that he was making his presence so obviously known said something.

There was a little bistro-cafe place a little further into the park, criminally overpriced because tourism, but they had outdoor seating so that’s where Sam headed. They were in that weird in-between section of the afternoon, so while it was a little more crowded than their usual section of the park, the sign at the entry invited them to seat themselves. It only took Sam a second to scout out a table with its back to the cafe proper and a wide-open view of everything around them, and he made a beeline for it, purposely taking the seat with his back to everyone so Bucky could keep an eye out. 

“This good?” he asked as Bucky slumped clumsily into the chair across from him. Bucky only grunted in response, but there was a little grin around his lips, so he knew exactly what Sam was doing. 

Bucky, the absolute shithead, completely turned on the charm for their server in a way that left Sam a little thrown. He was smiling and making eye contact, and talking to her in that low, gruff voice that somehow came out more seduction than murderbot, and left Sam feeling a little squirmy. The second she’d left again, Sam kicked him under the table, wincing when Bucky kicked him right back, a little bit harder. 

“What the fuck, man?” he demanded. “How come you never talk to me like that?” 

Bucky shrugged, a grin on his face. “Maybe I just don’t like you that much.”

“I’m your goddamn date, asshole.” 

“Are we?” Bucky asked, arching an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. “On a date?” 

“I mean, we’re in a restaurant, getting a meal together. Where did you think all that time on the bench was going?” 

“Oh.” 

Bucky was smiling down at the table again, looking shy and definitely not adorable, and Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah. Oh. So the least you can do is flirt with me a little.” 

Bucky looked directly at him then, tongue tracing over his lower lip in a way that probably should have been ridiculous but still made Sam feel a little hot under the collar. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Maybe she deserves it more. She’s bringing me food, after all.” 

Sam just huffed at him. “See if I pay for your meal now.” 

Sam had been so caught off guard with Bucky’s flirting that he hadn’t even noticed what Bucky had ordered. So when the $18 artisanal toast (it was literally just toast and jam) and the deconstructed coffee showed up, he couldn’t do anything more than stare for a full minute. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely not paying for your food now. You’re such a dick.” 

Bucky just smiled sweetly at him and shoved his mouth full of toast. 

***

Sam yawned, tilting his head back toward the ceiling as he listened to Steve and Tony bicker over Chinese or Thai for dinner (his choice had been pizza, but he’d been outvoted). 

“Guys,” he shouted at the sky. “Just pick something. I’m starving.”

“Agreed,” Natasha piped up, dropping onto the couch cushion beside him out of nowhere, and making him yelp. 

“Jesus,” he grumbled. “Is sneaking up on people part of your Russian training or something?” 

Natasha just winked at him before glancing over at Steve and Tony again. “Seriously guys. You don’t decide soon and we’re starting movie night without you.”

“Blasphemy,” Tony retorted, pausing long enough to point at her accusingly before turning back to Steve and waxing poetic about pad thai. Sam was pretty sure he’d started out rooting for Chinese. 

Natasha grinned and looked back over at Sam. “So speaking of Russian training…” 

Sam groaned. “Don’t you start. I’ve already got Steve bugging me for hourly updates.” 

She shrugged. “Just wondering how things are going,” she said sweetly before waggling her eyebrows. “You bang him yet?” 

Sam didn’t quite choke on his own spit, but it was a near thing. “You’re shameless,” he told her. “And no. I only just got him to leave the damn bench.” 

“Kinky.”

“I mean that literally,” he told her dryly. “We, uh… I bought him lunch.” 

Her grin grew even wider. “Of course you did. Such a gentleman.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, saved from having to defend himself further when his phone buzzed in his lap. Natasha gave him a pointed look. 

“Speak of the devil.” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened the messaging app on his phone. “Hardly,” he protested. “We’re not on text level, believe me. He just kinda… shows up. I don’t know if Barnes even has a cell phone…” He trailed off, frowning down at the series of numbers on his screen. “Are these… Coordinates?” 

With apparently no sense of personal space or privacy, Natasha leaned right over his shoulder to peer down at his phone. Sam didn’t bother protesting; she had probably already read his entire chat history in her spare time anyway. “Yup,” she agreed, pointing at the eight digit number that followed. “Date and time too. Sounds like you’ve got a date, hot stuff.” 

“What? Come on, it’s just a random string of numbers. That doesn’t mean it’s Bucky,” he argued, although it did kind of sound exactly like him. Nat was smirking at him and he purposely shifted so she couldn’t read over his shoulder as he typed his response. 

Barnes? That you?

It was only a second for his phone to buzz with a response. Yeah, asshole. Obviously. Who else would be texting you with date info?

It was completely at odds with the cloak and dagger vibe of the first message, and that made Sam’s lips twitch up into a smile. Not very romantic. You’re terrible at asking me out man, you know that?

Who says I’m asking you out? I’m telling you where our next date is gonna be.

Sam snorted at his phone. Oh, that’s how it is? I don’t know, I feel like I’m owed flowers at the very least. Champagne… Chocolate covered strawberries. 

I’m allergic to strawberries.

You’re a supersoldier, dumbass. You’re not allergic to anything. 

Whoops. Caught me.

He was about to type in another response when somebody elbowed him hard in the side, making him jump. He looked up with a start to find Natasha smirking at him again and Steve and Tony apparently done with their argument as they watched him curiously. 

“We’ve decided on sushi,” she told him, saccharine sweet. “If you’d like to place your order.” 

“Who were you texting, Sam?” Steve asked. 

“My realtor,” he grumbled.

***

Sam stepped into the restaurant -- crowded enough to go unnoticed but with plenty of open spaces to keep an eye on everyone -- and blinked when he spotted Bucky waiting for him at a table in the corner. He headed over and slid into the seat. “Hey man. You’re usually more of a fashionably late kinda guy. Didn’t think you’d be here already.” Then he blinked again when he spotted the bouquet of daisies on the table. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You bought me flowers?” 

“Told you, I’m allergic to strawberries,” Bucky told him. He was going for all nonchalant, but Sam could see that familiar flush on his neck again. 

“Thanks man,” Sam said. “Daisies are my favourite.” 

“Yeah, you seemed like a daisy guy.” 

“I have no idea what that means.” 

“Of course you don’t.” 

It was a minute later that their server brought over the bottle of champagne, and Sam couldn’t stop grinning. 

Bucky was his usual charming self (he cracked two jokes, both of which were solely for the benefit of their server, and then kicked Sam in the shin under the table) but when the cheque came he grabbed it before Sam had the chance, pulling out a wad of cash from one of his pockets to pay for it. Sam arched an eyebrow at him. 

“And you got that money…?” 

Bucky’s lip curled into a smirk that was may more attractive than it had any right to be. “Oh, yeah.”

“Uh huh.” Sam eyed him a minute. “So listen, I don’t know what kind of weird, robocob stuff you usually do to fill up your afternoons…”

“Hunting down and systematically murdering modern-day Nazis,” Bucky supplied without skipping a beat. 

“See, I can’t tell if you’re joking, and I kinda feel like you’re not, and that concerns me. But anyway, if you can take a break from your serial killer stint, do you wanna… Do something? I don’t know, do you even like doing things?” 

Bucky gave him a flat stare. “I like ice cream,” he offered. 

Sam still wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious or still messing with him, but he shrugged anyway. “Let’s go get some ice cream then, hot stuff.” 

It was a sunny day, warm enough that Bucky actually stripped out of his jacket, leaving him in a long-sleeved t-shirt that was clinging to every muscle he had. They ended up walking along the river, and Sam couldn’t help eyeing him as they went, especially ogling his biceps every time he lifted his arm to take a lick of his ice cream. It was at least the fifth time when Bucky ‘caught’ him, looking right back at Sam with a pleased smile flirting around his lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sam told him loftily. “You know you’re hot.” 

“Yeah, well…” Bucky took a big lick of his ice cream that Sam was pretty sure was intended to make him shiver (it worked). “You’re not too bad yourself.” 

“I’m sorry.” Sam stopped dead in the path, making Bucky roll his eyes. “What was that? Are you admitting that I’m hot? You are totally into me, man. You want alllll of this.” He gestured vaguely at his own chest. “You think I’m sexy, you want to kiss me…” 

Bucky squinted at him. “Is that Miss Congeniality?”

Sam squinted right back. “You know Miss Congeniality? Weren’t you frozen for that?” 

Bucky shrugged. “It was on cable last week.”  

Sam just sighed, shaking his head skyward. “Of course it was.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh but a beat later his entire demeanour had changed, going almost eerily still. Sam blinked at him, a little unsettled by the abrupt change. 

“What?” he asked, looking over at him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Uhh.” Bucky visibly shook himself, but his gaze was caught on something in the distance. Sam followed where he was looking and then felt his heart sink when he spotted Steve further down the path, talking to some kids who had apparently recognized him. 

“Oh,” Sam said. “Shit.” 

Bucky did look over at him then, face twisted in pain. “Help,” he croaked out, voice helpless. 

Without thinking, Sam grabbed his upper arm, turning him down toward a side path. It occurred to him a beat later that yanking on the Winter Soldier without a heads up could turn out very badly, but Bucky didn’t seem upset, just turned and fell into step with Sam. They were out of sight a second later, but Sam could still feel how tense Bucky was so he kept walking. He didn’t stop until they were well away from where Steve had been and until Bucky started to breathe a little easier. He spotted a coffee shop that didn’t look too crowded and nudged Bucky inside, letting him pick out a table while he grabbed them a couple coffees, well-versed in Bucky’s order by now. 

“Hey.” He dropped into the seat opposite Bucky and slid the mug across the table toward him. “You okay?” 

Bucky met his gaze with a rueful expression and then shrugged. “Sorry about the ice cream,” he muttered, voice low. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Right, because ice cream is what I care about here.” 

Bucky didn’t answer, looking down at the table instead, and Sam drew in a deep breath. 

“Listen, for what it’s worth, I think you would have been okay. You’re doing better, Bucky. You could just try… Talking to him. I mean, hey, you haven’t killed me yet, right?”

Bucky looked back up and tried to force a smile, but his expression was pained. “I… I don’t…” He trailed off, looking frustrated and Sam held his hands up, trying to put him at ease. 

“Hey, it’s okay. If you’re not ready, that’s okay too. You can take as long as you need, man.”

That didn’t seem to make Bucky feel any better. He chewed at the inside of his cheek as he stared somewhere over Sam’s shoulder and then got abruptly to his feet. “I gotta go,” he announced abruptly, glancing down at his untouched cup of coffee. “Thanks.” 

***

Sam couldn’t help feeling like he’d fucked up, and that feeling got worse when Bucky was a no-show for their next park date. He’d tried texting too, worried that this was it, Bucky’d gotten spooked and taken off, but there was no answer there either. When almost an entire week went by without any contact, he knew he was going to have to tell the team. 

He was in his room, trying to work out how on earth he was going to break the news to Steve, when his phone dinged with an alert. Pulling it out, he felt his eyes went wide. News about Bucky temporarily sidelined, he jogged down to the common area where Tony and Steve were already watching the news about a massive factory explosion somewhere in Austria.

“Holy shit,” Sam breathed. “Should we… Do we…” 

“Out of jurisdiction,” Steve told him, sounding less concerned than Sam might have expected. 

“Okay…” He narrowed his eyes at him. “What am I missing here?” 

“Weirdest thing,” Steve said dryly, eyes still fixed on the screen. “There were no workers on site. They got an official call that there was a chip shortage, and it’s not like they’re going to pay the workers for not working, so they shut down for the day.” 

Sam frowned. “Why is that weird?” 

“There was no chip shortage,” Tony said. “Higher up who called it in had no idea what was going on when they looked into it.” 

Steve glanced over at him. “Tell him the rest.” 

Tony gave Sam a pointed look. “This factory? Also on the shortlist of highly likely Hydra covers that JARVIS pulled. Nat was supposed to head out next week for recon and confirmation before we called the team in.” 

Sam turned his gaze back to the television. “So someone got all the innocent people out and then destroyed a Hydra base?” He felt his chest do a weird flutter. “Huh.” 

And then, right on cue, his phone buzzed in his hand. He wasn’t even surprised when he pulled it open to find another set of coordinates, a date, and a time. A minute later it buzzed again, this time with an actual message. 

Sorry for going MIA, btw. Had something to take care of. 

Something that starts in H and ends in Nazis? Sam texted back. Honestly I don’t know if I’m more upset about the fact that you took off and did this without any backup, or about the fact that you just used btw. You’re an old man, how do you know text slang? We can’t even get Steve to use actual emojis, just the :) 

He regretted it almost as soon as he hit send, worried that talk of Steve would throw Bucky off again. But the little indicator showed Bucky texting back almost immediately. 

Steve’s trolling you. Dumbass.

And well, that certainly felt like progress. 

***

When Sam looked up the restaurant at the coordinates Bucky had sent him (why he couldn’t give him a name or even an address he wasn’t sure, but he was 99% sure it was just Bucky fucking with him) it looked a little fancier than their usual place. Not Stark Gala fancy, but still. He’d thought about texting Bucky to confirm just how dressy he should be, but didn’t want to stress him out. Instead he opted for dressier pants instead of jeans, and a button down -- though he skipped the tie and wore a leather jacket that he knew made his shoulders look amazing, thank you very much. 

It turned out to be the right choice. Sam actually stumbled a little on his way to the table when he caught sight of Bucky in a blue sweater that made his eyes pop and looked like it was cashmere, the tight fit leaving his biceps looking like he could hold Sam up for hours. (Which he obviously could do, but he didn’t have to go around showing off about it.) If the little twitch on his lips was any indication, he’d caught Sam’s slip, but Sam didn’t let on, just sat in the chair opposite him with a broad grin on his face.

“Nice sweater, Bucky,” he told him. “Who’d you steal it from?”

Bucky just shrugged, unrepentant. “Some asshole on Wall Street,” he answered lazily. Sam genuinely couldn’t tell if he was joking, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t. 

Bread was dropped off at their table and Bucky immediately grabbed the basket before Sam had a chance, dragging it over to his side of the table and picking out the biggest piece. He smirked when Sam rolled his eyes, but a minute later he was sliding it back into his reach. 

“Classy,” Sam told him, but he couldn’t help the fond grin when he said it.

Dinner was quiet, and delicious, and over too fast. Since neither of them were really ready to say goodnight, they went for a walk. Apparently, this was their new habit. Sam kind of liked the idea of them having habits together. 

They skipped the ice cream this time, but it was a pleasant walk all the same, the two of them falling into that same comfortable silence -- right up until it was broken by a violent yawn by Sam. 

Bucky actually snorted before he arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” 

“Sorry man.” Sam offered him a slightly sheepish smile. “I need a vacation. We should run away, go to the beach or something.” 

He mostly just talking to talk, but Bucky made a scoffing noise. “You think your baby-sitters will clear that?” 

“Uh…” Sam squinted at him a minute and then shook his head. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to give me more than that. I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Bucky’s expression was dry. “You’re telling me Steve and Stark don’t know exactly where we are right now?” 

Sam stopped dead and eyed him a minute before folding his arms across his chest. “Nah,” he drawled. “Not unless they’re tracking my every move, in which case we’re gonna be having some serious words.” He waited for Bucky’s expression to change, somewhere between startled and confused, before leaning forward again. “Your privacy is important to me. They knew about the park bench meetups, you know, just in case. I haven’t told them about any of our other dates since then, except that we’ve had them. And sometimes not even that.” 

“Oh.” Bucky nodded down at the ground. “Okay then.” He didn’t say anything further, and Sam grinned at him before bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s and starting to walk again. A second later something bumped against his hand, and when he looked up Bucky gave him a soft, almost shy smile before he curled his hand over Sam’s, twining their fingers together. 

***

They carried on like that through the summer. Every few days Sam would get coordinates from Bucky, or sometimes he’d set the date first -- with actual words, like a normal fucking human. And he could practically see Bucky getting better every time they met up. The constant tension that he seemed to carry between his shoulders gradually eased, he smiled and even laughed more, and the pain in his eyes was less, replaced by a spark that Sam could never seem to look away from. Best of all, he seemed to want to get better. He stopped giving Sam side looks like he couldn’t understand why he was spending time with him, and when he’d asked Sam for help finding a supersoldier-approved therapist, Sam had to resist the urge to dance right there, he was so proud (judging by the eye roll and smile that Bucky fought back, he did a terrible job hiding it, but that was neither here nor there). 

And goddamn, once he started feeling human again, Bucky was gorgeous. Obviously he’d always been attractive, Sam wasn’t blind. But just that little bit of confidence he’d regained was doing things to him. He didn’t know if it was the way Bucky carried himself now, drawing attention to those thighs, or that smirk that he was always throwing Sam’s way, or C, all of the above, but his thoughts about Bucky had taken a turn toward the filthy. 

And he was pretty sure he wasn’t alone in that. Sam hadn’t wanted to push, though he’d made no attempt to hide it every time he ogled Bucky. Bucky took his hand almost every time they went for a walk, and sometimes even while they ate. Sam had thought it was sweet at first, it was sweet at first. But then Bucky had started playing with his hands and fingers while they walked, stroking his thumb over Sam’s palm. Sam was hardly a prude, but the way he did it was nothing short of obscene, sending shivers up Sam’s spine. Then, a couple weeks ago, Bucky had started playing fucking footsie with him under the table, working the toes of his of feet up under the leg of Sam’s pants to stroke over his calf. And after their last date, he’d patted Sam on the thigh as they were leaving the table, and his hand had ended up too high to be anything less than an invitation.

So when it was his turn to pick the date again, he’d switched it up. Instead of a dinner, or another walk, he’d brought Bucky to a dance hall instead. And while he still hadn’t convinced Bucky to actually get up on the dance floor, he wouldn’t say it wasn’t a success. They were tucked up in a table in the corner, Bucky watching the dancers with that befuddled look that Sam was a little in love with, the two of them tucked up so close that Bucky’s thigh was pressed all along his, thick and warm, and he could practically feel Bucky’s voice rumbling through him every time he leaned in to speak. 

“What?” Sam asked, elbowing him in the side. “You don’t like dancing?”

Bucky looked startled for a moment before he grinned at Sam. “I love dancing,” he told him, turning his gaze back to the dance floor, that little furrow appearing between his eyebrows again. “I just don’t remember it being quite like this.” He tilted his head, watching a couple grind up against each other a few feet away, and Sam laughed. 

“Tell you what, I’ll go see if the DJ has any big band in his album. Get us a couple more drinks while I’m at it, see if that can’t give you the courage to get up there.” 

Bucky arched an eyebrow at him. “You know I can’t get drunk, right?” 

Sam just shrugged and winked, still grinning, and when he got up to slide past Bucky, that vibranium hand came up against his back, steadying, before sliding purposefully lower, palming Sam’s ass and then giving him a squeeze that made heat furl in Sam’s stomach. It was too obvious to be anything other than deliberate, but Sam looked over his shoulder anyway. Bucky wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it, watching him with a heated gaze that had Sam adjusting himself as he walked away. 

Apparently Bucky had already made up his mind, because when Sam came back with the two bottles, Bucky knocked his back in one go before getting to his feet and immediately pulling Sam up after him. “Okay, come on. Let’s go.” 

“Hey, I only had one swallow,” Sam protested, because Bucky would expect nothing less. “Don’t you know anything about clubbing? Can’t leave your drinks unattended, Buck. They might get drugged.” 

Bucky just rolled his eyes at him and curled his hand around Sam’s wrist, fingertips like spots of fire on his skin as he dragged him out onto the dance floor. Sam had been expecting to have to lead, but as soon as Bucky had claimed their spot, his hands were curling over Sam’s hips, dragging him in close and then moving with him in perfect rhythm.

“Christ.” Sam couldn’t help the way he choked as Bucky’s thigh pressed between his. “When’d you learn to do that?” 

Bucky shrugged, that damn smirk back on his lips. “Told you, I love dancing.” 

“Yeah?” Sam eyed him, but Bucky seemed genuine, and while his sudden dancing ability had taken Sam by surprise, it wasn’t like he could let him win. He let his palms press against Bucky’s back, sliding down the length of his spine, and when there was no hesitation he let his palms shift lower, gripping Bucky’s ass and pulling him in closer until there was no space at all between them. 

He had to give Bucky credit; the man had amazing rhythm. He kept up with every motion that Sam made, the two of them rocking together. He was hyper aware of Bucky’s body, the hot press of his chest against Sam’s through his thin t-shirt, the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with something that was just Bucky. They shifted slightly and then his thigh was grinding right up against Bucky’s cock, thick in his pants. Bucky bit back a moan, his hands squeezing over Sam’s waist as his head shifted forward, breathing thick and raspy in Sam’s ear. 

“Christ, Buck,” Sam muttered, grinding up against him harder as the beat of the music changed. 

Bucky lifted his head again to meet Sam’s gaze. His face was flushed but he was grinning and Sam really wanted to kiss him. His tongue flicked out against his lower lip, unconscious, and immediately Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the motion. Sam hesitated just a second, but then Bucky twisted his hips in a way that had Sam’s vision going white and Bucky pressing his forehead against Sam’s neck and the moment to kiss him was gone. 

They made it through three more songs before Sam had to admit defeat and request a breather. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, breath coming fast, and his cock was a half hard distraction every time he moved. He squeezed his hands against Bucky’s waist and then leaned in close; he knew Bucky would be able to hear him over the music regardless, but couldn’t resist the temptation of how good the man smelled. 

“Hey, come on,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “I need some fresh air.” 

Bucky grinned like he’d won, but he refrained from commenting as he let Sam lead them off the dance floor and then down a hall, slipping out a side door and into the night air. It was warm out, but after the hot, heavy air of the club, it was still enough to be refreshing. Sam paused a moment outside the door, leaning back against the concrete wall and trying to calm his racing heart. He let his eyes fall shut for a moment, distantly aware of Bucky beside him. 

When he cracked his eyes back open, Bucky was standing just a step too close. Sam’s posture gave Bucky a height advantage, and he was looking down at Sam with heavy eyes. Sam swallowed hard, acutely aware of the way his heart rate ratcheted back up, and the fact that Bucky could probably tell. 

“Shit,” he said, trying not to sound so out of breath. “Haven’t danced like that in awhile. You having a good time?” 

Bucky nodded mutely, and he was grinning but his gaze dropped to Sam’s lips. Sam couldn’t seem to look away from that expression, and as he stared Bucky’s hand came out, curling over his hip in a mirror of their actions in the club. He tugged enough to slip long fingers under Sam’s t-shirt, thumb stroking over the cut of his hip and Sam cursed under his breath when his hips shifted unwittingly into the barely-there touch. That was enough for Bucky to meet his eyes again, his own wide open and wanting, and without thinking Sam pushed off the wall, curling an arm around Bucky’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Bucky shoved him up against the wall, hard enough that Sam grunted, and kissed him back rough and needy, teeth nicking over Sam’s lip and making his toes curl in his shoes. Bucky’s hands gripped his waist hard enough to bruise, keeping him pinned against the wall, and Sam felt him shudder when he scratched blunt nails over the back of Bucky’s neck. 

As quickly as it had started, it was over, Bucky pulling back slightly before freezing completely, expression unreadable. Sam shifted them enough that he could take half a step back, not wanting Bucky to feel trapped, and held his hands up soothingly. 

“Hey man, I’m sorry. Should haven’t done that without asking. You okay?” 

“We need to get off the street. Now,” was all Bucky said, and Sam resisted the urge to wince -- or kick himself. That wasn’t exactly a resounding ‘yes.’ 

“Yeah, of course,” he said instead. “Whatever you need. Um…” He looked around, trying to think where they could go, but then Bucky had a tight grip on his wrist and was pulling him down the alley. 

“Come on, I gotta place.” 

He didn’t let go of Sam’s wrist as they hurried down the street at a pace just short of frantic. Sam was still a little confused, worried he’d pushed Bucky too far or too fast. But at least he hadn't taken off, was keeping Sam close, so that had to be a positive sign. It was less than a block before Bucky’s hand slipped down to curl over Sam’s instead, fingers tangling, but he still didn't speak and it was a long few minutes before he pulled Sam into a building and up the stairs.

Sam blinked as they walked into an apartment, sparsely decorated but in an oddly cozy kind of way. It definitely felt lived in, and Sam stilled as he took a second look at everything. “Wait, is this your place?”

It was all he got out before Bucky’s hold on his hand tightened, pulling him in. “God,” he muttered, pushing Sam against the wall and kissing at his neck. His right hand was still pinning Sam’s wrist, but the other was running up and down over Sam’s side, pulling at his t-shirt until he could ruck his hand up underneath, dragging cold metal fingertips over his skin to leave Sam gasping and twitching. 

“You, um…” Sam swallowed, doing his best to ignore the way his cock was firming up fast in his jeans. “You okay, man? We booked it out of there fast.” 

But Bucky just huffed out a laugh. He scraped his teeth over Sam’s shoulder before lifting his head to meet Sam’s eyes, his own looking dazed. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted,” he breathed, rutting against Sam’s hip like he fully intended to come that way. Sam wasn’t exactly opposed, but his knees were feeling a little weak and collapsing wasn’t on the list of things he wanted to do tonight. 

“Hey, I got you,” he told Bucky, stroking his fingers over the back of his neck and then having to swallow hard at the way Bucky shivered and clutched at him in response, burying his face against Sam’s neck and sucking a bruise into his collarbone. “You got a bed around here?” 

Bucky whined into his neck, loathe to let him move, and seeing him all soft and open like this was doing things to Sam. He laughed though, flexing the wrist that was still pinned in Bucky’s grasp. 

“Come on, man. My arm’s falling asleep.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky finally lifted his head, gave Sam a wide grin. “Yeah, come on.” 

Bucky’s ‘bed’ was little more than a mattress on the floor, but Sam didn’t comment, just sank down to sit on the edge, leaving Bucky staring down at him with a hungry expression. 

“Look at you,” Sam hummed, shifting forward to run his hands up the outside of Bucky’s legs. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he told him bluntly, leaning in further still to mouth at his cock through the jeans he was still wearing. Bucky choked, body curling forward around Sam as his hands scratched over his head.

“That’s… Fuck,” he mumbled, hips rocking minutely. “Sam.”

His voice was rough and hoarse, pitched low, and Sam shivered a little. He’d never heard his name spoken in quite that tone, and it was really working for him. “Yeah?” he asked, reaching down to squeeze himself quickly through his pants. “What do you want, baby?” 

“I… I’m…” Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking completely overwhelmed, and Sam huffed out a quiet laugh. 

“C’mere,” he hummed, curling his hands around Bucky’s hips and yanking. Bucky made a frankly hilarious sound as he tumbled to the mattress, catching himself on his elbows before he squashed Sam completely. Sam laughed at him, reaching up to rub at the back of Bucky’s neck. “There you are,” he purred, spreading his legs a little wider to let Bucky settle more comfortably between his hips. 

“Such an asshole,” Bucky grumbled, but he melted at Sam’s touch. His face pressed into Sam’s neck, kissing and biting at his skin until he teased a groan out of him. Bucky ground his hips down at the sound, panting at the sensation. “Shit, Sam,” he muttered. “I just… I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah?” Sam wanted to make fun of him, but his own heart was racing. “Me too,” he said, tugging at the hem of Bucky’s shirt. “Come on, man,” he grumbled, tugging and pulling to yank it up over his back. “At least let me see you naked first.” 

Bucky huffed, like it was the most demanding thing anyone had ever requested of him, but he pulled back far enough that Sam could haul the fabric over his head. He took a minute to just admire once it was gone, letting his hand trace down between Bucky’s pecs. 

“Christ, look at you,” he breathed before flicking his eyes up to meet Bucky’s. “The serum really did a number on you, huh?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a pleased glimmer to his eyes. “Are you implying that I wouldn’t look like this on my own?” He didn’t wait for Sam to answer, instead gripping Sam’s own t-shirt in his fists in tearing it in two with apparently no effort at all. 

It took a couple tries for Sam to swallow around his suddenly dry throat. “Jesus,” he muttered, doing his best to pretend that wasn’t turning every crank he had. “Thought we talked about the toxic masculinity thing.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes again, smirking down at Sam. “You like it,” he drawled, leaning forward to kiss Sam, heavy and hard, pulling at Sam’s lip with his teeth. Sam groaned into his mouth, sliding his hands down to grip at Bucky’s ass. He squeezed and Bucky made a low, wanting sound, nipping harder at Sam’s lip. Sam squirmed around enough to get a leg between Bucky’s, grinning at the gasping sound he made at the shift in pressure, and pulled away to nip at his earlobe instead. 

“Come on baby,” he purred into Bucky’s ear, only half hamming it up. “Let me blow you?” 

A punched out sound slipped past Bucky’s lips and he ground down hard against Sam’s thigh before lifting his head enough to nod at him, looking a little dazed. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, fuck. Please.” 

Sam grinned back at him. “Look at you,” he teased. “So polite.” Bucky looked like he was going to protest, but Sam gave him a push instead. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that that would actually be enough to shift Bucky, but he went anyway, flipping over onto his back and looking up at Sam with wanting eyes. “Fuck,” Sam muttered, sprawling on top of him and wrestling with the fly of his jeans. “You’re killing me here, asshole.” 

Bucky huffed out a laugh, the sound turning into a sharp hiss through his teeth when Sam’s mouth closed around his nipple, tongue flicking at the sensitive skin. “Could -- shit, Sam -- could say the same.” His hands moved to Sam’s shoulders, dragging paths over his warm skin and Sam grinned as he kissed his way down his chest, shoving at Bucky’s pants as he went. 

Bucky’s pants were tight enough that Sam couldn’t quite get them off and he pulled back with a reluctant sigh, sitting up enough to get his hands on them properly. Bucky whined softly under his breath and helpfully arched his hips, wiggling around as Sam tugged his pants down over his thighs. It took a second -- Bucky wasn’t as helpful as he thought he was -- but then his cock was finally springing free, hard and heavy and weeping at the tip. 

“Shit,” Bucky cursed, hips arching up again at the rush of cool air on his skin. “Oh, shit.” 

Sam echoed the sentiment, staring down at him and swallowing hard. “I could say the same,” he said, voice coming out low and rough. He swallowed again. “Christ, Bucky. Where’ve you been hiding that thing?” 

Bucky groaned loudly in response, head rubbing over the pillow. “Sam,” he bit out, an edge of desperation to his voice that had heart flaring in Sam’s belly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam soothed him, lowering down again. “I got you, baby.” He curled his hand around Bucky’s length, staring a moment longer as Bucky twitched in his grip, and then closed his lips around the head, flicking his tongue against the tip of him. 

“Ah -- fuck!” Bucky keened at the touch, his hips making an abortive jerk, like he wanted to thrust in but was holding himself back. The idea of Bucky losing control like that made Sam shiver and he hummed, swallowing him a little deeper. Bucky choked back a groan, his left hand moving up to stifle the sound and Sam grinned around him before pulling back with a purposely obscene pop. 

“Come on, handsome,” he teased, winking up at Bucky. “Don’t go all strong and silent on me now. I wanna hear you.” 

Bucky glowered at him -- he managed to look awfully annoyed for someone getting head -- but Sam didn’t let him respond. He squeezed his hand around the base of Bucky’s cock and closed his mouth around him again, swallowing him deeper this time until his lips were brushing against his own fingers. Bucky was more than a mouthful, but Sam still managed to flick his tongue as worked, his own cock twitching when Bucky’s thighs tensed and another loud moan slipped past his lips.

“Sam,” Bucky choked, his hips rocking up against him.  His fingers twitched over the back of Sam’s head. “Sam, fuck. Your fucking mouth.” 

Sam grinned around him again, preening a little at the praise, and flexed his hand, squeezing Bucky and swallowing him down further. He’d always loved giving head, and he lost himself in it a little, the rhythm and motion and weight of Bucky in his mouth. His own cock was thick and heavy, aching for touch, but he ignored it for now, focusing on the man before him. Bucky had taken his words to heart apparently, cursing and groaning and breathing Sam’s name like a lifeline, and it was sending little thrills of heat through Sam. 

He didn’t even notice Bucky tensing further, the way his heels were digging into the mattress, until the tone of Bucky’s pleas suddenly changed.

“Shit, shit, Sam -- I’m…” 

His hand squeezed hard against Sam’s shoulder, and the feeling went directly to his own cock. He couldn’t help the way he groaned around Bucky in response and a beat later Bucky was cursing as he came down Sam’s throat, back arching off the mattress.

Sam pulled back, coughing a little, and stared down at him. Bucky was splayed out, prone on the mattress, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead and a sheen on his chest as he panted. He was grinning up at the ceiling, a dazed, pleased expression on his face, and it was one of the best sights Sam had ever seen. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” he muttered, scrambling to get his jeans unfastened and shoved down. He groaned as he curled a hand around himself, rocking up into his own grip. “That was… Fuck.”

Bucky rolled his head enough to grin at Sam, and his eyes darkened again when he saw him jerking off. “No, no, come on,” he protested, pushing himself up on his elbows, knees bending to frame Sam’s hips. “I’m good, keep going.” 

Sam leaned back on his own knees, slowing down the motion of his hand as he arched an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?” he teased. “Sure you don’t need a minute?” 

Bucky huffed. “I look like I need a minute?” he asked. He slid his hand down his lower abdomen, pulling Sam’s attention, and Sam swallowed hard when he realized that Bucky was already -- still? -- hard. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice suddenly dry, and ignored Bucky’s knowing smirk in favour of leaning forward to press him into the mattress again. “Shit,” he muttered, curling a hand around the two of them. “God, that’s hot.” 

Bucky snorted, the sound shifting into a groan when Sam’s calloused fingers dragged over him just right. “Yeah Sam, god. Just like that. Want you to fuck me, come on.” 

Sam stilled at that, ignoring Bucky’s whine of protest. “Wait, what?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, flinging his head back against the pillow in frustration. “I’m sorry, what part of that was unclear?” He gave Sam a look like he was stupid. “I. Want you. To fuck me.” 

“Alright, smartass.” Sam did his best to glare at him, but it was hard when Bucky was sprawled beneath him, cock thick and hard between his legs and expression still a little dopey from his first orgasm. “Just trying to make sure you’re comfortable. Figured you’d wanna top, be in control. Especially the first time.” 

Bucky’s eyes went wide before he laughed, loud and bright. Sam had gotten snorts and chuckles out of him before but never a laugh like this, and it made him feel warm inside in ways that had nothing to do with impending orgasms. 

“Fine, sure,” Sam huffed, though he was grinning too. “Laugh at me. I see how it is.” 

Buck just gave him a wolfish grin. “The fact that you think this is my first time is adorable.”

“I didn’t say your first time,” Sam grumbled. “I meant us. You and me, together.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky told him before reaching up and curling a hand around the back of Sam’s neck, yanking him down to sprawl out on top of him. He kissed Sam hard, rocking up against him and Sam made a punched out noise when their cocks lined up, grinding against each other. “Yeah,” Bucky groaned, grinning against Sam’s lips. “I’m good, I’m fine, I promise.” He pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “I want it.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, recalibrating, and then lost himself in the smooth expanse of skin beneath him. “God you’re distracting,” he muttered. “Okay. You got any lube?” 

He could have sworn there was a hint of a blush on Bucky’s cheeks as he pulled an arm away from him, reaching overhead and rooting around beside the mattress for a moment. There was definitely a flush when the bottle he passed over to Sam was more than half empty, but he was smiling too, lower lip caught between his teeth. Sam shook the bottle slightly, waggling his eyebrows at him. 

“You want me to do the honours, or do you want to take of things yourself.” 

“You,” Bucky said, just a little too quickly. He cleared his throat as he caught himself. “Uh, if that’s good with you.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam drawled, giving him a quick kiss before he pulled back and snapped open the cap on the lube. “Such a hardship.” 

Bucky huffed, looking like he was going to protest, but before he could Sam smacked his hip, catching the side of his ass for good measure. “Come on, hot stuff. Roll over.” He got some grumbling, like Bucky’s cock didn’t twitch at the command, but he shifted over until he was on all fours, the muscles of his back and shoulders standing out in sharp relief as he braced himself. 

“I like it better face to face,” Bucky protested, not actually sounding that put out about it. 

“And I like it better when I can see what I’m doing,” Sam retorted, offsetting the comment by stretching out over Bucky and pressing a soothing kiss to the back of his neck. “We’ll get there, baby,” he promised, noting the way Bucky shivered at the low tone of his voice. 

Now that he had him here, Sam couldn’t resist teasing a little, kissing over his shoulders and spine, nipping at the taut muscle, running calloused fingers up his sides until Bucky’s arms were shaking with want. He didn’t protest, just rocked back into Sam and shivered and moaned when Sam told him how good he was. 

“Christ, look at you,” Sam breathed, kissing down his spine. “Could stay here all day.” 

Bucky whined through his teeth at that, and when he spoke his voice was rough and out of breath. “I’d really… rather you didn’t,” he huffed, words interspersed with soft little wanting noises, and Sam smiled into his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he promised. He pulled back again, fully intending to make good on his promise and prep Bucky so he could finally get in him. But the man was a sight before him, still on all fours, head hanging low and ass up and on display just for Sam. Sam had always been an ass man and would happily admit to having checked out Bucky’s at every possible opportunity. But it hadn’t quite prepared him for just how delectable it would be, having Bucky all laid out for him like this. “Fuck,” he breathed out, all in a rush of air. He reached out, giving Bucky’s ass a squeeze and Bucky jolted in response. 

“Sam,” he bit out through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, I know,” Sam told him. “Just let me…” 

It hadn’t been his original plan, but Sam was nothing if not adaptable. He shifted a little further back on the bed and then dove in, licking a long stripe up the cleft of Bucky’s ass, hands squeezing at his skin. Bucky jerked like he’d been electrocuted, a garbled noise slipping past his lips. 

“This okay?” Sam asked, confident enough in the answer that he did it again before Bucky had a chance to respond. 

“Yes, yes, fuck,” Bucky bit out, squirming beneath him and pressing back against his mouth. “Oh fuck, please.” 

Sam grinned and traced his tongue over the rim of Bucky’s hole, feeling the way he shuddered beneath him. He pressed in closer and took his time suckling at the sensitive skin, adding the perfect drag of teeth every once in a while just to keep him guessing. Bucky was keening with every flick of his tongue, hips rocking frantically back against him, trying to push Sam closer. His arms collapsed, face pressed into the pillow, but Sam just squeezed his ass harder, working him open with his lips and tongue until he could press in even deeper. 

When Bucky’s hole was loose and fluttery around his tongue Sam pulled back a little, blowing cool air across the skin. Bucky practically sobbed into the pillow in pleasure and Sam grinned, squirting too much lube onto his hand before he dove back in, this time slipping a finger inside too. Bucky sounded like he was dying in the best way, kept pleading for more, and Sam gave it to him, working two and then three fingers inside him, stretching him open and licking around them until Bucky was loose and sloppy and more than ready for him. 

He pulled back then, laughing at Bucky’s whine of protest, and smacked his ass just to watch it bounce. “Hey, come on man. Roll over. You’re the one who wanted face to face.” 

It seemed to take a second for the words to process, but then Bucky was shifting up onto all fours, movements clumsy and graceless, and flopping onto his back. He blinked up at Sam with a dazed expression, and Sam arched an eyebrow at him. 

“You come again?” 

“I don’t know,” Bucky told him lazily, voice low and face open and happy. “Maybe.” 

Sam snorted. “You still want me to fuck you?” 

“God yes,” Bucky said immediately, spreading his legs and canting his hips up. 

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, quickly shifting into position. “God, look at you. C’mere.” 

He didn’t waste anymore time before lining himself up and pressing in. Bucky was all tight, slick heat and Sam groaned as he slipped past his rim, the pressure around his aching cock almost too much. Bucky was moaning though, soft little pleases slipping out on every other breath, and Sam only paused a moment before pressing in further, not stopping until he was buried balls deep. 

“Oh fuck,” Bucky gasped when he finally stopped, hands running aimlessly over Sam’s back. “Oh fuck just… Wait a second.” 

Sam nodded sharply, ignoring the way his dick was throbbing, body telling him to move. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky laughed. “Just don’t move. I’m gonna come if you move. Just… Need a sec.” 

Sam squeezed his eyes tightly shut, balls throbbing. “Jesus, Buck,” he muttered, resting his forehead against Bucky’s chest. “You’re gonna kill me.”

It was another minute before Bucky finally gave him the go-ahead and Sam couldn’t hold back any longer. Feeling a little out of his mind with pleasure, he fucked into Bucky hard and fast, the noises Bucky made in response only ratcheting him up higher. Bucky was clutching at his hips, squirming around beneath him, and Sam got a grip on his legs, bending him in half until he was dragging over his prostate with every single thrust. Bucky shouted at the shift, metal hand reaching over his head to clutch at the mattress until he tore it. Sam was starting to see why he didn’t have a headboard. 

“Oh shit,” Bucky panting, arching his hips a little higher, letting Sam slip a little deeper. “Right there, fuck. I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” 

Sam nodded, dropping his head to kiss him, open-mouthed and panting and more sharing air than anything. “Yeah,” he gasped, feeling his own balls draw up tight as he struggled to hold on just a little longer. He wormed a hand between them. “Come on baby, come for me.” He managed to half curl his hand around Bucky’s cock, the angle awkward, and his grip not tight enough, but a beat later Bucky’s back was arching, body tensing as he spilled over Sam’s fingers. 

He grew impossibly tighter and Sam let go of his dick, bracing his hands on the mattress instead and managing only two, three more thrusts before he was burying himself deep and coming with a low groan. 

They stayed like that for a long minute, Sam splayed over top of Bucky, the room filled with the sound of their panting as they tried to get their breathing back under control. Then Bucky shoved unceremoniously at Sam’s side. 

“Get off, man,” he grumbled, a grin in his voice. “You’re heavy.” 

Sam sighed but shifted off of Bucky, sprawling out beside him instead. “The hell kind of thank you is that?” 

Bucky just rolled his eyes, shifting onto his side to look at Sam, and then scrunched his face up. “God, I am like… Just covered in come,” he grumbled, making Sam snort. 

“Charming,” he teased, and Bucky glowered at him, before leaning in and giving Sam a quick, soft kiss. 

“Be right back,” he hummed, rolling easily to his feet and padding to the bathroom like he hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of his life. Sam wasn’t jealous. Really.

He dozed a little, listening to Bucky move around in the bathroom, then jolted awake when a cool cloth was dumped unceremoniously on his bare belly. “Thanks,” he grumbled, giving himself a cursory clean up (he’d avoided the worst of Bucky’s mess) as Bucky smirked at him. 

Bucky tossed the cloth back in the bathroom when he was done, flopping back down on the mattress beside him. He looked sideways over at Sam, not quite meeting his eyes. “You, uh… You staying?” he asked, sounding just a little nervous, and Sam snorted. 

“Well, I’d have to remember how my legs worked to be able to leave, so… Yeah. I’m sticking around. That okay?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky did meet his eyes then, grinning. “Yeah, that’s great.” He leaned over to turn off the light and shifted around a little and then they were pressed close, Bucky’s head tucked against Sam’s chest. Sam curled his arm around Bucky’s back, pretending not to notice his soft, pleased sigh at the motion. 

They lay in silence for a few easy minutes until Sam couldn’t stand it any longer and nudged his hip against Bucky’s side. “Man. You really came in like five seconds flat, huh?” 

Bucky sighed like Sam was the biggest battle he’d ever had to overcome. “Fuck off. It’s been seventy goddamn years,” he told him, rolling his eyes at Sam’s laughter. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.” 

“No,” Sam agreed, grinning when Bucky’s hand came up to tangle with his. “No I was not.” He hummed for a minute. “Hey, you should know, I kept that bush you gave me.” 

“The…” Bucky rolled to squint at him. “The what?” 

“The bush. Way back when? You cornered me in an alley and threw a bush at me and then took off?” 

“Oh.” Bucky looked embarrassed, but he laughed softly. “That.”

“Yeah, that. I kept it. Nat’s got a little vegetable garden on the roof. She let me have a patch of dirt and I replanted it. She’s thriving. I named her Rita.” 

Bucky snorted, embarrassment fading. “Why?”

“Why did I name her Rita?” Sam shrugged and stifled a yawn. “I don’t know man, I guess I was doing some kind of 40s homage to you. It seemed to suit her anyway.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I meant why did you keep it?” 

“Oh.” Sam grinned at him then, bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s. “Guess I kinda liked you.” 

They fell into easy, comfortable silence. It was late enough that it was early again, the sky outside the bedroom lightening into the soft grey of pre-dawn, and Sam could feel himself drifting, lulled by the regular rhythm of Bucky’s breathing beside him. He was almost asleep when Bucky spoke again. 

“Hey, Sam?” 

There was something in his voice that made Sam shift to face him, finding Bucky’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light. “Yeah?” 

Bucky drew in a deep breath, and his smile was nervous, but happy. “I think I’m ready to see Steve.” 

*** One Week Later ***

Sam let the sounds of his teammates eating wash over him, glancing over at the clock at the stove and trying not to let his anticipation show. Saturday morning Avengers brunch wasn’t anything official, but nine times out of ten everyone would find their way into the common room after training and all-nighters and the dreaded weekend meeting, and it seemed as good a time as any for this. He and Bucky had gone over it over and over again, if it was best for him to see everyone at once, if he wouldn’t rather be on neutral territory, but Bucky had decided he was ready, and Sam was ready to support him in whatever he chose to do. 

The clock on the stove flicked over to the hour and right on cue Sam heard the faint whoosh of the elevator door opening behind him and, because he was listening for it, faint footfalls crossing the room. From across the table, Sam saw Clint freeze and his eyes go wide, the forkful of waffle and syrup that he’d been about to shovel into his mouth falling to his lap instead. Clint cursed as he realized and then Sam’s chair was being pulled slightly back and he found himself with two hundred and sixty pounds of half-naked supersoldier sitting sideways in his lap. 

“Morning, baby,” Bucky hummed, helping himself to some of Sam’s breakfast like this was an everyday occurrence. 

From over his shoulder, Bucky could see Steve staring at them, looking like he was having a stroke, and Sam turned his face into Bucky’s neck before Steve could catch him laughing. He met Tony’s eyes in the process, the other man already over any shock and giving Sam a look that was somewhere between amused and impressed. 

Bucky turned his attention on Steve then, and though he was still playing it up, his smile was a little softer, a little more earnest. “Morning Stevie.” 

Sam pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed his hip reassuringly as Steve blinked at them several times in a row and finally opened his mouth. 

“What the fuck??”

#fic #my fic #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #recovering bucky barnes #canon divergence #post-CATWS #happy ending #lemon

[storiesof-humanity]

A Warning

***warning content***

Finally after years of waiting they finally received a message from outer space. After years of technology improvements and being able to colonize their moons they finally gotten a message from a species from a far away.

'We aren't alone' that's all the scientist could think as they prepared to play the message all over their world and colonies.

A dozen scientists and engineers tapped away at their devices to prepare that the playing of the message would go uninterrupted.

Everyone held their breath as every screen counted down for the message to play.

6

5

4

3

2

1

..........................................................................................................................................................................................

The screen stayed black before showing the image of a tired creature with big mat black eyes its clothes was ripped and burned in some spots a dozen of other different creatures in the background carried stuff off screen before running back to get other stuff and repeat. Others typed away on devices and others carried some sort of weapon.

The creature looked at the screen for what seemed hours before speaking.

"My name is Gur'vil, commander of the Nova Star cluster. I'm here to warn you. I do not if this will reach you on time but if does I want say I'm sorry." The commander looked at the screen as a liquid leaked from its eyes.

"We shouldn't have attacked their nests," his voice sounding in desperation,"we thought 'kill the all the young ones before they can spread' that they were going to be crippled by grief and sadness", more liquid leaked from his eyes, "that's what the scientists told us but by the love of Lichanik they were wrong, they weren't sad or grieved like the scientist predicted they were angry have you ever seen a angry human?" The alien commander said as his body started to shake slightly. "You won't believe us if we told you so just watch the videos we have from some of the humans attacks on our civilian and military centers."

The screen changed and showed a tall, bipedal creatures with no hair but some on their heads, in front of the creatures (which they had assumed they were the 'humans' the commander talked about) a huddled grouped of different species sat together as the human soldiers took away from them smaller creatures that cried out for help. The humans proceeded to grab them by a limp and smash the small defenseless creatures against rocks and pillars painting them in green and blue blood. As the older huddled group of creatures tried to run to the help of the young ones only to be shot. The camera then moves to a different group of humans laughing around a fire as more small creatures cried out for help as they slowly rotated on top a fire and being cooked alive. The camera moves one more time to reveal a small pit surrounded by humans as they cheered on two creatures from different species to keep on fighting to the death only for the winner to be shot and 2 more creatures were brought out to fight.

A growl could be heard from outside the cameras view before the camera spanning back around to show a tall, bulking figure, with glowing eyes stalked forward on its 4 legs towards whoever controlled the camera. With its eyes never leaving the creature controlling the camera it rushed forward and everything going black.

Moments later commander Gur'vil appeared back on bit this time small pops and screaming could be heard off in the distance.

*Pop*Pop*Pop*

"I beg of you," the commander started.

*Pop*Pop*Pop*

More loud screaming could be heard now of in the distance.

"don't make the same mistakes as us and hide yourselves they can't be stopped they can't be reasoned with," the commander slowly backed up a bit before pulling a small weapon from his coat.

*Pop*Pop*Pop*Boom*Pop*Pop*Pop*

The poping noises could be heard now and more clear screams could be heard now some saying to 'hold the line' well others were that of pain and death. Behind the commander alien troops aimed at something off in the distance of that of the camera behind their makeshift forts.

"I leave you this and hope you will be spared from the scourge and plague that is humanity." The commander said before raising his small weapon up to his head only to be stopped by a loud explosion followed by a wave of dust and rubble. For a moment nothing could be seen expect for small flashes of light followed by popping noises and screams.

As the dust settled the only thing left where tall creatures in black armor with black masks covering their face. Around them the other creatures were dead or bound with gags in their mouths including the commander that seemed to be dazed.

One of the creatures pulled out a small device and speakers into it,"All clear sir we have the commander as while as some of the scientist you are clear to move in."

Moments later a tall human with gray hair walked in and looked around before his eyes landing on the commander.

"Hello commander," the gray haired human said with a grin before he pulled out a thick long silver looking stick with a handle. "A pleasure to finally meet the creature that killed an entire generation of humans," the human said before he turned to the scientist," oh I almost forgot you are the scientist that helped with the attacks pleasure to meet you as while I have to admit you're species taste exactly like chicken but back to what we came here to do."

The commander stood straight making all the other human soldiers stand straight and gripping their black metal sticks.

"By the power invested in me by the empire of Humanity, I Captian Demorio Steven of the 74th death squad, in charge of the revenge killings of this sector of the galaxy declare that you and your species and everyone else in this room not human to death due to the attack on human schools, hospitals, orphanages, and daycare, any last words?"

The captain raised his sliver stick towards the commanders head.

The commander looked at the captain then at the camera,"Run. Hide. Protect yourselves you don't have much time. Please." The commander then lowered his head in defeat before the commander pulled the trigger blowing the commander's head into pieces with a pop covering everything in blue blood. All around the room human soldiers followed suit and killing everyone in the room.

As the captain wiped his face with some type of cloth he walked towards the camera before picking it up and smiling and tossing it towards one of the soldiers.

"Track that signal and report back."

"Yes sir."

The screen went black.

..........................................................................................................................................................................................

No one spoke no one moved.

This message wasn't a welcome message from space. It was a warning of what was waiting for their species out there.

As their species stared at black screens in shock a small beeping noise started sounding out of one the computers.

"Sir something just entered our system and its heading straight for us."

As all the scientist rushed towards the computer a message came through across the screen.

'You didn't listen' - Humans

.........................................................................................................................................................................................

Hey guys !! So yeah I'm here still alive and breathing and doing some crack jk... Not really.... But anyways :) just here to say that I hope you guys enjoy this story even tho its rushed and its short and its kinda boring but fuck it here you go.

So real quick I'm just going to awnser some questions I'm getting asked a lot so here we go :

Q) why don't you finish some of the series you write?

A) I suck at writing second or third parts so I just leave them like that

Q) why don't update/post that often?

A) I'm in school and I'm trying to graduate that bitch also work

Q) are you racist?

A) no I'm a speciest meaning I prefer a species over another #HumansAreTheBest

Q) where 2nd parts to some of the stories?

A) I have them on draft. I literally have 30 stories on draft 💀 (including the 2nd, 3rd, and the 4th part to Feral and like the 2 more stories about occupation)

Q) why are your stories so shit?

A) cause they fucking are you don't have to read them so suck my cock :)

Q) why are your stories so dark?

A) cause I always read stories about humans being nice and cute and being friendly and shit but fuck that humans are fucked up and crual. Just read about some of the stuff we've done to each other what do you guys think we'll do to others that are not part of our species? Like come on be realistic.

So anyways hope you guys enjoy and I promise to post if I can so yeah later :)

#humans are insane #humans are strange #human #humans #humanity #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #space orc #humans are aliens #humans are weird

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Part 2: Chapter One: Bored

Originally I was going have the fic end on the open ended bad ending of King Boo winning but while I was writing the penultimate chapter of that I had an evil idea occur to me and felt called to do it so I did. (This next part is kinda spoilers for said evil idea which is revealed in fic at the very start of chapter 3, meaning 7 overall, this part 2 revolves around it so it's not a huge deal for it to be spoiled but if you want to find out what's up with what's happening when our characters do don't read the next paragraph.)

While writing the part where Luigi feels King Boo's emotions about his victory over the Mario bros in such a way that I wrote it as if I were writing from King Boo's POV, I had the thought of what if overtime because of this possession arrangement, their minds became closer and closer so that they started experiencing each other's thoughts and emotions in that way more and more until they essentially felt like or became the one entity instead of two? And then I was like, oh that's like fusion from Steven Universe but very much unwanted from both parties and very, very bad for poor Luigi because he's fusing with evil, violent King Boo. And then I had the idea for the scene that requires the new 'attempted murder that looks like attempt suicide' tag (happens next chapter, I'll probably put a thing at the top, saying how to skip it if you want) and that sealed the deal on me writing this.

I don't know if everything in it makes complete sense or if everyone's completely in character (especially E. Gadd, I never feel like I know what I'm doing when writing him but I do my best and that's all I can ask of myself) but it was a lot of fun to write regardless so I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

‘I think I’m starting to get bored of this,’ King Boo said as they woke up.

Groggy and hungover from last night’s drinking, it took Luigi a couple seconds to parse what King Boo had just implied. Really? He didn’t dare hope… did he? He’d just about given up on this nightmare ever ending. The only solace he’d found was that King Boo liked to ‘escape proper consciousness’ as he liked to put it, meaning sleep, alcohol, and whatever drugs he could find to experiment with. It was highly unpleasant but at least Luigi was only partially aware of his situation for sometimes hours at a time.

‘Yep.” King Boo sat up and looked around. They were on a rooftop, neither of them remembered how they’d gotten here. King Boo didn’t care though and Luigi was having trouble doing so either. ‘I think I experimented with about everything I can get my hands on. Also, you’ve stopped caring about stuff and that’s just plain boring.’ And as nice as this little vacation was, he really needed to get back to his boos soon, he was their king after all. … That wasn’t a thought Luigi was supposed to be privy to. ‘That’s another reason I want done with this.’ King Boo couldn’t be having Luigi knowing all his thoughts and feelings and the longer they shared a body, the more often that was occurring when he didn’t want it to. He couldn’t seem to do anything about it which was why this arrangement needed to end sooner rather than later.

He stood and walked them over the edge of the roof to look down at the street below. It wasn’t a super long fall but it would probably hurt quite a bit. King Boo was tempted to jump off to see just how bad it would be.

Please don’t. Luigi would rather not take any more injuries than he already had. Even if lately King Boo possessing him seemed to make his body heal faster than normal, it still hurt. You were thinking about letting me go?

‘I didn’t say that, just that I’m getting bored of this. I need to decide if I should let you go or kill you.’ As far as Luigi could tell, he was honestly undecided. He could probably press at King Boo’s mind to find out why but didn’t dare. … If he did, that’d be weighing the odds against him.

Uh… all righty then. I vote you let me go.

‘Killing you would be fun though.’

Not like this. You’ve already defeated me. And Luigi was still ashamed of it. He should’ve been able to fight back but… it had just happened so fast. Wouldn’t it be better if you… let me live to be tormented by that and… the fear that you’ll… come back and do it again? He understood King Boo far too well for his liking at this point. Being dead himself, he didn’t consider death to be a horrible fate.

He laughed out loud. ‘True. I could also turn you into a painting to crown this victory for ever.’ And if he ever wanted a meat suit to play around in again, he’d have it right there.

Luigi did the mental equivalent of a gulp. You could do that too. It’d be easier to rescue him from a painting though, right? … Theoretically yes, but King Boo wouldn’t let that happen. … It might be the best Luigi could hope for though.

Another laugh from King Boo, this one only Luigi could hear. ‘I guess it’s decided then, a painting it is.’ He stepped back from the edge at last and started for the door that should lead into whatever building this was. Luigi groaned and pulled his mind in on itself as much as he could. Being turned into a painting was better than death though and probably better than his current circumstances so… maybe this wasn’t so bad?

A few days later

King Boo’s kingdom was unsurprisingly a haunted forest.  One could tell at a glance it was haunted due to the tall spindly trees being dead and dark. There even seemed to be an almost visible murky atmosphere to the place before they’d even stepped foot into it. Which they had had to do because there weren’t any roads that led into it and certainly not enough space between the trees to allow for a car to pass through.

There didn’t even seem to be any path leading in. King Boo ditched Luigi’s car and strode right in, ducking underneath a low hanging branch.

The pace he set was steady but slow, he was in no hurry. Which was fine, it delayed how long it would be before Luigi ended up as a painting. … It was night though; the woods were spooky and dark, lit only by the partly clouded moon overhead and King Boo’s crown. And it was absolutely crawling with phantoms, fleeting past Luigi’s peripheral vision and making all sorts of spooky noises just out of sight. If he had any control of his body, he’d have been shivering and jumping at every single sound, real or imagined and probably running the exact opposite direction

King Boo of course wasn’t bothered, he strode confidently through the dead underbrush and around the scary looking trees. ‘How are you still afraid of ghosts? You’ve defeated how many with E. Gadd’s stinky vacuum?’ He made a loud exaggerated gagging noise to emphasize exactly how the felt about said vacuum. ‘And we’re not even that scary to begin with.’

Luigi didn’t get it either. It was illogical but they were still scary. He’d been working on that with Polterpup but then… this happened. King Boo scoffed and kept going.

Eventually they reached the clearing in which King Boo’s mansion took up majority of the available space. It was old and scary looking but not as large as Luigi would’ve thought it would be. Which didn’t mean it was small by any means but definitely not as big as Peach’s castle.

As they approached the entrance, three boos came shooting out, phasing through the door. Internally Luigi jumped and screamed, the only thing worse than ghost creeping through the shadows was ghosts popping out at him. … King Boo found that was funny, he should’ve tried jump scaring Luigi more, maybe one of his past schemes would’ve been successful if he had.

The boos looped around, slowing to a rest in front of King Boo and Luigi. “Welcome back boss,” the boo on the left said.

“You still have Luigi,” the middle added.

“What are you going to do with him?” the right boo finished.

King Boo gave them a genuine smile, not his typical evil one but one that felt as if he was just happy to see his boos again. Which was such a strange feeling from him, it was actually creepy.

“I’ve decided to turn him into a painting,” King Boo said, pushing down his annoyance that Luigi was more privy to his thoughts and feelings than he was supposed to be.

The boos laughed in near unnerving unison that sent a shiver down Luigi’s metaphorical spine. They followed King Boo back in as he entered.

Inside was a surprisingly grand living room. A large cushy sofa with matching chairs and cushions took up the bulk of the floorspace on top of a thick rug covered in intricate designs. A gorgeous crystal chandelier huge down from the ceiling, the dancing light from the fireplace, reflecting off its dangling bits, giving it an almost sparkly look. There was a large painting of an abstract night sky hung above the fireplace, completing the fancy feel of the room. If it wasn’t for the many boos and even a few standard ghosts suddenly all turning to look at him, Luigi probably would’ve found the place quite nice.

Abandoning their comfy seats, all the boos and ghosts rushed to crowd around King Boo. Being surround by a horde of boos was perhaps the scariest thing Luigi had encountered in a while. … All they did though was welcome King Boo home and congratulate him on his victory over the Mario bros. They all seemed happy to have their ‘boss’ back and King Boo was glad to be back.

‘See? Not so scary.’ Well… Luigi still didn’t like it no matter how ridiculous King Boo thought he was being.

Once all the ghosts had finally had their say, King Boo ordered them to take down the night sky portrait and put it in the music room. He then ordered another boo to bring down an empty painting frame that would take its place. It was rather obvious what that empty painting frame was for.

How aware would Luigi be in the painting? Mario and the toads had all said they didn’t remember anything of it so maybe it’d just be like a long sleep. Which honestly wouldn’t be so bad even if it lasted for forever. But… what if one was aware while in a painting but didn’t remember anything of it when they came out? Did that even make sense?

‘When I was trapped in that painting you and E. Gadd put me in, I was aware of every moment of it,’ King Boo cut in with an inward snarl. ‘So I really hope you will be to.’

Luigi whimpered but did his best not to think about it anymore. … Except the boo ordered to retrieve the empty painting frame choose that moment to swoop back into the room and present it to King Boo, holding it ready for him.

‘Anything else you want to say to me? Beg for mercy perhaps?’ King Boo hoped he would, it’d be a great send off. If Luigi was convincing enough, he might even…

No! Luigi could feel the lie in that thought. He wasn’t going to get mercy no matter how much he begged so he wasn’t going to. Just get it over with already. It’d be better than having his body controlled by King Boo for even a second longer.

King Boo chuckled. ‘Finally, some backbone. Very well though, this was fun. Maybe I’ll pull you out occasionally to play around some more. For now though, goodbye.’

He called on his power, causing his crown to glow brighter. There was an uncomfortable pulling sensation on Luigi’s soul and… King Boo’s magic sparked and fizzled out. … They were suddenly both very worried and Luigi couldn’t tell where his concern ended and King Boo’s began. … King Boo pushed that aside though and tried again, putting more force behind it. … It still didn’t work, the same thing happened as before, only more intense.

Growing desperate now, King Boo tried again. This time he kept pulling past the point of discomfort until… it felt kind of like their souls were struck by lightning as his magic sparked again, sending a tremor through both of them that translated into a physical shudder.

“What’s wrong boss?” the boo holding the empty painting asked as they all crowded a bit closer.

King Boo looked up at him, his hands trembling a little as he forced an unsteady smile. “I think I might be stuck in here.”

#My writing #super mario bros #Luigi's Mansion #Booigi #Mentions of drugs and alcohol

[platypanthewriter]

The Dragon’s Prince

Chapter One: Humans Aren't Furniture

Steve knew he was in the right spot when the first villager to see him--a man with a huge bruise on his forehead--yelped and ran, clutching at what looked to be a solid-gold chamberpot. 

“I heard there’s a dragon here,” Steve called out, standing in his stirrups.  His horse sighed. “I don’t want any trouble--I definitely don’t want your chamberpots--”

“Who the hell are you?”  A young woman poked her face over the fence near his elbow.  “What’s that sword for, then?”

It was both convenient and annoying, Steve thought, to be travelling without his entourage and ceremonial armor.  “This sword wouldn’t hurt him.” He grabbed the hilt and pulled a few inches of blade to show plain steel, not the slick, greenish sheen of an anti-magic enchantment.  

“Mmmm,” she hummed, squinting.

“His privateer license expired, is all--” Steve shrugged.

“Go away!  You’re here because he ate our sheep!” a kid yelled, and Steve sat back down in the saddle, brushing snow off his arms.

“Is that what happened?”

“He just strolled into town and asked whose sheep he’d eaten,” said another villager, hanging out a window.  “Been up on north field. Hucked treasure at everyone.” More of them were venturing forth, one of them holding a golden harp.  

“Broke my front tooth,” said the kid, yanking her lip back to show a gap, “--he was naked.”  Steve stared between his horse’s ears, and the kid smacked his boot.  “You gonna take all the stuff he gave us? It was too much, but he gave it to us.”

“No,” Steve grimaced at the guy hiding in plain sight “behind” a tiny shrub, “--no, keep your...chamberpots, I understand a trade caravan will be coming through, if you want to sell some…” he trailed off as a villager waved and pointed him to a ceramic vase larger than she was.  “Uh, some of his...gifts. They usually keep track of where he’s been.” A cheer went up around him, and he sighed. Definitely the right place, he thought.  Now I just have to convince him to listen to me.  And risk his life. If anything, he felt more tired, and he rolled his shoulders, hiding his wince as it strained the bandages under his jacket.  While I’m doing those two impossible tasks, maybe I can convince him to put on pants.

After some negotiation--and a stern refusal to accept harps or encyclopedias in payment--Steve stood at the base of a fall of boulders, and began to climb.  He started scrambling faster as the sun set, and the boulders shifted, and caught his boot. He froze, taking a shaky breath, and clung to the rock face, remembering the expression on General Hopper’s face after Steve received his orders.  

“Why not a dragon that responds to summons,” Hopper had gritted out.

“We need a fire dragon,” Steve had echoed his father’s words in his own voice, and tried to sound certain.  “He--he doesn’t kill anyone outside his license. I just--I don’t know what I can offer him. He could be in danger from them too, and they didn’t give me any--I can’t go to a dragon, even that dragon, and say “Please fight our battles, we’ll definitely figure out something to pay you with later--”

“There was that bandit.”  Hopper had shaken his head, and stomped away.  

Steve had imagined himself seared black, and speared on a tree like a butcherbird’s breakfast, and wondered semi-hysterically which had happened first.

“E-except that,” he’d agreed.  “I’m--I’m sure there was some--”

“He is a dragon,” Hopper muttered.

Steve yanked on his leg, yelling at the flash of pain, and the boulders shifted again, sending an avalanche of rocks and dirt down slamming into his shoulders, and the back of his head.

When he awoke, he was warm, and clean, and everything was bright through his eyelids.  “...oh shit,” he whispered, curling tighter, “--I’m dead, and now everyone else will be dead--”

“Whoa there,” breathed a voice next to his ear, “--pretty boy.”

Steve stilled, opening his eyes on gold, and golden scales, because the voice of a dragon was unmistakable.  It rumbled all around him and blew across the skin of his back like bellows over hot coals. He swallowed, closing his eyes again.  Of course I’m naked.

“I know, touching me feels like heaven,” the dragon continued, “--but I have to ask.  What drives a prince...to climb a landslide...to knock on my door?”

Steve tried to stand, and found his right foot was a sea of pain.  His vision went starry.  

“Whoa, whoa,” the rumble said, and smooth scales curled around him.  Steve allowed himself to be propped up, then lifted, grabbing at the talons around his butt and ribs, and blinked into the face of the gold dragon.  He’s young, he thought distractedly, his head’s barely the size of a pony.  

“My--I’ve been sent--”

“Are you a present?” asked the dragon, ignoring him.  “I took your giftwrap off, it was a bit--” it waved a claw, “--torn, after I dug you out.  I think you’d look great on this rock here,” it held him up to a slanted boulder the size of Steve’s bed, and tugged some furs from a pile to toss over it.  “I think your ass would really bring the room together.”  

“My--what,” Steve tried to turn, and the dragon leaned its head within view, teeth bared in what Steve suspected was an annoying dragon grin.  “My--I am not--I am his Royal Highness Prince Steven of Hawkins, Duke of Harringtown and Knight of the Realm, and I have been--”

The dragon sniffed him, and he resisted jerking away, swallowing.  “Why send you out without your guard? You were wounded before you came here,” it informed him, and he stared back into enormous, bluey-gold eyes.

“I know that.”  Steve gritted his teeth.  

The dragon’s grin widened.  “Entirely-gold hoards are out this year.  I think a prince’s smooth skin would really make it pop.”  

“I thought you didn’t eat people.”

The dragon blinked, then huffed.  “I’m just saying you’d look nice lounging--”

“I need your help,” Steve hissed.

The dragon momentarily stopped trying to angle him different ways in the light.  “What are you offering?” he asked, the flames flickering in his throat.

Steve rolled his eyes.  “I don’t know what you want.  You must have enough money,” he waved at the piles of treasure, “--this isn’t even your main horde.  And you aren’t paying taxes, like you agreed to do when you applied for your privateer license--”

“...you.”  The dragon went still, running a knuckle down Steve’s face, and then met his eyes again and laughed.  “As--as decor, naturally--”

“In a cave where you put me?” Steve asked, to clarify.  It was better than being roasted, he figured, or dropped onto a spike.  “I’ll need to ask you to defer my payment until--”

“One night, with you,” the dragon interrupted, turning its face away.  “I mean, if you can’t tear yourself away after--”

“One night?” Steve squinted at him, and then grabbed for the dragon’s talons again, kicking for balance as he was suddenly lowered to the floor of the cave.  The mountainous gold coils and wings folded and curled inward, packing themselves impossibly tiny until they resolved into a human-ish shape covered in shining scales, and sporting dragon horns.  

He crouched, frowning at Steve’s swollen foot, then smirked up.  “One night...with me.”

“Oh!” Steve almost clapped in realization, but caught himself, blushing, as the dragon-man leaned his face into his scaly hand and cackled.  “Just…” he trailed off, rephrasing his objections, until he remembered the amount of people at risk, and the whole reason he was there.  Maybe he enjoys sex where the human survives, he told himself, and held out his hand.  

The dragon took it in both of his, edging much too close for a handshake, and held it, grinning, as though he was delighted Steve had offered it, and didn’t intend to give it back.  

He leaned closer, his clawed thumb rubbing gently at the skin between Steve’s knuckles, and licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth, and Steve barely had time for a startled inhale before he had warm lips pressed to his.  Up close, the dragon looked a bit like a very expensive costume, Steve thought, like someone at a masquerade ball, when he would wonder whether the person pressing him into the wall knew who he was kissing. He wondered, now, whether the dragon had ever attended.

 The gold was digging into his butt, and his foot throbbed, but the dragon’s warm bulk was surprisingly cozy.  He had unreasonably long lashes, and soft lips, and Steve let himself relax into the kiss, licking curiously into a dragon’s mouth.  He found it nearly steaming hot, and thankfully clean of singed bandit. The pile of treasure he was lying on shifted.  

He winced as something jabbed into his side, and the dragon reached over--still licking gently into Steve’s mouth--and bent the metal arm of it back with a grating creak.  The reminder that a dragon could have crushed his skull with one hand, and instead was running soft fingertips along his jaw--and shifting scaly knees so as not to jostle his sore foot--made him feel a bit like jelly inside, and he laughed into the kisses, panting.  He pushed himself up on his elbows, into the kiss.  

The dragon hummed, grinning against his mouth, and dropped alongside him.  His hands were pleasantly hot, running up and down Steve’s ribs. “You should see what I’ve got, before you agree to anything.”

“What?” Steve murmured back, tossing a leg over the dragon’s waist.  

“We can--we can make sure this is fine--after I’ve saved your humans.” 

“What--what do I call you,” Steve whispered into the kisses, and the dragon pulled back to grin at him, then leaned in for another kiss, and another.  

“You don’t--you don’t know my name?”  He kissed Steve’s lips again. The skin was starting to feel tender.  

“You’re designated by color, ability, and area,” Steve rambled, accepting kisses when he paused.  “--it’s--mm. It’s a mess--the way you keep flying around--I thought your name must be some--some Dragonish growly noise that--that they didn’t know how to spell, which, rude--” he panted into another kiss, losing his train of thought.

“...Billy,” he snickered into Steve’s ear.  “You always let strangers do this?”

Steve remembered with a jolt that he’d been sent to bring a dragon back, whether it required his oath or his life, and he shook his head.  “It’s dangerous, what I--what I need from--”

Billy bit, oh-so-gently, up the side of Steve’s neck, and he groaned, losing track of his words as his eyes fluttered shut.  “You finally came without your guards.”

“Were you waiting to get me alone?” Steve snorted.  “If you weren’t giving pornographic statues to children, you wouldn’t rile everyone up so much--” 

Billy snickered.  “It was heavy! I didn’t wanna carry that thing!  Fun though it was.”

“She was eleven--”

“Oh, she kept cows, she’d seen worse.  You probably bought it from her.”

“We couldn’t very well--”

“So she’s better off, now.  Several times the price of a couple cows.”  Billy’s teeth shone sharp in his grin, and he leaned in to run his knuckles up Steve’s side.  “I’ve got some treasures I’ve been saving for you…actually, here--” he leaned off the edge of the rock, then held up a vial of sparkling silvery fluid.

“It’s--it’s just my ankle,” Steve stared at it.  “We can stop by a healer on the way back, there’s no need for--”

“You’re hurt,” Billy uncorked it with his teeth, “--that’s what it’s for.  If I’m not paying attention, and you get hurt again, it’ll use it up later, maybe.  Maybe your tears will start healing the sick.”

“How would I even find out that was happening,” Steve asked, frowning at the vial.  “You should sell that stuff to some kingdom with a dying queen, or something.”

“Or maybe,” Billy whispered, “--you’ll live as long as a dragon.  Try for that one.”  

“How am I supposed to try for something--”

Billy grinned, sticking it in Steve’s mouth, and Steve drank it, staring at him over a potion worth as much as...a prince’s ransom, he wondered.  A king’s castle?  

“Why didn’t you drink it yourself?” he asked, as Billy frowned at, tapped it, and tipped the last drop onto Steve’s extended tongue.  “You could--”

“I’m a dragon,” Billy licked his lips, watching Steve’s mouth, “--you think I’m going to get hurt?  You’re fragile.  If something happens--”

“Why do you care about me?”  Steve asked, lowering his eyes to flex his suddenly-painless foot.  He reached down to tug at the loosened bandages. They were stuck together with blood.  “I mean--”

“You--you’re the prince,” the dragon laughed, tossing the empty vial against the far wall, and Steve nodded, biting his lips.

“Right.”

“No, I mean--” Billy crouched in front of him, cocking his head to catch Steve’s eye, “--everyone knows what you’re like.  We know what you do, because you’re the prince. You’re on coins--”

“I’m valuable.”  Steve nodded, keeping his shoulders relaxed, and giving his best public ‘welcome’ smile.  

“No,” Billy pushed him back, climbing over him again, and kissed his nose, “--no, I mean--I know you, I read every copy of the Imperial Gazette--”

Steve snorted, bursting into cackles of laughter.  “You think you know me through that?!”

“...no,” Billy muttered, his gold scales pinkening.

“What’s my favorite color?”  Steve grinned up at him, and Billy leaned in for another kiss.

“Gold,” he whispered.  “The best color.”

“...I do like yellow a lot,” Steve whispered into the kiss, and Billy squeezed him.

“I know enough about you,” he mouthed along Steve’s ear, “--to know I want to know everything about you.”  

Steve’s heart pounded, and he took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat.  “...what kind of name for a dragon is ‘Billy’,” he mumbled, his head muzzy with warm hands and bright smiles.  “Shouldn’t you be. The Slayer. Something about fire. Smog.”

“Rude,” the dragon whispered against his mouth.  “Billy the Slayer?”

One more question, Steve thought, before he burns them all away, kissing me.  “Wha--Billy.”  he cleared his throat, leaning into the hand on his head.  “Wait. Why did you burn that man?” 

Billy punched his shoulder.  “You saw his crimes!”

“I didn’t,” Steve raised his eyebrows, tugging a fur over himself, and lying back against the boulder with a sigh, “--because you didn’t send in your paperwork, like usual--my lungs are full of bandit flesh now--you couldn’t just break his legs and drop him at a guard station--”

“I--I definitely sent--” he paused, thinking.  “I didn’t.” The dragon scrambled away, sliding down the mound of treasure in his tiny human form.  “Ah, here they are--”

“How do you fill them out?” Steve asked.  “Do you use your claws? With your eyes shut?  Because that would explain--”

The cavern brightened with a poof of flame.  “I use a quill--look--” he clambered back up the shifting mounds of treasure, waving a handful of papers, “--see, look, he stuck his cock in places it wasn’t wanted, so I stuck a tree through it.  And set him on fire.”

Steve grimaced, finally relaxing.  “Oh. Well. That’s fair.”

“And then I threw his golden chamberpot at the first person I--”

“Who has a golden chamberpot,” Steve started snickering, and couldn’t stop, curled against his warm dragon.  Eventually the days travelling wounded caught up to him, and he mumbled his replies, then snored, with the vague impression of gentle claws combing through his hair.

@neonlaynes​ @tracy7307​

#harringrove #harringrove for Australia #stranger things #platypan #platypan fic #art by neonlaynes #Lookit Steve's squishy face!! #Squish his face Billy! #Steve needs a break #Billy needs a prince #All the best interior design guides advise one

[gyakutengagotoku]

GS4 vs AJ:AA - Episode 3, Part 2

Good, I’m not having problems with tumblr this time.

This one’s a bit on the shorter end, which I notice goes for many day 1 trials in cases with more than one trial day, but I can still find plenty of things to share, comment, and explain as always! Like with the previous episode, most of the bulk of work was from the introductions and initial setting.

While the previous one, I could squeal over Yakuza references and all that jazz, this one’s more for Klavier’s fans and classic rock junkies out there. I enjoy the occasional taste of rock too, but sorry, I’m forever a Eurobeat gal.

Oh, if only there were a future AA case about street racing... You just know that Edgeworth would be on that case. He’s probably the only prosecutor (besides maybe Klavier) who can make a sick drift and would know a thing or two about cars. Too bad for the car-less defense attorneys at the Wright Anything Agency, though.

--

> Courtroom

> 1st Witness Testimony, press 1st statement

<Apollo> “なくした”っていう発想は ないのかな。 Isn't it possible he simply misplaced them?

<Klavier> “なくした”で済むか！ Misplaced them!?

カギはその後、死体の手に ニギられていたんだぞ！ Misplaced items don't just wander into a murder victim's hand on their own!

<Judge> な。なんですって‥‥！ そ。それでは‥‥ What's this!? Prosecutor Gavin, if your keys were in the victim's hand...

ハンニンはあなた自身ということに なるではないですかッ！ That makes you a prime suspect!

<Klavier> ‥‥♪　“遅効性の恋は アトロキニーネ”‥‥ ..."Love, slow-acting and new. Atroquinine... is waiting for you..."

<Trucy> ハナウタ、歌ってます。 He's singing something.

<Apollo> 大物だよな。なんにしても。 Does everything with this guy have to be so over-the-top?

Just wanna share lyrics. The original line, taken literally, is "Slow-acting love [is like] Atroquinine", but it's so vague that it can be reworded many ways, since it’s a song lyric.

> Press 4th statement

<Klavier> 部屋から脱出できる出口は、 あの通気口だけだった！ That air vent was the only way out of the room!

そして、そこには、 被告人の指紋が残っていた！ The defendant's fingerprints were found on the grill!

‥‥さあ、おデコくん！ ...Well, Herr Forehead?

ここから、キミは どんな“物語”を想像するかい？ What fairy tale does this suggest to you?

<Apollo> ぐ‥‥ッ！ Urk...!

<Klavier> ‥‥ちなみに。その通気口‥‥ Only one could pass through that vent, that "doorway to heaven"...

“天国のトビラ”をくぐることが できたのは‥‥その妖精だけ、さ。 ...and that one is our pixie.

Another song reference, but instead of a "Stairway to Heaven", it's a vent-way.

I've been watching way too much Among Us lately... but this episode from back in 2007 seems suspiciously related to a 2018 game, somehow.

> Finish pressing, present any evidence

<Apollo> 検察側の主張をくつがえす‥‥ これが、その証拠品です！ This evidence does more than contradict, it flips the whole case on its head!

<Judge> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Klavier> どうやら、ぼくの言った通り。 ハッキリとした“反証”のようだね。 Thank you for presenting evidence that is both clear and plain, as requested.

<Judge> たしかに‥‥ ハッキリ“ちがう”と分かります！ Yes... Clearly and plainly wrong!

その証拠品で、検察側の主張を くつがえすことはできません！ I'm afraid the only thing flipped on its head here was you as a child, Mr. Justice.

<Apollo> （うう‥‥ちがったのか‥‥） (Ugh... I guess that wasn't it.)

Savage, Your Honor! The original line seems a bit disappointing in comparison: "This evidence doesn't overturn the prosecution's case at all!" That said, it does give me an idea for where the "flip on its head" phrasing came from.

> Select "no proof"

<Apollo> 反証のジュンビは‥‥ あ、ありません。 I... don't have contradicting proof, actually.

<Judge> そうですか。 それでは、さっさと判決を‥‥ Too bad. Very well, this court finds the defendant...

<Hold it!>

<Trucy> ま、待ってください！ W-Waaait!

<Judge> な、なんですか。 Wh-What for?

<Trucy> 弁護側には‥‥えーと。 は、“はんしょー”でしたっけ？ We have, uh, what was it called? Contradictual proof?

と、とにかく！ ジュンビがありますッ！ Anyway, whatever it is, we've got it!

Meanwhile, I think this line from Trucy seems a bit out of place when "contradicting proof" isn't a very difficult phrase to say. Maybe they could have thrown in something sillier like "contradicting poof- I mean, proof!" and it'd work pretty well. In JP, she's still learning her words and especially kanji, so she usually pronounces words correctly, but doesn't write them out in the text.

I like to think that whenever Odoroki speaks and uses phrases that she isn't as familiar with, she actually breaks the fourth wall and takes notes on his textboxes. Hey, learning from your peers is a great way to study! Learning Japanese with your fave Ace Attorney characters is even better.

> Ask for new witness

<Apollo> 牙琉検事‥‥ まちがいありませんか？ Prosecutor Gavin, you claim that there were no witnesses to this crime.

『この事件に、 　目撃者はいなかった』‥‥ Are you absolutely sure?

<Klavier> マチガイないね。‥‥誓ってもいい。 この検事生命と‥‥ Absolutely. I'd swear it on my career as a prosecutor...

１００万枚を売り上げたヒット曲、 《恋のアトロキニーネ》にかけて。 And on my million-seller hit song "Atroquinine, My Love".

<Trucy> ‥‥さりげなく ジマンされちゃいましたね。 ...There he goes again.

<Apollo> ザンネンながら‥‥ この事件には、目撃者がいたのです。 That's too bad, because there was a witness.

Minor tweaking to song titles again. It was "Atroquinine of Love" before.

> 2nd Witness Testimony, present at 3rd statement, Perceive at 6th statement but point wrongly

<Apollo> あなたのココロの動き‥‥ オレには分かるんですよ。 You may have seen the world, but I've seen your heart.

あなたは、今の証言をするとき、 動揺していましたね！ You were flustered during your testimony just now!

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Lamiroir> あなたの言っていることが、 よく分からないのですが‥‥ I do not understand what it is you are saying.

それは、日本語のジョーク か何かですか？　さっぱりです。 Perhaps this is a joke, in your culture?

Making a note here about culture: It's characteristic of Japanese that since they have so many homophones and alike-sounding words or phrases, it's fairly simple to come up with puns out of the blue. You hear it all the time with Japanese comedians and writers who just can't help themselves and have to throw in a pun here or there. And because they can show up so suddenly, it can catch the audience off-guard, so they're more likely to appreciate the humor.

Relatively speaking, of course; as with any language, there are also those kinds of puns that are super obvious and cringy when delivered. As a language buff myself, I'm still fascinated with what goes into creating puns in the first place, whether or not they're cringy or clever.

> Present evidence to Lamiroir's contradiction to her own testimony

<Apollo> そして、こうも証言しました。 事件については“何も見ていない” Furthermore, you testified that you had "seen nothing".

<Lamiroir> ‥‥！ ...!

<Apollo> お分かりですね‥‥ レタス氏が“撃たれた”ことを‥‥ Yet you knew that Mr. LeTouse had been shot!

あなたが、 知っているはずがないのです！ How could you have known!?

<Lamiroir> ！　‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ...!

<Lamiroir> きゃあああああああああああッッ！ Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooowrk!

<Judge> ラミロアさん！ Lamiroir!

‥‥あなた、まさか。 何かをかくしているのでは‥‥ You aren't hiding something from this court, I hope!

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Apollo> （ラミロアさんはウソをついた‥‥ 　ゼッタイに何かを隠している！） (That sweet song of hers was sounding a little too sweet!)

So, I'm not sure why Lamiroir's cries were localized to this. It sounds like something so out of place from someone whose voice is so beautiful and melodic usually. Maybe that was the point? Like, it's a subtle nod to sudden record-scratches or sudden cuts in a piece of music?

Fyi, Odoroki's last line here was simply: "(Lamiroir-san was lying... She has to be hiding something!)"

> Press newest (7th) statement

<Apollo> ほんの少ししか見ていないのに、 よく“弾痕”だと分かりましたね。 Only a glimpse, yet you knew they were bullet holes?

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥ええ。 一目で分かりましたわ。 Yes. I recognized them immediately.

以前にも、銃の弾痕を、 見たことがありますから‥‥。 I have seen bullet holes before, you know.

<Klavier> アナタは歌い手として、 世界中を回られていますからね。 You have traveled the world as a singer...

この国よりも治安の悪い地域で、 歌われることもあるでしょう。 You must have sung in places far more dangerous than our country.

<Lamiroir> わたくしの歌が必要とされるならば、 どこにでも行かせていただきますわ。 I go wherever my voice is needed. Those places... are many, these days.

<Trucy> かっこいいですね！　ラミロアさん。 みぬきも、いつかは海外に出たいな。 That's really cool! I hope I get to travel like Lamiroir some day.

<Klavier> ぼくも、レコーディングは 海外ですると決めていますよ。 I plan on recording my next album overseas.

むこうのスタジオは、 音のヌケがちがいますからね。 Their studios have a different sound, you know.

<Apollo> （へえ‥‥それは、発声練習にも 　良さそうだな‥‥） (Hmm. Maybe I should go on a Chords of Steel tour, too.)

And this last line is totally different. "(Huh... it sounds like they'd be great for vocal training too...)"

("Far more dangerous", huh... Maybe she previously had a tour in the Republic of Zheng Fa... and maybe the Kingdom of Khura'in too.)

> 3rd Witness Testimony, finish pressing, select "There's a problem"

> 4th Witness Testimony

<Apollo> （すっかり忘れていた‥‥ 　オレの知らないところで‥‥） (I admit, I'd forgotten about the song...)

（そんなトンでもないオチが 　ついていたなんて！） (But there it is now, waiting for me... the grand finale, as it were.)

<Trucy> あ！　それに最初に気がついたの、 みぬきですからね、みぬき！ Hey! You know I was the one who first noticed that!

<Judge> “歌詞”に合わせて殺人など‥‥ I've heard of jumping rope to songs, and counting to songs...

“かぞえ歌”と“手まり歌”だけの 世界だと思っていました！ ...But killing!?

<Klavier> 世界は、おジイさんが 思っていたより広い、ってコトだね。 It's a wild world out there, Herr Judge.

<Judge> それでは！ Very well!

この、ナゾの歌を踏まえた上で、 尋問をおねがいします！ We've heard one song and dance, let's get on to the next: the cross-examination!

<Apollo> （ベツに、歌にはナゾはないと 　思うけど‥‥） (I'm not so sure I'm going to be doing much singing...)

By the way, "手まり歌" (temari uta) is roughly like playing handball to a song. A temari is a ball of usually extra kimono cloth wrapped together with fabric. Over Japanese history, it went from a handmade toy to embroidery art. Link to Wikipedia.

Also, "Wild World" is a 1971 hit song by Cat Stevens too. With all the talk of songs, I figured the loc team might have been able to slip in a subtle nod.

Last couple lines there: "Let's build on this mystery song and begin the cross-examination!" "(I don't think the song itself is the mystery here, though...)"

10/21/20 edit: Ash has enlightened me to one of Takumi’s inspirations. Like Agatha Christie’s And There Was None and Van Dine’s The Bishop Murder Case, where a murder seems to follow a nursery rhyme, a classic Japanese mystery novel by Seishi Yokomizo, Akuma no Temari Uta, is a murder mystery that follows the rhymes of a song.

And now looking into his works, I just realized this man is also the legend who wrote the iconic private eye Kosuke Kindaichi. Yeah, the same guy who’s said to be the grandfather to the MC of the Kindaichi Case Files manga, by Yozaburo Kanari. What a small world we live in, after all.

> Press 1st statement

<Klavier> なかなか悪くないじゃないか、 刑事クン。イイ声してるよ。 Bravo, Fräulein Detective. Your singing... it's not bad.

‥‥そして、最後のパート。 Now, for the finale!

“Ｇｕｉｔａｒ，Ｇｕｉｔａｒ‥‥ 　ふたりは空へ” "Guitar, Guitar... Up together to the sky."

この歌詞の通り、 盗まれたレタス氏の死体は‥‥ As it says in the lyrics, Mr. LeTouse...

“空高く”そびえるステージ の上で発見された。 ...was found with a guitar, high in the "sky" over the stage.

どうだい？　これだけ一致してたら。 もう偶然とはいえないさ。 No series of coincidences could be so well conceived!

<Ema> ‥‥カガク的に言ってもね。 He's right. ...Scientifically speaking.

<Apollo> （‥‥一体、 　なんのコンサートだよ‥‥） (What would Wocky have said? ..."That concert was wack.")

<Trucy> あんな風に気持ち良さそうに 歌われたら、反論できませんね‥‥ It's hard to argue when she pours her heart into it like that.

<Ema> ‥‥えーと。と、とにかく！ 犯人は‥‥ Ah, er, ahem! Anyway, the shooter...

Aw, I really wish I could have actually heard Ema sing... or at least hear her textbox beeps change in tone to the music. That would be a bit of extra coding work, though.

By the way, Odoroki was talking about: "(...What kind of concert was this supposed to be...?)"

> Press 4th statement again

<Ema> おそらく、犯人と被害者の距離は、 ２メートルもなかったはずです。 Furthermore, there was no more than five feet between shooter and victim.

これは、ハズすほうが ムズカシイぐらいの距離です。 Hard to miss at that distance.

<Trucy> でも、マキさんは、 目が不自由だったから‥‥ But, Machi can't see...

<Ema> おそらく、“音”と“気配”に たよって、撃った‥‥ He would have had to use sound and other senses to aim...

だから、ハズれたのでしょう。 ...and miss.

<Klavier> ‥‥部屋には大音量で ぼくたちのナンバーが流れていた。 And our music was blaring over the room monitor.

音を聞くには、 不利な状況だったと言えるよ。 Not the best circumstances for aiming by sound.

<Ema> だから‥‥ハンニンは、 目が見えなかった人物‥‥ Which makes it very likely that the shooter was blind.

<Klavier> これが、検察側の主張だよ‥‥ Thus the prosecution's position.

<Ema> うーん！　やっぱり、 カガク的説明って気持ちいいわね！ Ahh! Nothing like a scientific explanation to get the blood pumping!

<Apollo> （今は、 　まったく同意できないよ‥‥） (Why's mine frozen in my veins, then...?)

It was just "(I can't agree with that sentiment at all...)" but I also wanted to make a joke about about "Apopsico".

> Press 5th statement

<Apollo> か、歌詞になぞらえた殺人だって、 じゅうぶん、非カガク的です！ What's so scientific about a murder to lyrics!?

<Ema> 何よ！　それぐらい‥‥カガクで 解明できるに決まってるでしょ！ Lyrics can be explained scientifically!

<Ema> カガクを甘く見ると‥‥ ケガするわよッ！ ...Never underestimate the power of science!

<Apollo> （うわ！　指紋検出粉のビンを、 　ふりかぶりながら言うなよ‥‥） (Put that bottle of finger- printing powder down before you hurt someone, like me!)

じゃ、じゃあ！ 解明してみせてくださいよ！ OK, then explain it! Scientifically!

<Ema> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

まあ。それには、まだデータが 足りないかな‥‥ I require more data.

<Apollo> （なんだよ、それ！） (Hah! Likely story...)

"(What kind of weak excuse is that!?)"

> Press 6th statement

<Ema> そのことは、楽屋にいた全員に 知らされていました。 Everyone backstage was told about the maintenance.

だから‥‥当然。 マキさんも知っていた。 ...Including Machi Tobaye.

キャタツをのぼれば‥‥そこに、 “脱出口”がある、と‥‥ He would have known that there would be a way out at the top of that stepladder.

<Apollo> そ、そんな‥‥！ 今、初めて聞きましたよ！ But that's... Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this!?

<Klavier> ‥‥なぜ、あんなところに キャタツがあったか‥‥ You could have figured it out for yourself.

それを考えれば、 カンタンにわかると思うけどね。 You only needed to consider what that stepladder was doing there.

<Judge> ‥‥どうやら、弁護人の異議は、 キャタツに押しつぶされたようです。 ...Looks like the defense's objection has been squished by a stepladder.

<Klavier> どうかな？　おデコくん‥‥ Well, Herr Forehead?

もう、この証人の主張を ひっくり返す武器はないのかい？ Out of ammunition, perhaps?

<Apollo> （‥‥なんだ？　この、牙琉検事の 　挑戦的なタイド） (I've never seen Prosecutor Gavin so... so aggressive!)

（なんか、“不自然”な気が‥‥） (Maybe he's caught the scent of blood...)

That last line has gotten a bit more dressing to it. It went "(Maybe he's caught onto something 'unnatural'...)"

> Accept the prosecution's challenge, but present wrongly

<Judge> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Judge> その証拠品に、検察側の主張を 崩すチカラがあるとは思えません。 I'm not sure that overturns anything, Mr. Justice.

<Apollo> （うう。ちがったのか‥‥） (Ugh. Wrong evidence, I'm guessing...)

<Klavier> オドロキ・イズ・ブラインド‥‥ 何も見えてないのは、キミだったね。 Apparently both love... and Justice are blind.

<Apollo> （考えるんだ！ 　何でもいい‥‥何かないのか！） (I have to think! There must be something... anything!)

"Odoroki Is Blind... Seems like you're the one who can't see anything."

(I capitalized that because Kyouya said it in English.)

> Present photo of crime, point out the contradiction, Klavier takes the lead

<Klavier> ‥‥お楽しみはこれからだよ。 おデコくん。 This is where the real fun begins, Herr Forehead!

<Apollo> ぎゃああああああああああああああ あああッ！ Yeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggh!

<Klavier> ‥‥さすがに、ヒトが悪かったかな。 I knew you didn't have what it took.

<Ema> サイテーです！ You... You jerk!

あたし、ナニしに来たか わからないじゃないですか！ Just what was I in here for? Comic relief!?

<Trucy> そうですよ！　あやまりなさい！ Yeah! Apologize!

<Klavier> はっはっはっ。 いやいや、ごめんね。 Ah ha ha. Oh, sorry!

<Trucy> なんですかそれ！ ちゃんとアタマさげる！ That's no way to apologize!

<Apollo> （やれやれ‥‥タイヘンな騒ぎに 　なっちまったな） (He's angered the Trucy now. Look out...)

"(Oh boy... This trial has turned into one huge ruckus.)"

> Point out reason why Machi had to pretend to be blind (or not, it continues either way)

> 5th Witness Testimony, press 1st statement

<Apollo> どうして見えなくなったのかも、 分からないのですね‥‥ So, you don't know why you went blind?

<Lamiroir> ‥‥その通りです。 ...I do not.

もしかすると、生まれつき 見えなかったのかもしれませんわ。 I may have been born this way, in fact.

<Klavier> ‥‥彼女の過去について、 余計なセンサクは無用だよ。 ...It's fruitless to attempt to pry into her past.

これは、きわめてデリケートな モンダイだからね‥‥ And, I might add, it's a delicate subject.

<Judge> 弁護人にデリケートを期待するのは、 少々ムリがありますからな。 I'm not sure we can reasonably expect Mr. Justice to do anything delicately.

<Apollo> （シツレイな‥‥ 　たしかにあまり自信はないけど） (Hey! Why I oughta... take a deep breath and calm down.)

"(Hey... though I actually don't have much confidence about that either.)"

> Press 5th statement

<Judge> 《もくげきしゃ‥‥めがみ》 でしたかな。 "The witness... siren"?

何度も聞かされましたぞ。 弁護人の、迫真のモノマネつきで。 We've heard them many times. Along with a little play-acting by our defense.

<Klavier> 最後のコトバは、死神にノドを つかまれて、闇に消えてしまった。 I remember them well myself, but that statement is not to what I refer.

‥‥あのコトバには、 “つづき”があったんだよ。 I mean what he said before that.

<Apollo> “つづき”‥‥ （“めがみ”につづくコトバ‥‥） ...Before? (What came before that...?)

あッ！ Ack!

<Klavier> ‥‥そう。レタス氏は、 こう言おうとしていたんだよ。 ...That's right. He tried to tell you.

《事件のことは、目撃者に聞け。 　ただし‥‥その証人は‥‥》 When he said "can't see" he wasn't talking about himself.

《“目が見えないぞ”》 ‥‥ってね。 He was talking about the witness!

<Judge> めがみ‥‥えない‥‥ “目が見えない”ですか‥‥ッ！ I see!

<Klavier> “目が見えない”のは、 ラミロアさんだけではなかったねえ。 Too bad the defense did not.

どうだい？　おデコくん。 Well, Herr Forehead?

少しは落ち着いて、モノゴトを よく“見て”みたらどうかな。 Try relaxing and "looking" at the facts first next time.

<Apollo> ‥‥ぐうッ！ ...Urk!

For this entry, it's entirely a matter of how LeTouse's last words had to be translated. The original Japanese script didn't leave a lot for him, and there were places where it was quite ambiguous. As it turns out, he wasn't saying "megami", as in "Goddess", but "me ga mienai", as in "unable to see".

"It was... 'The witness... Megami', if I recall. We've heard them many times, with a little play-acting by our defense." "His final words, just before Death clasped on his throat and he was consumed by darkness. ...Those words had something 'following' them." "('Following'... 'Megami'...?) Ah!" "...That's right. This is what LeTouse-san was telling you: 'Ask the witness about the incident. However... that witness...' 'cannot see.' "Megami... enai... You mean, 'me ga mienai'...!?" "Though, it wasn't just Lamiroir-san who 'didn't see'."

> Finish pressing

<Judge> ‥‥ごくろうさまでした、眉月刑事。 たいへん、参考になりました。 Thanks for looking into that for us, Detective Crescend. It's a great help.

<Daryan> いやいや。 かまいませんよ、裁判長さん。 Oh, no problem at all, Your Honor.

‥‥それじゃ、オレはこれで‥‥ ...I'll be heading out...

<Hold it!>

<Lamiroir> 待ってください‥‥！ Wait!

<Judge> ど。どうかしましたか？ ラミロアさん‥‥ La-Lamiroir! Is something the matter?

<Lamiroir> 今の、その声‥‥ That voice just now...

<Klavier> ダイアンが、なにか‥‥？ Daryan?

<Lamiroir> ミスター・ダイアン‥‥ というのですか。 Mr. Daryan, is it...?

‥‥‥‥‥‥彼、です。 まちがいありません。 ............ It was him. I am sure of it.

<Judge> “彼”‥‥なにが、ですかな‥‥？ It was "him"?

<Klavier> ‥‥ッ！　ま。まさか‥‥ Y-You aren't saying--!?

<Lamiroir> ２発の銃声を聞いたとき‥‥ レタスさんと話していた声‥‥ That voice I heard, talking to Mr. LeTouse... when I heard the gunshots fired.

そう。今の方です！ ミスター・ダイアン！ It was him! It was Mr. Daryan!

Just making a point here since I forgot to last post: Lamiroir and later Machi are the only ones who still call people using "Mr." in English, in the JP script. However, for the briefest moment here, she refers to Mr. LeTouse with the general -san suffix instead, and I don't think this was something that was simply overlooked, since the line immediately after, where she accuses Daryan/Daian, she goes back to using "Mr." Perhaps Lamiroir is getting more and more in-tune with her other language outside of Borginese?

--

...I'm still sticking to my Poland theory, but they could be like a mix of Poland, Hungary, Slovakia... around there in Eastern Europe.

#gsvsaa #gs4 #ajaa #turnabout serenade #part 2

[phroyd]

Nearly 30 million workers are set to lose $600 in enhanced weekly unemployment benefits that have kept much of the economy afloat these past four months during the coronavirus pandemic, as top lawmakers in Congress and the White House remain at an impasse over how and whether to extend the benefits.

Most of the last checks went out this week, but the program officially ends Friday, a day that Democrats and Republicans spent trading barbs over who was to blame for the failed negotiations.

White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows said Democrats had rejected reasonable offers, while House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) derided Republicans for trying to advance a short-term fix that would have extended the benefits for just a week.

“The president has been very clear for us to be aggressive and forward-leaning to make sure that they get protected, and yet what we’re seeing is politics as usual from Democrats on Capitol Hill,” Meadows said, addressing reporters in the White House briefing room.

As he was speaking, Pelosi held a news conference on Capitol Hill, where she criticized Republicans for proposing the short-term extension with their backs against the wall.

“What are we going to do in a week?” Pelosi asked as she explained why Democrats rejected the proposal to continue enhanced unemployment benefits at the current $600 weekly level for an additional week.

As many as 30 million workers, including gig workers and the self-employed, are currently receiving some form of unemployment insurance, which has been supplemented by $600 in extra benefits each week — on top of whatever state unemployment benefits a worker gets — since the crisis deepened in March.

Many economists and workers credit the additional money with helping them keep up with basic bills during the crisis: rent, mortgage, car and credit card payments, as well as everyday expenses like food. Most states cap weekly unemployment benefits well below $600; some pay as little as $275 a week as their maximum.

Candida Kevorkian, 53, her son and her daughter-in-law have all been laid off and live together with her two grandchildren in a two-bedroom apartment in South San Francisco, Calif. She worked at the Westin St. Francis hotel; her son worked at the Moscone Center, a convention center downtown; and her daughter-in-law worked at a Marriott.

The extra $600 Kevorkian gets brings her overall jobless benefits to about $1,050 a week before taxes. But she has about $1,700 in other fixed expenses on top of rent, which is $2,350 — after she negotiated with her landlord to lower it from $2,850. The family has already cut back on clothing, shoes and food, including cooking with meat once a week. She says she has little hope that her job will return given how poorly the public health side of the crisis is going, and she said she feels powerless.

“People are taking decisions for you and your life," she said. “In the middle of this pandemic they’re playing with us.”

Back in March, when the economy was beginning to fail, because of the forced shutdowns to stop the spread of the virus, lawmakers rallied around the idea that they were rushing to shore up the economy through a short-lived public health crisis, agreeing to pass more than $2 trillion in stimulus that they thought would see the nation through the summer, when they hoped the pandemic would ease.

But surging coronavirus cases have spurred many states to reverse course and close down restaurants and bars again, weighing on the economic recovery. The novel coronavirus has killed more than 150,000 people in the United States, according to data gathered by The Washington Post.

Indeed, the pandemic outlasted the original relief efforts Congress passed.

Jim Quebman, 61, an engineer in Thousand Oaks, Calif., was initially told he’d be back at work in two weeks when he was furloughed in March from his job at a machine shop. But the date for his return keeps getting pushed back.

He’s been relying on the $600 he gets from the federal government, in addition to $450 in state benefits, to keep up to date with his monthly payments: $2,200 in property taxes, $1,200 to keep his health insurance once his employer stops paying in August, a $300 car payment and other expenses like food and repairs.

Without the $600, he said he might have to have to raid his 401(k) retirement savings.

“I’ll be in trouble within two months, basically,” he said. “How can you retire if you don’t have a pension and health care, that’s paid by, let’s say, a government.”

Raven Holmes, 38, a single mother of two who lost her job as an secretary in New Haven, Conn., back in February, said she already instituted a series of cuts in anticipation of the benefits’ expiration. She started carpooling to the grocery store, split a BJ’s Wholesale Club card with family to buy food in bulk, and has stopped getting takeout or restaurant food.

She also said she’s begun visiting food banks to help feed her and her two sons.

“Once you have absolutely nothing, it’s not hard at all," she said, about accepting charity.

The longer Congress stalls, the more likely it is that she will have to plead with her landlord, utility companies, and other bill-holders to let accounts go into arrears until she lands on her feet again.

“Money is not a resource that can be depleted. It’s a man made thing: if you need more make more,” she said. “There are other countries — their citizens are fine, nobody is suffering and everybody is healthy. All our government wants is money in their pockets, while the people are poor and starving and scrounging.”

The wrangling over whether and how to extend jobless benefits has occupied Washington for months.

Eager to avoid blame for Friday’s expiration of the enhanced unemployment aid, Republicans have increasingly coalesced around the idea of a short-term fix. But Democrats have repeatedly rejected that approach and continue pushing for a wide-ranging $3 trillion bill the House passed in May. That bill would extend unemployment benefits through January.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) unveiled a $1 trillion counterproposal Monday, but it was quickly rejected by many members of his own conference and has increasingly seemed irrelevant as Republicans look to a short-term fix.

Senate Republicans have proposed cutting the $600 weekly federal benefit to $200 per week for two months while giving states time to transition to a more complicated system that would aim to replace 70 percent of a worker’s prior wages. A second proposal emerged this week that would give states the choice to implement the $200 bonus or move to a system that would replace up to 66 percent of wages.

Pelosi and Meadows have held meetings for four days straight, along with Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin and Senate Minority Leader Charles E. Schumer (D-N.Y.).

Pelosi said such a short-term extension might make sense if a deal were in sight on a larger bill and more time was needed to complete it. But, she said, that is not the state of play as the parties remain far apart.

“We anticipate that we will have a bill, but we’re not there yet,” Pelosi said.

Those who are relying the benefits have been watching the debate unfold wearily.

“Just a few men have to make this decision for how many million people? Ten guys to make a decision over these millions of people’s lives?” said Willie Woods, 60, who has been furloughed from his job as a hotel banquet server in New Orleans since April and is also losing the extra $600 a week in jobless benefits. "This country not taking care of American citizens like they’re supposed to. We didn’t bring this pandemic home. We were at work, and you hit us with a pandemic.”

Phroyd

#vocid #senate #unemployemnt

[askdawnandvern]

Vernon: Favorite by means o' what...like scary?

Dawn: Are those mutually exclusive?

Vernon: Well I mean, The Thing is probably my favorite movie, but it also used to terrify me as a pup.

Yuri: It still terrifies you now.

Vernon: W-Well! I mean-er...It ain't like it's got me hidin' in the closet over it or nothin'.

Yuri: Anymore...

Vernon: Shut yer muzzle! It's a scary concept alright!

Yuri: *Chuckles*

Vernon: But it's also what makes it so good too, y'know?

Dawn: i know what you mean. I feel the same way about 'IT'. Clowns terrify me to this day because of that film, but that's what also makes it so compelling.

Ada: Dat makes to of us, at least when it comes ta fearin' clowns. But my favorite movie is Snarlem's Lot. It's got vampiya's, it's got da whole bodysnatchas element to it! Talk about a good spooky flick.

Yuri: I like The Shearing. The one with the ram who goes crazy and tries to kill his whole family because the hotel they are staying in is evil.

Ada: Youse shure it ain't IT? Considerin' youse are scared o' clowns just as bad as me?

Vernon: Woooah! What!? *Laughs*

Yuri: I-I ain't scared o' clowns! You lie!

Ada: Puh-leaase! Like I don't hears you start whinin' da moment ol' Pennywolf starts dat big speech? “I'M EVERY NITEMARE YOUSE EVA HAD!” *Laughs* You tink I can't hear it, but I does every time.

Yuri: *Growls*

Wade: HA! This is priceless! We finally got you!

Trenton: Where was ol' scardy Yuri when we watched this as pups?

Xavier: Wait...wait...if I recall correctly, he was usually not 'feeling well' whenever it came on wasn't he?

Yuri: Shut up!

Vernon: By Oldwyn's great grey muzzle! Yer right! I mean granted we only watched it like....three times total growin' up, but Yuri was always gone fer it!

Yuri: Alright! Alright! So now y'all know, can we drop it?

Vernon: Hey, I ain't gonna press the issue. But, if y'all ever start pokin' and proddin' me about the thing, I'll be sure to remind y'all.

Yuri: *Growls* *Crosses Arms*

Xavier: Well, changing the subject, has anyone ever seen 'Dead of Night?”

Trenton: Is that a zombie flick?

Xavier: No, it's an old black and white film. It's a series of scary stories sort of bound together by an overarching plot thread about a man who has a reoccurring nightmare that seems to play out exactly as his day is playing out. It's old, but it's enjoyable. And I do believe it was the genesis for the 'creepy ventriloquist dummy archetype.'

Malcolm: Ugh, that puppet is creepy as heck...

Trenton: You've seen it too?

Malcolm: Heck, who dy'all think showed him that movie? My Mama was real big on showin' us the classics growin' up, and a lot of 'em stuck with me. My favorite was 'The Uninvited'.

Trenton: Another old film I ain't never heard of?

Malcolm: It's in black and white if that's what y'all are askin'.

Trenton: Pass...

Malcolm: Suit yerself, it's a great film about a gal who's drawn back to a house she grew up in only to be terrorized by the ghost of what she thinks is her childhood caretaker, but is actually....well...I'll spare y'all the spoilers.

Audrey: Oh that reminds me, A-

Dorian: Arsenic and Old Lambs?

Audrey: YES!

Dorian: Another black and white classic, and Auddey's personal favorite. Granted it's more funny than scary.

Audrey: It's still a Sam Hain movie, and it is still scary at parts! I mean, the subject matter alone...

Dorian: I ain't sayin' I don't like it. It just make me laugh more than it fills me with unease...unlike the 'Lamb in white...' *Shudders* Now that was a dark film.

Audrey: It did have a happy ending though.

Dorian: Still, the subject matter was much darker. And it had me keepin' a close eye on my relatives fearin' on of 'em was gonna kill me er' somethin'.

Audrey: Dori, you were a full adult wolf when that movie came out. Fer goodness sake, I was practically due with our first litter Iffin' I recall correctly.

Dorian: Hey, y'all can be a healthy, able-bodied adult and still get taken by surprise...

Ulric: I don't have a 'favorite' Sam Hain' movie.

Honey: Because he out and out refuses to celebrate.

Ulric: Just leaving yourself open to be possessed by a ghost or demon. I mean, you're practically inviting them in celebrating a holiday like that!

Honey: *Scoffs* Pet Semitary. It made me never, ever want to own a lizard or bird for the rest of my life. But it's an awesome flick, totally up there with the classic Dawn of the Dead.

Trenton: Now there's a classic. Stupid fellas get eatin' by zombies in gloriously gory fashion, the film series!

Qali: *Groans* Those movies always make me feel gross...I'd rather watch 'It's the great pumpkin Charlie Growl...”

Giselle: Oi! That's me favorite Sam Hain special too!

Qali: *Giggles* That's awesome!

Trenton: I ain't sayin' I don't have a soft spot fer the tame Sam Hain specials either...

Qali: Aww...it's okay Trenny. I still love you even if you like the scary violent movies. Just don't expect me not to hide under my blanket.

Trenton: Fair...

Wade: No one picked fourteen-o-eight? I mean i know we got a lot o' Steven King favorites between the bulk of us, but I mean c'mon...It's a damn masterpiece. Who woulda thought y'all could make one single hotel room so damn terrifyin'?

Vernon: It is quite a feat to write and film a story that takes place mostly in a single room.

Cameron and Clover: Hocus Pocus!

Cameron: Kinda funny. We don't have a lot of favorite movies that overlap, but apparently when it comes to Sam Hain, that's the big one for us.

Clover: I even dressed as Winifur one year while taking Dawn trick or treating, and I'd like to think I did a pretty good job.

Cameron: I'd say you are more of a Sarah...well, at least in the looks department.

Clover: Oh Cameron! Hush! *Giggles*

Nick: may as well throw my hat into the ring with 'The Nightmare Before Yule”.

Judy: Really?

Nick: Yes really? Surprised?

Judy: I just...always took you for a hack and slash mammal, like me.

Nick: While I can tolerate your taste in horror, I do enjoy a little whimsy in my seasonal flicks. And it also makes for a great transition film to the Yule holiday.

Judy: Tolerate eh? Ain't got the stomach for a good old fashioned Night'mare on elk street movie?

Nick: Oh I can tolerate it, it's just not my favorite seasonal movie.

Judy: I never expected you to be such a softy Slick.

Nick: Well, I never expected a mammal like you to be cheering on Freddy Cougar slashing up some poor buck like you were cheering for a winning team. *Chuckles*

Judy: Freddy Cougar is always on the winning team.

Val: Now that's what I'm talking about, Cougar, Dawn of the Dead. I love me a splatter fest!

Kodi: Micheal Mewyers too! Oh and Jason! And we can't forget about Jigstag!

Val: Heh, that's my guy.

#Zootopia #askdawnandvern #ask blog #Assistant Mayor Bellwether #dawn bellwether #judy hopps #Nick Wilde #fan character #zoosona #wastedtimeee

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: The Irishman

One of the reliable story beats of Martin Scorsese’s mob movies is that loudmouths don’t last long. The heroes, as it were, of these films are hitmen, fixers and soldiers who nonetheless behave as if they were just going into their 9-to-5 job at the local water plant. In the case of his latest film, the unassuming day-to-day hack is Frank Sheeran, who recounts his mob days from a wheelchair in an old folk’s home, and the loudmouth who doesn’t know what’s good for him is none other than Jimmy Hoffa. Hoffa’s fabled end takes up a tiny portion of the film, which is more about Frank and how completely mundane his life is when he isn’t shooting people in the head.

Chronologically speaking, we first meet Frank, played by a de-aged Robert De Niro, as an ordinary truck driver who, in need of extra cash, offers to secure the good beef for a small-time mob player (Bobby Cannavale). Frank does the penny-ante job of stealing meat until he steals so much someone’s gonna notice. He’s gotten off the hook by Bill Bufalino (Ray Romano), a lawyer for the union, which in this case means he’s also a lawyer for the mafia. Bufalino is impressed by Frank’s unwillingness to name names rather than go to jail, and introduces him to his cousin Russell (Joe Pesci). If you’re good at what you do, you hope to get promoted, and Frank gets promoted indeed, from small-time theft to everything from racketeering to murder. Soon he’s put in front of Hoffa himself, played by Al Pacino.

The movie flashes back and forth between Sheeran’s earlier days in the mob and a road trip he and Bufalino are taking, which we find out or realize is intended to end in Hoffa’s death. The structure is rather ingenious: the bulk of the movie concerns the burgeoning friendship between the two men, and so each return to the fatal drive feels like it is drawing us on to an end we don’t want to see.

This has always been Scorsese’s gift to the crime genre: that he can make us watch terrible men for hours and feel for them. De Niro is the all-American working stiff whose work just so happens to be killing other mobsters; De Niro plays him as a straight-forward, matter-of-fact kind of guy, the type who knows exactly what line of work he’s in but doesn’t make a lot of hay about it. De-aged or not, it’s the kind of role De Niro has always excelled in; he’s never been good as a flashy actor. Pacino’s Hoffa is the opposite kind of man. He’s fiery, passionate, quick to anger, and neither running a union nor being in the mob is just a job to him: he’s firmly attached to both and will do a hell of a lot to get his way. Pacino gets to turn on the drama so De Niro does not have to, and the rapport works. Pacino has had an interesting career, with a few really big hits followed by the better part of a couple decades in utterly forgettable stuff, but this role reminds us why he’s famous to begin with.

The runtime may seem, to audiences not accustomed to the long character dramas Hollywood used to make, like an obstacle, but the time is valuable: it establishes everyone, but especially Sheeran and Hoffa, as real people, giving their fates the air of Greek tragedy. There is a scene in which Hoffa angrily berates a roomful of his subordinates, and Frank gets offended and leaves. One of the most powerful mob men in the world interrupts the meeting to chase after him and apologize. This, at least if Sheeran’s account is to be believed, is real friendship, and Scorsese and screenwriter Steven Zaillian (Gangs of New York) put the seemingly daunting 209-minute runtime to good use by firmly establishing it, building up the tension and making the inevitable end a real wrench.

Other ways the time is used is by Scorsese and Zaillian letting characters have the space to simply have conversations that don’t advance the plot. There is a conversation with a man who is insecure about the size of his ears. There is a nearly ten-minute debate about how long it is appropriate to wait for someone if they are late to a meeting. In writing, this sounds boring, but like the conversation about socks from Clint Eastwood’s Million-Dollar Baby, what they are doing is drawing us into the way real people who know each other talk, instead of just rushing forward to the next plot point. Similarly handled are scenes of mob guys doing mob stuff. Frank patiently sets up an explosion at a rival laundromat, but we only see the set-up, and hear about the bombing. An attempt to ruin a taxicab business consists of men pushing the cars into a river while bemoaning how much hard work it is. Flash and dazzle is easy, but this is arguably more interesting.

There are times when Scorsese could have stood to compact things a little bit, most notably in the number of characters we’re fleetingly introduced to. Every time a true-to-life mobster shows up on screen, the movie informs us briefly who they are and how they eventually died, and Frank, Jimmy and Russell meet with so many of these people, many of whom have one or two scenes, that Scorsese would have been fine going with a couple composite characters; the heart of the film is Frank and Hoffa, and the best stuff focuses on that relationship. If you have no idea who Hoffa was except that he disappeared, the film still works on that level.

The last act of the film does something Scorsese’s previous mob films have only hinted at: focuses on the end of Frank’s life. Sheeran died in 2003, and his claims to have been Hoffa’s killer have been disputed, but true or not, watching this once-powerful man decay and simply die, slowly and unglamorously, of old age and boredom is a double-edged sword: De Niro makes us feel the weight of his own mortality, while at the same time it is hard to sympathize with a man who, however ordinary he seemed, lived his life in blood. Scorsese, as his custom, does not tell us what to think of Frank. He just places him before us, and lets us decide. The Irishman is treading mostly familiar ground for the director, but in a way that draws us into this world and these people arguably better than any of his previous efforts.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

 You can follow Ryan's reviews on Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/ryanmeftmovies/

 Or his tweets here:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

 All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#Martin Scorsese #Robert De Niro #al pacino #the irishman #movies #joe pesci #ray romano #steven zaillian

[ktsharchache]

Long Island City of Glass

There are a lot of changes flying into Long Island City: rising real estate prices, tech invasion- I mean, investment- and countless attempts at rezoning from the DCP. Not all of these changes are landing smoothly, rather they are crashing into communities with little to no concern for what they burn up on the way. Headlines and reports boast an explosive period of growth for this little pocket of Queens. For the past two decades, these changes have paved the way for a staggering amount of glass structures that line the waterfront of LIC, Queens. This view can be seen not only from Manhattan, but also from Roosevelt Island [where residents are currently welcoming CornellTech’s new campus and co-working companies] and Greenpoint, Brooklyn. More importantly these looming, glass commercial cylinders and boxes are obstructing any view from the rest of Queens towards Manhattan. At what price point are the views of Manhattan for upper middle class (looking to cut a few hundred bucks off rent) worth it to shroud the rest of Queens in shadow? 

There are countless developer’s blog posts screaming into the Google void about “Why millennials love LIC”. Not to mention reddit threads of gentrifiers comparing which newly constructed high rises have the best sound isolation, implying these very newcomers to LIC are not likely hosting potlucks or contributing to their immediate community anytime soon. Architecturally, it’s hard to pinpoint the start of when things go wrong. The beginning of the end is as murky and filled with mud as the Hudson River. However, LIC has a very succinct starting point of the path that led to the construction of the Glass City: the 2001 rezoning of it which was approved 31 to 0. Lame attempts to preserve manufacturing jobs and incentivize affordable housing were slapped on top of the bill, the sickly sweet cherry only an afterthought. In reality, this bill was passed to prevent commercial developers from moving to New Jersey and to encourage more commercial activity in a manufacturing neighborhood.

 2001 was the catalyst when the waterfront of LIC changed from an industrial landscape to the residential, glass “skyscraper” mecca. I wouldn’t even go so far as to grace these residential hunkers by calling them skyscrapers. The term skyscraper inspires dignity, modernity, pioneering feats of mechanical engineering success; of which very little exists when looking across the water to the glass city.

What makes a building notable or memorable by communities at many scales? This becomes a question of place versus space. For many New Yorkers, passing mention of LIC could recall memories of exploring the Noguchi Museum, the iconic Pepsi Cola sign, or attending a concert at MoMa PS1. Maybe even standing within the shadow of the Citigroup building in Court Square while looking for directions to the nearest subway line. However, when you zoom out and try to consider a scaled-up context, the picture becomes...more reflective. Countless glass rectangles with randomly extruded points that litter Jackson Avenue are the first things that come to mind when attempting to materialize the waterfront skyline. 

There is always something unfinished about this neighborhood. There is nothing quite so blatantly like it, where countless of the same projects are constantly going up. Looking at Long Island City is only equatable to trying to kill a hydra: while you’re busy railing on one glass megastructure, 7 more pop up before you even finish a sentence. 

While this expansive rate of construction can be attributed to the rezoning of the neighborhood, it’s hard to attribute just one cause to the aesthetic mimicry that plagues this area along the East River waterfront bound by the Queens East River to its Brooklyn border at  Newtown Creek. There are a couple promising projects that offer hope toward more regional architecture, such as Steven Holl’s unveiling of the new Hunter’s Point Public Library. But most new construction consists exclusively of projects such as the Hero, Skyline Tower, Star Tower, or Queen’s Plaza Park ...the list of mega-tall glass boxes are endless. There are three qualities that nearly all of these new buildings share: blue-green tinted glass, graph paper window grids in place of facades, and large cereal box bulk. 

While this expansive rate of construction can be attributed to the rezoning of the neighborhood, it’s hard to attribute just one cause to the aesthetic mimicry that plagues this area along the East River waterfront bound by the Queens East River to its Brooklyn border at  Newtown Creek. There are a couple promising projects that offer hope toward more regional architecture, such as Steven Holl’s unveiling of the new Hunter’s Point Public Library. But most new construction consists exclusively of projects such as the Hero, Skyline Tower, Star Tower, or Queen’s Plaza Park ...the list of megatall glass boxes are endless. There are three qualities that nearly all of these new buildings share: blue-green tinted glass, graph paper window grids in place of facades, and large cereal box bulk. 

The developers of these cereal boxes make sure to bring appealing amenities by leasing trendy tenants such as H-mart and Equinox on the ground floor. However, I am a strong believer that it is the architecture and not tenant that breathes life into the streetscape of a neighborhood. Spend one evening looking for a hot dinner spot, and it will become clear very quickly the streets of Long Island City are dead. Streetscape and concepts of neighborhood exist on a very human scale. If Jane Jacobs called the moves of the sidewalk a “symphony”, the streets of LIC could be considered white noise. These glass residential boxes are extremely out of scale and have rushed to replace manufacturing landscape with residential means while forgetting the commercial heart all together that makes or breaks any neighborhood. 

A 2019 report released by NY State Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli states that 44% of all structural components of Queens subway stations were either damaged or worn out. Instead of putting money toward these critical veins, the city has provided developers with decades of tax breaks to build bigger, big shinier. Long Island City has come to symbolize developer spectacle without any consideration of an existing community. A mid-70’s Corbusier looked down at New York because he thought the buildings were “all trying to outdo one another”. Long Island City reveals this crude truth to a tee as developer’s rush to upload promotional videos to their sites of partially completed renderings claiming the tallest mega-tall. These glass boxes only evoke a developer's rush to out build one another, an endless conversation echoing above the streets that leave the very tenants, old and new, behind in the dust.

[notgonnarememberthis]

A Dance With Death

Joan Watson is a prolific journalist for ESPN no matter how many enemies it makes her. However, when her ex-fiancee turns up dead it’s all too clear that someone is out to get her and it’s Sherlock’s job to find the culprit before harm can come to her next.

I really need to stop making promises of completion because I have the attention span of a moth. Anyways!! New fic based off of if Watson were like Kirsten Stevens, Lucy Liu’s character on Set It Up. So some liberties are going to be taken. Enjoy!!!

Sherlock marches down the halls with the authority that he belongs in this building. He makes a mental note to leave a comment on the security, truly lackluster. He finds the office and the woman in question he’s looking for with relative ease. He sighs making a move towards the glass doors. Yes, he drew the fortunate end of the deal compared to Marcus. The poor detective was breaking the news of Richard Otis to the ex-wife. He simply has to deal with the ex-fiancee.

He marches in unceremoniously much to the protests of the two women who were previously engaged in, seemingly, amicable conversation. “Joan Watson I presume?” He asks the woman sitting behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here? Annalise! Your ass is so fired!” The woman barks. The other sits in the chair across from her wincing in what he believes is sympathy for this Annalise. She picks up the phone likely to dial for security.

“That won’t be necessary. My name is Sherlock Holmes I am a consulting detective for the NYPD.” He turns to the meek looking brunette who would be best described as a complete antithesis to Kitty. She’s all soft colors and stunned looks. “Do you mind?”

“Do you mind?” Ms. Watson snaps. “We were having a meeting. You can’t just barge in here like that.”

“I’ve came to speak with you about your ex-fiancee Richard Otis.” He drags out the name with a dash of disgust. He’s more than aware of the man’s past simply by the place he was killed.

“Rick?” She shares a look with the other woman who looks as startled as she.

“Look whatever you think he did, Rick’s an asshole but he wouldn’t do anything illegal right?” The brunette speaks up. “Sorry.” She murmurs focusing on her computer again.

“He didn’t do anything. He was murdered last night at a club he frequents downtown.”

“Harper, go.” The voice that once commanded the room is now laced with emotion.

“But-” The woman, Harper, stammers.

“Now.” It would sound almost threatening if her voice hadn’t cracked.

“I’ll just…” She hurriedly packs her things. “I’ll go.” She points to the door before making her way out quickly.

“What do you need?” She asks with a frown. It seems she’s pushed back any immediate reaction in favor of a one fitting that of a business meeting.

“I’ll need your whereabouts for last night from eight until midnight as well as anyone who could vouch for an alibi.”

“My assistant Annalise handles my schedule. We were both here until three in the morning last night. You could ask her or check the security feeds in the basement. In fact, I’ll take you there myself.” He’s about to protest about the conflict of interest but she’s already made up her mind and is marching out of the office. He’s left to play catch up all the while partially wondering how she can walk so fast in towering heels.

She ignores the assistants multiple apologies all the while beelining to the elevators. “Ms. Watson I assure you I don’t need you to guide me to the basement. I am more than capable of finding it on my own.” She throws him an irritated look as the elevator doors slide open. She steps forwards but Sherlock catches her arm wrenching her back. What she’d failed to see was the elevator wasn’t there at all. Loose ropes dangle in the empty elevator shaft where Watson had very nearly plummeted to her likely death considering they were on the sixteenth floor.

“What the hell!” She shouts before noticing the emptiness as well. Her eyes go wide and she immediately turns and goes back to her office without a further word. He has half a mind to follow her when he remembers the meek brunette. He pulls out his phone flicking on the flashlight and shining it down the shaft. Upon first judgement he only smells heated metal and some smoke. None of the copper or various other scents associated with a recently dead body. His sights only confirm his suspicion that nobody is at the bottom of the shaft, thankfully.

However one of the dangling ropes catches his attention. The rope doesn’t have any of the frays associated with a sudden snap or time that would’ve unfurled the fibers. No, it looks recently cut. If he had to judge by the scent alone, he’d guess it was cut on a lower level floor. It is all too possible that the person guilty climbed up into the shaft while the elevator was in the basement and cut it there. No crash was heard otherwise panic would’ve erupted in the office.

Satisfied with his deduction thus far, he sends a quick text to Marcus reporting the cut wires and that he will be spending a bit more time in the office in order to inspect some potential leads. Whoever cut that line didn’t want them going into the basement. He strongly doubts that it was Watson herself seeing as if he hadn’t caught her she would’ve fallen in. The time it would take to descend seventeen flights of stairs would be more than enough time to erase any footage the actual perpetrator needs gone.

He takes wide steps back to her office to report his findings to Watson as he will likely need her help moving forwards. He strongly believes the perpetrator to be in this building so with the help of one of the heads he will no doubt be able to obtain all the records he needs. He hears her voice even before he enters demanding that maintenance place warnings on all entrances of the elevator to prevent further endangerment. He re-enters patiently waiting for her to finish on the phone before he could reveal his findings.

His eye catches a flash behind her, a red light that shone from a building on the other side of the street. From the looks of it, the building appears to be under renovation of some kind and weather would prevent anyone from working today. He spies the red light again, focusing on Watson this time who’s oblivious to the sight. Three large steps get him behind her desk and yanking her out of the way of the large window before all hell breaks loose. He presses her against the furthest wall using his height and bulk to shelter her from the glass raining down on the office as bullets shatter the window where she once was standing. The phone falls amongst the wreckage and he remains holding her recounting that this is not once now but twice that he’s saved this woman’s life.

Someone is trying to kill Joan Watson.

#joanlock #joan x sherlock #joan watson x sherlock holmes #joan watson #Sherlock Holmes #elementary #elementary cbs #elementary AU #set it up au #dance with death #fanfic #charlie is a piece of shit and harper is gay #its not in this chapter but take my word for it

[mariosomething]

MISTAKES I MADE AS A COMIC OR NOTICED AS A BOOKER...

(NOTE: Never say never, but I can’t imagine getting back on stage again. However, now that comedy is returning to clubs--and potentially booming here in Austin--I think this is worth repeating. Especially #15. Enjoy!)

So, I might be hopping on stage again for my own, personal reasons. Number one being distraction from the crushing loneliness that comes with self-employment. Woo! On the first page of my newly-purchased comedy notebook, I started making a list of things I don’t want to do this time around. The comic I don’t want to be, should I continue performing. Getting in my own way with unfounded beliefs about my abilities or lack thereof. I will—NO DOUBT—repeat some of the following blunders out of muscle memory, and if you catch me doing so, by all means, call me out! In no particular order:

1- Worrying about who’s heard this bit before. One cure for this is to never stop writing new stuff. Also, it’s the JOB of a comedian to repeat the same shit with the same zeal and sincerity for different crowds…crowds that probably don’t attend comedy shows as often as we perform on them.

2- Worrying about making the comics laugh. This is still the hallmark of a great comic to me…the person we’ve all seen before but stop the chit-chat when they get on stage. It’s the opposite of a “crowd-pleaser.” In a perfect world, I can please both—as some do—but ultimately, we don’t get paid to make the back of the room laugh. If I’m building a half-hour, those comics may ‘check out’ during my set, and that’s to be expected. If I concern myself with their approval, I’m ignoring the audience, and by extension, disrespecting them. THEY bought a ticket. They deserve my best attempt.

3- Starting your act with a risky joke. Are there exceptions for these “rules” of mine? Absolutely. But they are just that…exceptions. This one always drove me nuts when I ran the Velv. Especially when the rest of one’s act is relatively benign! Would you lead with your “crazy” on a first date? Talk about all of your flaws on a job interview? Or with music you like…if I wanted to get you into Tom Waits, I’m not gonna recommend The Black Rider—an album only die-hard fans might appreciate. I’d start with something accessible, like Small Change or Rain Dogs. Get them on your side first with your palatable stuff, then give ‘em what you want. (Now go listen to Tom Waits’ Small Change and Rain Dogs.) 

4- Worrying about looking stupid. This is the big one for me. Even though I KNOW the audience WANTS us to look foolish; even while I KNOW they want us to be both vulnerable and confident about it, I have a crippling fear of embarrassment. And this is NOT a good quality for any comedian. I learned that words account for only 7% of communication. The rest is body language, facial expressions and tone. I’ve always hidden behind my words, and have given up on bits that require me to be more animated. So dumb. Which leads me to…

5- Not doing enough ‘act-outs’ in bits. When I watch amazing comedians, they all have this in common. They perform or act-out dialogue. More show than tell. They don’t just recite jokes or one-liners. Even Steven & Mitch & Todd do/did act-outs in their own, low-energy styles. When you start looking for them, they’re everywhere. So much rolling, sustained laughter derives from act-outs. They don’t have to be BIG, they just have to be well-delivered.

6- Writing what I think they might like, not what I like. Another big ‘duh’ but worth repeating. I fell in this trap on the road. I was lovingly told to “write a dick joke already!” when I was a new, quasi-clever comic. And man alive, did I ever make up for it! Some may have had a fake nose and mustache, but they were dick jokes nonetheless, and I wasn’t proud. But they got laughs, and more laughs meant better comment cards, which meant return visits. Awesome way to remain a road comic…shitty way to evolve or get industry to pay attention. It’s also a fast track to burnout. If you’re not doing stuff you like, resentment builds and ambition wanes.

7- Not having goals. A new, tight 10 minutes is my goal today. If that goes well, a new 30. Then maybe an album. When I DID have things to strive for, they “magically” happened. I kept comedy goal lists on my wall, and most came to fruition. Then I got in my head and stopped making those lists. The more I was learning about the biz, the more inadequate I felt. I stopped writing, stopped going to mics and eventually stopped touring. With no new goals, I lost steam and confidence. I was a competent middle, but a spotty headliner…THAT is my ceiling for now. I’d love to be a rock-solid, reliable closer with at least one killer album to show for it. It’s feasible, but I need to start with that initial aim of a new, polished, consistent 10 minutes that I like.

8- Not watching more pros. Something that baffles me about so many new comics. You have the option to catch A-list comedians for FREE at Cap City, your home club, etc…why would you not take advantage? You learn by watching pros, even if it’s what NOT to do. Or what’s being done to death. You can learn structure, pacing, opening and closing. I used to watch comics I knew I wouldn’t like, but came away with respect for how they did things. People forget or don’t know that the late, great Bill Hicks used to be a clean-ish, set-up/punch kinda comedian. He learned the rules so he can break them effectively. Even at his viscous best, he was still super-polished. It’s respect for the craft, dammit. All of your heroes have it.

9- Getting jealous of your friends’ progress. There is sooo much leap-frogging in this business, there’s no need to denigrate yourself for not keeping pace with a peer. “Comedy is the closest thing there is to justice,” according to Colin Quinn, and I 100% agree. If you’re funny, consistently funny, you will get work. Period. When producers run and book shows, they want reliability more than anything. There is no island of misfit-but-actually-brillant comedians out there, waiting to be discovered. Funny gets noticed by EVERYbody. If you’re not getting booked, start looking inward. Seriously. When Cap City demoted me from headliner, I didn’t fight it. I thought they were right to do so because I knew my 50 minutes was about 15 shy of reliable material. Challenge your beliefs about your own act. Maybe you’re better than you think, but maybe it’s just the opposite. It’s worth asking, “What am I doing wrong?” if you’re having trouble getting past open mics. Maybe you are indeed funny, but still too green or inconsistent. Maybe you had a bad showcase set and your friend killed. Your friend may get Montreal before you, but you might get a manager first. You just don’t know! Keep plugging away, because there’s too much out of your control.

10- Not being humble. Jeezus H. Christmas, where did all of this unearned confidence come from?? Not only will I never relate to this, I will continue to chastise and scoff at it. Don’t assume your shit is crushed fruit, especially when you’re new. Don’t trash talk other comics, it WILL bite you in the ass eventually. Or immediately in some cases. Don’t think you’re immediately entitled to the same things that other comics took years to obtain or achieve. There is always something to learn, even from people you disagree with…it’s the definition of being open-minded. There are comics I detest personally, but goddamn if they aren’t great performers/writers. And I’ll probably get push-back for this, but I never called myself a “comedian” until I was able to quit my day job. Until that happened, I was just a dude who “did comedy.” I wanted to earn that title, don’t you?? Skip the business cards and build your act.

11- Not taking chances on stage. I’ve heard from too many comedians that if you’re always killing up there, you’re not taking chances. When I booked a room, I wanted to reward comics who tried new stuff every open mic, or was tweaking it. If a comic kept going up with well-worn bits, I ignored them for a few weeks or longer, even if they got laughs. It’s open mic, the point is to experiment! When I worked the road, I stopped doing mics when I was back in town. Big mistake. I was afraid to try untested jokes in clubs on the road, and too lazy or complacent to take chances at open mics. I stunted my own growth. 

12- All agenda, no punchlines. I remember watching a well-known comic in NY struggle with Jesus jokes. He could NOT have been in a more welcoming arena for such, but he wasn’t funny, just angry. So he said, “Oh, I guess you guys don’t like religious jokes,” To which my friend replied, “We do! We keep waiting for one.” I think comedians can be the most insightful people on the planet, and the great ones don’t berate, they put funny first. It just makes sense! If you really really really want your message to be heard, then it’s in your best interest to make it funny. Funny cuts through. Or maybe you just wanna use the stage as a soapbox, in which case, quit comedy.

13- Not presenting both sides. I once told an established headliner he couldn’t return to the Velv, despite the numbers. In fairness to us, it was Valentine’s Day weekend, we were packed anyway. He never gave me a chance to explain why, but here’s why: he was too angry about women and wasn’t self-deprecating enough to balance it out. Conversely, I had a female comedian come through a couple of times, and the bulk of her act is male-bashing, BUT, it’s tight and well-crafted and funny as shit…AND she sprinkles in enough self-effacing humor so as not to divide the crowd. If the guy I banned was her parallel, I would’ve re-booked him. But I’m a freak about balance. While I don’t believe ANY person or group of people is above criticism, you can’t just point fingers at others while patting yourself on the back.

14 - Not putting more of ‘me’ in my act. Trends are fun as a reference, but full bits built around them have a tiny shelf life. It’s fluff and filler at best. Relationships will never be hacky. Aging will never get old. Folks! We all have specific quirks or approaches to life in general, why not explore those approaches? That’s when a ‘comic’ graduates to ‘comedian.’ When they stop saying funny things and start saying things funny. Not my line, but damn accurate.**

15- Knee-jerk hating and never asking WHY? Okay, this one’s a personal lament. When I found comedy, I found harmony. Anyone funny was welcome. I didn’t see us as men or women or gay or straight or black or white, we were comics, and I fucking loved it. We were equals from every walk of life, and no jerks allowed! I found a circle of curious, liberal-minded pals who were always asking why. Friends who would call out each other’s bullshit or hypocrisy or bad bits, then laugh about it at Mugshots. Friends who preferred brutal truth over blowing smoke. It was bliss for someone who values sincere feedback and funny, earnest people. Comedians we respect and adore are always challenging norms of behavior and tradition. Pryor, Chapelle, Carlin, Rock, of course, but even Larry David, who’s the king of offending people by rejecting small, societal niceties. 

I’m starting to see too much division and moral cowardice in comedy--on and off stage--and this is antithesis to its value, in my opinion. Everything I hated about high school. Cliques and whispers and spiteful exclusion. I will echo what I wrote earlier: NOBODY IS ABOVE CRITICISM. This is the salty to the sweet of “Everyone welcome.” Comedy is a LOT of failing, tons of real-time rejection, and that SUCKS. But if you think it has anything to do with anything but your act, you’re not asking Why. It’s easier to say, “Well, it’s clearly ‘cos I’m ________.” Really? Maybe it’s ‘cos you’re not funny, or not funny YET. Maybe it’s because you haven’t written a new joke in months, or refuse to change the ones that never work. Maybe you think there are no rules to comedy, and you can just get up there and people will love you because so-and-so does it that way. Maybe you don’t have so-and-so’s natural talent or likability. Or work ethic. Or self-awareness. If your first response is to blame a crowd, a booker, society, or whatever, ask yourself: are there successful comics who look like me? Why them and not me? What are they doing differently? My first guess is: they’re addicted to the craft so they keep their head down and write and tweak and fail and ask why and learn from mistakes. Stop complaining and start paying attention. At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your career. If you believe women aren’t funny, I pity your ignorance and sheltered life. If you think men have it easier, tell that to the thousands of male comics who go nowhere in this business.

Maybe I’m an idealist hippy dippy doofus, but I believe that what we admire about others is pretty universal stuff. Regarding comedy, we all like someone who’s fearless on stage. Confident but not cocky. Capable. Quick. Genuine. Someone who keeps writing and honing their act. Someone who connects with people. Someone who comes back once a year with 30 new minutes. Someone who plows forward, not consumed with the opinions of others. Are these gender or race-specific qualities?? Hardly. And when you’re a top shelf, A-list comedian who’s paid their dues, it’s all preference at that level. It’s Gin vs. Vodka vs. Bourbon vs. Tequila, no one is “better” than the next. Maria Bamford is Bill Burr is Dave Chapelle is Carrot Top. They’re all pros who never stop working.

I’ll leave you with this…Comedy is a powerful and special thing, and I’ve always been crazy-grateful to be part of this tiny, uniquely rewarding world. Even if this experiment crumbles after a few months, even if I can’t vanquish some personal demons, it’s been a pursuit I’ve yet to regret. If you’re just starting out, or five years in, or going on the road, relish every minute. Meet all the people. Make all the friends. Get over your fears, get over yourself and get better. xoxo mario 

**This is how I first heard it. Comic/comedian or vice versa. You get it. Though I personally feel that “comedian” sounds more like an official title, while you can’t spell “comic” without “mic.” Just sayin’ is all.

#standupcomedy #comedy

[twitchesandstitches]

HS Humans in Crossthicc - Descriptions!

The humans themselves, along with my headcanons for how they look here. In general, the post-scratch humans are the older generation, from 5 to 10 years older than the pre-scratch humans:

Jane Egbert: She was originally called Jane Crocker, but she has no wish to be associated with Crockercorp, nor her position as the Condesces’ legal heir. Polynesian, a definite BBW and a very strongfat build, she stands more than ten feet tall and is a walking tank and her powers function as this, making her a living wall that ignores all damage and heals what does get through. Crockertier cybernetics are imbedded through her, glowing blue and making her a very obvious cyborg. Likes to use a combat gourmand fork that can turn into a spoon, and she fancies herself a gourmand when it comes to foes. She tends to use her healing powers to restore people to health as a combat medic.

She started the army of chefs that keeps the fleet fed, and wrote up the principles of agriculture and livestock they follow to this day. She’s since become one of the heads of a corporation-analogue called the Carnival Bazaar; the fleet’s source of wealth, where they sell their goods as they travel from world to world. She’s less a CEO and more of an HR department head who keeps people stabilized and counseled, but in practice she runs the whole thing. She’s very close with Steven Universe, the two of them dating from time to time, and they’ve had many children together.

She is clearly mutated with troll mods; her blood is tinted faintly fuchsia, and she has a few mutations indicating her troll-themed genetic mix. She and Feferi are quite close, and the latter is responsible for stabilizing some of Jane’s complications.

John Egbert: A cheerful and helpful guy, and very tiny, standing below five feet tall. Polynesian, chubby, and incredibly solid for it with muscle. He drifts from ship to ship, going wherever he pleases, and proves to be popular wherever he goes and does his best to keep everyone happy. He’s extremely fast and mobile, and surprisingly destructive in a straight fight, using massive hammers bigger than he is.

Dated Vriska at some point and they’re still very close. No one is sure how the size difference was coped with but he doesn’t seem to mind being totally dominated by extremely large women.

Dirk Strider: Mechanics expert, roboticist, and key engineer in both shipcraft and mech maintenance, though he declines to actually pilot them. Aboriginal, a bit shorter than average (5’6), and has that bishounen ‘thin but pretty and fit’ look. His powers allow him to effect magic directly, and the soul directly; damaging their essence, or turning heroic spirit into raw damage. It gives him a great insight into creating AI, which led to the creation of  his… son? Brother? Something? Anyway, that’s where Li’l Hal came from.

Prefers not to put himself out there and likes being a support guy. “I don’t want to be the guy to kill the bad guy. I want to make the weapon that kills the bad guy.”

Dave Strider: Studies monsters of all kinds, and is a forensic expert and coroner. He also does part time in one of the many bands the fleet does in their flirtation with being cosmic pop stars. He doesn’t like fighting, but he exhibits absolutely absurd speed related to his growing powers of time travel. Aboriginal, smaller than Dirk (5’4), and on the plump side. MILFs of all kinds gravitate straight towards him in a ‘oh, you POOR Dear…!” way. He is the father of many children now, having a huge weakness for gentle, protective mom-types.

Roxy Lalonde: one of the fleet’s head scientists, heavily influential in their alchemizer program, and loves messing with bio mods for fun. Her playful demeanor hides how frighteningly smart she is, and she loves messing with people on account of it. (NOT an alcoholic of any sort here, either.) When she is involved in fighting, she uses high-powered rifles and does sniper duty. Indian, a classic hyper curvy hourglass and about seven and a half feet tall. She can manifest objects out of raw magic, but this takes a lot of work and requires her to understand them in and out. Has a lot of cat-themed mods that sometimes give her pink fur, a tail, cat ears, and functional claws.

A true mom friend to everyone around her, Roxy is a sweet and good-natured person who loves helping people and being a Science Hero FOR GREAT JUSTICE; she’s very passionate about what the fleet does, and actively encourages everyone to be more proactively heroic. She fears that she has a tendency towards addiction, and is compelled to mass produce children whenever she has the chance, with the possibility that she has an integrated alchemizer to ‘produce’ items herself through her powers.

Rose Lalonde: Expert in magical power and theory, specializing in arcane magic, but she also has channeled power from mysterious eldritch entities that are nonetheless apparently benign. They have left their mark on her; while she looks human if she concentrates, in her true form she is a monstrous eldritch monster girl, with tentacles for legs, glowing multiple rows of white eyes, and immense spookiness. Probably at least Roxy’s height, but can be a lot bigger as she powers up. Hard to say how her powers will interface in the AU, but she is certainly an EXTREMELY powerful magic user, on par with a D&D Warlock, and takes a methodical, experimental approach to her powers. Indian, pear-shaped, with very large hips, massive butt, thick tentacles, and large breasts. She tends to favor more inhuman mods, for more multiple… well, everything if she wants it. Her weapons of choice are a pair of deadly wands that channel her magic, and can stab really well too.

Rose is deeply spooky to a lot of people, and she enjoys unsettling others. She gets annoyed that John, Dave and the others don’t fall for it so much anymore. She has a close romance with Kanaya, whom she has had many children with, and they enjoy a mutual spooky aesthetic of eldritch/vampire goodness. She is deeply fascinated by the mystery of what happened in the ancient cataclysm, and has resolved to solve it.

Jake Harley: An explorer and famous fleet scout, often flying off on his own to report on new worlds and see if there is first contact to be made. Able to channel optimism and happiness into raw destructive power over a period of time, he’s situationally very powerful, but tends to be a glass cannon, easily taken out once he Does The Thing. He’s First Nations, and a massive super-cute beefcake of a man; he flexes and people thank him. Likes to use a pair of customized pistol-lasers that channel his powers. About seven feet tall. He may have some genuine angelic essence in him, which can be very spooky.

Jade Harley: A monstrously big and obscenely powerful amazon, so heavily modded that she looks like a werewolf girl even when not monsterized. Her heart has been replaced with an infinite energy generator, she calls it the green sun,, and it is powered by her own resolve, and she uses it to channel a wide variety of technologies secretly fueled by her own powers. She can alter space in many ways; shrinking herself and others, growing herself and others, opening portals, or unleashing incredibly destructive blasts of green energy. She is obscenely powerful, and one of the fleet’s heaviest hitters, bar none. She can even channel it into herself, giving her immense strength or size. She is First Nations, standing… however big she wants, but often over twelve feet high. Muscular and amazonian, she has absolutely enormous curves but focuses on gigantic breasts. Her canine mods are advanced enough that she has furry skin, canine features, and can generally pass as a low-level beastwoman. One of her favorite alternate forms is a dogtaur form. Jade turns Grimbark whenever she uses enough power, but this is more of a super mode, not a bad thing, and she just becomes a lot more aggressive and domineering.

Working heavily in the science departments, Jade is a major leader in the fleet, and a powerful witch as well. She takes a more carefree approach to her magic, doing whatever seems like an intriguing idea for her spells; an artist, to Rose’s technician. She is one of the most prominent human characters here, and her raw power is simply awe inspiring. She’s very sweet, if prone to sassiness and a short temper. She’s rather dominant with boys, too.

Joey Harley: She has no conflict with Jake here, so did not take another name out of spite. A talented dancer and xenopsychologist, she prefers to do ‘real work’ and research, but enjoys dancing and regularly demonstrates her skills at the fleet’s clubs. She is First Nation, with a bulk similar to Jade’s but slimmer, with smaller breasts; instead most of her curve mass is in her cybernetically enhanced legs, which are absurdly powerful. Her kicks are very strong, she can leap great distances, and she augments them further with special weaponized shoes with built-in cannons. Nine feet tall.

Jude Harley: A self-proclaimed strategist and existential threat theorist, he is deeply worried about the threats that the Ringers have supposedly seen, and organizes a group of people who are trying to figure it out as well. He otherwise works in the Zoo, the facility where the pet monsters, summon creatures, and powerlink beasts are cared for, and he happily tends towards the avian ones. He’s made a lot of friends with Flying-type Pokemon and avian Digimon as well. Built on broadly the same lines as Jake but shorter (a little under seven foot) and very softly built.

Li’l Hal: Dirk’s robotic offspring, and while an AI, he can upload himself into robotic bodies as he pleases. He and Dirk have a very complicated relationship, and with being often subject to harassment, oppression and worse by humans, he has a very negative attitude towards organics in general from sheer spite. He’s warmed up a bit since joining the fleet… to just being instantly suspicious of anyone outside the fleet. He’s in sincere love with Jane and Roxy, but doesn’t seem to realize it. He’s quite close with the other robots of the fleet, idolizing the Dinobots as liberators of robotkind, and wishes to one day upload into a Cybertronian frame.

Unexpectedly, he has his own share of unusual abilities unrelated to whatever body he is using. This appears to be related to soul-themed abilities; he can weaponize the essence of genuinely living beings, or tear organics apart at the very soul. While Dirk can destroy in ways he can’t Hal’s actual combat powers are superior to Dirk’s.

Squarewave and Sawtooth: Hal’s robot brothers, and performers in the fleet’s various bands, pop groups, metalheads, and other musical interests. Both of them are loyal to Dirk and are generally considered legally Striders, and think Hal needs to calm down on the ‘meatbags are out to GET US’ front. Squarewave uses destructive sonic attacks… by yelling really, really loud, and comes off as an earnest kid brother. Sawtooth, on the other hand, is just plain cool, everyone wishes they were as cool as that. It must be a Strider thing. He employs integrated weaponry and sonic weapons, often narrating his actions in musical form and working it into his performance.

The Consorts: A wide variety of strange creatures Roxy and Jade created, producing happy little creatures modeled after the canon consorts, and they seem happy to act as servants to the fleet as a whole, bustling in and tidying up or serving people, washing people in the communal baths, and so forth. The fleet tried to get them to be more independent and less servile, but they refused to listen, so they’re just left to their own cheerful devices.

#/ #// #/// #//// #///// #crossthicc AU #homestuck #john egbert #jane crocker #roxy lalonde #rose lalonde #dave strider #dirk strider #li'l hal #jade harley #jude harley #joey claire #hiveswap #FYI all gals can be super giantess sized in the right situation! #those are just default sizes when not powered up #sawtooth #squarewave

[pokemonpundit]

So I’ve been doing another weird run in Omega Ruby again, and I wanted to document some of it because I keep thinking about it a lot. I decided to take after my in-game father and become the master of normal-types. Here were my rules:

I can only keep one from each evolution line ending in a normal-type Pokemon. 

(There are 12 such lines in Omega Ruby: Linoone, Swellow, Slaking, Exploud, Delcatty, Spinda, Zangoose, Wigglytuff, Castform, Kecleon, Girafarig, and Dodrio. While Swablu and Azurill are also normal-types, they don’t evolve into normal-types and so were left off this list. You could try this in Alpha Sapphire, but then you don’t get Zangoose)

If my Pokemon feints, it dies and must be released.

Battle Style -> set

Exp. Share -> off

No o-powers

No anything that requires connecting to another device.

Since it’s necessary, I will permit one non-normal-type Pokemon to be an HM-slave (I ended up with a Tentacool), because the only normal-types that can learn Dive are Bibarel and Arceus, neither of which are in this game. It can never be sent out in battle though.

Here were the results:

So when I started this run, some things became immediately apparent. Since all your Pokemon are at least half-normal-type, most of them are weak to fighting which instantly makes any fighting types you encounter way more scary.

Rock-types and steel-types are also annoying, since they resist your stab moves. Ghost-types might be immune to you, but you are also immune to ghost-types, so those battles end up rather fair.

Another thing is that since your Pokemon can never faint, it’s best to try and make them have defensive sets of moves and stats; Those specialized for attacking don’t live very long.

Roxanne seemed like she would be difficult, but Whismur comes with Echoed Voice, which just keeps increasing in power. After the 5th+ consecutive use, it’s at 200 power, and it barely matters that her Pokemon resist. Brawly also seemed like he’d be quite a task, but Taillow’s flying moves made short work of him.

My first death was my Whismur against a Carvanha in the soda shop that knew Focus Energy. I have learned to fear that move, because this is not the only Pokemon that eventually dies from it. Just bumping your crit rate up to 1/2 might not sound that great, but when you’re not allowed to faint ever it becomes really scary. 

My Taillow died trying to switch into the Winstrate Grandma’s Meditite.

Watson’s gym was nothing against the stupid good special defense of my Delcatty.

I caught a Spinda on route 113, taught it some moves via TM, then sent it into battle against a hiker. The hiker sent out Geodude and so I was like “well ground-type moves beat rock-types so this would be a good time to use the dig move I just taught it”. The Geodude used Magnitude. *sigh* Welp, bye Spinda.

The next 4 gyms went very easily, then my Linoone managed to die because of its own Double-Edge, and my Zangoose and my Delcatty both died shortly after because of Maxie’s Crobat’s Acrobatics. Always liked that move.

For those counting, you would know I only have 6 Pokemon remaining, which makes things even more tense because another death means I don’t even have a full team, but lucky me the rest of the game was rather uneventful until the Elite Four.

Before I start the Elite Four, let’s look at my champions.

Once Slakoth evolves into Vigoroth and loses that horrible Truant ability, it become amazing. It has a self-healing move, and can learn both Bulk Up and Amnesia, which makes it really easy to sweep entire teams with it. 

Once it was of level to evolve into Slaking, I decided not to do it, because I really didn’t want that ability back. At least this means I can give it the eviolite and have it be even more of a defensive beast. The singular attacking move gets switched out when I feel like it.

Named after the activity it is literally incapable of doing since it became a Vigoroth.

Similar to Vigoroth, Girafarig just collects a giant bundle of stat buffs before anything else. Sometimes, I switched out Double Team with an actual attacking move like Psychic, but mostly I just Baton Pass into Kecleon or Castform.

Named after that weird Giraffe from Madagascar.

Castform surprised me with how powerful it was. Not only does weather ball become 100 power under any kind of weather, but the weather also helps you and the move is also a stab move. Along with a decent special attack and probable type advantage, Castform can mostly ohko anything that isn’t a water-type.

Named after the water-molecule protagonist of some game I have for the Wii called Dewy’s Adventure.

It took a bit, but I wanted a Kecleon with Protean ability, and the Dexnav also provided one with nasty plot. So I built a special Kecleon, because most of my Pokemon were physical attackers at the time. The three attacking moves are swapped out with whatever seems appropriate at the moment

Named after the chameleon from Tangled.

I was never quite happy with Wigglytuff’s move set, but it did it’s job of being a tank. It’s high health was good, and reflect would fix it’s low-physical defense. Its main job was using its typing and Dazzling Gleam to get rid of annoying fighting-types.

Named after the other super tough pink puff.

Dodrio was probably the best attacker on my team, but it only really comes out when I’m in trouble. Always super worried about it dying, because there are no more replacements. It can ohko many things with Return and Drill Peck. It mostly just functions as my team mascot.

Named after... you know.

On to the Elite Four!

My Vigoroth set up Bulk Up+Amnesia against Sydney’s Mightyena, then swept the entire team with Brick Break. I tried to do the same thing against Phoebe by swapping Brick Break with Shadow Claw, but Dusclops has Curse, which meant I had to keep switching to shake off the curses until the Dusclops killed itself and Sableye was sent out, which doesn’t have Curse.

The battle against Glacia was probably the longest and stupidest battle of the entire run. Castform and Glalie were having an argument about what the weather was, Kecleon was trying to use Thunderbolt to convince Glacia to waste all her full restores on Walrein, Wigglytuff and Girafarig switched out of Froslass’ confuse ray what felt like ten thousand times. It was some glorious madness.

Drake was comparatively easy. Girafirig can set up Calm Mind and Agility against the Altaria, Baton Pass to Castform, which can Hail and then Weather Ball - Ice to sweep the whole team.

Vigoroth couldn’t set up against Steven’s Skarmory because of Toxic, but once Kecleon got rid of it with Thunderbolt, Vigoroth was able to setup against Aggron and sweep the whole team as usual.

And that’s everything. It was pretty fun, and I got to try some Pokemon I wouldn’t have had a reason to use otherwise. I mean, when am I ever going to use Castform again.

Anyway, if you actually got this far, thanks for reading I guess. I just had all these thoughts in my head about the run and wanted to write them down somewhere, but I’d be glad if in interested someone for a couple minutes.

#pokemonpundit #pokemon #pokemon oras #girafarig #castform #kecleon #vigoroth #dodrio #wigglytuff #runs