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freudianslumber · 11 months

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Today, Tomorrow and Forever

Summary: Angel Elvis went through Hell when being falsely accused of betraying God. Eventually found true love with LAPD narcotics officer B.B. King.

Chapter 8 Precious Stone

Pairing: B.B. King x Elvis Presley (m/m)

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: 18+. Street robbery, gang violence, assault and battery, romance, smut, aftercare

Elvis was upset. He had set his sight on entering the Police Academy and becoming a police officer like B.B. This dream was shattered when he realized he could pass neither the medical exam nor the fitness test, not to mention the background check. B.B. had to deliver the crushing news that without a social security number or driver’s license, Elvis was unlikely to be hired by any employer, period. “Sorry honey. I know it’s boring staying at home all day.” B.B. acknowledged. “Oh Gunnie, ya know that’s not what I mean. I-I just want to be more useful, that’s all.” Elvis replied, crestfallen. B.B. felt bad for his lover, he came closer and rubbed Elvis on the cheeks, consoling him: “Don’t you worry, I promise I’ll try to find a way to get you a work permit soon.” An idea came to his head: “If you want, you can probably volunteer at one of the local YMCA.” Elvis’ eyes lit up: “Does that mean I get to work with some school kids?” “I’d think so, I know you’d enjoy it.” B.B. smiled, relieved that he was able to cheer Elvis back up so soon.

It took them almost two weeks, but Elvis was finally accepted by a YMCA as a new afterschool program volunteer. It wasn’t within walking distance so B.B. had to drive Elvis to and from the site three times a week. But it was worth it seeing how happy and fulfilled Elvis seemed to be from helping and interacting with school-aged kids there. The angel also got some color back in his face from being under the sun more often, such as when the whole group went on fieldtrips or played outdoors. With Tina’s blessing, he was finally free from the CAM boot, now walking without a noticeable limp, although he still could not run properly. But that did not stop Elvis from becoming an assistant in the martial arts class, helping the instructor with demonstration of techniques. It was no surprise that “E.P.” connected quickly with the teenagers at the Y, having a natural rapport with youngsters and a warm personality.

On this particular day Elvis was the last one to leave the facility since B.B. was held up by his work duties. It was getting dark as he walked towards the parking lot at the back of the building where he normally waited for pick up. When he entered the lot, he immediately spotted Timmy, a high school boy from his classroom who had left only ten minutes ago being cornered next to a car and shoved around by 4 or 5 hostile young men. The parking lot was mostly empty, and some threats could clearly be heard coming from one guy wielding a knife: “Give it up, kid. There’s no one else around here! Give me your money or I’ll cut you up!!” The boy, ashen faced, opened his backpack with shaky hands and was trying to take out his wallet when it was snatched from him. He was then punched in the face and tackled to the ground as he yelled: “Help!!”

“Let him go!!” Elvis charged out from the other side of the car, kicking the armed robber in the head, knocking him out for a bit. He then bent over and tried to grab the knife that was dropped on the ground, but was hit in the back of the head by someone and fell forward before he could get up. Sharp pain shot through him as another robber stamped on his hand that was inches away from the knife. “Timmy, run!!!” Elvis shouted to the highschooler who was momentarily left to the side but was frozen in terror. Timmy jumped up and ran for his life, two of the robbers were about to chase after him when they were stopped by the one who seemed to be in charge: “Uh, let the kid go. We got his money. Let’s get outta here before the cops show up.” “What about him?” one asked. “Karate Kid?? He likes to be a hero, so we’ll teach him what it’s like to cross the Reapers!” All of them started laughing as kicks and punches rained down on Elvis.

Only minutes later, police siren sounds pierced through the night and multiple police vehicles could be heard fast approaching the intersection. “The Reapers” unleashed a string of curses before they let go of Elvis, hastily retreated into their black Chevy Caprice and fled the scene. Two police cars raced by in pursuit of their target, but another one squeaked to a stop right outside the dimly lit parking lot. B.B. rushed out and ran over to Elvis who had been left on the pavement, curling up in pain and coughing slightly. “Baby, are you okay? Sorry I’m late!” B.B. almost started sobbing. Hearing his lover’s anxious voice, Elvis opened his eyes, which were swelling up and the right one was bloodshot from blunt trauma. He looked up and smiled a little: “Gunnie, I’ll be fine. Sorry I got into trouble again…” B.B. had no words left in him as he just held Elvis in his arms and rocked him gently like a child.

Miraculously, Elvis’ hemothorax did not relapse with the latest round of battery he had suffered. His ribs and vision were preserved as well, all bruises and hematomas were thankfully superficial. The blood in his eye disappeared on its own. The facial swelling resolved with icing followed by warm compress after one and a half weeks. The last to go were some fading bruises which had gravitated to his chin and neck. The perpetrators were chased down and apprehended by B.B.’s current partner in the unit Officer Cassius Clay, referred to by everyone as simply “Clay”. Clay was young and athletic, strong as an oak but lacked experience and guile. He and Elvis got along very well and made fast friends. After some consideration and getting approval from Elvis himself, B.B. let Clay in on the angel’s true identity. The young officer was amazed of course but promised right away to keep this information strictly confidential. Clay told Elvis the Reapers was a shorthand for “The Black Reapers”, a notorious local gang responsible for a large percentage of street crimes and drug trafficking in the surrounding neighborhoods. Their leader’s name was Mad Mac, who had been arrested many times but always found a way not to be locked up for long. He was a hardened criminal with an antisocial personality who had orchestrated lots of bloodshed with rival gangs and occasionally violent clashes with the police force. B.B.’s previous partner Jimi died in a drug bust gone wrong when he and several other officers were outgunned by these gang members. Elvis expressed great admiration for all the crime fighting officers for putting their lives on the line, and wished one day he could join them. In private however, he couldn’t help fearing for the safety of his Gunnie.

Every now and then Elvis and Clay would attend B.B. and Fats’ blues set at Moody Blue’s. Elvis would sit in the audience incognito, trying not to draw too much attention to himself for fear of being recognized again. Sometimes after the restaurant closed Elvis would stay and sing songs on the guitar or the piano, with only B.B., Clay and Fats in the audience. The jolly owner of the establishment was also made aware of Elvis’ true origin and background, who responded with eyes as big as saucers at first but then nodded furiously with recognition as everything clicked in his mind. Elvis was happy and relieved to be able to act as his true self around B.B.’s two closest friends, without any pretense or deception. The three musicians would sometimes jam all the way till daybreak, sharing their love of old-time blues and gospel music, with Clay cheering them on.

A short drive away in an abandoned warehouse in East LA, the Black Reapers held a high-level meeting, only selected lieutenants and enforcers were allowed to participate. All of the thugs had the moniker of “Reapers” tattooed on their necks. One of them presented a photo to the leader Mad Mac, who took a look and spoke: “You better be sure about this, we’re dealing with the underworld here. If this is not who you say he is, we may all end up dead!!” The lieutenant reported that multiple sources had corroborated the identity of this individual. Mad Mac then burst out in a reckless cackle: “This is too easy! The angel has no special power and is easy prey, we just need to kidnap him and turn him over to the demon captain and we’ll have all the crack cocaine we want!” “But he lives with that narcotics cop…” His subordinate pointed out. “Detective King?” Mad Mac gave a quick wave of his hand dismissively and gritted his teeth: “I knew him from way back! He won’t be a problem! We’ll take care of him first and then Elvis is ours!” His minions broke out in unintelligible murmurs amongst themselves at that declaration.

It had been over two months since Elvis was rescued by B.B. in Sequoia, but it felt like they had known each other forever. Whenever they were off work, the two lovers were practically inseparable. In early April, they embarked on a camping trip to Yosemite National Park, hiking a trail through Yosemite Valley, taking in the lush landscape and the spectacular waterfalls along the way. They also went bird watching in the morning, listening to the chirping all around and even spotted a pair of robins high up in the branches. Elvis had to rest up frequently due to suboptimal lung capacity and his weak ankle. B.B. told him to rest as long as he wanted and spent the time taking photos of the scenery, and scenery with his lovely angel in it. By the time the couple arrived at the camping ground, it was getting rather late. Elvis helped B.B. set up their tent and start up a campfire. They roasted some chicken drumsticks, sausages and corn. Afterwards they had fun making s’mores out of Graham crackers, Hershey’s bar and marshmallows. As the night wound down and the campfire dimmed, the two sat next to each other and looked up at the stars in the night sky in silence.

“Elvis?” B.B. called out, turning to admire the profile inches away from him that looked like it was carved out of marble. “Yeah, Gunnie?” Elvis was now facing him with interest. “I’ve been to all of the National Parks, but Yosemite is definitely my favorite. I’ve always thought when I die, I’d like to have my ashes spread here.” Elvis slapped B.B. jokingly across the arm: “Stop saying that! Can’t believe you wanna talk about death on a perfect night like this!” B.B. giggled, catching the young man’s hand and kissed it: “It’s been the perfect night, hasn’t it?” His warm brown eyes scanned over the other’s face tenderly: “Well, I got somethin’ for you honey, I hope you’ll like it.” He fumbled in his pocket and produced a small velvet box, opened it revealing a simple but elegant blue sapphire platinum ring. “Oh my God!” Elvis’ eyes widened, putting a hand over his mouth in shock, “W-What’s that?” “It’s not much but it matches your eyes and it’s a symbol of my love for you. Elvis darlin’, will you marry me?” With those words, B.B.’s large hand covered the angel’s slender one and squeezed it. Hope and passion exuded from his eyes, overwhelming his companion. Elvis felt his breaths sped up as tears threatened to fall, he put the other hand over that of his boyfriend and shook it: “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you in a heartbeat Gunnie! I just can’t believe how wonderful and sweet you are, it’s like a dream!” B.B. grabbed Elvis by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Elvis felt drank and euphoric after B.B. took all the air out of his lungs before finally releasing him. Happy tears flowed freely as B.B. held Elvis’ left hand and slipped the amazingly well fitted jewelry onto his ring finger.

“One more thing…” B.B. added as the two of them admired the new ring on Elvis’ hand: “I hope you don’t mind that I put a gadget in this ring.” He pressed next to one of the tiny diamonds adorning the central sapphire, and suddenly a sharp blade sprang out from the ring, causing Elvis to gasp. B.B. squeezed his arm around his fiancé’s shoulder: “Sorry to scare ya, darlin’. I’ve been really worried about ya after what happened at the Y last time, just want ya to have more protection.” He fiddled with the tiny diamond on the opposite side of the blue sapphire and the blade disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Mouth agape, Elvis’ mind was blown by the intricacy of this ingenious design. He could see how useful and effective this could function as a stealth self-defense weapon. “Gunnie, I’m speechless… This requires so much thought and planning I can’t even fathom it!”

Serene moonlight cascaded through the overhead skylight in the tent as the two lovers finally retreated inside for the night. The camping ground was quiet except for the faint sound of trees rustling in the wind and the occasional distant noises made by nocturnal animals in the woods. The two were locked in a passionate embrace, mouths and hands everywhere up and down each other’s bodies. Pieces of clothing were quickly shed as their loving caresses went on and needy whines began to come out of Elvis, punctuated by B.B.’s low groans. Panting and out of breath, Elvis managed to utter: “Gunnie… Tonight is the night, please go all the way with me. I wanna feel ya inside of me so bad!” B.B. took a minute to admire the sight of his angel lying so enticingly beneath him, cerulean eyes filled with lust and desire. He ran one hand through the silky locks of his fiancé, patted his thigh with the other hand and reassured: “Wait here honey, I’ll give you everything you want!” B.B. found his backpack in the corner of the tent, opened an inner pocket and took out a tube of K-Y jelly. He placed a small folded blanket under Elvis’ lower back and buttocks, then spread his legs wide apart. Next B.B. lubed up his fingers with plenty of gel, and massaged lightly around his lover’s exposed hole: “Baby, are you ready? I’m going in.” Came the strained reply from Elvis: “Yes, please hurry. I can’t wait to feel you in me!” As if to prove it, the angel reached down and spread his butt cheeks for B.B., who growled at this show of eagerness from his lover and proceeded to bury a finger inside.

Despite begging from Elvis, B.B. took his time to stretch him out because he did not want to evoke any traumatic memories from all the rape and abuse Elvis had suffered in the past. To ease the unavoidable discomfort of intrusion, B.B. pumped his lover’s cock with the other hand in concert with his fingering, making Elvis moan and writhe in pleasure. When B.B. felt satisfied with prepping Elvis well, he paused and started to pump his own half-mast member. Elvis, still lying on his back with legs spread, called out to his man with arms extended toward him: “Gunnie, come here. Let me help ya!” B.B. complied, crawling over next to Elvis’ head. Elvis rolled onto his stomach with his head propped up on one elbow. Using the free hand, he took a hold of B.B.’s cock and wrapped his cherubic lips around its head. B.B. moaned loudly as Elvis’ agile tongue licked and swirled over B.B.’s manhood while swallowing him down. Only a few minutes of slurping and head-bopping made B.B. fully erect with precum leaking out. He grabbed a hold of the hair at the back of Elvis’ head and pulled on it gently: “Stop honey, if you don’t want me to come in your mouth right now!” The angel obediently opened up his mouth and let go of B.B.’s member then. The older man repositioned Elvis on his back in the previous pose, with buttocks propped up and hands holding his own legs apart. Then B.B. held his cock and pushed it slowly inside of the well stretched entrance of his lover. Elvis let out a sigh: “Yes Gunnie, please give it to me!” B.B. had to marvel at the incredible sensation of having himself deep inside of his angel, then he pulled back until he was almost out and launched into a rhythm in earnest.

Elvis felt so full and satiated, no aphrodisiac could ever make him feel this way. He wrapped his legs possessively around B.B.’s back, kneading his well-defined back muscles with both hands, then pulled him down seeking kisses. His lover gladly seized his lips and plundered his mouth. His cock was trapped between their bodies and was fully erect without being touched. Moreover, it was twitching occasionally from all the stimulation occurring from behind. As Elvis was getting close to the inevitable release, B.B. suddenly pulled out and instructed him to switch position. B.B. turned Elvis over and put him on all fours facing away while he grabbed Elvis around his narrow hips and inserted again from behind. The change of position allowed B.B. to penetrate even deeper, hitting a sensitive spot which made Elvis see stars. B.B. could tell his lover was getting close, he stroked the soft and smooth skin over Elvis’ lower belly, then wrapped his hands around his cock, pumping it while continuing to take him from behind. Only seconds later Elvis arched his back and exclaimed: “Gunnie, I’m coming!” as he emptied his seeds onto the air mattress below.

As Elvis came down from his climax, he lost strength in his body and the arms collapsed under him. His head was now buried partially in a pillow and his chest had fallen down to the mattress, but he kept his behind in position for his lover to access. This picture in front of him was too cute and irresistible for B.B., he bent down, kissed Elvis on the back and licked his wing stumps, while reaching his hands underneath to rub on his nipples. All the sensation was so overwhelming Elvis nearly passed out, all he could do was to whimper and call out for Gunnie in a broken voice as B.B. sped up his thrusts, stuttered and finally released his load deep inside of him.

B.B. remained in the spoon position covering Elvis from the top for a few moments before he cleared his mind and got off of his lover. He turned Elvis over, looked over the angelic features under the pale moonlight, and could barely believe this ethereal creature was going to marry him soon. He sat up, poured some water from a bottle over a washcloth he found in the backpack, then used the damp cloth to clean up the ejaculate left on the mattress, the splatter on Elvis’ abdomen and the saliva smeared over his lips and around his mouth. Still a little woozy and panting from the exertion, Elvis murmured: “Sorry for making a mess again, Gunnie.” B.B. corrected him right away: “Never apologize, honey. You’re perfect the way you’re, remember that.” Elvis responded with an affectionate smile: “What did I do to deserve you, Gunnie. I just wanna be with you forever.”

#elvis presley #angel au #m/m

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birichardswift · 1 year

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The Shade's Journal (Starman Omnibus 4)

From the Shade's Journal…

Eddy Gomez had a natural talent for the kind of dancing he performed for me that night. I suppose the closest thing to it would be an "Apache Dance" that you might see in a Parisian revue — you know, where the man wears a beret and a striped vest, the woman is dressed like a mademoiselle of the night, and with grace and agility the pair beat each other up for the amusement of patrons.

Of course, the "Apache Dance" is artifice. No one is really hurt.

In my "Apache Dance," in the washroom of Musso & Frank's on Hollywood Boulevard, things were a little more improvised. Eddy, I suppose, was playing the female role, though he was dressed in a rather spectacular lavender zoot suit instead of a split skirt and fishnet stockings. However, in the dance it's the female who appears to take the beating and Eddy was certainly taking one as he jerked and jived and pirouetted with each punch and kick he received. The "male" of the dance was all that and more, although if you'd asked him to sport a beret and striped shirt while he made his assault, he might as well have hit you as hard as he was pummeling poor Eddy. Sam Mild had a cigarette in his mouth the whole time. The nonchalance of this only added to the scene's surrealism.

Sam blew smoke from the side of his mouth. "Why won't you talk?" he asked for the twentieth time.

"I'm not a squealer," Eddy spat back, along with one of his incisors.

"Since when? Are you not the Eddy Gomez who sold his own mother to the cops for a hundred and fifty bucks?"

I smiled. Mild's joke wasn't that funny, but I thought it the polite thing to do. Then Gomez replied with a cough of blood…

"It was two hundred. And the old bitch had it coming."

...And then I realized Mild wasn't joking at all.

"Hey! What's going on in there?!" It was one of the waiters. He pounded at the locked door. His voice was shrill. "If you guys don't stop whatever it is you're doing, we'll call the cops. We got laws, you know."

"Shut up," Mild yelled in reply, giving Eddy another punch as he did so.

"We got laws!" The waiter was not to be put off. "And we got famous people who want to use the facilities. We got Sidney Greenstreet out here, and he wants in."

"Tell the fat bastard not to eat so much..."

Another punch, this one to the side of Gomez's head.

"...And he might hold out for the little boy's room longer."

A snort could be heard, which I'm guessing was Greenstreet himself, and then a thud as the waiter threw himself against the door. I presume the man was slight, as he made little effect on the door, hinge, lock, or the stream of punches that Eddy Gomez enjoyed.

"That's it, to hell with bad publicity," the waiter screamed out in his high-pitched tone, "I'm calling the cops."

"Damn." Mild kicked Eddy between the legs. "They don't mind the bad publicity but I'm paid to make sure none of it washes up outside Mr. Hughes' cabana." He dragged Gomez toward the door. "Come on, Eddy. Let's take a drive. I love the canyons at night. How about you?"

★★★★★★

We had arrived at Musso & Frank's a quarter of an hour before that. The place was full. It was a popular eatery after all, with its cozy wood-lined booths and its familiar menu of tried and true meals. Sometimes a star would drop by for a sandwich or some soup, so it was also a place where tourists visited in the hope of sighting their big-screen favorite. As we entered, I immediately saw Greenstreet in a corner booth devouring a chicken. Apart from that, it had been the usual mixture of Hollywood Boulevard flotsam.

Mild had walked through the place, pushing aside a waiter who had tried to seat him. We were looking for Eddy Gomez, and Mild fully intended that this would be the final port of call in our evening's hunt for the little fellow.

Our search had begun in a pool hall down near the Santa Monica pier. A large fellow named Gunny had told Mild and myself that a friend of a friend of a friend of his had heard "some news about Hughes" but he wasn't sure what.

From there we drove to Fairfax and a small motel where Gunny's friend of a friend of a friend was enjoying the favors of a middle-aged lady with a quite spectacular amount of hair growth on her upper lip. In fact, had the lady in question not scurried from bed to bathroom sans apparel when Mild kicked the door in on them, I might have questioned her sex more so and assumed her a man with a taste for wigs and rouge. The friend of a friend of a friend was nervous. He didn't want to get anyone in trouble. But when Mild put the fellow's genitals in the drawer of the bedside table and threatened to slam it shut on them, the friend of a friend of a friend all of a sudden didn't care how hard a rain was going to fall on the next fellow as long as his favorite little chap and he stayed together to play together.

And so we again drove through the night. It had begun to rain by now, but the car had good wipers and Mild's handling of slippery L.A. roads was assured. I sat, a passenger content.

The friend of a friend was a drummer in a fairly acceptable dance band. They were playing in a little basement club over on Los Feliz. It was a mixed crowd there. Latinos in their zoot suits. Some servicemen. Some shady white men with sallow complexions and shifty eyes.

The drummer's name was Jerry.

"Hey, man," he said in his coolest half-whisper, "you a friend of Gunny's? Gunny owes me $40."

Mild backhanded him across the cheek. "I don't care if he owes you his life. I want to know who was talking about Howard Hughes."

"I forgot."

Mild sighed. "You know, if I smashed your hands you might heal to play the drums some more. But if I held them down while my buddy drove over them with our car, buddy, you ain't never gonna be hitting the high hat again. So why don't you think a little harder and maybe your memory will come back."

I looked at Jerry's eyes. They spun like plates on the vaudeville stage.

"This man is a drug user," I said.

Mild looked more closely into his face. "Yeah, for sure. Should have noticed." He shook Jerry. "You hopped up? Wouldn't be the first jazzer I met with the habit. Still, it makes getting information out of him easy."

Mild reached into his jacket. For his gun, I thought. Or perhaps a cosh. Instead he produced four crisp twenty-dollar bills.

"Gunny owes you forty? Here's that and that again. You want it? Buys a lot of junk, that much dough. Just give me a name and you can bliss yourself silly, friend."

Jerry stared at the cash. He seemed transfixed. It was as if he were trying to put all these scattered fragments of information together in his head — money...for information....tell him information...I get money...with money I buy dope...with money...for information…

After what seemed like an eternity, Jerry opened his mouth.

"You cats know Eddy Gomez?"

★★★★★★

And so we arrived at Musso & Frank's. We found Eddy making the acquaintance of an egg salad sandwich. Mild stood Eddy up and marched him to the men's room. The questions turn into a beating. Then the waiter's high-pitched threats and his news of Greenstreet's full bladder. Out the back door, as the police arrives in the front. Into the car we had parked...and away.

Our car was parked high up on a deserted stretch of Mulholland. Mild looked out at the lights of the San Fernando Valley.

"You like the canyons?" he asked Eddy.

"I guess. I like to bring girls up here."

"So do I. Isn't that why God created them?"

"Girls?"

"No, canyons."

Sitting in the back, listening to this repartee, I suppressed a smile.

"I don't get you, Eddy," Mild said.

"I'm a simple guy. What's not to get?"

"I beat the hell out of you. Why didn't you tell me what you heard about Hughes? If you'd ask me for money, I'd have given it to you. You could have come out of this ahead."

"I got my reasons."

"You got reasons? You got reasons? I admire your guts, kid. Even if you are a sap."

"So what'cho gonna do to me now?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Just like that."

"Just like that. I'm going to put a bullet in you and roll you off the road and down the canyonside into the brush. By the time the cops find you, you'll probably have been torn up some by the coyotes. Messy death. Gomez...that's a Mex name, right? You from South of the border?"

"I was born in San Francisco. My father worked in the vineyards."

"You're Catholic with a name like that, though. Gotta be. No open casket burial for you if the dogs chew you up."

Eddy sat in the passenger seat for a short while. He stared at the twinkling lights below him. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I love this town. I'd hate to leave it."

Mild rolled his eyes. "Then why not stay? Tell me what you know, Eddy. Believe me. I will kill you and not think twice, but I don't enjoy the taking of lives and I would rather drive you back to some nice corner of town and drop you off. Hell, spill what you know and I'll even kick in a thousand bucks. Call it my apology for the beating you took earlier."

"I'm scared."

"Of what? I'm going to kill you in about a minute if you don't talk. What could you be more scared of than that?"

"My soul."

"Come again?"

"What I heard is that Mr. Hughes is being attacked by characters from a children's book, right?"

"Maybe," Mild replied blowing a perfect ring of smoke.

"Maybe nothing. Am I right?"

"Yeah."

"Word is that the guy behind the attacks is a magician. Word is he knows black magic and stuff. Word is he has an army of soulless helpers who do his bidding."

"Oh, yeah?" Mild sounded skeptical.

"He was a film director," Eddy continued, oblivious to Mild's tone. "Until recently. He used to be a big name, too. Horror movies. Stuff with Lon Chaney. Big name. Then his career went downhill. He quit in '38 or '39, about."

Mild shook Eddy's collar. "I don't want his life story, just his name."

Eddy swallowed and sighed. "The guy's name is Tod Browning," he said, and shivered a little as he did so.

★★★★★★

"So what do you know about Tod Browning?"

"Less than you, I'm sure."

This was how Sam Mild broke the silence we had enjoyed since dropping off young Eddy Gomez at the corner of Beverly and Fairfax. Mild had been true to his word and had stuffed money in the lad's pocket as he heaved him out of his car.

Eddy had turned to Mild as he stood on the sidewalk dusting himself off. "Thanks for not killing me, you bastard," he said. "But next time try not to hit me so hard, huh?"

"You better hope there isn't a next time, kid. I was feeling good tonight. Tomorrow might find me in a different mood."

"Please don't repeat what I told you about Tod Browning," Eddy said nervously.

"Oh, I'll repeat it," Mild replied. "I've got to tell my superiors. You know that." Eddy looked at Mild with fearful uneasiness. "But they don't have to know who told me," Mild continued. "So relax."

"I'm scared, man."

"Of this Browning cat?"

"Oh, yeah. Man. He's gonna be the death of you if you dig too deeply in whatever he's got going."

"Yeah, well, we all gotta die." He turned to me. "Ain't that right, Shade?"

I smiled and said nothing.

"Watch yourself, kid," Mild said as our car pulled away.

And so we drove. Along Beverly to La Brea and left up Fountain, passing through Fairfax, and then left again on La Cienega back down to Beverly. I realized Mild had driven us in and enormous square and was about to break the silence by remarking upon it, when Mild spoke first just ahead of me.

"So, what do you know about Tod Browning?"

"Less than you, I'm sure," I replied.

"He's a film director," he said. "We know that. I think...didn't he direct a horror film? Maybe. The Wolfman? Or....I dunno."

"No. And neither do I. I find all horror films tiresome and foolish and refrain from seeing them."

"Me, I got no time for films," Mild offered. "I see too much of the dirt that goes into making them. The actors and their boys on the side. The actresses whose stag films I have to locate the negatives for. Or they have the prostitution records I have to bribe free of the law to destroy. Or they've had abortions. Or there's an ex-husband kicking around who needs paying off or killing. And that's just the weak goddamn actors. Bunch of stupid kids with more money than smarts. The big guys...Mayer and Warner and Cohn and Selznick...all of them have dirty secrets too, that me or someone like me has had to sweep under the rug for them."

"The only name I recognize out of those you mention is Mayer," I said. "I hate the man."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing. In fact, I've never even met him."

"Then what gives?"

"Through chance and happenstance I met an actor named John Gilbert. We became friends." I coughed slightly as Mild lit one of his cheap cigarettes. "Anyway," I continued, "Gilbert ran afoul of his then boss Louis B. Mayer. Mayer responded to this by driving Gilbert out of the industry. Messing with the man's voice test when the actors were all making the transition from silents to talkies. He drove poor John to an early grave."

"Yeah, I heard that too," Mild muttered. "But don't let it rile you. Stuff like that happens all the time."

"I'm afraid I've already been riled. And one day, Mayer will pay."

Mild placed a hand on my arm. "Look, the one thing I have learned about this town is it's a great leveler. Everybody who is up will one day be down. That's this place. Mayer, as powerful as he is now, will get his one day. Trust me on that."

I sighed a sigh of dissatisfaction and pondered how my revenge on Mayer might one day take shape, when Mild interrupted my thoughts.

"Anyway, I don't see Louis B. Mayer in the car with us, helping us with info on Tod Browning, so I don't want to think about him now. And neither should you, Shade. We've got us a culprit behind this crazy mess, but because we're both ignorant of things movie-like in this land of cinema, we're both of us stymied." He took a drag of his cigarette. "You thirsty?"

"I could take a drink if one was offered to me."

"I know a little after-hours place. Let's go there."

The place in question was actually quite near. A little room with a bar, above a camera store on Cherokee just south of Hollywood Boulevard. Mild parked the car in an alleyway close by and we entered through a side door, taking the creaking wooden staircase upwards to it slowly and with the solemn reverence of two who were entering a temple.

The drinking club itself had been a living quarters at some point, but the owner had seen profit in the lonely who drink when even the moon is telling them they should be home abed. Indeed, one or two men were still there talking about the world to their whiskey sours. The bar itself was cracked marble, old and warred upon, having countless skirmishes with glass and tankard to its credit. Although it was now early the following morning, Larry, the establishment's owner, a fat, happy man with a large disfiguring mole on his cheek, still stood behind the bar awaiting orders.

"What will it be, gentlemen?"

"Vodka gimlet for me. Shade?"

"Sherry," I answered.

"Not in this joint," both Mild and Larry said in unison.

"No?" I asked. "Then what about wine?"

"Got a red somewhere," Larry replied.

"I'm sure in this land of sun-warmed vineyards your red has a humble charm. A glass of that."

Mild and I took our drinks to a side table close to a young man and an older woman. Mild and I sat there in silence for a moment or two, as we sipped our drinks (the red was acceptable), and in that quiet time, I overheard the young man near us making a final negotiation with the woman before the pair of them stepped out for some kind of illicit coupling.

Then Mild called over to Larry. "Hey, Lar! You ever heard of Tod Browning?"

"Yeah. Director. He don't work much now, but didn't he direct Dracula with Lugosi?"

Mild and I looked at each other with relief. In an instant we both knew that Larry was right, and that irritation when a nagging question refuses to be answered had been eased.

"What else do you know about him?"

"You got the sum and total, brother."

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"We grab some sleep," Mild said. "We got a name. That's a good going for one night. I'll report it to Mr. Hughes and he can use his power to locate Browning. We'll drag him somewhere deserted and I'll introduce Browning to my leather cosh and a couple of yards of rubber hose. He'll talk before long, tell us what's going on and why. We'll have the complete picture. Then we'll drive him out to the desert. Pop him in the head. And you can go back to Opal City the richer for having known me and Mr. Hughes, having actually done very little yourself in terms of solving this mystery."

My face was expressionless.

"Though I must admit to finding your company surprisingly agreeable, on this, a very disagreeable night of hurting folks," Mild said with a smile.

I smiled too.

"You don't enjoy the hurting part of the work?" I asked.

"Never hire someone for that kind of work who enjoys it. They'll go nuts on you when you need them straight. No, the hurting is just part of the job. Nothing more than that." Mild downed his drink. "Come on," he said. "I'm tired. I bet you are too."

I nodded and drained my wine. We left with a wave to Larry, who looked to be beginning to close up shop himself.

It was still night as we left Larry's bar and walked to the alley. The alley was dark. Very dark. Darker than the night and street around it suggested that it should be.

"Come on," Mild said. "The car's-"

Then he stopped. He, like I, could hear a noise. Soft at first, but growing louder. A purring. Purring. Purring. And then there was a smile. A large, toothy, feline smile, shining forth from the black of the alley like a beacon.

Mild whistled through his teeth. "You see that?"

"How could I not?"

Mild took his pistol out and fired two shots into the alley. Both passed through the smiling mouth, but the shattering of glass told us that Mild had managed to hit his car's windscreen further within the blackness. He turned to me. "Your shadow gonna be any use?"

"I doubt it. Not if your bullets aren't." I sent shards of shadows at the smile anyway. No use.

The smile then proceeded to advance from the blackness towards us, getting larger all the while. Presently from the gloom an enormous cat's head became visible. If the size of this was anything to go by, then the beast's body would be immense.

"I think we should split," Mild said.

"I concur," I replied, and we both began sprinting for Hollywood Boulevard.

It was four in the morning or thereabouts, and no one was in sight. Looking over my shoulder I could see the Cheshire Cat (for that was what it was) appear from the alley and begin its chase after us. Its body more resembled a panther's, being lithe and muscular, and indeed it was bigger than any normal animal, being ten feet high at the shoulder.

One bound covered many yards and we were but a few seconds from being pounced upon, when salvation came in the shape of a lonely yellow cab. It's "for hire" sign was down, but that didn't stop Mild, who stood in front of the oncoming car aiming his gun at the driver in order to make him stop. The driver did and we threw ourselves inside the car, as the Cheshire Cat bounded onto the spot upon which we had been standing but seconds before. The driver looked on with dismay.

"What's the matter with you?" Mild screamed. "Drive this heap!"

The driver did. Accelerating as the Cheshire Cat gave chase. Faster and faster the hack sped down the deserted 4:00 A.M. of Hollywood Boulevard. All the while the Cheshire Cat maintained its pursuit. Indeed, it seemed to be getting faster as it bounded after us.

"It's gaining!" Mild screamed. "You call yourself a driver?"

The driver glared over his shoulder at Mild and put all his weight on the gas. The car sped up and away finally, leaving the Cheshire Cat behind. With a final spiteful grin at us, from far in the distance, the Cat vanished as the first lights of dawn arose behind it, far to the East.

"What was that all about?" the driver asked. "What was that thing?"

"A special effect gone crazy," Mild replied. "Movie hijinks, you know?"

"No. I don't know. It looked pretty damn real to me."

"You wanna make some dough? I mean big dough?"

"I guess."

Mild pulled a card and wrote an address down on the back of it. "Here. Come to this address tomorrow. Tell them I sent you. You'll be well paid. You know what for?"

"No."

"You forget all about this. If you don't, I gotta kill you. Understand?"

The driver looked nervous. "Like the gospels, buddy. Me, I'm already developing amnesia."

"Smart," Mild said. "Now take us to our hotel and we'll call it a night? You got it?"

Mild settled back and glanced my way. I could see the anger in his eyes, burning like the dawn we drove away from.

"Man," he said. "When I get my hands on the Browning guy, I am gonna give him such a beating."

★★★★★★

The morning after the night of our escape from the large Cheshire Cat (yes, how delightfully benign the whole affair sounds by the light of day)...the morning after that I slept late. I am a being with little need for sleep, but I do find it such an exquisite pleasure. And I knew Mild was out there "packing a wallop" as he so succinctly put it, trying to uncover the whereabouts and activities of Tod Browning.

I never dream. But after waking with the light that shone as glints through the gaps in my curtains, I tried to go back to sleep and in that semi-slumber state imagined meeting Tod Browning. I didn't know what he looked like, so I imagined him resembling Raymond Massey (for no reason at all). I imagined us fighting (well, in truth it would be my shadow demons who'd be doing the fighting while I stood around making delightfully pithy remarks).

...So, in the haze of dreaming not, Browning brought his monsters to fight mine. Shadow Demons fought March Hare and Mock Turtle while the Queen of Hearts screamed "off with his head"...referring to mine. And then when all else failed, Browning called upon his ultimate agent of fear and death, Dracula. Here I imagined Bela Lugosi, but with a long and elegantly groomed mustache. It looked strangely at odd with the smooth, slick hair he'd given his cinematic interpretation of the character.

And that was how it was as I dozed and slept and dozed and slept, until sometime in the very late morning when a timid knock at my door aroused me.

"Come in," I said, sitting up in bed and stretching.

The door was opened by a maid, a small scared girl. She had the look of a beaten dog whose spirit had long ago been broken.

"I was sent to ask you if you'd like some breakfast?"

"Breakfast. That sounds just the thing." I smile. "Tell me my dear, what in this land of sun and oranges passes for breakfast?"

"Gee, I dunno."

"You were sent here to ask me if I wanted breakfast, yet you have no idea what breakfasts are on the menu?"

"No," she countered. "It was the way you asked. It confused me. I thought you were asking me how food here was different from other parts of America."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Breakfast can be anything you want, sir. You're a guest of Mr. Hughes, so the kitchen will cook you anything."

"Well, in that case I would like deviled kidneys and scrambled eggs. Toast. And tea with milk. Oh, and perhaps a glass of the fine, sweet juice of oranges that this land is known for."

"You mean orange juice?"

"I mean exactly that."

She moved to leave, then dropped, turning with a questioning expression on her face marked by a slight creasing of her forehead.

"Err...what are deviled kidneys?"

"I take it offal isn't part of the Californian breakfast cuisine," I said. "Yes, you can take the man out of his country, but you can never quite take the desire for that country's food out of the man." I thought for a moment before answering.

"Tell the cook to take, say... two kidneys. Pig's kidneys. Or one large cow's kidney and cut it into bite-size pieces. Fry them with a little pepper and some hot sauce. That's a close approximation of what I have in mind."

The maid looked stunned. "I...I've never heard of it."

"I'm English," I replied. "What can I say? If you really want to be delighted, let me tell you of a singular dish the Northerners in my country created. They call it black pudding."

"Oh, I rather you didn't, sir."

"As you wish. What's your name?"

"Mary."

"You look tired, Mary."

"I was late for work. I've missed my coffee. I have to admit I'm flagging."

"Well, go get my food and we'll discuss your fatigue when you return with it. How does that sound?"

Mary left warily. It was clear few guests before me had ever stopped to ask her name or state of being. I entered the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I then donned a silk kimono I'd acquired during an exploit in Japan, and awaited my food. But then as the moments passed, a thought came to me, and I reached for the telephone.

"Hello. Is this room service?" I asked. "I'd like to add something to my breakfast order, No, not a substitution. An addition to it, that's right. I'd like a big pot of coffee. And cream and sugar. And what goes well with coffee? Strudel? Just the thing. That, too. Oh, and I don't like to eat unattended, so the maid who you sent up earlier, Mary. I'd like her to stay with me while I eat. Yes, that's right, I am a guest of Mr. Hughes."

A while later, Mary returned.

"I ordered you coffee, Mary. We can't have a sleepy maid in the hotel, can we?"

She appeared nervous. "But I should be getting back."

"No. I asked for your company. Sit and take a break."

We sat. She seemed pensive at first, but as the coffee and strudel began to vanish, so did her concerns.

"Where do you live, Mary?"

"Los Feliz."

"So you know the Los Angeles area?"

"As good as anyone."

"Then let's take the time to talk about it. After all, we have the time. I've asked for your company for the whole time I'm eating. And I am a very slow eater."

"All tight," Mary said, shaking off the drab and tired moment by moment. She smiled and suddenly the room was all the brighter for it. "What do you want to know?"

★★★★★★

Mary, the maid, stood before me. She was naked. And not unappealing, for I can only presume it was the hard work she did which had made her body firm and shapely. A fine sight. So quickly gone.

In her place was Marguerite Ludlow. She too was naked, and as comely a sight as I have ever beheld. My breath stumbled from my lungs. My eyes became hubcaps. Marguerite. My Marguerite. She was back.

"How are you, my love?"

She said this with the familiar warm, slow curve of her mouth I knew.

"I'm fine, Marguerite. I'm surprised, but I'm fine."

"Surprised?"

"Well, you are dead, after all. I did kill you...after all."

"Did you? I don't recall."

"Wait a minute," I said. "This is a dream. This has to be a dream." Indeed, Marguerite is dead. "If you stand before me now, you are a wraith, or you are a figment."

"Dreams are their own reality," she replied. "If I am here before you, I am here...in this existence I am alive. Close your eyes and take a breath."

"A breath?"

"Smell me."

"Oh."

I did as I was bid and smelled Marguerite's perfume, lavender and rose, made by the local chemist in a town just outside of Paris where we visited often. That sweet aroma bonded with the warm natural smell of her own skin, and combined it smelled of springtime. Even in the coldest weather, around Marguerite it smelled like spring.

"I miss you," she said.

"And I you," I replied, the first frail tear forming in the corner of my eye.

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you," she said.

"And I'm sorry I succeeded," I said back.

She smiled. "What was, was. What will be, will. You shouldn't hate yourself. Do you remember the opera?"

"Which one?"

"The marriage of Figaro. You were disappointed at the end. You had so looked forward to hearing the 'Figaro chorus,' as you called it." (At which point Marguerite began to sing..."Figaro. Figaro, Figaro, Figaro"...then looked at me with a grin.) "You didn't realize that the music you wanted to hear was from the Barber of Seville."

"Yes," I said awkwardly. "Well. Two operas with characters called Figaro. Who would have guessed."

"The walk back from the opera house was wonderful. The cool night. All those stars. We found a courtyard. It was asleep...everyone in the houses around. I made you forget your disappointment in that courtyard."

I closed my eyes again. The pain of remembering those happier times before I discovered Marguerite was really one of the Ludlow clan bent upon my death...it was almost too much to bear. I who had lived so long. I who had endured so much. Yet, all I had to do was see my lost love again and I was close to destruction, my heart close to breaking. I was beyond forlorn. I took another breath of her sweet, springtime perfume…

...And almost retched upon the ground. Gone was spring in all its lavender freshness. I smelled brimstone and human waste and rotting flesh. I recall India, one summer of sickness when I had visited the Ganges. The banks of it were lined with the corpses of untouchables the Indian caste system forbids others to move. The dead stayed where they had fallen to bake and rot in the afternoon rays. The stench I smelled now was akin to the rancid odor on that day in India once. Only worse.

I opened my eyes and saw the Devil.

"Hello again," he said.

He was as naked as Marguerite had been. The sight was not as pleasing.

"When was it last," he asked. "Iceland?"

"Where's Marguerite?"

"Dead, I imagine," he said in an offhand Devil's fashion. "Yes, quite dead."

"You're telling me she was never here?"

"It's your dreams. You tell me."

"No, I suppose not. I suppose she remains as dead as when I left her. Why are you here?"

"You're my son. Of sorts. I fear for you."

"I am no one's son," I sneered back.

"Nevertheless I fear for you. I fear for you this day."

"Why?"

"People come to crossroads. Life is a series of them."

"Like the day you decided to defy your father?"

"Hmm," the Devil said, pausing to think for a moment. "I suppose that was one of those times." He looked off for a moment. "I've never been able to decide if that was one of my better choices...or one of my worst."

"It's my dream. You tell me."

"Touché. I fear for you, Shade," he said, rapidly changing the subject as if the topic of his fall from grace made him uncomfortable. "I fear this adventure you're on. A word...of advice. Beware the demon."

"The demon? Which demon?"

"That is for you to discover. My warning is the beginning and end. You must give the menace a name other than that."

"Is there nothing else you can tell me?" I asked, twitching a little as I said this, like a little boy caught doing something bad.

"Yes, I have to say..." A pause. "...We're here," the Devil said.

"We're here?"

"Yes," he said. "Look around you..."

I looked and in doing so opened my eyes. I had indeed been asleep the whole time. Now, upon waking, I saw sand and palm trees.

Mary was in the driver's seat of a small, gray Ford roadster (which actually was black, but had so many layers of dirt as to disguise this fact). She turned to me, sitting next to her as her passenger as I was.

"Look around," she said with a smile.

"Where are we?"

"Why, don't you remember?" she asked. "I had the afternoon off. I told you I was going to the beach. You asked if you could come with me. And here we are."

"Oh," I said. "Oh yes. Now I recall."

I smiled back at her and got out of the car, breathing fresh sea air that quickly cleared the lingering smell of brimstone.

"It's a beautiful afternoon," Mary said.

"Yes. Yes, it is," I replied, looking out.

The Pacific was before me. Blue and calm. I closed my eyes, said a final farewell to Marguerite who lingered still on my mind, and then stepped towards the water.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#richard swift #the shade #dc comics #starman #james robinson #*journals

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agent-pennsylvania · 1 year

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U086 Journal Entries

Aug 27, 2538

I woke up today? I got a pat on the back, they told me I’d be fine and to get back to it… I don’t know who they are...I don’t know who I am. They told me I’m U086...I’m a Spartan. The other Spartans don’t know me...they don’t look like me...their skin isn’t like mine...their not messed up like me. Their numbers all start with B and not U like mine. They have names.

Jun 15, 2539

Some ODST sat at my table in the mess hall today. My table had enough space for all of them. I stayed quiet and watched them joke, talk and tease each other. The one kept telling jokes everyone seemed to really like them, they even got me to laugh a few times. It made me feel better, maybe I should try that.

Jun,18 2539

I got to a terminal today and downloaded a whole database of jokes and puns, I’m going to practice them whenever possible.

Jun, 25 2539

Update: It worked, it actually worked. Everyone seems to be warming up to me now. Being funny helps, I guess…

Jul, 21 2539

Those ODST sit with me every time we go to the mess hall together. They tell the best stories, I have no idea if half of the stories are true or if they’re exaggerating everything, but I could listen for hours.

Mar, 6 2540

We’ve been issued our SPI Armor Mark II and have begun training and various missions with our marines and ODST counter parts. They've taken my name and made it into a code word. "86'em!" They yell it when I need to take down a target, they think it's hilarious.

Jan, 15 2541

The mission went badly. It started out bad one of the drop pods malfunctioned Gunny was in it… I tried… I punched my way into the pod as fast as I could once we touched down. It didn't matter though he was gone. They didn't fucking tell us there were gonna be Hunters we were under equipped to deal with them… Joker didn't make it, neither did Monster… My standard issue arm isn't worth it's weight in scrap… I'm gonna rebuild it myself.

Nov 12, 2541

I was shipped off with a new assignment something called Project Freelancer my superiors said I would make a good fit for whatever they're doing, so I’m no longer with Beta Company, I wished them luck.

Feb 17, 2542

I’m a Freelancer now. A man by the name of Aiden Price or the “Counselor” showed me around. They’ve equipped me with a bunch of “Freelancer Tech” and even gave me a new name. I’m Agent Pennsylvania now. Some of the other agents have shortened it to Penn or Penny. I like it.

#rvb #red vs blue #spartan program #project freelancer #freelancer oc #rvb ocs #pa lore

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ageless-aislynn · 2 years

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Halo: Combat Evolved update #4! (Game spoilers, naturally. 😉)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Extra

Look, I took a screencap! Not with Steam’s screencapping thing, this was the Windows’ Snippy Snip thing. But still, it’s me! 🥳

I got frickin’ STUCK on the Covenant ship on The Truth and the Reconciliation campaign because I was making 2 mistakes: I thought I had to bring my remaining marines with me to find Captain Keyes in the brig (I kept 2 of my guys alive, yay, so Cortana never offered to send in reinforcements; sorry to the ones I lost, though 😥). But my marines wanted to just hang out on this bridge and wouldn’t go up a level with me, so I thought I had to stay there, too. 😣 And every time I’d quit and come back, the game put me in the doorway, facing the level to go in until I finally tried turning around and going the other way alone. Whew, that was the key!

I made it to the Silent Cartographer campaign! I had NO IDEA what to do with the Hunters so I finally fell back on my tried and true: I snuck up behind them and melee’d them on the back of the head. That actually worked, lol! I got my butt blown off a few times, though, trying to figure out what to do with those guys, yikes!

ZOMG, when Chief melees with the white pistol thing, he gives it this jaunty twirl that I LOVE. 😍

Oh and I ended up driving a Warthog up to the Covenant’s front door and I even figured out to line up the ‘hog so that Gunny could shoot through the door! But darn it, I had to come back out to find another way in to open the locked door and... I left the Warthog there with my Gunny and passenger. Didn’t even think to bring them, oops. Well, along the way, I found another Warthog overturned, set it back up and drove around until I picked up a second Gunny and passenger. And I drove them back to where the first two were and parked them next to each other and went back on foot. Where I found a THIRD Warthog, picked up ANOTHER SET of Gunny and passenger and YES, YOU GUESSED IT, I added them to my collection on the Covenant’s porch, lol! *facepalm*

I fought a crap-ton of Covvies, including more Hunters, without taking any marines with me to help, because I apparently wanted to park them somewhere safe so they could have a picnic or something??? I dunno, lol!

I have also learned that it’s fun to jump WAAAY up in the air and land on a Covvie enemy while melee’ing them. Yee-HAW! Also, I wish Chief could run. I noped out of a few fights by just strolling away while they were shooting at me, lol! I was all, “RUN, CHIEF! AT LEAST JOG, BUDDY! POWER WALK. SOMETHING MORE THAN THIS CASUAL STROLL THING, PLZ!!!”

Next, I’ve jumped back in a Warthog along with Gunny and Passenger #1s and we’re looking for the dropship Cortana promised that would have some bigger guns to take on more *gulp* Hunters. I’ve zoomed completely around the island on the beach or so it feels but I’m apparently missing the ship. 🤷‍♀️ We’ve zoomed through some firefights, though, with Gunny yelling, “Get me an angle!” and I’m like, “No, my dude, I’m getting us OUT OF HERE.” Which means I’m probably supposed to stop and fight, lol!

We’ll tackle that tomorrow! Oh man, I played for 3 1/2 hours yesterday and so planned on playing less today because I wanted to get some writing done. I played almost 4 1/2. 😶 I’m almost to 8 hours total, lol! If they give out awards for “Takes The Longest To Do Everything” I’m a shoe-in!

Oh well, don’t care, I’m having a blast! 😍🥳🤗

PS - My controller is due in tomorrow, so I’m excited to see if I do better or worse with that over the keyboard/mouse combination. I did see a warning that I may not be able to change from one to the other in the middle of a campaign so we’ll see. I may wait until we’re done here so I don’t have to chance fighting all of those Hunters again. 😕😉

Part 5

#halo #halo: combat evolved #halo: the master chief collection #ais is an amazing gamer /s #i'm having so much fun!#i suck but who cares? nobody is seeing me so i'm free to be as awful as i am with no shame #then i turn around and tell y'all what i did but it's not the same thing lol #i'm loving this so much #ageless aislynn #♥♥♥

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deputy-buck · 6 months

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This is a transfer post from my old blog!

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Ahh! Hi! Yes! These are all extremely random, and kinda suck cause I’m bad at articulating what’s in my head- excuse my poor grammar lmao I hope you like them regardless

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- Per Evan's book, he shows his affection physically, he's a very touchy man with those he likes. More specifically he really likes holding hands and cuddling on the couch, petting through their hair and over exposed skin.

- Often calls Nate "Honey", Brad "Babe", Ray "Menace (affectionate)", Walt "Pretty boy", Trombley "Pup", Doc "my old man (you know, like how southern couples call each other)", Stafford and Christeson "Staffy&Chrisy, the kids, the boys". And yet he calls everyone "Sweetheart"

- After he retired out of the Corps, he became a carpenter; decks, bars, kitchens, wardrobes, entertainment centers, wine cellars. He's more into trimwork than anything though. Good trimwork, none of that "oh the painters will caulk the gaps." bullshit. All his joints are tight, all his boards are flush, each miter is cut to the specific corner angle of the room, he doesn't just assume all walls meet at a perfect 90°, because they don't. Ever.

- Drives a ‘77 baby-blue Ford F-300 diesel dent-side. Automatic, flatbed and dual tanks, navy leather bench seat with an ebony stained dash and door panels. Rhino-Lined floor pans were a fucking must for him personally, because even though he does interior units, he hates grungy carpet. (yes this is just my dream vehicle-)

- He loves working on it with Stafford and Christeson. He doesn’t yell at them for shaking the flashlight but he will bark at them if they put their oily, gritty hands on his paint. He’s too broke to get it refinished, okay, they’re grown enough to know better.

- Wears cargo shorts but it’s fine, he actually uses the pockets. He always has a paper towel in his pocket too and forgets about it when he puts them in the laundry, so he has to pick off all the little bits of obliterated napkin every time. :)

- Needs glasses, has glasses, hates wearing his glasses. It’s a constant fight between him and Tim, Doc bitches that they were expensive and helps slow down the deterioration of Mike’s vision. Mike bitches that he paid for them and they’re his eyes so he can do whatever he wants with them... He wears the glasses.

- He likes camping a lot, but none of that tent camping shit, he says he’s too damn old to be sleeping on the ground anymore. So he owns a camper! A 2013 Rockwood Roo, it’s light, small, has three soft shell expandable bunks that are all queen-sized beds and a slide-out. He loves it, It’s a pain in the ass sometimes but it fits almost everyone who wants to go so it’s worth it.

- He gets ✨Emotional✨ when any of the guys are a part of a ceremony and have to wear their dress blues or service uniform. Nearly cries when they get promoted, he’s just so damn proud of his boys.

- Refuses to understand how modern kitchen appliances work; Nate’s Keurig is his archnemesis-

18+ under the cut

- A true switch, he likes just about anything that’s put on the table. And even if it’s not his cup of tea, he’s not judgmental at all, he values a lot of communication.

- Really enjoys cock-warming, loves having one of his boys’ mouths on his half-hard cock for hours while he quotes out material and types up invoices for jobs. He’ll rock his hips forward just a tad when he feels them dozing a little too far off, reminding them to keep his cock in their mouth.

- Praises his partner no matter if he’s topping or bottoming. Seriously, he will say, “Fuck me harder, sweetheart. Good boy.”

- Him and Captain Patterson have a Thing with Nate and Barrett being Theirs, and so they like to mess with each other by touching the other man’s Boy. All in good fun of course, they know and respect each other’s boundaries. Gunny has more patience than Patterson though, so he can watch as Patterson pets and praises Nate for much longer than Patterson can stand watching Wynn do the same to Rich. It always ends in Patterson reluctantly surrendering Nate back to Gunny and guiding Barrett to a “middle” position, having Rich kneel between Patterson’s legs and tilt his head back until they can maintain eye-contact, which leads to Patterson cupping one hand under Barrett’s jaw to press the back of his head to Patterson’s belt buckle. Gunny and Nate watch, amused and endeared.

- Can and will edge the ever living fuck out of his boys, the one’s who like it.. Brad. Brad really fucking likes it, to the point of whispering pleadingly in Mike’s ear whenever he feels too pent up. Mike’s fine with letting Brad thinking he’s doing any sort of convincing, he likes making it an emotional challenge for Colbert.

- Playfully pulls his rank when Stafford and Christeson “contradict him” in bed, “This is your Gunny you’re talkin’ to, boys.” or “Show your Gunny some fuckin’ respect, boys.” He’d never do it legitimately to make them do something they don’t actually want, but he knows they like the play of it, knows it gets them all flustered.

- Facials, I feel like that’s all I need to say but I want to say more so- Walt kneeling on the concrete garage floor, lips wrapped around Mike’s cock, hands obediently clasped behind his back while Mike thrusts into his mouth as he pleases. Mike is so close when he pulls out of Walt’s mouth, jacking himself off the rest of the way and spilling onto Walt’s face; thick, pearly ropes laid across his flushed cheeks, a risky string of it over the bridge of his nose making the younger man squint slightly. After catching his breath, all Mike can do is grin, “Such a pretty boy, Hasser.” and pat his cheek affectionately.

- Was the only one to not treat Trombley like a fragile, skittish deer when they started getting intimate. He listened and paid attention to Trombley’s cues of when he was uncomfortable, but he didn’t fret over it. James admitted it was a little scary at first, but it made it easier to be openly affectionate with Mike and the others. Wynn, noticing how quickly Trombley is progressing, started pushing for more, quicker: deep kisses at random times to get Trombley all hot n’ bothered, feeling him up in front of the others at home like it was nothing, semi-graphic flirting in front of the whole platoon because everyone knows and couldn’t give two shits less.

- Capitalizes on Ray being smaller than him by breaking Ray’s brain just from gently wrapping his hand around Ray’s wrist, or placing his hand flat on Ray’s belly while he’s fucking Ray, acting like he can feel his own cock there.

- Likes it a little too much when Doc wraps a hand around his throat and pulls him up while getting fucked from behind. Especially if they’re in front of a mirror so he can watch his own jaw drop slack and his whole body just utterly melt back against Doc.

#gunny wynn #mike wynn #mike/team 2-1 alpha #mike/headquarters victor #mikedoc #mike/patterson #mike/barrett #generation kill #buck builds #I don't know who's more stupid‚ queue or the hick

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mudskip-muses · 2 years

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@ultprincess liked for halfblood gunnie uwu (X)

Gundham could feel the creature prowling around campus, even from his dorm room, it was hard not to with the pure malevolent energy coming off the thing, though one could argue that he himself was prowling, walking unseen amongst the shadows in attempt to locate the source of dark magic that had pulled him from slumber. It was late, enough so that there were very little students walking through the courtyard now, with curfew being so very close, so the breeder was a bit surprised to see Sonia lit up under one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk a short walk out from the dormitories. He had just been about to step free from the cover of darkness to ask just what she was doing out so very late when he saw It.

It looked like nothing more than a scruffy dog, fur so long it covered its whole body right down to the ground in order hide the truth from the human eye. He should be more surprised that it decided to even reveal itself to the princess in the first place, spirits of disease more often preferring to remain unseen whilst working their trade, but that abnormal little bit would have to wait.

The halfblood quickened his steps into a full on sprint now, though far faster than what a human could ever hope to manage without years of training, what should have been heavy footfalls instead completely unheard thanks to his enchanted footwear, all in an effort to get to Sonia before she tried to-

“Do not touch that!” He yelled at the princess with a tone of startling urgency, something that must have been jarring in so many different ways since he had never once raised his voice at her, or anyone really, not even Kazuichi when the man was on his last nerve, Gundham not liking the way the mechanic jumped when he did...

His hand reached out to seemingly grip and pull back at the air, and in tandem the shadow cast by Sonia, thanks to the streetlight, was manipulated to pull her back a few feet, enough so that the overlord could put himself between her and the spirit, looking for all the world like he had appeared out of thin air as he stood there glowering at the mass of fur, so very ready for a fight...

“So you are the one prowling these grounds, spirit...” He hissed it’s way, an inhuman growl just at the edges of his voice in an attempt at intimidation. “What fools have you coerced into your malice, keukegan? How many mortal lives have you taken tonight?” The spirit in question didn’t seem to respond, it only cowering away from the halfblood in fear, backing up a few steps as the furry mass began to shake, but the overlord did get a response, one only he could understand, and oddly enough his defensive posture seemed to slacken a bit. “I see...Come here, then...”

Reluctant at first, the spirit slunk towards the man now in a crouch before it, the breeder pulling a collar of all things from an inner pocket of his coat, one etched with strange runes that seemed to glow if you stared at them for too long. “With this, you may have your wish. I promise no harm will befall you in my care, nor will you be able to bring harm to others...” Gundham explained to the fuzzy thing as he moved closer to secure the collar around it’s neck, though it was clearly hesitant to let the breeder touch it... “You will not harm me, keukegan, it is not in my blood...”

Whatever that meant seemed to put the creature at ease, the collar now being snapped snuggly around its neck with no fight beyond getting it around all the fur. Nothing really seemed to change about it, at least nothing able to be seen, but the overlord could feel the harmful magic in the air dwindling with each passing second, allowing him to breath out a sigh of relief.

Now he had another problem to deal with...

“I suppose I owe you an explanation, my dark queen...” He didn’t even look to see if Sonia was even still there, too afraid that he may find fear on her face with what she had just witnessed, fear that would be directed towards him. Or maybe he would find that she had run away as soon as she was yanked backwards by seemingly nothing, that he had chased her off. For all Gundham knew, he was talking to nothing but the air.

“I am...not as human as I seem...”

#behold my magical boy!!!#fdhsjkf #muse: gundham tanaka #ultprincess #v: halfblood

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koolcece22 · 1 month

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Enter Venomgirl ch.7

Ch.7

Shade’s pov

At least I can try to get things back to normal. It had been almost a week since Miguel and those kids were here. I kind of hope I don’t see them again. I have enough problems dealing with Arachnidqueen and the Valiant Six. Speaking of which…

“Come out you evil fiend! I blast you with my new gun of justice!”

“How about not blast a school while you are at!” I growled at Battleready. He is always so happy to trigger a cyborg who wants to test out his new weapons. It looks like the one I saw in the lab with Miguel and them. Glad me and Kuro trained to try to counteract it. It is more of a bomb base. But it causing more harm to the people around us. Luckily, most people left the area and the school was on lockdown.

“Gunny really wants you dead today,” Kuro said as she launched me up to the nearest building while dodging the bombs

“Yeah but it's not today. I have stuff to do.”

“Like replacing the controller you destroy.”

“You mean the one YOU broke,” I said

Battleready was about to summon another gun. Till the sky and are surroundings began to warp. My eyes widen seeing things were glitching like the time with Hobie.

“Do they have to test that stupid thing now!?” I heard Battleready say at the same time he stopped shooting at me. I took the opportunity to tackle him down. I command Kuro to tie him up with my tendrils.

“Test what Battle?!”

“Like I tell a demon as you anything. The Great One and are leader will have your head!” He yelled. I growled ready to break his limbs to get some information on him till a portal opened for us. The same one I fell in.

“What the Vu-” I was about to say till the bomb was launched from the portal. I was able to dodge with Battleready. We both look to see who emerges from the portal I see what looks like a man in a weird orange and green demon costume with a glider. He looked surprised and then looked at us with a wicked smile.

“I see I was taken out of one party and put into another.” He laughed till he started to glitch out. I heard him yell in pain. Been there. This must be an anomaly that Hobie talked about. How did he get here? Was this because of the collider?

I did not have time to think about it as he threw more bombs at us. I drag Battleready to an alleyway so he doesn’t get in the way. I heard him cursing me but I didn’t have time to deal with him so I knocked him out. Will deal with him later. I dash back out trying to stop him,

“There you are my little plaything. Mmm you don’t look like spider-women nor do look like a hero.” he mocked I just glared at him

“Can we eat this one?” Kuro asked

“Tempt but let's first kick this guy's ass. He ruining my neighborhood.” I then command Kuro to change my legs so I can jump high to reach him. I launch myself to him at high speed. He barely has time to get out of the way. I grab onto a building with my claws. If I can get off from his glider I should be able to take him.

“I will admit, you are faster than Spider-man. But are more durable?” this Goblin guy threw more bombs at me. Dodging it the best I can. Before a wall flame blocked my way. My instincts were screaming.

‘ Flames bad !!!’

‘Kuro, not now we can’t lose it!!’

‘R-Right.’

I stretched out my arm to reach on top of the rooftop in the hope this Goblin guy would follow me. I reached a construction site lucky no one was here so I could go all out if need be. I just hope not.

“Come on pretty, you won't change spot? I wanted more people to see the party.”

“Sorry, I’m more of a one-on-one type of person.” I retort changing my as into claws. The Goblin guy must note as he whistles.

“So you have venom symbiote? My Spider-Man had one that made him more in pain. Glad I know your style!” he said as he charged at me.

“You never seen style like mine.” I then jump high and spin-kick him square on the chin, causing him to fall off his glider. He manage to land on the ground, and now looks pissed. I punched him in the face a couple of times in the hope of knocking him out but he was more durable then I thought. He then kicked me off of him, I quickly recovered but before I could reach him, he pulled out a weird deceive. The device let out a loud sound. Causing me to scream in pain as try to cover my ears.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”

It feels like I’m being apart, I can’t focus. I can tell he laughs at my pain. I’ll show him PAIN.

Before I could act on my dark fantasy a portal opened up next to us and I saw red webbing and a blue blurry came out of it as much I see as the pain was too much.

Miguel’s Pov

I made it in time, tackling the Hobgoblin that was wound up here. I knew this would happen were keeping track on the spider bots. But we lost all contact with them for couple days ago. I wasn’t informed till Peter B. and Lyla told me today. This is why I don’t take a day off. Shit like this!

“You look like a Spider-man, But you not my Spider-man. But a kill is a kill.” he was about to pull out more bombs. Before I gave him the change I dissolved my mask and bite down on his neck to inject my venom into him. He tried to pull me off but it too late as the effect made him go limp.

“Glad we caught him eya buddie.”

I rolled my eyes and heard Peter B.’s voice behind me coming from the portal. He just told me an anomaly was spotted on Earth-2424. To make matters worse he brought Mayday with him. She almost one year old and still hate the idea he brings her to work half the time. Peter then looked over to Shade who was still on the ground trying to get herself up. He walks over to her as I web up Hobgoblin.

“Hey you're ok-” Peter reach down to her till tendrils shot out at him. His spidey sense must of warned him as he jumps back away from her. Mayday even cried out which she don’t do..

“Stay away from me!!” Shade growled out her face mask look more like mouth belonging to a symbiote and her red eyes. She hunched over see Peter. Peter ready his webbing till Mayday crying. Her crying must snap Shade out of it as her eyes change back to purplish color. Realizing her claws were ready to attack. Before either I and Peter could say anything Shade ran away. Peter sigh and walks towards him with anomaly in hand.

“Do you want me to go after her? I think I scared her.”

“No. I’ll go after her, you know how symbiotes get when they feel threatened. Besides I need to talk to her about the spider bots that were destroyed and you fail to tell me.” I said as I gave him the anomaly to him. He had a cheeky grin while Mayday was laughing know here father's predicament.

“Hey, can blame me Miles and Mayday were showing their artwork and I was helping Gwen with her homework an-”

“Just go before anyone sees us.”

Peter shrugged as he opened a Portal back to HQ. I swing away and follow her location with the watch I gave her. She seemed to live far away from the city, maybe so they didn’t come looking for her or she wanted to be alone. Shade movement stopped as it led me to an abandoned factory of some kind. Miles did tell me she lives her and I’m not one to judge how people live. There some people in Spider-Society live in worse off conditions. I entered the factory It was pitch black but it was no problem for me, I looked around to see a control center with a little bit of light coming from there. I guess that area she sleeps.

“ uh, I almost hurt a kid!”

I heard her yell as I swung up to the control room. Before I could open the door can still heard her.

“I mean we didn’t attack them, and you- I mean we stopped our self”

“Barely, If we didn’t we could have I could have. uhhhh!”

I heard a crash in the room she must have broken something, I decided to enter to see some destroyed furniture and claw marks. Shade breath heavily reminds me when my ‘other’ side takes over. She turned around to see me surprised. I put my hands up to show I mean no harm.

“What vuck you doing here?!” she yelled

“Just wanting make sure you ok. He used sound against you and symbiotes are weak to sound.”

“No merda, I’m fine. Should you be going back to your world or something ?”

“I would but I have talked to you about the spider bots we sent to the Alchmax building last week.”

Shade folds her arm at me. Her eye was red again with a slit staring me down. I summon a Medkit to see if she needs any healing.

“I don’t need it. I heal in a day.”

“Yea, but it's better to check since you go-

“There's a reason why live out here so when I lose it I won’t hurt anyone.”

I sigh she reminds me of when I first started out. How I struggled when I first got splice. The only difference is I only dealt with it for five years. She dealt with it for nine.

“ Just forget about it, what did you want to talk about?”

I nodded as I brought up Lyla and the spider bots’s data. I showed her that all five were destroyed. I want to know how. The spider bots are well hidden when we send them out so no one shouldn’t have noticed them. Even if they do we sent five out for a reason.

“So the collider is still activated. By these readings, it getting more stronger than the last time. Before it seems to only spit things out from your Earth now it starting to bring things into here.” I said. Shade just stared at the reading like she trying to understand what I just had told her. I did my best to bring it down so she can understand.

“I think I got it. The machine is still working and now brings things and people into my earth. What now then?”

I rubbed my chin thinking what our next course of action. Lyla and Margo don’t have enough information about the collider. Each earth has a different collider on how they work. Some are easier to shut down others are harder. And this turned out to be a harder one. I would have sent out my Spider bots and if that didn’t work I would have sent out a team to destroy it. But I worry about it once I get back to HQ to talk to Peter and Jess about it.

I look back at Shade who was kneeling and wasn’t looking too hot. I went to her but her tendril shot at me. They missed like she was giving me a warning not to get closer to her.

“Kuro…stop…”

“Trying…”

I heard them say to each other they might not be in sync with each other anymore. I have seen what symbiotes to the host when there not in sync with each. I quickly pull something from med kit. A symbiote stabilzer. Unfortunately, this is meant for venom variants since they are the most we run into. I don’t even know if it going to work on her.

“I have something that might calm it down,” I said walking slowly towards her. She growled as her eyes glowed red.

“She not a it.” Shade hissed as I struck a nerve. Should respect ‘it’ by not calling ‘it’

“Sorry, both of you aren’t syncing up well right now. This can …might stabilize you.”

“Or what?”

“Might not do anything but it's worth a shot otherwise you go berserk,” I stated. Shade looked at Stringe and then hissed but sounded more defeated.

“Do it.”

I nodded and got behind her and injected it in her neck into her internal jugular vein. She let out a growl before I could tell she calmed down when the tendril went back into her body. Her symbiote came out of her an sat on her lap like a rabbit would. Wonder why ‘It’ take that form?

“T-thanks. What is that? I feel better.” she asked

“It a stabilzer for symbiotes. Symbiotes anomaly are… sometimes hard deal.”

She nodded. As she got up

“Sorry you have to see me like that and sorry that I almost… attacked your friend and his kid. I usually have control. Most of the time.”

“Don’t worry about it. Peter should know better than to bring his child on a mission.” I also got up and gave her the medkit. Shade took it.

“I be back later this week, either send out more spider bites or talk to you more.”

I said as made the portal to HQ. I look back at her as she has a sad look on her face. I have seen many Spider-people working alone and having somewhere to go. I wanted to ask where her family was but something told me I shouldn’t.

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spidersona #symbioate sona #spider man 2099 #writing #miles morales #spider gwen #feral! miguel o'hara #atsv hobie #spiderverse pavitr #42 miles morales

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