#I got yelled at by a hobo in new York

[dailyjasonvoorhees]

too big and confusing

[janeykath318]

Family Ties and Flirty Guys

“What brings you back here, Doctor?” Sam asked, making her blush a bit with the way he emphasized her new title.

“You, for one,” Darcy told him, eyes looking him up and down approvingly. She was just as pretty and charming as he remembered and he didn’t feel averse to picking up where they left off if she showed signs of being interested.

“Oh?” He asked, smirking a bit.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a fleeting, almost nervous smile. “I’ve heard of your exploits with Bucky lately and the unfortunate episode with the fake Captain America.”

Sam winced and Darcy sighed, eyes glancing at the shield in his hand.

“It looks good on you,” she said simply.

“Thanks,” Sam acknowledged. “But why else are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you…”

She chuckled awkwardly and he saw she was holding a file folder in her hand.

“So, I was doing a little research into my family tree for funsies when I stumbled upon this.”

She held out a piece of paper and Sam’s eyes widened.

“You mean…..”

“Yep,” she confirmed proudly. “Is he here?”

“Last I saw, he was fishing with my nephews,” he told her. “Want me to take you to him?”

“Sure, if it’s no trouble,” she said nervously. “I’d better speak up now before I chicken out. I hope he won’t think I’m crazy.”

“I think he’ll be elated to find out he has living family,” Sam told her seriously. “The records you have make it pretty clear you can back it up.”

So, in a few minutes, Darcy was following Sam to the docks, where three figures were having the time of their lives. Bucky looked a lot different from the last time she’d seen him, but he was joking and smiling with the kids, who were plainly having the time of their lives.

“Wow. He’s great with kids,” she commented.

“I know. They took to him pretty fast,” Sam admitted. “Never would have guessed it.”

“Are the two of you…...okay?” She asked. “I remember your epic clashes back in the old days. But Steve was there to keep the peace.”

Sam looked thoughtfully off into the distance.

“We’re in a better place, I’d say. We’ve been able to finally have conversations that should have happened a long time ago. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s a great guy. Never tell him I said that, though.”

Darcy laughed and Bucky suddenly noticed them.

“You bringing girls home, Sam?” He yelled smugly, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. The boys giggled beside him.

“Zip it, Barnes!” Darcy yelled back. “If anything, I’d take HIM home.

Bucky’s smile got even bigger and he rushed over to join them, grabbing Darcy in a hug.

“Lewis! Long time no see!”

Darcy smiled as she was bodily lifted and twirled around before being set back on her feet.

“Yeah. Right back atcha. I see you got tired of the hobo chic look.”

Sam snorted and Bucky chuckled, rubbing his head self-consciously.

“Yeah. I got tired of hair flying in my face in a fight,” he explained. “S’not practical. But what brings you all the way out here, other than hitting on Sam?”

There were more giggles from the boys and Sam fixed them with a stern look before glancing at Darcy and leading the kids away to give her some privacy.

Darcy stood in front of Bucky, trying to find the right words to break it to him gently, but in the end the first thing that came out of her mouth was “You’re my great-great uncle!”

Quite naturally, Bucky looked at her like she was off her rocker, and Darcy face-palmed with the hand that was not holding the paper.

“Ummm, here,” she sighed, handing him the paper. “It’s from the records I found when researching my family tree. I meant to ease into it, but my big ole mouth just went and got ahead of my brain.”

His eyes widened as he read it and a rather incredulous smile lit up his face.

“Here I was thinking I had no living relatives,” Bucky said in wonder. “No wonder we were so in synch in our mischief making. Genetics.”

He hugged Darcy again, this time much longer. She could practically feel the delight radiating off of him and it made her feel very satisfied in the decision she’d made. Back in the pre-Snap world, Darcy had befriended Bucky and roped him into her prank schemes against the avengers. He was super stealthy, so no one but Natasha ever knew who was really responsible for the terror rained down upon their friends. Their crowning achievements had included glitter on Steve’s helmet and shield, smiley faces on Tony’s suit, and trick arrows that squawked like chickens when fired. (The look on Clint’s face!!)

“So, should I call you Uncle James now?” She asked slyly, grinning at him again.

He groaned and shook his head decidedly.

“No. That just makes me feel old,” he declared.

“Well, you technically are.”

“In that case, respect your elders, young lady,” he said, wagging his finger and making his voice creaky. “Oh, and get off my lawn!”

They doubled over laughing until Sam came back and shook his head at them.

“I hate to interrupt this charming family reunion,” he said dryly. “But I’d like a turn to catch up with Doctor Lewis here. We have some unfinished business.”

He looked at her meaningfully and Darcy fluttered her eyelashes. Sam was very good at saying a lot with one look, and she was liking what that said very much.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he looked between them suspiciously, clenching his metal hand a bit.

A woman appeared on the porch and suddenly, his whole demeanor shifted and he smiled an utterly charming smile and strolled toward her.

Sam groaned and face palmed.

“He seems smitten,” Darcy remarked, eying the way Bucky was chatting up the woman, whom Darcy guessed was probably Sam’s sister. She’d never met her, but he’d mentioned her quite a few times.

“Unfortunately.” Sam snorted. “I warned him not to flirt with her or I’d feed him to the fish, but does he listen? No!”

“Well, I guess you’ll get some good payback if he sees you flirting with his great-great niece,” Darcy suggested, a very sly expression in her blue eyes. “And lay it on thick. I want to scandalize him.”

“Man, I’ve missed you,” Sam stated, grinning evilly as he pondered how awesome Darcy was and how he could annoy Bucky the most.

“And I’ve missed you, too,” she told him, giving him the hug she’d been wanting to for a long time.

They talked outside for a long time, discussing Darcy’s journey to getting her doctorate and the adventure in Westview, and Sam’s struggle with the legacy of the shield and the mess with John Walker.

Darcy’s eyes were wet when he’d finished and for a moment she didn’t say anything, just stood there in supportive silence.

“That is a LOT. Wow, Sam.”

She shook her head, then stepped forward and poked him in the chest.

“The world needs more heroes like you, and that’s the truth. You, Sam Wilson, are a good man. Steve knew that and the rest of the world is going to know that too.”

Before Sam could respond to this, a voice yelled out, “Sam! Don’t make her stand there all day! Bring her in and introduce us!”

“Sarah?” Darcy asked, with a knowing smile.

“Yup,” Sam sighed. “And that was her mom voice, so we’d better get going.”

When they made it inside, Bucky was helping Sarah put dinner on the table and being far too friendly about it, in Sam’s opinion. Before he could give his friend a quelling death glare, he felt a soft hand wrap around his arm as Darcy scooted in close.

“Remember the plan?” She whispered, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Sam swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure it was such a good plan now, but he found he wasn’t willing to object, so he smiled right back at her and went along with it.

Darcy was a big hit with the rest of the Wilson family and soon had the boys captivated as she told the story of how she’d met Thor and tased him.

“And how did you wind up meeting these two?” Sarah asked, nodding at Sam and Bucky, who were currently engaged in another stare down. Bucky had caught Sam holding Darcy’s hand and had nearly turned purple. Darcy thought it was both hilarious and adorable how protective both men were being.

“I met Sam when sad puppy Steve brought him in after the whole mess in DC. I was visiting one of the Avengers facilities and saw him swooping around and oh, boy, I was Very Intrigued, to say the least.”

She winked suggestively at Sam, who smirked.

“I met Bucky here a few months later when he was on his Destroy All Hydra bases rampage and he happened to hit the one I was held hostage in. Normally, I’m pretty good at being self-rescuing, but Hydra is Hydra. He found me in the Nick of time.”

She gave Bucky a grateful look, and he nodded in acknowledgment, both feeling even more thankful for the rescue now.

“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of adventures, Darcy,” Sarah commented.

“Yeah,” Darcy chuckled. “It would probably be better for my nerves and blood pressure if I just hung around non-superheroes, but I’ve become too attached to them. They’re just so darn irresistible!”

She looked up at Sam with an exaggerated adoring smile and he gave her back a look that had her getting hot all over.

Bucky glowered and paid Sarah another compliment.

And so on it went until Sarah shooed the boys off to bed and Darcy was on the porch standing between Sam and Bucky, who were both piling up the spoken and unspoken threats.

“If you hurt her, Wilson, I’ll go full Winter Soldier on your ass!” Bucky growled.

“Oh, yeah? And if you hurt HER, I will drop your ass from five hundred feet, THEN feed you to the fishes!” Sam shot back.

“Down, Boys!” Darcy soothed, laying a hand on each of their arms.

“Sarah and I are perfectly capable of kicking the butts of whoever hurts us, but somehow, I don’t think either of you will. Now, can we all peaceably say goodbye, so I can give my man a Goodnight kiss?”

Grudgingly, the men shook hands and Bucky gave her a huge hug.

“Look me up when you get back to New York,” she told him. “I’ve got some old photos you might want so see.”

“I sure will, Darcy. Thank you. This means so much to me,” he said earnestly.

When Bucky had gone around to the back, Sam moved in close.

“Were you serious about that Goodnight kiss, Lewis?” He asked.

“Very serious,” Darcy grinned, rising up on tiptoes as he leaned down. It was a very good thing Bucky left, she reflected afterwards. Sam sure knew how to make a girl’s knees weak!

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Superpower

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~4,300

Summary: Bucky has an infatuation with The Incredibles that he might be taking too far. It takes some stern words from you to help him figure that out.

Warnings: A bit of angst, but also fluff, too

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and showing so much love to my last fic so much! I hope you all enjoy this one just as much. I like to write based off of little pieces of inspiration, so this time it was a tweet from Dr. Thema on Twitter and a response by Ashley C. Ford. I bolded both quotes since the quote-block format I usually use doesn’t fit right here!

...

“Super-strength is a superpower.”

“I never said it wasn’t. I was saying that you don’t have it.”

Bucky scoffs and folds his arms across his broad chest. In this moment it was hard to tell if he was puffing it out on purpose or if he had been putting in extra reps in the gym. Probably both, you decide. “Please, (Y/N), we just watched The Incredibles. We both know that I am literally Mr. Incredible.”

You couldn’t stifle your laugh. Two months ago, Bucky decided to catch up on all the movies he missed over the past seventy years. It took years to finally understand the internet, modern technology, and Wi-Fi (to be fair, you still aren’t exactly sure how that last one works, but you got the point across just fine). While Bucky had seen the basic movies: classic, old-timey movies, it was time to focus on the more enjoyable movies: kid movies. You watched Wall-E, making sure to explain the implications of that movie, Up, obviously you both cried, and Lilo & Stitch, an underrated classic.

Last night, in preparation for this mission, you’d insisted in watching The Incredibles. You thought it would hype him up for the tropical mission Steve was bringing him (and Sam) along on. And boy oh boy you were spot on. It had been twelve hours of nonstop Incredibles talk.

The night before, you two were snuggled up on the couch, mountains of blankets on top of you, bowls of popcorn and candy littered around you. Bucky’s arm slid around your back and you used the crook of his shoulder as a pillow. “What is going on here,” Bucky muttered to himself, squinting at the screen as the beginning of the movie started, Mr. Incredible fumbling around with his microphone.

You grinned in anticipation, wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him. “Isn’t it so cute?” You said into his chest.

Bucky shoves his mouth full of popcorn, laughing loudly at Frozen talking about babes and Mr. Incredible ranting about the world in jeopardy. You didn’t think that he’d be laughing this much already (you know it’s a cinematic masterpiece, but still); maybe this movie was just that relatable. Although you were just a desk jockey in the Avengers tower, you knew they were always off saving the world and sacrificing themselves to do so.

It was safe to say that Bucky clearly enjoyed the movie – it just felt so realistic to him. The next morning, he spent breakfast rambling on about the fact that Syndrome literally lived in a volcano; how could Mr. Incredible not know? Tony brought up the point that Hydra set up camp in the exact opposite climate, so Bucky should cut the animators some slack. Bucky was not having it. “Aren’t you technically Edna Mode?” He rhetorically asked Tony with a deadpan stare.

Tony scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt, before returning the glare to Bucky. “Remind me to talk to you about your hobo suit later.” With that, he left the kitchen, strutting down the hall, followed with him yelling: “no capes!” as Thor walked past him, the god raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Later that night, Bucky had to leave for a mission. You’d spent the afternoon in Bucky’s bed with each other, holding one another close; and where you tried to have some light pillowtalk, it ended up being about The Incredibles II after he got back. The two of you ended up in the shower to wash off the afternoon workout. While you were wrapped up in a robe, brushing your post-shower hair in the mirror, Bucky popped up behind you with just a towel around his waist. “Honey, have you seen my super-suit?” You could only roll your eyes and smile in response.

…

“Well if you’re Mr. Incredible, then I’m Mrs. Incredible.” You took a step closer to him, closing the space between you such that your chests are touching.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, dangerously close to the hem of your jeans. “I know,” he smiled, leaning forward to give you a kiss. “Those moves earlier? You’re even more flexible than her.”

“Cut it out, lovebirds,” Sam interrupted, his tone playful. “We don’t need a live show.”

Bucky drops his hands and leads you towards the hangar to where the jet was waiting. “All I’m saying is that I could definitely lift one of those train cars like he does. I could do more than one – ” he cuts himself off, stopping in his tracks. “(Y/N), I could juggle them.”

“Sure,” you hum, hooking your arm around his back and leaning into his side. “Although, when you think about it, you might be more of a cyborg than Mr. Incredibles, y’know?”

He groans, dropping his head and shutting his eyes. “But I don’t wanna be a cyborg.”

“We’ll watch Teen Titans then see how you feel.”

“Teen what?” He turned to stare blankly at you.

“Forget it, I’ll show you when you get back.” You smiled warmly up at him before he pulled you into a bear hug.

He kissed the top of your head and murmured “I love you” before pulling away.

“Love you, too, baby,” you responded softly. You sent him away with Steve and Sam, telling all of them to be safe before watching the jet take off.

With a sigh, you turned on your heel, seeing yourself out of the compound, heading back to your apartment. The streets of New York were busy despite the cold weather outside. Early November had its benefits: the streets were lined with orange, red, and brown as the trees were ready to shed their summer colors; but it also had its drawbacks: the streets were cold, and you could see your breath outside. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, pulling the collar closer around your exposed neck. If Bucky were here you already know he would’ve wrapped you up in his own coat to keep you warm, he would’ve held your hands in his own warm ones and nuzzled his nose against your own red nose. He was actually very sappy, when it came down to it. He was a sucker for you – constantly having to have his hands on you, make sure you were always warm.

You finished the thirty-minute walk to your apartment, taking your time to appreciate the fall scenery around you, glancing at all the Thanksgiving-soon-to-be-Christmas window displays, and enjoying the pumpkin scents around every corner. Pushing your door open, you were met with the warm heat and smell of the chrysanthemums Bucky had given you earlier that week. You tossed your keys to the side, shrugged your jacket off, and made a big mugful of hot chocolate.

You plopped down by the window and leaned your head on the glass, letting the steam from your drink warm your cheeks. You’d wondered in that moment where Bucky would be going exactly. He did mention it would be a tropical/forest vibe; the only thing you knew about that is that it’d be humid. Although you knew of Bucky’s disdain for cold, he wasn’t much of a fan of heat, either. He was much more of an autumn guy. You made a mental note to go for a walk through Central Park with him when he gets back.

He’d been gone for six days. Today was Thursday and you’d been stuck at your desk all morning. It hurt a little bit to have to walk to the Avenger’s Tower everyday without Bucky meeting you at the door (or Bucky walking with you to work, having spent the night before at your place) but you had to make do – paperwork needed to be completed.

Your eyes were aching from staring at your computer screen and your hand was cramping from all the scribbling you’ve been doing all day. The alternative was a coffee break in the café on the first floor – and you know what? Anything sounded better than work at the moment. You pop a post-it note on the door telling anyone looking for you that you’ll be back in ten. You make it to the elevator and straighten out your skirt as you stare at yourself in the reflection of the doors. Skirt a little wrinkled – nothing you can’t fix quickly in the elevator – button up shirt tucked in smartly, heels that made your feet ache, reading glasses that usually sit perched on your nose now shifted to sit on the top of your head, keeping your hair away from your face.

Despite how put-together you may look, you were exhausted and quite frankly, defeated. Not only was work kicking your ass lately but combined with the fact that Bucky was gone, and you hadn’t heard from him nearly wrecked you. Normally, he’d not take more than a day or two to reach out: a call or text simply to say he’s okay. You had to tell yourself that there was terrible reception wherever he was. That was going well for you, until you ran into Wanda one day on the elevator.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she greeted kindly, smiling wide as you entered the elevator next to her.

“Hi, Wanda, how have you been?” You responded. You’ve hung out with the Avengers at times. Usually your time with Bucky consisted of just the two of you, but sometimes you got the go-ahead to join their events and movie nights. Everyone welcomed you with open arms because not only was your personality so winning, but also you were the girl that brought Bucky out of his shell – in Sam’s words: “you made him sociable.”

“Good! It’s been busy around the complex, I’m sure you know already.” You’re not sure if she’s saying that because she’s aware of the pile of paperwork you’ve been working on for ages or if she can feel exhaustion radiating off your body.

“Yeah, you guys have given me a whole lot of paperwork,” you say, trying to give a hearty chuckle before awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

She nods and hums in response. “The boys have been busy,” she responds casually.

You bite your lip before taking a deep breath and nodding in affirmation. “I haven’t heard from Bucky lately, so I’d imagine so.”

She shrugs – again so casually. Can she not feel the fact you’re about to freak out right now? “Actually, nobody’s heard from any of them.” How did she just end that sentence like that? Nobody’s heard from them. Not with any of this trillion-dollar equipment – it can’t connect them one continent away? She senses your panic; there’s a change in your breathing and you eyes go wide, staring now directly at the floor. “(Y/N), no. I mean – they’re fine. Just because they haven’t said anything doesn’t mean – ”

The elevator dings and opens to your floor. You politely hold up your hand to her and smile. “I get what you’re saying, Wanda. Thanks for keeping me updated.” You shuffle out the door, calling out for her to have a good day.

You make it back to your office and don’t even try to stifle your loud sigh as you plop into your chair. Fuck.

…

So, it was sufficed to say you hadn’t slept very well since that interaction. It’s been three nights since she’s told you they were basically M.I.A.; you spent your nights rolling around in bed, holding his pillow to your chest, constantly checking your phone for any kind of notification from Bucky. Without hearing from him, you didn’t know how long he’d be gone; without hearing from him, you didn’t know if he was even okay. Screw your sleeping schedule, you just needed to make sure he was even alive.

You make your way back to your office, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee and as you swing the corner you hit a brick wall.

And there was a brick wall standing in the middle of the hallway.

You gaze up at the man, blue eyes staring directly into your own. He’s breathing a little fast, especially for someone who had been standing in front of your office door, staring at the post-it note for quite some time. His hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched – he was nervous; something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It wasn’t even until his hand reached out to you, stopping in mid-air in front of your shirt before you noticed the coffee that spilt down the front of your shirt. It was warm, sure, but your racing heart took precedence over the splash of liquid that coated your black shirt. “Sorry, (Y/N), I – ”

“It’s fine. When did you get back?” You don’t care about the coffee; you barely even felt it. You shifted the weight between your feet, squeezing the coffee cup in your hand. Why were you so nervous? There was so much tension in the air. Just staring at him as he waited patiently for you to return from your coffee run. Neither of you knowing what to say. Its like you were strangers.

He runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a deep breath. He was actually still in uniform; you didn’t notice until you asked that question. His face was grimy, slick with sweat and remnants of mud and maybe even some flecks of blood if you squint. He then scratched at the stubble gracing his chin. “Just now.” He still can’t breathe. How was he supposed to tell you? You were certainly going to kill him when you found out.

He didn’t know what to say. He was thinking about this the whole plane ride home, the whole walk to your office, the whole ten agonizingly long minutes he’d spent waiting outside your office. But now, looking into your curiously wide eyes, glazed over with concern – you were basically paralyzed in fear; if it weren’t for your incessant shifting. It was almost driving him crazy to look at someone who is about to jump out of their skin with fear, yet unsure of what move to make or what to say. “Where is he?”

And Steve swallowed hard. “He’s okay.” You stared straight into his soul. “Well, he’s – ”

“Steve.”

“He’s alive. He got shot. A couple times.” Each fragment that left his mouth was punctuated by the prompt shutting of his mouth. It was important to him to stop himself from saying too much. Your mouth actually dropped open. There was nothing left for you to say, but your jaw dropped. He reached out and took hold of your arms in his hands. “He’s alive,” he repeated, the words not resonating in your brain (and he could see that). “He’s in med-bay. (Y/N), he is fine.” He didn’t think he could be any clearer.

Nothing made sense. You felt as though you were asked to complete a 100-piece puzzle with only three-pieces. You were struggling to comprehend anything that came out of Steve’s mouth. Instead, you sharply turned on your heel. You were calm – this cannot be emphasized enough – you walked with your shoulders pulled back and gaze straight ahead; but you weren’t looking at anything, simply following your own muscle memory on your way to the med-bay.

Steve chased after you – he walked behind you, taking long strides as to not overtake you. He kept saying your name, telling you to calm down, but you already were. Except your heart was thumping out of your chest. You couldn’t even form any more questions for Steve. Obviously: “where was he shot” was a glaring question, “how close to death was he” is another; you can’t even put those words together right now.

You shove open the doors to med-bay, blatant disregard for the coffee still in your hand, splashing now-tepid liquid again on your shirt and sleeve. That’s when you see him: sprawled out on a cot that’s too small for him; his boots hung off the end of the bed, dry mud caked to the bottom of his heavy boots, flaking onto the floor. As soon as you’d shoved the door open, Steve following you in toe, Bucky’s head lifted towards you. He actually grinned.

You’d nearly fainted. His face was littered with cuts and scrapes, dirt around each wound scrubbed away by the doctor then coated in slick, clear antibiotic. His shirt was long gone, leaving him in his combat boots still riddled with weapons (visibly and concealed, you could only assume) and his dirty boots. His chest was completely bandaged; he was grateful you’d walked in after he’d already been covered because he knew that he’d be hearing an earful from you if you’d actually been able to see the damage. This way, you’d only be able to see the wounds to change the dressing probably hours from now. His body would be nearly healed.

“James.” It was stern. You weren’t mad, per say; you couldn’t be mad – you were glad he was even alive. You didn’t know why your tone was so harsh; you were pissed that he was shot, probably due to some heroic act of saving one of his teammates, or maybe he was just being careless? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to find out – they’d never tell you which it was, anyway.

“Hey, doll,” he says casually, already trying to schmooze his way back on your good side.

“James.” This time you breathed his name, finally getting close enough to put your hands on his chest – fingertips ghosting off the edge of the gauze, where the bandage met his collarbone. He took both your hands in his, pulling them together and placing them tenderly over his heart. There must have been six layers of gauze over him – not a speck of dirt or blood poking through.

“Baby, look at me,” he whispered. You flicked your eyes up to his worried ones. His eyebrows were drawn together, mouth pressed into a firm line. “I’m fine.”

“James,” you sobbed, tears that were once held at bay now falling freely down your cheeks and falling onto his pants. You choked back any more words, nodding furiously as you found it hard to breath. He pulled your arms and yanked you to the bed and now you were sitting beside him, his hands now cupping the back of your neck, cradling your head against where his neck meets his collarbone. He cooed softly into your hair, whispering sweet nothings as he rubbed your back up and down.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. And all you could do was nod against his skin, crying more and more as he pressed each kiss onto your head.

It was probably ten minutes of crying before you calmed down, now laying against him in silence, your eyes shut resting against his shoulder. “You know,” he whispered, pulling you from silence. “I always love seeing you in your work clothes. All smart and sexy.” You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, snuggling further into him. “But you smell like coffee.”

…

Bucky was barred from missions for three months. And while he was physically healed within a week and a half, Steve wasn’t so sure about his mental state – and you weren’t so sure either. Actually, it had been a more than pleasant three months. He started off doing physical therapy once a day, then adding in workouts and phasing out the therapy. This occupied maybe four hours per day. That meant that the rest of his free time he spent in your office, at your apartment, and in your bed.

That would be fine with you if you could confidently say that Bucky was one hundred percent okay.

Most of the time, he’d spend all day next to you being a total chatterbox – actually, he any willing conversation he had would be about the book you were reading, that one episode of friends the two of you watched last night, rambling on remodels of his place and if he should paint his dresser. It was the unwilling conversations that he had that concerned you.

The words he’d mumble to himself as he rolled around in your bed having a nightmare. Every time, you’d spend five minutes trying to wake him up. At first you started out by nudging him awake, it developed to the state that now you had to fully grab his arm and shake him wildly to get him up. You’d sit there, pulling your hands through his hair, whispering sweet nothings until he calmed down. Every time, you’d ask him if he wanted to talk about it; he’d say now. You then asked him to tell you – you pleaded for him to let you into that side of his life. You begged to understand and cried for him – with him.

It was no different tonight.

If he wouldn’t talk, then you would. “Baby, you can’t keep doing this.” He sat up in bed, sheets twisted around his legs, leaning over with his back pressed into the iron-rung headboard. It was cool against his hot skin – the only thing making it semibearable as the bars pressed into the tight muscles in his back. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s not good for you.”

He didn’t say anything. He stared straight in front of him, his hands clasped over one another on his lap. You held one of his forearms in both hands, dragging your fingers in light patterns softly over his skin. You continue pleading with him: “you can tell me anything. Please, I hope you understand that.”

With this, he peers up at you with sorrow filled eyes. You can barely see them in the dark. “I know I can. It’s not a big deal, though. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You drop his arm in frustration, instead bringing your hands up to your hair and gripping it tightly, feeling like pulling your hair out might be a better option than bringing this conversation where it needs to go. “You have these nightmares every night, James. It’s only getting worse. I can tell that you’re hurting, and it hurts me to see you like that. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, I can see that somethings wrong.”

He shrugs. “I can take it. Look, I’m sorry if I keep waking you up. I won’t stay over anymore.” He turns his head sheepishly towards his lap again, shoulders hunching forward. You know he thinks it’s a joke; he’s putting on an act. He wants you to curl up to his side, beg him to stay, make-out, have sex to take his mind off it, and fall asleep peacefully. You know because you’ve done it before. Multiple times.

God, he can be so annoying. “James.” Your stern tone had returned, you dropped your hands out of your hair and let them fall heavily on your lap. “A history of trauma can give you a high tolerance for emotional pain. Just because you can take it doesn’t mean you have to.”

He wasn’t sure what to do in that moment. There was nothing to say – nothing he could say. There wasn’t anything he could follow that up with; not a joke, not a sound, not even an intelligent sentence. He instead stared down at his hands, not even moving a muscle, not even to blink.

You were calm once again. You knew that your words had finally gotten through to him. Your relationship was strong: you’d built an emotional connection such that you two could be in the middle of the most serious discussions and still be able to crack a joke. But the both of you knew this wasn’t the time. That’s why he still hadn’t said anything: he didn’t have a smartass response, nor a comment he could make to get out of this one.

“Suffering is not a superpower.”

And with those final words, Bucky broke, his face contorting in pain, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling into an open frown. His shoulders shook slowly as he struggled to breath, holding his face in his hands. You couldn’t sit idly by, so you grabbed his hands and swung a leg over him, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist so he had something to hold on to; his arms wrapped tighter around you as his head dropped to the front of your chest, quietly sobbing into your shirt. You secured your arms around him, looping them over his shoulders and around his neck.

You sat there absorbing his tears, not saying a word, not even whispering a small “shh.” It was about time he let his emotions out and you weren’t about to cut him off now. You’d spent every waking moment with him (save for his workouts and physical therapy) so you knew how long this emotional release had been building up inside of him. Every once and a while everyone needs a good cry – Bucky hadn’t had one in years.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there. His sobs turned into quiet sniffles turned into calm, steady breathing. You knew this conversation was far from over. He needed therapy, or at the least needed to vent to you more often. Whatever solution you two would come up with could wait until the morning. Right now, he needed rest, he needed tranquility.

You didn’t know if he was asleep, and hell, you, yourself, were almost asleep. It wasn’t until he broke the silence when you got your answer. “Can we watch The Incredibles II?”

[nat-roman0ff]

pushing 21

pushing 21 ---

shawn’s 21st birthday isn’t quite going the way he’s planned. his girlfriend breaks up with him, his best friend is in love with him, and now he’s stuck in an elevator. best or worst bday ever?

---

warnings: drinking, swearing, and other fun shit words: 6k

---

“You’ve gotta get up dude, this is just sad,” you say, pulling on Shawn’s arm. 

 He’s on a small break from tour, just a few extra days to enjoy his twenty-first birthday with friends and family from back home in New York City. Right now he was in the middle of a mental breakdown in his hotel room, while the entirety of the party waited downstairs in the restaurant and bar for him. 

 “No. I’m too sad to function. I’m not going down there. I’ll ring in twenty-one with a bottle of tequila and my tears,” he mutters face down into his pillow. 

 It had been less than six hours ago that his girlfriend of just about a year broke up with him. You’d never liked her much anyways - he deserved better than some halfwit twat with perfect hair and a pretty smile. You knew what kind of slime hid behind that veneer smile and it was probably for the best that she’d dumped him.

 You tug again on his muscular arm, “she was a shitty person! You deserve better. Fuck - she did you a favor breaking up with you. Remember when she threw a hissy fit because her lipstick didn’t match her dress? You really want to deal with that the rest of your life?” 

 Shawn rolls his head over to glare at you, “no, but when she didn’t talk she was nice to be around.” 

 You roll your eyes, “she was an emotional terrorist, get your ass up.” 

 “No.” 

“Shawn Peter-” you point your finger, “get your lame ass out of bed and get downstairs to your fucking party that all your friends and family came out here for.” 

 He pouts, “fine, but only because you told me to.”

 Shawn manages to get himself out of bed and into a change of clothes. He still frowns and drags his feet as you pull him out of the hotel room and into the elevator like a toddler on a leash. He shuts his eyes and leans his head back against the elevator wall and folds his arms tight across his chest and you watch how the muscles in his biceps strain against the fabric of his red button up shirt. You momentarily lose your concentration and the drop of the elevator startles you.

 “Hey,” he nudges your side with his elbow, opening one eye to look at you, “thanks.” 

 “For what?” You ask.

 “For not thinking I’m such a bitch about this whole breakup thing. You’re the only one who has actually cared to help me through it.” 

 Your heart swells then deflates. For years you’d wanted Shawn all to yourself; unrequited love and all that bullshit. But you didn’t want to ruin a lifelong friendship over a crush, so you watched him make mistake after mistake with girls who were more interested in being seen on his arm than finding out what his favorite 80’s movie was (which is Top Gun, strangely enough). He fell for it each time and every time he got his heart stomped on. Shawn had a terrible habit of only seeing the best in people and completely ignoring all the bad. 

 “Oh, I still think you’re a bitch,” you joke, giving him a lighthearted smile, “but you know I’m always your shoulder to cry on.” 

 He rests his head on your shoulder. A few more seconds pass and the elevator doors ding open. You can see from the lobby that the party inside is already in full swing, people laughing and dancing with drinks in their hands. The low lighting makes everyone’s glow effervescent, in a warm bubble of happiness. Shawn grabs your hand, sliding his fingers through yours to interlock them. He gives your hand a squeeze before pulling you to the bar with him. 

 “You having your usual?” He asks and you nod, “two gin and tonics please,” he requests from the bartender. 

 “Go mingle, I’ll bring your drink over when it’s ready,” you say and Shawn drops your hand. You let yourself remember the warm feeling of his clammy hand in yours before letting it go. It was best to not let such things get to you.

 “Alright,” he shrugs and gives you a peck on the cheek, “but don’t be too long!” 

 You hold your smile until he turns and walks away. It wasn’t like you were so wrapped up in being in love with him that you couldn’t function. You could, but some days were harder than others and sometimes you thought, well just get on with it and tell him, and others you were reminded that a stupid boy wasn’t worth ruining almost fifteen years of friendship over.

 “Jesus Christ you look like you just watched someone get murdered,” Brian says, slinking in front of you and finishing the last sip of his beer. 

 “I’m fine, Bri,” you state as the bartender places the two glasses in front of you, “just dealing with Shawn and his lady troubles.” 

 Brian rolls his eyes and plucks up Shawn’s gin and tonic, downing it in a couple gulps, “well I’m here to enjoy myself and so should you, drink up,” he taps the side of his empty glass against your full one. 

 “Ah, fuck it,” you mumble to yourself, chugging down the entirety of the glass in just a few swishes. The gin burns the back of your throat slightly, the aftertaste making the inside of your cheeks tingle. 

 “That’s the spirit!” Brian throws his hands up, “I’ll never get why you two drink these, it tastes like fermented pine tree.” 

 You shrug and suck on the lime wedge that rimmed the glass, “don’t know. All I know is it gets me very drunk very quick. I’ll have two more, please,” you request from the bartender.

 Brian ruffles the top of your hair, his ginger hair matching the burning flush of his bar burned cheeks, “I’ll leave you to it then, I have some girls to go talk to!” 

 “Be safe, Casanova!” You yell after him, he waves you off and muddles back in with the crowd. 

 The bartender brings over the second set of drinks and you pluck them up and begin wandering around, looking for Shawn. You find him in almost an instant, he’s boring a group of his Pickering friends to death about the history of Fender Rhodes. They all look at him with a blank stare and you giggle to yourself before coming up next to him. 

 “Got your drink,” you say, and his eyes light up when he sees you (or the drink, you haven’t figured that out yet).

 He plucks the Gin and Tonic from your hand and wraps his free arm over your shoulders. He continues to bore his best of friends but it’s Shawn and everyone loves Shawn so they nod and let him talk until he’s done. 

 “No you gotta see it, let me show you -” he reaches for his pocket only to realize his phone is missing. 

 “Shit, do you have your phone?” He asks you.

 You shake your head, “no I left it upstairs.” 

 His brow furrows, “why’d you leave it there?” 

 “I’m wearing a romper,” you reply, and he misses the mark.

 “You say that like I’m supposed to understand what that means besides the fact that you have to pee naked,” Shawn puts his hand on his hips. 

 One of his female friends giggles, “you guys are so cute together, the banter kills me every time. Please explain to me why the two of you haven’t dated yet?” 

 Shawn immediately makes a face at her, “gross,” he grimaces.

 You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you’re thankful for the dim lighting, “I don’t have any pockets, plus maybe I wanted to live in the moment instead of on my fucking phone,” you say with a little extra poison in your voice and tears burning your eyes. You excuse yourself from the group and leave the restaurant. Standing in the hotel’s lobby you debate on going back to the room or going outside, you choose outside.

 It’s silly to feel like this, but you’ve always hoped that for every time his heart cracks open more from some floozy girl that it’d bring him closer to you. It never did, and you felt more and more foolish each time. Shawn was never going to be yours. 

 You let the warm summer air wash over you when you step outdoors onto the bustling sidewalk. The stone wall behind you is rough on your bare back as you slide down it, and you can feel all the microscopic cuts and scrapes against your flesh but physical pain is sometimes easier than emotional pain, so you welcome it in the brief moment.

 A few deep breaths and you manage to soak it all back in, pushing it down into the deepest crevices inside of you. He will never be yours, and you will never be his and the sooner you realize that, the better. You can’t help but feel a little pitiful in moments like these. He’s probably back inside, talking with some new girl and talking with his friends, while you were sitting in what was probably some hobo’s old piss, feeling sorry for yourself. 

 “What’s got you so glum? I’m the one who got dumped on their birthday.” 

 You look up to see Shawn looking down at you. He looks just as melancholy as you do, his cheeks still pink and puffy from crying earlier. He chews his bottom lip waiting for an answer from you. 

 “Sorry - I just started feeling light headed. Lots of people, had to sit down,” you lie. 

 He doesn’t buy it, “you’re sitting on the pavement. I can guarantee you someone has pissed or barfed there before.” 

 You look down at the crumbling gray sidewalk underneath you. It probably wasn’t the cleanest place in New York City to be caught up in your feelings.

 Shawn reaches his hand out to you, “here - I need to grab my phone, come with me and we’ll talk about whatever is going on, deal?”

 You sigh, “do I have to?” 

 He crouches down, lifting your face by your chin and forcing you to look at him, “yes, you do. Want to know what’s going on with you lately.” 

 Shawn searches for something in your eyes but you’ve spent too many years perfecting your poker face, so he doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see your eyes pleading your love for him, doesn’t see the lines in your face from the days you’ve spent worrying over him, and misses the way you lose just a little light in your eye with you’re forced to pretend you aren’t holding back ten years of repressed love for your best friend deep inside your soul.

 “Come on,” he stands up and wiggles his fingers for you to latch on, his smile widens when you do and he tugs you to your feet, brushing your hair from off your shoulders, “see, wasn’t so hard.” 

 His arm swings around your shoulders as you walk together towards the elevator. A girl comes running towards the two of you from the party and stops Shawn, “hey! Are you coming back?” She bites her bottom lip in that I’m trying to flirt with you but not seem obvious but in trying not to be obvious comes out as overly desperate and sad kind of way.

 “Sure,” he nods, holding you a little tighter against him, “we’ll be back shortly.” 

 You almost miss the deadly glare she sneers at you before flashing her pearly whites at Shawn, “damn what’s that like?” 

 Shawn hits the up arrow on the elevator button and raises an eyebrow at you, “what’s what like?” 

 “Her, girls like that. Just like...being this entity that everyone wants to be with and around. She was totally flirting with you and gave me the grossest death glare when she saw your arm around me.” 

 He pecks your temple, “wanna go fuck her up?” 

 You shrug, “a little, actually.” 

 Shawn lets out a breathy laugh and pulls you into him as you both enter the elevator, “and it’s not like anything,” his voice is light, just above a whisper, as the doors slide shut, “I don’t want that. I do my best to avoid that. But I keep distracting myself because there’s only one thing I want.” 

 You look up at him and his eyes are wide, “like what?” 

 The doors slide open just as he presses his lips against yours, “you,” he whispers against them.

 You snap back to reality when someone taps your thigh with their shoe. Your daydream and the feeling of Shawn’s soft lips fade when you look up from your hidden face to Shawn standing next to you. 

 “Who shit in your Apple Jacks this morning, Tiny Tits?”

 He takes a sip of his drink and waits for your answer. 

 You groan and hide your face back in your tucked up knees, “God, I hate you. Go back inside, Shawn.”

 “Alright,” he shrugs, and you tug on his pantleg. 

 “I’m kidding,” you say, looking up, “and my tits aren’t that tiny,” you pull at the front of your top to look, “shit who am I kidding -”

 He smiles that big doofy smile that you love, “you know I wasn’t going to leave you that easy anyways, and your tits are lovely, you know I’m more of an ass man anyways and that’s all that matters. What’s up? Why are you sitting on the street?” 

 You cover your face again, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

 Shawn crouches down beside you and pulls your head up by your ponytail, he sips from the little red straw in his drink and narrows his eyes at you, “you’re a really weird fucking girl. But you’re my best friend, and I’m going to be damned if I let you sit here outside on some random New York City sidewalk even if you do refuse to tell me what’s wrong.” 

 You pout and he releases your hair gently, “I won’t tell you,” you pluck the drink out of his hand, “but I will finish your drink.”

 Shawn scoffs and stands, “that’s it, you’re replaced. It’s Brian’s time to step up as MVP BFF. Time to hand in your friendship bracelet,” he snaps the homemade colorful plastic beads on his wrist.

 You pretend to be offended and shake your matching bracelet, “how dare you. Brian would never sit up until four in the morning watching Golden Girls reruns with you.” 

 “That’s was supposed to be our secret!” 

 You both side eye each other until you crack up together.

 “Come on,” Shawn reaches his hand out and you accept, “I need to run back to my room to grab my phone and could use your company. If I have to hear about another frat party I might just die.”

 “Don’t be so dramatic, darling,” you tut, ruffling his hair.

 You bow as he holds the door open for you, “you also sat in gum,” he peels a thick glob of pink bubblegum off your butt.

 “I’ve sat on worse.” 

 Shawn has to bite his lip to stop himself from saying what his fourteen year old boy mind wants to say, “what’s his name?” He chuckles. 

 You punch him hard in the bicep and he wails in faux agony, “Oh my god. You’ve done it. You’ve broken my arm. I may never play again. My career is over.” 

 “Good,” you mutter, pressing the up button. 

 Shawn leans against the closed doors and pulls you in with both hands when they open, backing himself into the wall. You lose your footing and fall into him, your chest bumping into his and he has the biggest shit eating grin on his face. His arms wrap around your shoulders as he holds you closer to him. 

 “I’m really glad you made it here for my birthday. It wouldn’t be the same without my bestie,” he kisses your temple and you hide your blush in his shoulder. 

 You feel the elevator shutter and the lights flicker, you both look at each other slightly panicked, but the elevator keeps moving. 

 Until it doesn’t.

 It stops with a jolt and the lights go out. Shawn screams a bloody murder scream and even in the darkness you slap a palm over his mouth. 

 “Shut up, you scream like a little girl,” you groan.

 The emergency lights turn on, they’re dimmer but it at least provides some sort of light in the tiny space that seems even smaller now that you aren’t moving. You take a few steps back from Shawn to the panel by the door.

 “You think anyone knows we’re stuck?” Shawn asks, coming up behind you, his hand searching for yours to hold. 

 Shawn’s hated the dark since you were kids. As much as you want to make fun of him in the situation, you bite your tongue and decide this wouldn’t be the best time to call him a pussy.

 You punch the emergency button on the panel and hear a loud intercom beep. 

 “Yes, hello. How may I assist? Press the intercom button to reply,” a calm female voice says. 

 Shawn just looks at you and raises an eyebrow, he reaches around you to press the intercom button, “uh, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator. Just trying to get back to our room and the elevator stopped and the lights went out. Only the emergency lights are on now.” 

 She laughs in that weird, manufactured customer service type of way, “oh, don’t worry. Just sit tight and we’ll get it back up and running in no time! I’ll put on some soothing music to help pass the time and calm those nerves.” 

 You and Shawn simultaneously groan when the saxophone music starts playing. Shawn backs into the corner and plops onto the ground, “if I die in this elevator listening to Kenny G, please, please tell my mother I loved her and I lied all those years I told her I actually liked Yorkshire pudding.”

 It only takes three steps to close the space between the two of you. You sit down on the floor in front of him and slap him across the face, “you’re not going to die on an elevator. And how dare you say that you don’t like Karen’s Yorkshire pudding,” you point your finger at him, “that shit is the bomb.”

 “Neither of us even have a phone to tell everyone that we’re stuck in here,” he curls into a ball and lays on his side, “happy birthday to meeeee!” Shawn whines. 

 You lay down with him, “we’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take them long to fix it. Probably just need to restart something. You’ll get back to your party and your girls in no time,” you mock.

 Shawn scrunches his face, “my girls? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 You roll your eyes, “I’m not dumb Shawn. It’s your twenty-first birthday, you just got dumped. I’m sure you’ll be going to bed with someone tonight. Brian was already scoping out the game.” 

 “That’s Brian,” he snaps, “that’s not me.” 

 He sits up and folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the elevator wall, “you really think I’m some shmucky guy like that?” 

 “No,” you scoff, “but you’re young and successful and single and it’s your fucking birthday. I don’t know. Just thought you might want to have a little extra fun.” 

 “Well I’m having plenty of extra fun being stuck on this stupid elevator with you and not trying to get some girl to sleep with me just because it’s my birthday,” he says the last word in a mocking tone.

 You shake your head, “you’re not having fun.” 

 Shawn shrugs, “I always have fun with you, no matter what we’re doing. Whether we’re at a concert or high on edibles searching for munchies on Uber Eats or stuck in an elevator on my birthday. I always enjoy the time I get to spend with you,” he nudges you with his foot, “you’re my best friend.” 

 Those words hit you like a thousand knives to the gut every time. Not that you didn’t love being his best friend, but it just...sucked. It sucked knowing you’d never be anything more than that to him.

 “Am I more fun than Brian?” You jest, biting your lower lip.

 “Of course you’re more fun than Brian, but don’t tell him I told you that. He’d probably try and kick my ass. Now come here!” He pats the empty spot next to him. 

 You crawl over on your hands and knees to him and he pulls you onto his lap. Situations like this aren’t so uncommon. You’ve spooned on the couch, shared a bed, slept beside each other. It was never unusual or crossing a boundary, you felt comfortable in his arms, and he felt safest when holding you.

 Neither of you say anything for a few moments and just relish in the closeness of proximity and heart. Shawn taps out the beat of the terrible sax music on your skin and you wonder if it’s a musician thing or a nervous tick. Shawn had a lot of those. He sighs and rolls his head over to to look at you and you purse your lips into someone of a smile and he shuts his eyes.

 Something clicks inside Shawn then, a soft of realization of all his pieces fitting into place and it just fucking clicks. Looking at you, stuck alone in an elevator while his friends and family were all downstairs to celebrate him. He wasn’t even the slightest bit mad. He couldn’t even find a drop of it hidden somewhere deep in him to justify. Being here, with you, was the only place he wanted to be, and you were the only person he wanted to be with.

 It. Just. Fucking. Clicks.

 You were always the girl who was around to lift his spirits after a bad day, openly talked to him about his struggles with mental illness without (much) judgement, he loves you. Like, really fucking loves you and he can’t figure out why every time he gets into a relationship with some dull girl he can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s not even like that. He doesn’t picture you naked (except maybe that one or twenty times), he thinks about how your day went; how your classes were. Did you enjoy your morning latte from your favorite coffee shop? Did you get to pet Mrs. Tanguay’s cat on the way home from work?

 Shawn finally realizes the reason why you take up a hundred and fifty percent of his brain;

 He’s in love with you too. 

 His mum always said it happens like that too; you’ll stumble over yourself a thousand times before you realize what (or in this case, who is right in front of you). She always says that you don’t fall in love, you just sort of find it. He realizes he’s been stumbling for years and feels a burning hate for how long it’s taken him to figure it out.

 A sort of sweaty nervousness crawls up his skin and suddenly he’s nervous to touch you. He’s hot and cold all at once and his fingertips shake as he holds you tighter. 

 “Shawn your heart is racing,” you shift your body to look at him, “is it the small space? Are you going to have a panic attack? This music is so not calming -” 

 “I’m fine,” he lies.

 He’s thankful when the intercom beeps and the woman on the other side speaks, “okay kids! We’ve got eyes on you and you’re going to be just fine! We have the fire department coming out to get you. You’re stuck between floors so it might take them a couple hours -” 

 “HOURS!?” You both yell in unison.

  Shawn scrambles to the panel on the elevator wall and presses the intercom button, “ma’am I know it’s not your fault and I know you’re just doing your job but we really can’t be stuck in this elevator for hours.” 

 She does that creepy little giggle again, “oh not to worry! I’ll play some more music for you, and we’ll make sure the NYFD are to you shortly!” 

 Defeated, Shawn throws up his hands and sprawls across the floor. You crawl closer to him and lay down, resting your head on his stomach, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending your twenty-first birthday,” you chuckle. 

 Shawn groans, “actually, it’s us. I can believe it.” 

 You snort, “this is kinda like the time we went to Portugal to visit your grandma and got stuck in her garden shed for six hours.” 

 “I’m almost positive she locked us in there.”

 “True, we were really annoying as kids, weren’t we?” You chuckle. 

 Shawn finds your hand and holds it in his, resting your intertwined fingers on his chest, “we’re really annoying as adults.” 

 “Valid.”

 ---

 “Okay...would you rather: open mouth kiss a frog, or let someone with braces give you a blowjob?” 

 Shawn scoffs, “I swore after Lizzy McDonald in tenth grade I would never let someone with braces give me a blowjob. I don’t trust all that metal near my Crown Jewels. I’ll take the frog.”

 You’re both laying on your backs, side by side with your legs raised in the air and resting against the elevator wall. According to Shawn’s watch, it’s 3am, meaning his party ended roughly two hours ago. Without either of you having phones and no way to reach your friends downstairs, you’re only certain that when you finally do get to your room, there will be a mass of text messages and missed calls. 

 “Fair enough. My turn. Would you rather -” 

 You stop when the elevator shakes and the main lights flicker back on. You and Shawn stare at each other as the elevator begins moving again. Scrambling to stand, you throw your arms around each other to hug in celebration, and breathe a massive sigh of relief when the doors open to your floor. 

 As predicted, there are missed calls and texts from...everyone. The two main conclusions are: Shawn was sad that he got dumped on his birthday and decided to cry about it in his room and...you two were “finally” hooking up.

 “Honestly, I’m so fucking tired that I don’t even care to respond right now. I’ll explain everything to everyone in the morning,” Shawn says, throwing himself on the king sized bed.

 You sit next to him, “I feel bad we didn’t get to celebrate your birthday though,” you rub his back through his shirt, “do you still want to go out and do something?”

 “I still have that bottle of tequila if you wanna crack that open,” he suggests, although his groggy voice pressed into the mattress begs otherwise.

 You lay down beside him, “don’t have to, you know. We can do whatever. Go to bed, if you want, although that’s super fucking lame.” 

 “Welcome to the Super Fucking Lame Show starring Shawn Mendes,” he deadpans.

 You smack his butt and sit back up, “no! I’m not going to let you be lame. We just got stuck on a goddamn elevator for nearly five hours, there is no way in Hell I am letting you miss out on your birthday.”

 Shawn rolls onto his back, “actually technically it’s not even my birthday anymore.” 

 You point a finger at him, “don’t push me, Mendes. Put your shoes back on.” 

 He unwillingly obliges, but not before dumping out a water bottle and filling it with tequila. 

 “What are we, fifteen again?” You snark.

 He takes a swig, his face scrunching as the liquid burns down his throat, “here for a good time not a long time,” he says, handing you the bottle. 

 It’s not until you feel the liquid fire down your throat that you forget how much you fucking hate tequila. Shawn caps the bottle and shoves it in your purse before slinging it over his shoulder, “have to hold the purse for m’lady.” 

 You cringe, “please don’t ever call me that again.”

 His heart drops to his ass when you give him that look. It’s not a new or different look, it’s the one when he says or does something stupid that you find funny but you’ll never admit it out loud. It’s the look when he warms your heart but you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he did. But he does, and he knows. Every time.

 “So where are we going?” He asks as you walk to the elevator.

 Before answering, you both exchange glances before blurting “stairs” in unison.

 “There’s a really cute diner I saw on Instagram. They make these like, crazy looking big ass waffle things with like candy and ice cream on them. All sorts of stuff. It’s open twenty-four hours so I figured we could try it out. 

 Shawn shrugs, “after everything that’s happened today, honestly fuck everything. I’m ready to eat this entire city.”

 You laugh and he grabs your hand. He forgets how good it feels, even though he’s held it about a thousand times during the course of your friendship. The two of you practically run down the stairs, hand in hand, panting once you’ve reached the last floor. 

 The hotel lobby is dead, the lights of the restaurant are dark and everything is empty except for the night desk clerk behind the hotel’s front desk. Shawn pulls the water bottle of tequila from your purse and takes a swig before passing it to you.

 “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you take another shot of it. This one goes down easier but the burn is still there. You blame the lack of food in your system, and being a light weight for the fuzzy feeling that you start feeling in your head. 

 The warm summer night air hits you like a thousand bricks in the face. It’s thick and hot, low and heavy in the sky. The humidity had risen significantly since you were last outdoors and your skin is already feeling damp and clammy. Shawn never lets go of your hand though. You find it strange because he’ll do it here and there, but then drop it because he’s too busy on his phone, or he just needs to break the contact. But now, despite the warm clamminess of his hands, you weren’t letting go either. 

 Luckily the diner isn’t too far. When you arrive there’s only a few people. It’s not until the fluorescent lights hit you that you realize how tipsy you are. You practically stumble into the booth with Shawn sitting across from you, a blaze in his cheeks and a crooked smile on his face. 

 “Do you think we can get one of everything?” He asks, looking up at you over the top edge of the menu. 

 “You’re paying, so you can order whatever you want.” 

 He slams the menu down, “but it’s my birthday.” 

 You look at your phone, “not as of...four hours ago. Now it’s just Friday.” 

 Shawn’s eyes narrow and he picks the menu back up, “fuck, you’re good.”

 He playfully kicks your foot under the table and you can’t help but smile at him. You both order coffee and the kind waitress pours it into two matching white mugs with roadmap-like hairpin cracks along the edge of the mouth. The jukebox in the corner plays oldies music and Shawn sways his body back and forth to the rhythm. 

 He finally settles on two different entrees: the chicken and waffles stack, and the birthday cake pancakes. You order a simple omelette with the promise of being able to pick at some of Shawn’s food (he only puts up a fight because he thinks you’re cute when you’re mad at him for saying no).

 The two of you gobble up your food quickly, taking sneaky shots of tequila between bites and by the time you’re finished you’re both too buzzed to stop laughing at each other. There’s something different about him now, in the way that he looks at you. You’re not sure if it’s the booze or the late hour playing tricks on your mind but he looks at you like he’s in love, like he’s staring at the whole world in front of him. His brown eyes go soft and his lips curl upward ever so slightly and it takes all of your willpower not to trace them with your finger, to memorize every dimple and curve of his face and how it feels under your fingertips. 

 He knows you love him back - he supposes he known all along but always thought you were too good to love someone like him like that. You were too giving, too caring, too fucking perfecly made for him for you to ever be in love with him too. And now in his drunken haze he figures now is probably the most perfect time to tell you how he feels. 

 But instead he throws up on the black and white patterned linoleum. 

 After a thousand and one apologizes to the waitress, the two of you pay and stumble back out onto the streets of New York. The humidity feels even more impossibly heavy now and you can feel a line of sweat building around your hairline. Shawn’s already sweaty from vomiting, and this surely isn’t helping. You make a quick stop at a bodega for a bottle of water and a pack of minty chewing gum and end up on a bench outside the gates of central park. 

 “Feeling better?” You ask, taking a sip of your water. 

 Shawn shakes his head no, “I’m never drinking straight tequila again.” 

 You shrug, “they do say it’s all downhill after twenty-one.” 

 “Who’s they?” He asks. 

 You bob your head from side to side, “me, I’m they.” 

 “You’ve been saying everything’s downhill since you were ten.” 

 You snap your gum, “very true.” 

 It’s terrifying, Shawn thinks, to know someone inside and out. But he knows you in all of your facets, good and bad and he loves you for each and every one of them. He loves how stubborn you are, for all the right reasons. You aren’t stubborn for the sake of being difficult, but because you’re passionate about the things you love and also you do get a strange thrill of getting a rise out of him sometimes. Shawn feels himself falling for you harder as each second passes, admiring the most seemingly insignificant pieces of you. The more he free falls the more guilt builds up that he’s wasted so much time and so much of his heart on people who didn’t deserve it when he could’ve given it to you from the start but he promises himself there on that park bench that he will spend the rest of his life making it up to you. 

 Shawn rests his head on your shoulder, “the suns coming up soon,” he yawns. 

 “Want to head back now?” You ask. 

 “No,” he points ahead between two buildings that give a perfect view of the horizon, “I want to watch it with you.” 

 You smile and rest your head on top of his, looping your arm through the crook of his and curling into his side, “Shawn,” you say. 

 “Yeah?” His answer is barely a whisper. 

 “I love you.” 

 You’re the first one to say it and despite the hundred times you’ve played this moment out in your head you aren’t scared. You suppose it’s the dwindling alcohol processing through your system that’s making you brave but you’re not scared for his response. It feels so fucking good to say it out loud after so long. 

 “I know,” Shawn says, squeezing you tighter, “and I love you too.”

 You lift your head to look at him, your brain unable to process the words that just left his tongue. He’s looking at you in that soft way he has been all night and morning. 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it,” he finishes. 

 You don’t say anything, and he kisses you soft and slow, as the sun rises and pours its light between skyscrapers, flooding the city with a new, beautiful day.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Vietnam, New York and Hawkins (Sriracha, Part 35.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Coming back to Hawkins meant only one thing in Hopper‘s mind. Bringing all the memories down, bringing the relationship in front of another test. But this one was about to show you if this is the over or not.

A/N: It gets intense. Intense, my babez. Because my Hopper detective story book just arrived and isnpired me for some cool stuff.

Warnings: ANGST: Serious angst. They go hard on each other this time.

Word count: 3.1 K

Tagging:  @nemodoren, @creedslove, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy​

Master list: H E R E

You took a pretty long time before getting better. It was three days of you having high fever, coughing, and not being able to move. You barely gained some consciousness; not even when Harrington or Hopper came to check up on you. When the doctor came to see you, he asked your mom to keep the eye on you - keep you hydrated, sometimes waking you up to have at least a slice of bread or to take a piss.

You were done for. Nobody was that surprised about that since you laid down onto the snow only in a dress on a stormy night. Some obvious consequences were coming for you.

But you did wake up one morning at felt normal enough to at least walk downstairs to have breakfast. Your legs hurt like living fuck, you could barely walk and every step you took was taken with a half-screamed cuss. Your mom was in the kitchen, listening to a mixtape that was familiar to you.

You, before you entered the kitchen, stood there for a while; it were the Romantics because, of course, she found your old mix in one of the boxes that mysteriously disappeared out of your room. They were there before you got sick - but they were gone when you woke up. And it wasn‘t pleasant to hear that fucking song when you had a dream that Jim carried you home in his fucking arms when he wasn‘t even there.

“Hey, who you‘re hiding from, jackass?” - Someone circles arms around your waist and picked you up, making you scream. - “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, you stink.” - Aiden laughed into your ear before hugging you tight. He didn‘t make it on Christmas, but now, you had that bastard home.

“Hi, oh Lord, you‘re so big, fuck-face.” - You mumbled before hugging him once again. You were a bit delirious since you were out of order for the last four days.

“How did you called your sister, young man? And what about you, young lady?” - Your mom came forward, making you both jump, your old dog following her. That reminded you about the songs playing once again. Your and Jim‘s playlist. The one tape he bought you in  ‘83 and to which you added more and more songs.

“How are you? We‘ve been worried.” - Aiden asked you and made sure you followed him to the kitchen to eat something.

“It was pretty wild. I had some crazy dreams, I must‘ve fainted in the restaurant I was at with Steve. Was he mad?” - You asked quietly, nibbling at a piece of pomelo you took from the table.

“Why you think so?” - Your mom asked as you sit down the table, having Aiden pouring you a cup of coffee. You nodded, trying to think of the words to express what was on your mind.

“It was like... I was there with Steve and we noticed a hobo standing in the storm. Steve went to talk to the man, then sent me there... And it was like... Jim standing in front of me. I must’ve slipped and hit my head real hard.” - You looked at Aiden, who was giving you a look back. - “It hurt. To see him. But it was so nice at the same time.”

“But... He’s here.” - Your mom stated carefully. You almost spat the pomelo back on the table when your stomach contracted with sudden pain. Your hand was trembling and you were... You couldn’t understand what was happening around you.

“Jim carried you home that night. He looks bad and he was through a lot, you can just see it on him. And he didn’t want to talk about it with any of us.” - She continued more quietly. You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. How many times are you going to go through that? Having Hopper by your side only for him to disappear again? You didn’t know what was worse - losing him, again, for a long time, thinking he had died and giving up on your life or... To have him back, not knowing when will he disappear again.

You haven’t even spoken to him, you haven’t seen him properly, but you were already afraid that if he’s back, it surely means that one day, he will disappear again. What kind of a sick joke was all of this? Were you ready to see him? Did you want to talk to him? Did you need an apology?

“Hey, come on, sis, calm down.” - Aiden caught your face into his palms, making you look at him. Great. Now, you had tripped out again. You had another of your panic attacks and broke down in tears and fear without realizing it. - “You’re good, come on. You’re not alone in this.” - Your younger brother whispered to your hair, making you slip into the embrace.

Your mom wasn’t glad to see you like this. But this time, just as the last time, Jim had a reason not to come back for a long time. Even though he was presumed dead for the last six months, leaving you alone with Eleven. And if your mom knew something about Hopper it was that Hopper was a good guy. He treated you and your baby girl with respect and love, so even if it was breaking her to see you so desperate, he deserved a chance to speak up. To tell you what happened before you’d tell him to go to hell.

“He’s not here... Not now. Have a bath, take a while to come around that information, talk to the man. He looks miserable enough. Maybe even more miserable than you, sis.” - Aiden chuckled to your ear. You straightened yourself slowly, gently wiping the tears away. You were nodding. Aiden helped you to the stairs.

“I’m taking parents to New Orleans for the weekend to meet Lena’s parents. You two will have plenty of space and time to talk. Yell at him, break some plates, call him a jackass, just try it with him, yeah?” - Aiden reassured and you nodded again, trying to calm yourself down. - “Wherever that son of a bitch was, he came back from the hell and searched for you in the worst night he could try it on. That’s what I call fucking love.”

Aiden was probably right... For the most part. That could be seen as love. But were you really in love with Hopper at that time? Or was it the memory you’ve carried in your head? Was it the wish you had in your heart? Or were you in love with the real Jim?

Were you still in love with the guy who was taking Tuinal out of prescription, who had bad nightmares, who was broken-hearted so many times it turned him aggressive, paranoid, and hurt? That dude who fucked almost every bachelorette in Hawkins before you made him settle down? Would you still give up on your scholarship if you had to make the decision again? Would you stay there for him if you’d how much pain waits after that?

You didn’t know. You honestly couldn’t answer that question. That was why you went to the guest room after spending almost an hour in the shower. Before stepping in, you took in a deep breath, preparing yourself. But the room was clean. There was only his bag in the corner of the room along with a few boxes of clothing you managed to save from the rampaged cabin. But then you saw it.

That fucking small tube of blue pills on the table. You went for it - just to look at the date printed on it. It said he bought it four days ago. Why the fuck was it half-empty then? Were you really in that phase again? Taking drugs? That was what Hopper was up to again? Surprisingly, you couldn't find anything more interesting - no post, letters, photos, his wallet, nothing. It was maybe he wasn’t there, that would be logical, but you wanted to know more.

You got the chance an hour after your family packed all the stuff into one car. Your parents obviously knew why Aiden suddenly planned a trip to New Orleans, they weren't dumb, but your talk needed to be down and to be honest, you two couldn't be bothered during that time. It will be hard enough for both of you already without your parents inserting themselves. Which would, of course, happen since neither of them could stand their baby being hurt by anyone.

You were just snuggling with Lady in front of the fireplace, drinking some hot cocoa when you heard the door quietly close. Hopper was a bit worried - anyone was there, he didn't know that they're leaving and you were in your bed with fevers. Or, that was what he thought before he put the groceries on the countertop, seeing you sitting there.

But you didn't turn to look at him. You were too scared of that. You just moved closer to Lady. Neither of you spoke for ten to twenty minutes - Hopper was just standing there, which was honestly unnerving you. But you got why didn't say a word. You didn't know how to start either.

"Six months." - Slipped past your lips as you worked your way up to Lady’s ears. - "I was left alone in Hawkins for six months. And suddenly, you just appear in front of a restaurant I'm having dinner at and..."

"I scared you, didn't I?" - Hopper asked as quietly as you talked. You shook your head right away.

"You confused the living fuck out of me. Why me? What did I do to anyone to deserve this? Having the man I love taken from me... Twice, might I say, just for a stranger to come back?" - You looked at him for the first time, having tears in your eyes. That was when Hopper felt it's not going to go well. This was it. The last stop. A final talk - resolving into a fight where you might or might not break that the things off with him.

And as for you... Your eyes widened as you watched the man. You didn't know him, but this, for God's sake, wasn’t Hopper at all. This man no matter how tall he was, appeared thin. Like if a rough wind could break him apart. His skin was almost see-through, his eyes were... Without a single drop of passion in them. He hadn't got hair or his significant mustache, let alone the beard. There was a slight stubble, yeah, but that was it. And let's be honest, he must've been looking way worse when he came to your home.

"All I asked for, was you. You as a whole. With all your troubles, thoughts, ideas, even the dumb ones. I didn't ask for pain so intense that at times, I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't ask for having shirts reminding me of the man I loved. I didn't fucking ask for having hallucinations of you walking into my room, hugging me when I cried myself to sleep. Do you even realize what have you done to me? Or did you didn't think about that?" - You asked with a small smile. It wasn’t a happy one, though. This one was painful as fuck. It made Jim sit on the couch behind the fireplace just so he couldn't see you looking at him.

"I don't know what should I tell you." - Hopper told you honestly. That was when you got up, having Lady following you around, taking the tube of pills and putting it next to him on the conference table so loud, it made a bang.

"Start with the truth, perhaps?" - You asked the man, looking down at him. You had the upper hand and you knew it. You fucking knew it. You could feel the power of breaking him apart at the tips of your fingers. Just as he broke you apart. In your eyes, Hopper would deserve it.

"Believe me when I tell you that Tuinal is the smallest thing that happened to me." - Jim mumbled and got up as well, pacing around. And there it was. - "Because the shit I've been through you a) can't even imagine and b) wouldn't believe."

"Oh, I wouldn't believe? Come on. Jim, honestly, when I look at you, I don't even feel relieved that you're back. The only thing I see is pain. Because the first thought I had when mom told me you're real was ’oh fuck, how much time I have before he leaves again? A week? A month? A year if I'm lucky?’" - You told him honestly, having tears streaming down. But your voice was just cold. Colder than ice.

"I did insane shit just to come back to you! Look at me! Do you think that I'm fucking proud to walk around lookin’ like a piece of shit? Do you even listen to what you’re saying?" - He started to yell for a second, making your blood freeze in your veins for a while. He never yelled at you like that. This was aggressive, he had done that before, but he was hurt. Just as you were. - "Every fuckin’ day, every shitty second of the last half of the year, I had you on my mind. You and Eleven were the only thing that made me goin’. When I was freezin’ to death, starvin’ or didn't even feel my fuckin’ body, I had you on my mind, wishin’ you would... Not even kiss me. Just to touch me. Just to look my way. That was the only thing I wanted. But the only thing you talk about is you. How you're hurt. What kind of a son of a bitch I am. Do you even realize how much are you hurting me?" - He asked a bit unbelievably, making you stop for a second.

Jim had his points, that needed to be said. You didn't exactly see through your bubble. But that made you only angrier.

"Grow the fuck up and pull yourself together, James. You're not five. You're fucking twice my age, you should know what you're doing. I am young and I could've had a life somewhere if you..." - You yelled back, pushing into his shoulders, hitting him into the shoulder. - "If you didn't even come along. If you didn't make me work as your secretary, I could be starting a family in Indianapolis, loving someone, I could have kids, maybe an actual future and career... Instead of spending three years in here... Loving you." - You yelled sitting on the ground, having Lady coming to snuggle into your thigh to comfort you. But you couldn't be comforted.

"You said you're not in love anymore?" - Hopper whispered emotionlessly, sitting down a few feet away from you. It felt so... Uncomfortable and painful. But maybe that was what you needed to break out of the chains. You looked at him over your tears, trying to calm down.

"I honestly don't even know anymore." - You answered honestly, looking into the flames once again, having no emotion except pain in your face. Hopper was doubting himself just a few feet apart from you, crying as well.

It was so known. Falling out of love and screaming hurtful things at each other. He already knew that from the time he and Diane were getting a divorce. He wasnt happy since that time until he met you, puking on his car, making him horrified. But when he fell in love... Oh Lord, nothing could bring him down to see the reality around. Nothing had the ability to make Hopper fly in the clouds just as your presence had.

He vividly remembered the days he was driving you to town, having you singing You Don't Mess Around With Jim into the whole morning Hawkins. The nights snuggled in the trail while he played Helplessly Hoping so you could sleep and feel safe and sound. The images of him making you breakfast, bringing it into the bed just for the food to end up on the sheets as you put your hand on his jaw, kissing him. That was his definition of love and safety. Two persons in love emerging into one since that was what felt like the right thing to do.

Which obviously was long gone for you. And from some points of view, he could see why you weren't able to open up just as he did when he carried you home. You were happy that Hopper came back, somewhere deep inside, but that was long forgotten under the layers of hatred, anger, pain, grief, fear, and depression.

"But I don't even know who I am. I got lost, like, I was in a dark place when you weren't here. Since El left for Maine... I wasn’t able to live a life." - You whispered after a while, still smoothing Lady laying by your side.

"Can you give me one last go before you tell me to fuck off for good? I swear that this time, I will tell you everythin’. The whole truth from the beggin’ to the end." - Hopper looked you in the eyes. You closed your eyes, thinking about the answer. Was that a good idea? No. It surely wasnt. Did he deserve it? Yes, he probably did.

"Fine. One last chance. One last shot and if you fuck up, I won't ever see you again. You will just disappear. You won't touch me, kiss me, look at me weird, or, you're gone. You will be acting like my roommate." - You informed him, standing up. He only nodded, looking into the flames.

"We'll talk tomorrow, I'm just too fucked up to pay attention now." - You said before going to your bedroom, locking yourself in. That night, you cried yourself to sleep again. Not because you missed him - but because you were afraid that most likely, he will be leaving the other day.

[introvertguide]

On the Waterfront (1954); AFI #19

The next film on the AFI top 100 under review is the award winning crime drama, On the Waterfront (1954). This film was nominated for 12 Academy Awards and picked up 8 including Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. The film is based on a series of articles in the New York Sun from 1949 that depicted the condition of the eastern seaboard and all the corruption that was involved at the time. I did a lot of historical digging for this film and realize how important the accuracy was and it seemed pretty spot on. Before I get into story, let me give the standard announcement...

SUPER SPOILER WARNING!!! I TOOK A LOT OF NOTES DURING THE FILM AND THIS WILL SPOIL THE ENTIRE THING!!! WATCH THE MOVIE FIRST AND THEN COME BACK AND CHECK OUT THE ARTICLE!!!

The film starts out with the murder of a man named Joey Doyle. Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando) calls to Joey’s window at night to have him meet up on the roof concerning a pigeon. We see that Terry is with a bunch of gangsters who are waiting up on the roof for Joey. The audience doesn’t see the actual meeting, but a person falls off the building a couple seconds later and it is assumed that Joey is dead. It seems that Terry was not aware that Joey would be killed, he thought they were going to rough him up or intimidate him.

Terry is not put out too much because he goes to a local pub right after and we meet the local crime boss. Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb) is a stereotype mob boss who runs a tight ship and could snap at any moment. It is an awkward scene where one person in the room is having fun and everyone else is nervously waiting for something to go wrong. Friendly’s right hand man is Terry’s brother Charley (Rod Steiger) and Friendly has a fondness for Terry because of the relation and also that Terry used to be a boxer. Before the night is over, Terry is given a stack of cash for his help with Joey and the promise of a cushy job on the dock the next day.

The next morning, a group of people look over Joey’s body on the street and his sister Edie (Eva Marie Saint) is understandably angry about the event. She shames her father and the other workers for not saying anything and she yells at the local priest (Karl Malden) for not being more involved. She wants to get involved and help her father get work so she goes down to the docks with the priest to see what the situation is really like. People attached to the mob are given preferred treatment (including Terry) and all the other workers have to scramble in hopes of getting work. The priest sees the corruption and decides to hold a union meeting in the church to encourage the workers to speak out against Friendly to improve the working conditions.

A group of dockworkers not part of the corruption meet at the church, but all remain quiet. The stay “D & D” (deaf and dumb) to what is going on so that they don’t get hurt. Joey is sent by Friendly to the meeting to see if anybody talks and he sits in the back. It seems apparent that he is there to intimidate the others into remaining silent. Before the meeting is officially over, a brick comes through the window and a bunch of gangsters pound sticks on the ground, waiting for the workers in the meeting to leave. Most everyone is attacked and beaten on the way out except for the priest, Edie, and Terry. The priest convinces one of the workers named Dugan (Pat Henning) to talk to the Waterfront Crime Commission to prevent another attack like this.

Dugan agrees to testify and we move forward to the day before he is supposed to go in front of the court. He is working on unloading a ship of Irish whiskey and an “accident” occurs in which a pallet of booze falls on Dugan, killing him. The priest comes to give last rights and gives an impassioned speech to the surrounding workers about how keeping quiet is a crucifixion and good men would not let this happen if they could stop it. Some of the gangsters through garbage at the priest while he is talking, but he continues on and Terry starts to feel guilty about his part in the deaths and injustice. He punches one of the enforcers who is going to throw something and this does not go unnoticed. In a very symbolic image, the priest rides a crane up out of the ship and ascends out of the hold like an angel ascending towards heaven. Very cinematic and full credit to cinematographer Boris Kaufman for this fantastic shot that no doubt contributed to his Oscar win for his work on this film.  

Terry starts to fall for Edie and considers testifying against friendly. He knows, however, that she will learn of his connection to her brother’s death and fears show will hate him. Friendly gets wind of Terry’s connection with Edie and sends Charley over to convince him to not testify. In a very poignant scene, Charley and Terry talk in a taxi and Charley tells him that he needs to promise not to squeal or Charley will take him to the docks to be executed. Terry says that he can’t live being a bum. He used to be a prizefighter and Friendly had convinced him to take a dive during a fight and all his potential was wasted. It is the famous “I could have been a contender. I could have been a somebody” scene. Charley let’s Terry go and goes in to stall so the Terry can escape and instead Charley is killed and left hanging from an ice hook in an alleyway as a message to Terry.

This goes too far and Terry goes to the local bar to shoot Friendly. Instead of the crime boss, Terry runs into the priest and is convinced to testify in court as a better form of revenge. He agrees and Terry identifies friendly in court as being corrupt and ordering the murder of both Joey Doyle and Dugan. After testifying, Friendly threatens Terry and says that he will never find work on the docks. Terry is shunned by all the other workers for squealing and only finds kindness from Edie.

Terry shows up the next day for work recruitment and every person there (including a random hobo) is given work except for him. Terry goes to confront Friendly and is summarily beaten by a group of gangsters. The dock workers see this and say that they will not work unless Terry is allowed to work as well. Friendly has lost his power over the docks and can’t kill Terry since he has already talked and is now being protected by the police. The priest shows up and tells Terry to stand up and lead the workers onto the ship, cementing the shift in power. A severely beaten Terry is helped up and he stumbles onto the boat followed by the rest of the works. The movie ends as the plank doors to the ship’s hull close.

Although the characters are sensationalized, the situation was very representative of what life what life was like on the East Coast docks during the late 40s and early 50s. This film is a time capsule for American life right after WW2 and a lesson concerning what can happen with complete corruption. Very fascinating from a historical perspective as well as an artistic one.

I have a little bit of an issue with Brando and his acting in this film. I do not think he is that good. He mumbles his lines like he does in every movie and it is apparent that he is a good actor but not that great at line delivery. Also, when I say he is a good actor, I don’t mean this film. He comes across almost whiny and conceited and I never really get behind the character. I freely admit that I don’t really like Brando in general as a person (at least from the stories I hear, I have never met him) and that might taint my judgment of his performances. I never bought him as a boxer and I never bought him as being tough. He is acting like a soft hearted bully, but it just doesn’t impress me. He got top billing and his name is bigger than the movie credit on the opening title cards, but I thought Karl Malden did a much better acting job. I am thankful for Brando’s contribution to creating method acting, but that doesn’t make this a great performance and I don’t think he deserved the Oscar. 

Also, just like with The Godfather, Brando played a part that was memorable with great lines and won the award for Best Actor while the rest of the male cast who gave outstanding performances were relegated to Best Supporting Actor (three actors nominated in both cases) and came home empty handed. Brando kept getting quirky character roles in well written films and surrounded by incredible talent...and then he was given all the credit for the incredible result. I just don’t like that guy and I realize it is a personal bias. I just don’t like how he is given all the credit (and takes all the credit) for projects he was a part of. But moving on...

I again want to point out the cinematography for this movie because I am not generally impressed by this aspect of films, especially when they are in black and white. I think On the Waterfront, Citizen Cane, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf are all examples of how prop placement, camera angles, pans, and lighting can be used to tell a story beyond just the acting and dialogue. A well deserved Best Cinematography award for Boris Kaufman. 

So does this film deserve to be on the AFI top 100? Yes. For the  famous  “contender” speech, the reflection of history, the visual storytelling, and the wonderful acting, it absolutely deserves a spot. Would I recommend it? Well...I would say yes but not for Brando. I was so bored by the part of Terry Malloy that I found many other things that I liked to get through the film. The first time I watched I was expecting this great performance and I was thoroughly disappointed. Watch the film for everything else besides Marlon Brando and you will be impressed.

[grogiesnople]

An Endgame Re-Write

The film opens, and we see Clint and his family on the farm. His sons playing catch in the background while Laura sets up the picnic. Clint teaching two girls archery on the farm. He corrects one of their footings, showing his house arrest bracelet. Both girls hit the bullseye, and they all high five, we get the "Good job Hawkeyes" and the rest of the scene plays out the same, with the only addition being him calling for Kate, as well as the rest of his family.

The scene on the Milano stays pretty much the exact same, except when Carol comes to save them, it's Nebula who sees her, not Tony, because if he's passing out from a lack of oxygen than he wouldn't be waking up to that, he wouldn't have the strength.

When they arrive back on earth, it's Rhodey who helps Tony, not Steve, for numerous reasons. Steve and Tony still need to work through their issues, Rhodey has been his best friend for many years more than Tony's even known Steve, and it makes the "I lost the kid" line more painful, because Rhodey would know what Peter meant to Tony, and wouldn’t be as rude about it like Steve was saying "Tony, we all lost."

The Pepperony reunion stays the same, as does almost all of the scene where Tony confronts Steve and gives him the nanotech reactor. The only difference is that we actually see Bruce, instead of just hearing, "Banner gave him a sedative."

The scene where they confront Thanos goes mostly the same, but with less time spent watching Thanos farm, and more emphasis on Nebula closing Thanos' eyes, showing us that just like in Infinity War when Gamora thought she killed him, it still hurts her. He was still her father and as terrible as he was to her, he was still important to her, she didn't know a life without him.

Thanks to Rat Ex Machina, Scott gets out of the Quantum Realm, and we see him try and figure out what happened. When he goes to the memorials, we see his name, but we also see the names of Cassie's mother and step-father, explaining their absence when the two of them reunite.

Steve's therapy circle and Nat's business meeting go almost exactly the same way, but when she speaks to Rhodey about finding Clint, Rhodes mentions that people have started calling him Ronin. We knew it was him as Ronin, but the name drop solidifies the change in our minds.

Scott goes to the compound in much the same way, but with Cassie by his side because he's all she has left now. She's a smart girl and this is her chance to help so she takes it, and I take the chance to help set up Moth-Girl/Stinger. I like the idea of her spending those years without her family studying the sciences she'd need to be able to take up that mantel, so she's as close to an expert on it as a 16-year-old can be.

Scott and Cassie explain their idea to Steve and Nat, and after eventually convincing them, they go to see Tony. Cassie and Morgan play in the background together, bonding over super dads, as Scott and the others try and convince Tony of their plan. The rest of the scene plays out the same, Tony refuses, and the others leave, going to go and find Bruce instead.

They find Bruce but as himself. Instead of the randomly given Professor Hulk story, Hulk as vanished from Bruce completely, no strength, no anger, no voice. No Hulk at all. The photo scene doesn't exist, instead they touch on the strange disappearance of Hulk and Bruce says he'll help.

The first attempt at time travel goes pretty much the same, but with Scott's intelligence not going ignored. He has a masters degree in Engineering, and he understands the Quantum Realm and it's science better than any of them, along with Cassie. Possibly Bruce joking about there being an Ant-Man, a Spider-Man, and a Wasp, so what does that make her? A moth? A bee? For more Moth-Girl/Stinger foreshadowing.

Bruce and Rocket go to New Asgard to get Thor and run into Brunnhilde, who welcomes Bruce happily, and asks who the rabbit is. Because I like the idea of all Asgardians just calling him a rabbit. She mentions that Thor only ever comes into town for supplies, but there's no looking at beer supplies because it's already been established that Asgardians can't get drunk on Midgardian alcohol.

They enter the house, and Thor has let himself go, but instead of being an assholey yelling at kids on Fortnite drunk, he's sitting on the couch with Korg and Miek, as they try and cheer him up and talk with him about his problems. Rocket enters first and sasses out Thor a bit, and we get a quiet "Hello Rabbit," before Bruce makes himself known. Thor gets up and stumbles over to Bruce and they hug. Bruce asks what happened to him and Thor briefly sums it up as only Thor can, and when Bruce says Thanos' name, Thor goes silent. He lets go of Bruce, walks back over to the couch, and sits down with his head in his shaking hands.

Korg explains that they don't say his name, and Rocket goes and pats Thor on the back trying to comfort him. Bruce tells Thor that they might have a way to bring everyone back, and as Thor calms down, he asks why they need him to do it. Bruce tells him that it's because he's the strongest avenger and that he needs him. Not that the Avengers need him, but that Bruce does. He says that Thor was there for him when he needed him, and now it's Bruce's turn, and he can offer Thor a second chance to save them all.

Tony still discovers the time loop after looking at his picture with Peter, but with Harley there by his side. In Iron Man 3, we learn that Harley only has his mother, so she gets dusted in this world, and Tony took charge of Harley, who's now Morgans big brother. A small change to Morgan is that her hair is a more of a rusty brown so that you can see the Pepper in her better. Pepper and Tony still have their conversation after "Love you 3000" and he heads to the compound, Harley going with him.

Everyone is at the compound now, Thor still out of shape and in his kinda hobo clothes, but no one makes jokes about it, and instead of Tony giving him nicknames about his weight, we get the return of old classics like Point Break and Hammer Time, and a few new ones, Storm Cloud when he gets upset and the like.

Tony, Bruce, Scott, Harley, and Cassie finish the science and we have the time travel movie conversation, as it establishes some of the rules, and lets us know that they're going to do it properly. Harley calls Tony "Dad" throughout the film, getting called "Son" and other fond nicknames, and at one point, Harley makes a bad meme reference or joke, and Tony slips up and calls him Pete. There's a moment of silence before Clint goes up and goes through time.

When Clint goes back in time, he picks up the mitt, but doesn't take it with him, he instead drops it when he hears Lila's voice, and he calls out to her before getting sent home. He tells them all what happens and they confirm that it all worked properly, then start to plan the stone time heist.

Thor doesn't get weirdly emotional about Jane, as it's been years since they saw each other. Instead, he mentions his mother's death, and how Loki faked his own, before coming to the crashing realization that Loki never came back. He didn't fake his death this time, and he's actually gone. This leads to him starting to break down and Bruce having to come up and help him back to his seat as he starts to cry.

We still have the adorable scene of Tony, Nat, and Bruce all laying on the table trying to plan out the stones and Nat realizing that three of them were in New York at the same time. Nebula tells them about the power and soul stones, and they split the teams and prepare to go, but Nebula pulls Nat aside. She tells her that only one of them will be able to come back, that Gamora never did, and Thanos had the stone. Nat thanks her, and they join the others to start their missions.

Bruce's mission goes about the same, but without the Hulk mimicking part, because no Hulk, and we get to learn our new plot line of returning the stones to their time.

Clint and Tasha get the soul stone in pretty much the same way, but Natasha says "A soul for a soul" at the same time as Red Skull, explaining that Nebula told her that Gamora never came back from here and that she's willing to make the sacrifice. They still have their argument and mini battle, and Nat falls to get Clint the stone.

Thor and Rocket go to Asgard to get the reality stone, Thor still has a panic attack when he sees Frigga, and it mostly goes the same way, with Rocket going to poke Jane and Thor running into his mother, but instead of just crying about being scared, he tells her about what happens to her, Odin, Asgard, and Loki, all while blaming himself for all of it, only for her to tell him that it was out of his control, that what happened happened, and he can't change that, and he did his best. The fact that he's in the past trying to fix it proves he's not the failure he believes himself to be, and that he can still be the leader his people need. Rocket runs in, and Thor still takes Myuh-Myuh because he needs the worthiness

Nebula and Rhodey go to get their stone with not quite the same issue. Nebula still syncs to Thanos's ship, but instead of being captured, they sync Past-Nebula to her, and she gets pulled into the future.

On Scott, Tony, and Steve's side, everything leading up to the first Tesseract attempt goes the same, except Scott, gets trapped in the case instead. They run out of time for the plan, and Scott has to escape the case and runs off with Tony after he's hit by Hulk. Steve's half of the plan goes almost completely the same, but Past Steve doesn't have time to call in the anomaly, as Steve just straight up decks him beforehand. They fight the same as it was before. Steve and Tony still end up going back in time for the Tesseract and Pym Particles, but nothing here changes.

They all come back to the present, and they realize that Past Nebula somehow got stuck along for the ride. They "capture" her and think the job is done, and then go to start their gauntlet. Thor is the one to use the new gauntlet and snap everyone back, as there's no Hulk and they aren't risking Bruce. This goes the same as it did for Professor Hulk.

While they're doing this, Past-Nebula breaks out using her technological enhancements and brings Past-Thanos and his people there. The fight goes on pretty much the same, Past-Gamora switches sides seeing them all fight together, for each other, with Nebula by their side, and Nebula shoots her past self in the leg, not the chest.

From the explosion, Bruce is trapped under the rubble and tries his hardest to get out of it, but he's not strong enough, and no one can get to him. In a desperate bid to escape, he starts talking to Hulk, as if he was still there, and slowly, we watch as the green fades into his veins and skin and he starts to grow larger. Hulk returns in Bruce's final hour of need, and he breaks out of the rubble, and up to the fight.

Once again the rest of the fight goes on almost the exact same, Steve wields Myuh-Myuh and Past-Thanos breaks his shield the way we see it in AoU. The snapped return, having aged the five years they've missed, with the triumphant "On your left," and they all get portalled in by the sorcerers, however, Brunnhilde does not have a pegasus. Steve stands up and says those magical words. "Avengers, Assemble." And at that moment, Hulk breaks out of the ground with an earth-shattering roar, and the battle continues. For the triumphant A-Force scene, Nebula is the one to take the gauntlet, not Carol.

Tony gets the stones, but instead of dusting away Past-Thanos and his army, he fixes it all. Past-Thanos and his army get sent back to their time, with no memory of anything outside of the proper timeline. The stones of the present return to form, in front of Tony and his gauntlet of the past. He doesn't die here, but he comes close, and we get a dramatic cut to make us think he does.

They return the stones to their places in the past, as well as Myuh-Myuh, and Steve takes his dance with Peggy, he fulfills his commitment and moves on. He returns to the present and stays there, retiring the mantle of Captain America to Sam, and goes on the be nothing more than Steve Rogers. He and Bucky settle in to live their lives as they did before, together. When the soul stone is returned, Nat is brought back, a soul for a soul, and her sacrifice is celebrated with honour. Her ledger is clean, and she's free to live with her new family.

After some time in Wakanda for study, they do something similar with the present stones. The time stone returns to the Eye of Agamotto, to the protection of the Sanctums. The mind stone is reunited with Visions body, and with the help of Shuri, he's brought back to form, a little worse for wear, but he's Vision. The Guardians take the soul stone to Vormir, and Gamora returns as well, just as Nat did.

The other three are protected in other ways. The power stone stays in Wakanda, hidden deep in the temple where the heart-shaped herb is being re-grown. Captain Marvel takes charge of the space stone, it's only fitting, given her more otherworldly life, Mar-Vell, and Goose. And the reality stone is given to Tony, who we see is alive, the right side of his body held in a brace to support the damaged half as it heals. It's given as a gift, a reminder of what he's done, what he's fought for, and how he finally has the world he worked so hard to create.

And then we get to see our heroes, old and new, celebrate. They're happy, they're with their families. We get calls to the comics, like Rocket freaking out about Goose, and some new cute things, Thor fawning over goose because oh my gosh a flerken, listening as Fury tells the story about how Goose ate the tesseract and Carol laughs as she tells the story of his eye, bewildering the rest of the team. Morgan, Harley, and Cassie meet Peter, Shuri, Kate, and the rest of Clint’s army of kids, Harley fooling around with a watch gauntlet like the one we saw in the Civil War, and they torment the adults all night. And we cut to the credits.

After the credits roll, we hear a very familiar laugh, from behind our heroes, a certain Ehehe, and we see a woosh of blue as Wanda's drink disappears from her hand. They turn and there stands Loki who fondly remarks, "I believe you owe me a hug brother." Thor rushes to Loki and hugs him tighter than he ever has before. The sunset beams in through the windows and Loki laughs. "I told you, brother, the sun would shine on us again." The blur returns, standing next to Loki, looking directly into the camera as Heimdall walks into the room as well.

"What, you didn't see that coming?"

End film.

[analogscum]

DON’S PLUM (2001, d. R.D. Robb)

Why is it, my dear Scumbags, that forbidden fruit is the sweetest fruit of all? Why is it that, when we know that we can’t have something, it only makes us want it that much more? This applies to any number of life’s pleasures, but especially to movies. Just think of the number of films that are out there, just waiting to be viewed, but because they’ve either been lost to time, or the powers that be have locked them away somewhere, we may never get to experience. London After Midnight. The Day the Clown Cried. Until recently, anyway, The Other Side of the Wind. Well, tonight, thanks to the magic of illegal YouTube uploads, I’m here to tell you about some of that forbidden fruit. We’re going to talk about a film that its stars do not want you to see (if you live in America or Canada, that is), a film that to this day they continue to try and bury via any legal shenanigans they can. So get ready, because it’s time to take a big juicy bite out of Don’s Plum.

To start, we must talk about the nineties. In the nineties, two big things happened that allowed Don’s Plum to come into existence: the advent of low-budget Indies with cool kids talking in verbose, provocative lingo (see: Pulp Fiction, Clerks, Reality Bites, Kids, etc.), and the teen heartthrob coronation of Leonardo DiCaprio. As an infamous New York magazine profile from 1998 established, young Leo ran with a gang of fellow young thespians who would be immortalized as “the Pussy Posse.” The modus operandi of the Pussy Posse was…well, you can probably guess what it was. These guys were all about scoring chicks and getting loaded and not tipping waitresses, and they lived like goddamn boy kings. Leo was the leader, with his two best friends Tobey Maguire and Kevin Connolly on either side of the pussy throne. Other members of the Pussy Posse included David Blaine, Lucas Haas, and R.D. Robb, who you undoubtedly remember as the kid who played Schwartz in A Christmas Story. Anyway, around 1995, Robb had a boffo idea: if I could get my hands on a camera and some black and white film, I could shoot my friends doing what we do every night, just hanging out acting like douchebags, and somehow this will magically congeal into a smash indie hit. So Leo and Tobey, who were allegedly under the impression that this was just going to be a short film, gave Robb a bunch of money to make this thing, which he did, casting Leo, Tobey, Kevin Connolly, and a bunch of their other friends, shooting on and off for a two year period, with the young actors improvising almost all of their dialogue. And with that, let’s get into the finished film itself, shall we?

Los Angeles. The mid to late nineties. Everything is in black and white and super fuckin’ suave, because, again, it’s Los Angeles in the mid to late nineties. Jeremy Sisto is driving a pickup truck with leopard print seats. He kicks a hippie chick out of the passenger seat, mumbling something about “I need…pleasure. And…I need…to know that with…BRUTE FORCE, I got you out of my life, mmkay?” So, uh, right off the bat, um, that dialogue. Yikes, right? The hippie chick, for her part, gets very angry and yells, “You were supposed to take me to Vegas!” Don’t worry, we never find out why she was going to Vegas in the first place, or who Jeremy Sisto’s character is, because he then promptly drives out of the movie. Bye, Jeremy Sisto! Beep beep!

Cut to Tobey Maguire, who looks like he just finished going through puberty roughly five minutes before Robb called “action!” He’s got a dopey look on his face, and an unfortunate bowl cut/chin scruff combo that makes him look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He’s sitting in a moody mid to late nineties café, drinking a comically large cappuccino, and half paying attention to the absolute worst goddamn music I have ever heard in my life. The end credits describe this band as “acid jazz,” but I think a more accurate description would be “music to try and swallow your own tongue to.” It’s like a fiendishly unlistenable combination of free jazz, ska, Tom Waits hobo wailing, and beat poetry, and it should’ve been left back in the nineties where it belongs, alongside Olestra and the Kosovo war. Tobey is trying to pick up some ladies to bring to hang out with his friends later, but oddly enough none of these women want to hang out with an arrogant sad sack who has all the charisma and sex appeal of Uncle Joey from Full House. Meanwhile, there’s like a full-on burlesque dance number happening to accompany this zoot suit cacophony, and the director only occasionally cuts to it for a few seconds at a time. I guess, who needs to see a big splashy musical number when you can watch a comic relief wet blanket who just got his first pubes strike out with every woman he talks to, right? Luckily, the café waitress takes pity on him and agrees to accompany him to meet up with his friends, and then does basically nothing else for the rest of the movie. Occasionally the scene will cut to her to remind us that she’s there, but, like, is she really there, though?

Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley is sitting facing a dude who is showing his bare ass to the camera, because that’s how real fuckin’ life just is, maaaaan, not everyone always wears pants, dude! They apparently just had sex, even though she’s fully clothed, and they get into a philosophical argument about nothing and everything, as if they’re in the worst deleted scene from Slacker. Even though they clearly hate each other, the dude, Brad, invites Jenny Lewis to come meet up with his friends, and she makes some overly hostile joke about how he didn’t make her cum earlier, because low-budget indie movie. Next we see Kevin Connolly driving down the street in his Jeep, when he encounters the hippie girl from the beginning of the movie, like a couple of star-crossed blabbedy blahs. Finally, FINALLY, we’re introduced to Leo, when he borrows a comically large mid to late nineties cell phone from this little hood rat kid who insists on telling him some boring story about a brawl at the Viper Room even though Leo is CLEARLY trying to use said comically large mid to late nineties cell phone to call up every fine young female he knows to meet up with him and his friends. This makes the little hood rat kid very very angry, and its supposed to be funny, I guess? Anyway, like they were all fated since time immemorial to do, all of our leads finally converge down at the titular greasy spoon eatery, Don’s Plum.

Now, have you ever been at a restaurant, and you find yourself sitting near a table of people who are so obnoxious, so vapid, so relentlessly annoying and unpleasant, that you can no longer enjoy your food, and just find yourself eavesdropping on every improbably stupid thing that these goddamn condom leaks are rattling on about, slowly being pulled further and further into their vortex of suck? You have? Well, then, congratulations, because that experience is the rest of this fuckin’ movie. Jenny Lewis and Brad are the first to arrive, and what do they do? They start playing a goddamn harmonica. Um, no. Hell no. I’m trying to enjoy my meal in relative peace and quiet, you know what I don’t need? Your shitty ass John Popper impressions, ok? Get that shit all the way outta here. Then, just to really up the insufferability factor, Jenny Lewis starts opining about Bob Dylan, but she only calls him Bob, which, you can take that one away from here right away, and then launches into the following diatribe...

“You know what I’m so sick of though? All that fucking commercial grunge crap. It all sounds alike. It’s like the record companies that are promoting sterile music. I mean, I love Nirvana, don’t get me wrong, but they weren’t the Beatles.”

WOOF. Mercifully, Brad interrupts her to tell her that he loves her, even though it’s their like, first or second date. She’s reasonably creeped out by this, and just by how earnest and dark and brooding Brad is in general, until thankfully Tobey and the waitress show up, soon followed by Kevin and the hippie hitchhiker. Leo gets his own grand entrance, checking himself out in the reflection of an aquarium while some mid to late nineties boom bap hip hop blares on the soundtrack, natch. For the next hour or so, the group basically just chain smoke countless cigarettes (remember when restaurants had smoking sections?), harasses their waitress, Flo (hey, it’s a mid to late nineties indie movie, were they supposed to NOT name the waitress Flo?) and talk shit endlessly. They also say the word “bro” a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Like, way too much. The world’s most date rapey frat dude would tell them to relax with how much they say the word “bro.”

Suddenly, in between all of the cigarettes and “bros,” a morbidly obese lady walks past the table, and Leo mocks her for daring to be morbidly obese. The hippie hitchhiker takes umbrage with this, and Leo, charming guy that he is, calls her a “squatty piece of hippie shit cunt.” This escalates to the point where the hippie hitchhiker storms off, throwing her Birkenstocks at Leo, and then smashes Kevin’s windshield with a bat that she found…somewhere? Anyway, she’s out of the movie now, and replacing her is Jenny Lewis’s friend Constance, who they just happen to run into. So more bullshitting and chain smoking unfolds. Female masturbation is discussed, because mid to late nineties indie movie. They play Never Have I Ever, and Kevin doesn’t understand the rules, which is kinda endearing. They almost get into a fight with some creep in a mechanics outfit and Buddy Holly glasses. A horrible ska cover of the “Menomena” song from The Muppet Show pops up for a minute of your life that you’ll never get back. Leo sends the group into more turmoil when he outs Brad as bisexual and gives Tobey shit for being vegan. He also gropes Jenny Lewis’s breasts countless times, but no one seems to mind. They all fight about this for awhile, but eventually apologies are offered and they’re bros once again. However, upon learning that Brad is into both girls and guys, Jenny Lewis begins freaking out about AIDS, because ugggh. Then she and Constance start making out for absolutely no reason other than mid to late nineties indie movie. At one point, the film fades out for no reason, and then fades up again on the exact same scene just in time to hear one of the ladies ask the table, “do you guys bathe every day and, like, wash yourself with soap?” Meanwhile, the film will occasionally cut to short vignettes of the characters each saying non-sequiturs into the restroom mirror. Why? Again, because mid to late nineties indie movie. DUH.

The absolute weirdest scene occurs when Kevin Connolly notices a lady producer whom he auditioned for the previous week. He calls her “Spielberg with a pussy,” because of course he does, what else would he call her? The rest of the table convinces him to go talk to her. To both our surprise and his, when he tentatively approaches her at the bar, she’s like, Oh my god, Kevin Connolly! It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry you didn’t get that part you auditioned for, but get this, I was just watching your tape again the other day, and I want to cast you in the lead in this other movie that I’m doing! Not only that, I have to admit, I find you and your Cub Scout haircut and thrift store bowling shirt to be super fucking sexy, and later on tonight I wanna fuck your brains out so hard, so take my number and call me, hot stuff.

WHAT?!?! Like, is this supposed to be a fantasy sequence? Is it? If it is, you have to tell me, movie! Shellshocked and erect, Kevin returns to the table and recounts the whole thing, including the line “bro, it was crazy, bro! She was on my dick so hard!” Leo, meanwhile, is wearing some fake redneck dentures, talking in an exaggerated Southern accent, and eating his own boogers. This is all real, you guys, I promise.

Anyway, some more shit happens, and everyone is yapping about some stupid, possibly offensive nonsense when suddenly a lady at the next table over slaps the guy that she’s with. Hard. Slaps him really hard. Our heroes get quiet for less than a second, before remarking on the slap that just took place. Holy shit bro, that bitch slapped that guy so hard bro, bro bro bro bro, etc. When things get back to normal, Leo is suddenly quiet and sullen. Kevin notices, and tries to coax it out of him the best way he knows how, which is by asking, “you fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro?” Leo starts giving all of these cagey, mysterious non-answers, and before long everyone at the table wants to know if he’s fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro. Leo takes a deep drag off of his cigarette, and tells everyone, “my dad committed suicide bro.”

WHAAAT?!?! I’ve gotta say, I honestly did not see this coming. In a mood, Leo storms off for the back bar. Jenny Lewis follows him, and tries to make him feel better by relating her OWN familial sob story: “My dad is gone. And my mom is a junkie. She sells her ass on the corner.”

WHAAAAAAT?!?! All of these sudden dollops of soap opera drama, man! Good gravy. For whatever reason, this turns Leo on, and he tries to bang her. She rebuffs his advances, and they get into an overwrought screaming match that plays out like a Level One improv exercise at the world’s shittiest acting school. Meanwhile, back at the table, Tobey gets mad at Kevin for pushing Leo to reveal the truth about his dead dad, and this escalates into a full on fist fight! BRO!

Now, holy shit, you guys, the last five minutes of this movie. Jenny Lewis runs into the bathroom, and begins lamenting into the mirror about how she let a “perfectly good fuck” get away. As she’s saying all this, she pulls some tinfoil, a straw and a lighter out of her purse and just straight up starts FREEBASING CRACK COCAINE.

WHAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Kinda makes all that AIDS talk seem kinda hollow, huh? Then, oh my god, she starts crying and launches into this fucking after school special monologue, screaming into the mirror about how “I was the one that came on to Uncle Jerry! I was the one that was curious!”

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Excuse me, waitress, but it seems you got drug abuse and child molestation in my mid to late nineties indie movie! What is ANY OF THAT doing in here?! And in the last five goddamn minutes of the movie, no less! So now Tobey and Kevin’s bro fight has spilled out onto the street, so Leo goes and breaks it up, he and Kevin do a very intricate secret bro handshake, everyone has a good laugh, Brad lights Kevin’s bowling shirt on fire, everyone goes prancing down the street, and the movie ends.

Now, imagine that you’re Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire. It’s late 1997, or possibly early 1998. One of you is now the biggest movie star on the planet, thanks to a movie about a big-ass boat. You’ve just seen this Don’s Plum movie that your little buddy R.D. Robb made. First of all, it’s a full-length fucking movie, not a short like you both thought it would be. Second of all, both of you are in there saying terrible things about women, doing terrible things to women, and oh shit, the majority of your fans…wait for it…are women! Bro! But worst of all, our little buddy R.D. Robb, who we thought was our friend, our fellow Pussy Posse member, our BRO, is shopping this fucking movie around to distributors? This fucking movie that could possibly end our careers if anyone ever sees it? Tell me, if you were Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire in late 1997 or early 1998, would you do everything in your power to make sure that Don’s Plum never saw the light of day?

Well, according to a lawsuit filed in 1998 by one of the film’s producers, David Stutman, that’s exactly what Leo and Tobey did. Interestingly enough, according to court documents, apparently it was Tobey who was more concerned with how his performance in the film would negatively affect his nascent stardom, and therefore enlisted his much more famous best friend to help him carry out “a fraudulent and coercive campaign to prevent the release of the film.” I mean, Leo comes off as WAY more of an asshole than Tobey, who mainly just mopes around and eventually bro fights with Kevin Connolly, but in any case, both parties eventually reached a settlement in which Stutman agreed that Don’s Plum would not be released in the U.S. or Canada. It premiered at the Berlin Film Festival on February 10, 2001, and quickly faded into Hollywood lore.

Every few years, talk of this wild, black and white, mostly improvised movie with some big celebrities before they got famous will pop up again. Most recently, back in early 2016, another of the film’s producers, Dale Wheatley, uploaded the film to Vimeo and posted it to his website, freedonsplum.com, where anyone could watch it for free. Within days, Leo and Tobey’s respective legal teams had the video removed. You would think that after more than twenty years, with Leo now a respected Oscar winner, and Tobey having brought Spider-Man to life on the big screen, they’d be willing to let bygones be bygones. But it seems that they’re still legitimately concerned that they would stand to lose their vaunted place amongst the Hollywood elite if North American audiences ever got to see Don’s Plum. They still fear it. They still think it’s dangerous. In reality, it’s just embarrassing, which isn’t the same thing.

Truth is, there are a million movies out there just like Don’s Plum. There are a million other overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing indie movies made by overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people about the lives of overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people out there. I mean, I went to film school, fer chrissakes, I can say with some level of authority that Don’s Plum is the sort of project that my classmates and I poured our hearts and souls Into, only to be embarrassed by its messy, guileless sincerity later. The only thing that distinguishes Don’s Plum from the horde of other cringeworthy embryonic efforts like it is, as I said before, its status as cinematic forbidden fruit. Will its two stars ever allow the audience that it was made for to have a taste? Somehow I doubt it, bro.

[prevariicator-archive]

The problem with saying Loki ruled Asgard longer, and was a better ruler of Asgard than Thor,  is VAST.

 First off, Thor didn't have a fucking chance. He ruled for only a few hours if even before Thanos came and slaughtered the Asgardians because of LOKI stealing the tesseract in Ragnarok. You can not compare their ruling based on time. Thor needed the time to be away from Asgard to learn to be a good man, and to know his limits and when not to be a spoiled brat chasing war for no reason, and to learn what was important about ruling people/learning more about what it meant to truly protect people and the things/places he loved. He has major character development through the series that makes him a good king because he recognizes that the title requires more than sitting on your ass eating grapes watching bad theater. 

The way they rule... Originally if he had been king in the first movie, Thor would have had Asgard at war at every turn. It would have been chaos. But after everything he's been through, going from God/Prince/Future King to Mortal/Weak to Slave/Possession (for someone's violent amusement )the character development changes how he would have ruled. He thought only for the best of his people, got half of them to safety with Valkyrie, and fought -most likely with the intent of dying for his people- until he had nothing and was completely broken. Thor's actions in Infinity War are flat out suicidal and fueled by rage and depression. He's lost everything - and it all started with Loki allowing Jotuns into Asgard to prevent his intended rule. But at the same time, Loki helped him be a better fit for a king by doing so. But Thor didn't have a chance to prove himself a worthy and good king before Thanos came and fucked shit up because Loki couldn't keep his hands off of the Tesseract. But, that brings the question of if Thanos would have come either way. Loki owed him the debt from his failure after all. But in both scenarios- he came because of Loki. Loki has ruled twice. Let's talk about instance number one-    to get the title of king he a)let enemies into Asgard b)caused 4 deaths and showed zero remorse for what he'd done c)Had Thor banished (you can argue if this was intentional or not based on the movie and one of the Thor guidebook which says he intentionally goaded Thor into going to Jotunheim to get him in trouble with Odin) d) Only got it because Odin went into Odinsleep (you guys joke but this dude was already in poor health-poor enough for his enemy to take notice of his weakness- add the stress of his 1st son being banished because 'well fuck he's just like the banished child and needs to learn not to be' and the stress of Loki finding out who he really is/that originally he planned to use him and Loki refused to let him explain further and instead went full out pissed and yelling at a weak old man) 

Now there is that deleted scene where Frigga gives him the title BUT IT DOES NOT FIT INTO THE MOVIE. Rewatch it, try to place that scene. It doesn't fit. Loki is playing King before he speaks with Frigga in that deleted scene- which was shortened and edited in after he's already playing king. It does not fully apply to the canon of the movie because of this technicality. So for all we know- he took the title without Frigga's knowledge. So during that first rule, what did Loki do? A)closed off the Bifrost to prevent Thor's return B)Sent the Destroyer to kill Thor, and even told it to destroy everything in the little town Thor was in -with no regard for the lives which could be lost because of his actions. C)Allowed Laufey into Jotunheim, and let's be real Laufey could have easily turned around, stabbed Loki, and then gone off to kill Frigga and Odin. D)Let Laufey hit Frigga, played perfect hero son only after Laufey was already on top of Odin about to stab him, and pretended not to know a thing, like 'Lol how'd he get here idk mother but I'll protect you even though he already flung you across the room' 

Loki's rule should technically end when Thor returns. But even then, Loki has Gungnir, which is basically saying he's still in some way in charge and what does he do with this power? He takes the kings staff to the Bifrost with the intent of destroying an entire planet after already murdering his biological father/a king, putting Asgard in danger, and his own king and queen-his adoptive parents, in a very dangerous position. -Frigga may be good with small knives but she was struggling with that sword.

Let's move to rule 2. 

Take into consideration everything he did in Midgard-   bringing an alien army to attack the planet, killing over 80 people in like 2 days, causing destruction and chaos in New York which would later lead to the problems in later MCU movies that take place in Midgard (Spiderman Homecoming is a good example) and let' not forget having mind slaves he completely damaged. All of this was in his conquest to gain enough power to be king. But we know Midgard was never the end game for Loki- it was always Asgard. And remorse? Yeah, not really there. He has a brief moment of 'It's too late', but he uses that to stab Thor- meaning he was likely playing on Thor's emotions knowing Thor would fall for his puppy eyes. 

So Loki's imprisoned (for showing no remorse and acting like everything is just a silly children's game-and Odin knows where it is headed because of Hela), he's not in any way a king or ruler of anything, but even in his cell he inadvertently causes Frigga's death in hoping to send Algrim/Kurse to Odin and Thor. 'I don't think the people of Asgard would take kindly to a king who murdered their predecessor' -So I'll send someone else to do it for me. (Because who is next in line if Thor and Odin die? Loki, you know if they hadn't decided to do that fuck up of 'lol Hela is their older sister now', but I digress.) The fact is Loki never shows real guilt or remorse until he realizes he is the reason that Frigga, the only person still giving him any chance and sneaking around to speak with him, died. So the story goes -he sets off, helps Thor, even protects Jane, and then fakes his death. Again. Both times were different though- I believe he truly believed he'd die if he let go of Mjolnir's handle based off the tie in Avengers comic-they believed Loki would be torn to shreds by the world tree. But in this fake death, it's all Loki. He gets up, brushes off, returns to Asgard. 

So how does he get to be king the second time? He curses Odin, banishes him in Midgard in a retirement home -and never checks up to be like 'oh yeah whatever happened to dad?'- which leads to Odin being a homeless vagabond just chilling in Norway waiting to see his sons one last time. In the meantime, Loki gives Thor what he wants and sends him to Midgard. Of course, Thor says he returned to Asgard once in AOU- but did he really? He would have caught on that Odin wasn't Odin if he really had. (Really it's a shame they wouldn't let Joss focus on Thor like he wanted) - So that mention of going to Asgard in AOU-let's assume Loki was off doing Loki things and avoiding Thor. Which leads to Thor traveling the universe for YEARS trying to find answers about the Infinity Stones. -A mess Loki helped make worse, but that began in Captain America. (Thanks, Red Skull.) 

So what's Loki doing while Thor's off trying to save the universe? He's ignoring Asgards duties, which leads to the Dwarves slaughter and the gauntlet being made (of course he may have thought he had the real and only gauntlet in the vault).  Loki gathers up some bad actors, writes his own little play, erects a giant statue of himself, MOCKS FRIGGA'S DEATH by making his 'sacrifice' in avenging her a total joke in the play and by laughing at it, and maybe even hoes around with the servant ladies that surround him while he watches the play. Which if he did- further mocks Frigga and Odin. 

Thor arrives and calls him out on his shit, his reign is pretty much done for. But Thor doesn't get the chance to rule, he has to clean Loki's mess and get Odin, and then he has to clean Odin's mess with Hela. Thor tries to prevent Hela from reaching Asgard, but Loki shouts for the gate to be open-if Heimdall was in charge of the gate and saw this shit he would have kept it closed. Just saying. So Loki gives Hela an opening to put Asgard and its people in danger- which if she had won in the end, would have led to death and chaos across the universe. But that's not how the story goes. Thor and Loki get thrown into Sakaar. Loki's been there for weeks and is just mingling and partying, making jokes about his first death, and while he's stolen ship passcodes-is making no real effort to leave and go fight for his people. But that is all Thor is worried about and wants to do. Even when Thor is a slave, locked up and unable to do much but fight to get his freedom, he only thinks of returning to Asgard to save the people. Loki even tries to prevent Thor from doing so for money.-and possibly being petty that Thor would not go with his plan to escape together and ignore Asgard, let it burn. Thor escapes, he fights for his people- and Loki turns up afterwards, only to ham it up and be a big diva like 'LOOK I AM BRINGING A BIG SHIP AND I AM SAVING YOU ALL WITH IT' -yes, he fights, yes, in the end, he pledges allegiance to Asgard, but his actions prior to his Infinity War death are not the actions of a good king, only a selfish man. He and Thor both understand ruling well, but they both understand different aspects, and Loki's is the toxic form, while Thor's is the good-natured and humble form. Combining them together=great king. 

If Thanos hadn't of come, Thor would still have people to care for and rule over, but he doesn't. He has nothing. He's a space hobo now. His rule would have been much longer than Loki's, and, in an ideal world, they could have learned to work together to combine their understanding of what it means to be king. But that world doesn't exist.

[waveridden]

FIC: cast my name to the wind

A tale from America’s golden age in which an heiress renounces her riches and becomes a vagrant in a quest to deserve her one true love, the Hobo Princess, in her home the fabled vagrant’s paradise Moonshine Holler. What woman cannot relate to that? Only a woman who has never loved. Sami Jo/Autumn, Sami Jo & Steve, 1.8k.

AUcember || title lyric

#

“So let me get this straight,” Steven says. “You threw a party last night.”

“Mhm,” Sami Jo says. “You were there.”

“I was there,” Steven agrees. “And at some point, when I lost track of you at this party, you met a woman who told you she was the hobo princess.”

“Yes.”

“As in, the princess of all hobos.”

“That’s right.”

“And the hobo princess gave you… a glove.”

Sami Jo holds up the glove. “She said it’s like the hobo equivalent of proposing.”

“That’s great,” Steve says, but that vein in his forehead is doing that pop-out thing that it does when he’s actually about to go apoplectic on her. “You’re engaged to the hobo princess.”

“She’s great,” Sami Jo sighs dreamily. The woman was beautiful, a little indelicate, unlike anyone Sami Jo has ever met. She’s smitten and she doesn’t even care.

“You’re already engaged!”

“Uh, I don’t want to be engaged to Parker, and I’m also pretty sure he doesn’t want to be engaged to me.”

Steve claps his hands together in front of his chest. “You can’t run away.”

“Why not? I’m an adult, I can do what I feel like.”

“Because people are going to notice if you go missing!”

Sami Jo is an heiress to a canned good empire. It’s the shittiest, worst sentence that defines her life, next to: Sami Jo is engaged to the heir of a different canned good empire. Like somehow, marrying off two canned good moguls is going to make some huge canned good conglomerate. She hates it. Steven knows she hates it. She’s pretty sure Parker knows she hates it, too, which she’d feel bad about if he didn’t also hate it.

“Barely anybody will really care, though,” she argues. “And I want to find her again.”

“Can’t you write her a letter?”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just leave it at a street corner. Dear hobo princess Autumn, please marry me, I’ll see you next Tuesday.” She glares at him. “Steve, come on, that’s crazy.”

“And the rest of this isn’t crazy?”

“I’m going to find her,” Sami Jo says stoutly.

“You’re not even in love with her!” Steven practically shouts. “You met her last night! You can’t run away from your responsibilities and go searching for a hobo by yourself because you think you might want to marry her!”

“Good point.” Sami Jo taps her chin thoughtfully. She doesn’t know enough - or anything - about the hobo lifestyle, certainly not enough to do this. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me. So I’m not alone.”

“I don’t-”

“You don’t want to be rich either,” Sami Jo says, as cajolingly as she can. Steve is her best rich friend, which means that they both agree that having money sucks. Financial security is one thing, but the isolation, the separation, the expectation is all too much. They’ve joked about running away before. Hopefully he can tell she’s not joking anymore.

Steven sighs. “But I don’t know how to be a hobo either.”

“We can figure it out together.”

“I can’t run away,” Steven says, but Sami Jo can feel him coming around. “I can’t - can I call it a business trip?”

“Call it what you want,” Sami Jo says. “But I’m going to call it what it is.”

“And what is it?”

“A jailbreak,” Sami Jo says, and just like she knew he would, Steve cracks a smile at that.

#

They’ve been on the run for a sum total of seven minutes when a guy quite literally pops out of a dumpster and says “Whuzzit?”

Steven shrieks and wheels back a few steps, dropping his bindle in the process. Sami Jo just tips her cap to the guy. “Uh, whuzzit to you too.”

“Whuzzit’s a dumb way to say hello,” the guy says reproachfully, adjusting his headband. “It’s an American hobo thing, but I am a Canadian hobo, and I am a hobo of distinguished taste.”

“You are literally in a dumpster,” Steven says. “You, right now, are in a dumpster.”

“Distinguished,” he repeats. And then he spits a glob of saliva and… well, hopefully just saliva into his hand and holds it out. “Name’s Cib.”

“No,” Steven whispers. “No, no, no-”

Sami Jo spits in her hand and smacks it against Cib’s. “They call me Sami Jo.”

Cib nods approvingly and wipes their joined spit off on his shirt. Steven, still standing decidedly behind Sami Jo, gags. Cib ignores him. “Haven’t seen you around these parts before.”

“We’re a bit new at this whole hobo thing.”

“Also, you’re Canadian,” Steven says, kind of unhelpfully. “So, you know, that might be why you don’t know us.”

Cib peers around Sami Jo to glare at him. “Or maybe I emigrated a few years ago and you came poking around my dumpster. Ever think about that, you bean-can string-bean string-along fuck?”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Bean-can string-bean string-along fuck, aren’t you listening?”

“I don’t think he’s being literal,” Sami Jo says. “He probably actually didn’t understand you.”

“His loss,” Cib says. “You said you’re new?”

Sami Jo wipes her own hand on the side of her jeans. “Yeah, maybe you can help me, actually. I got a glove from a hobo a while ago, I’m trying to track her down.”

Cib whistles. “Got gloved, huh? Next thing you know the wedding pies’ll be baking. Who’s it from?”

“Her name’s Autumn.”

Cib’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and in one smooth motion he vaults the side of the dumpster and lands next to Sami Jo. “You got gloved by the hobo princess?”

“Is there only one hobo named Autumn?” Steven demands.

“Yeah, she got first name dibs on Autumn.” Cib shakes his head and leans over to Sami Jo. “Do we have to take him with us?”

“Take him with us?” Sami Jo repeats. “Where are we going?”

“To find the hobo princess, of course.”

“And how do we do that?”

“You ever been on a train before, Sami Jo?”

“I have.”

Cib grins. “Not like this, you haven’t.”

#

“When you want to get on a train, you need a running start.” He cranes his neck, looking down the eastbound tracks. “Makes it easier when you jump.”

“I’m going home,” Steven says. “I’m not going to jump on a moving train, what the fuck is-”

“How do you pick a car?” Sami Jo asks, curious though her heart’s pounding.

“You normally shoot for one of the last ones. And you can tell a cargo car from the outside.”

“And when do you start running?”

The engine of the train pases them “Now,” Cib says, and takes off.

Sami Jo sprints after him without hesitation. She can hear Steven shriek “Samantha!”, the way he only does when he’s actually pissed at her, but she knows that he’s running after her. Or at least, he hopes that she is. It’s hard to hear anything over the train.

“Okay,” Cib shouts. “The last car is coming up, so you’re going to need to jump and grab on. If you have strong arms, this will not be as hard for you as it will be for me!”

“We’re going to die,” Steve screams back, which is about what she expected from him.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Sami Jo yells back.

Cib changes angles so he’s running towards the train. Sami Jo follows him, and he jumps on the back of the last train car, clinging to the back. “Go,” he shouts.

Sami Jo takes a second to cast a prayer up to whatever’s listening, and then jumps, grabbing onto a handle on the far back. She barely manages to shimmy over before Steven flings himself upward next to her, gasping for air.

“Oh my god,” Sami Jo says, exhilarated. “Oh, my god, we got on the train.”

“Please tell me we can also get in the train,” Steven says, although it’s still hard to hear him. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because you love me?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Sami Jo grins at him. “Glove!”

“I’m going home!”

“Got it,” Cib shouts, and the door to the train compartment goes flying open. “Everyone in, quick quick quick, gotta go!” And with that he swings himself into the train compartment.

Steven stares. “Uh, do you want-”

“After you,” Sami Jo says. Steven glares at her, but he shimmies to the side and, with a loud yelp, more or less throws himself into the train compartment. She doesn’t allow herself to think twice before following suit, stumbling but landing on her feet. Which seems to be more than Steven can say, from where he’s sprawled out on the floor.

“Nice,” Cib says approvingly. “You have mastered the second most important lesson of hoboism. I’m proud of you already.”

“What’s the first?” Steven groans, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“Getting off the train,” Cib says cheerfully, and goes to shut the compartment door. The last thing Sami Jo sees before the compartment goes dark is Steven’s face going pale.

#

Cib snores. They find this out about two hours into the train ride, by Sami Jo’s estimate.

“Hey,” she says quietly, looking at where she’s pretty sure Steven is. It’s hard to see. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Steven answers. “Hold on.” She can hear shuffling, like he’s getting to his feet, and then he plops down next to her in the dark. “You good?”

“I’m good.” Sami Jo tips her head back to look at the ceiling. “I think.”

“I think I lied.”

“I might be lying too.”

“We’re both rich and we’re in a cargo car of a train, heading somewhere unspecified east of here, with a homeless man we met in a dumpster.”

“Looking for a hobo princess in a mythical city.”

“Mythical city?”

“Oh, I forgot that part.” She grins despite herself. “There’s apparently a hobo paradise called Moonshine Holler. It’s like their version of… I dunno, New York or Los Angeles.”

“Where is it?”

“She wouldn’t say.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t say,” Steven mumbles. “Fantastic. What are we doing here?”

“Looking for the hobo princess.”

“The hobo princess,” he repeats, a little higher pitched than before. “The hobo princess who you met, last night, at a party. Was she worth throwing everything away for?”

Sami Jo shrugs and lets her head fall onto Steven’s shoulder. “I think I was ready to throw everything away,” she admits. “This is just an excuse. But she’s a pretty excuse.”

Steven claps a hand on her knee. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Thanks for coming on an impossible quest with me.”

“Thanks for getting me out of that shitty, stuffy life.”

Sami Jo smiles in the dark. Somewhere out there, her parents are searching for their daughter, and her fiance is probably worried about her. And somewhere out there, there’s a woman with a bright smile and one glove, waiting for her. She knows which one she’d rather run towards.

#

bonus info about this au

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Bob Dylan's 115th Dream by Bob Dylan from 1988-10-19 Stuck Inside of New York

I was ridin' on the Mayflower when i thought i spied some land I yelled for captain Arab, i have you understand Who came runnin' to the deck, said, "Boys forget the whale, Look on over yonder, cut the engines, change the sail, Haul on the bow line''. We sang that melody Like all tough sailors do when they're far away at sea. "I think i call it America'', i said as we hit land I took a deep breath, i fell down, i could not stand Captain Arab he started writin' up some deeds He said, "Let's set up a fort an' start buyin' the place with beads.'' Just then this cop comes down the street crazy as a loon An' throws us all in jail for carryin' harpoons. Ah me i busted out, don't even ask me how I went to get some help, i walked by a Guernsey cow Who directed me down to the Bowery slums Were people carried signs around, sayin', "Ban the bums'' I jumped right into line, sayin', "I hope that i'm not late.'' When i realized i hadn't eaten for five days straight. I went into a restaurant lookin' for the cook I told him i was the editor of a famous etiquette book The waitress he was handsome, he wore a powder blue cap I ordered some suzette, i said, "Could you please make that crepe'' Just then the whole kitchen exploded from boiling fat Food was flyin' everywhere, i left without my hat. Now i didn't mean to be nosy but i went into a bank To get some bail for Arab an' all the boys back in the tank They asked me for some collateral an' i pulled down my pants They threw me in the alley when up comes this girl from France Who invited me to her house, i went but she had a friend Who knocked me out an' robbed my boots an' i was on the street again. Well i rapped upon a house with the U.S. flag upon display I said could you help me out, i got some friends down the way The man said, "Get out of here, i'll tear you limb from limb'' I said, "You know they refused jesus too'', he said, "You're not him, Get out of here Before i break your bones, i ain't your pope.'' I decided to have him arrested an' i went lookin' for a cop. I ran right outside, i hopped inside a cab I went out the other door, this englishman said "Fab!'' As he saw me leap a hot dog stand an' a chariot that stand Parked across a building advertisin' brotherhood I ran right thru the front door like a hobo sailor does But it was just the funeral parlor an' the man asked me who i was. I repeated that my friends were all in jail, with a sigh He gave his card, he said, "Call me if they die.'' I shook his hand and said goodbye ran out to the street When a bowlin' ball came down the road an' knocked me off my feet A pay phone was ringin', it just about blew my mind When i picked it up and said, "Hello'', this foot came thru the line. Well by this time i's fed up at tryin' to make a stab At bringin' back any help for my friends an' captain Arab I decided to flip a coin like either heads ot tails Would let me know if i should go back to ship or back to jail So i hocked my sailor's suit an' i got a coin to flip It came up tails, it rhymed with sails so i made it back to the ship. Well i got back an' took the parkin ticket off the mast I was rippin' it to shreds when this coast guard boat went past They ask me my name an' i said, "Captain Kidd'' They believed me but they wanted to know what exactly that i did I said for the pope of Eruke, i was employed They let me go right away, they were very paranoid. Well the last i heard of Arab, he was stuck on the whale That was married to the deputy sheriff of the jail But the funniest thing was when i was leavin' the bay I saw three ships a-sailin', they were all headin' my way I asked the captain what is name was an' how come he didn't drive a truck He said his name was Colombus, i just said, "Good luck.''

[redneonmoons]

The Golden Cave (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Prompt: same plot as most angst newt fics (except angstier)

Word Count: 2395

A/N: Yeah Yeah, I know.  The Bones part 3 fic should be out.  Well, now I can work on it without this fic being in the way. XP

“Hey Y/N?” Newt called.

“Yes?” I called back, trying to find him from where I stood.

“Can you feed the mooncalves?” he asked, “The Goldsteins have invited us to dinner so I was hoping you will be okay with me starting on my way.  With you in the case.”

“Good idea,” I replied, picking up the buckets with the mooncalves’ food.

He disappeared into the shed as I walked over to the mooncalves’ enclosure.  It has been eight months since I started working with Mr. Scamander.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.  His creatures were fantastic and amazing and so very lovely.  Though my favorite creature was the magizoologist himself.  His goofy smile was enough to cure any grumpy mood I may be in.  I fancied him.  I fancied him a lot, but those feelings were kept inside a cage in my heart.  I didn't need to ruin this friendship with selfish desires.

Sighing, I petted a stray mooncalf who was rubbing up against me.  I wanted to tell him.  Desperately, but I am strong.  If he wants to go further in our relationship he would say.  But that didn't stop the slight aching in my heart.

"We're here!" Newt called.

"Finally!" I exclaimed, hopping off the rock I was sitting on.

I was up the ladder in record time.  I turned to close the case when I heard Newt's laughter.  I grinned, happy Newt was enjoying himself.  I walked into the kitchen where Queenie greeted me excitedly.

"Oh Y/N!  I'm absolutely joyed to see you again," She cheered, dragging me to a chair next to her and Newt.

The dinner was amazing as always and there were plenty of stories to go around from Newt and I's adventures across the globe to Tina and Queenie's work-related tales.  The table was soon empty and everyone slowly went silent, tiredness taking over.  I excused myself from dinner and walked into the spare bedroom Newt and I were staying in.  I was jotting down some notes when Tina opened the door and came in, sitting down on Newt's bed.

"Y/N?" she asked, holding her hands on her lap.

"Yes?" I answered, looking up at her flustered face.

"I," pause, "I was wondering if Newt and you were," another pause, "Dating?" she asked.

Now it was my turn to pause, "Uh.  No."

She smiled, "Is it okay if I," pause, "Ask him out?"

My heart suddenly shattered into a million pieces.  It took all my strength to keep the waterfall of tears to come pouring.  I smile weakly at her.

"Sure," I replied, just keeping in a sob.

We sat together in silence before Tina got up and walked out the door.  I soon followed only turning to the door instead of the kitchen, grabbing my coat and donning it.

"Where are you going?" Newt asked.

"For a walk," I replied, opening the door and walking out.

I scrolled the lonely roads of New York, heading towards the frozen Central Park.  Snow softly fell, making me feel as numb as I feel on the inside.  Silent tears flowed down my cheeks, making them more frozen than normal.  I laid my cold body on a bench, casting a spell so I wouldn't die from the cold.  I whimpered as more tears fell and the sobbing became worst.  I soon cried myself to a restless sleep full of horrid dreams of lost.

~~~

I stood outside the Goldstein's apartment, hoping Queenie could sense me and let me in when Newt and Tina weren't there.

The door cracked open, "It's okay sweetie, you can come in now."

"Thanks," I said, walking in; my head down.

"Y/N," Queenie exclaimed, cupping my cheeks in her hands, "You're so cold.  What happened?"

"Just a bit of emotional cleansing," I replied, weakly.

"Liar," Queenie stated, leading me to the couch.

"I'm fine," I said, taking a seat, "I feel better already."

She frowned, giving me a sad look and waving her wand.  Two cups of tea floated over to us.  I took my cup and started drinking it, watching the fire.  Thirty minutes passed when I finished my cup.  I got up and walked to the spare bedroom.  I started at Newt's case before abruptly grabbing my backpack.  Just as I brought my wand out, Queenie burst through the door.

"Y/N!  No!" she cried out, trying to grab me.

But it was too late.  I already disapperated.

~~~

It has been six months.  Six months since I left my friends.  Since I left Newt.  I was in Italy.  Brought here by rumors of a rare wizarding artifact.  Ever since I left I enchanted my backpack to be like Newt's case.  It wasn't exactly like his for his is made for creatures.  Mine for rare and unique objects.  Anything valuable and shiny basically.  It wasn't as big as Newt's either.  Instead, mine was a small cave with a pool of crystal clear water.  The walls were carved with natural shelves for my artifacts.  Most of the floor was stone.  Using sea glass to replace sand for the entrance and bottom of the pool.  

This collecting is the only thing keeping me same.  Well.  That is what I tell myself.

Y/N . . . Come back . . .

"Shut up," I muttered, making a few passerby look at me odd.

Not that I cared.  I stopped smiling long ago.  I stopped feeling too.  My world has slowly turned to gray.  Like the walls of my cave.  This might be the real reason I collect those objects.  Because they're shiny.  I had basically turned into a depressed Niffler.  Chuckling at the thought absentmindedly, I looked up at the overcast sky.

"It's going to rain," I stated dully to no one.

Just like that, a raindrop fell on my cheek.  Several more followed while I adjusted my fedora and coat.  I whispered a password to a hobo, who pushed a button as I walked into a bar.

You shouldn't be here . . .

I ignored his words.  There just my imagination.  Sitting down in the back, I ordered some Italian butter-beer.

You're not safe here . . .

"Shut up," I muttered again as someone came to my side.

I looked over to see the waiter.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself," I mumbled, handing him some money and taking the drink.

"[Insert Italian gibberish]" Someone said, sitting across from me.

"English?" I asked, looking up at the man.

"Oh, yes.  Should have known.  I was just saying how you seemed different," He corrected.

"I'm here on business," I stated.

"You look like you're here to grieve," He said, then hastily added, "Just saying."

I smiled weakly, looking at my drink," That too I guess."

"So what brings you here on business?" He asked.

"I heard that someone was looking to sell a rare artifact."

"Oh I know just who you're looking for," he said excitedly.

"Who?"

"Me," He raised his hand to his chest.

"What are you looking to sell it for?" I asked as he brought out the shiny artifact.

"Have some magical beast on you?" he joked.

In any other setting, it would be funny but this just struck a chord with me.

"If you want a magical creature you should be asking for Newt Scamander," I spat, getting up and walking out into the pouring rain.

~~~

After finding a deserted alley, I went into my backpack putting an invisibility charm on it so no one could look in or steal it.  I kicked off my shoes and fell into my hammock, fresh tears falling from my cheeks.

Don't cry . . .

"GO AWAY!" I yelled, pulling my hair in frustration.

I'm here . . .

"NO!  I LEFT YOU!  YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY WITH TINA!  NOW BE WITH HER!" I screeched.

There were footsteps coming down my ladder.  My tears froze at the sight of who it was.  It was Queenie, a travel-worn Queenie.

"Oh Y/N," she said, sorrowfully, "You look awful."

I turned my back to her, "How did you find me?"

"There were rumors about a collector with some association with Newt Scamander."

"Don't you dare say his name," I warned.

There was a pause, "You hear his voice."

"I'm just going crazy, nothing I can't handle."

"Honey, you can't even handle the sight of me."

"I'm fine," I whimpered, wiping the tears away.

"Now that is just a lie and you know it.  Newt misses you."

"He'll be fine.  He has Tina."

"He is most definitely not fine Y/N."

"Have you told him why I left?"

"No."

"Why not?" I accosted, "Don't you think he would want a reason?"

"I do, but you should be the one to tell him."

"If you think I'll just come with you back to his arms, you're wrong."

"I don't need you to come with me," she smiled, mischievously, "Tina and I are just going to carry you there."

"Wait!  Why is Tina with you?" I yelled after her.

But it was too late.  I was stuck.

Heading towards the last place I wanted to go.

To Newt.

~~~

The days passed slowly.  Painfully slow.  Between the voice-in-my-head fits and the restless sleep, I was okay even though it felt like the longer we took the more panic filled me to the point that I was pacing with Queenie finally come down the ladder.

"We're here," she cheered but her attitude soon changed when she noticed my state.

She walked over to me and hugged me, "Come up when you're ready," she whispered.

"Okay," I said weakly, barely able to speak knowing Newt was somewhere above me.

~~~

I haven't moved.  It has been hours.  The nerves were slowly getting to me.  I looked at the pool.  Hesitantly I breathed out and walked to the edge, taking off my socks and over-shirt.  Still, with my tank-top and pants on, I waded into the shallow water; The water only going to my waist.  I dropped down, submerging my head below before bringing it back up.  I silently watched the ladder, hoping and despairing.  There were sudden yelling and loud crashes before footsteps came down the ladder.  I ducked my head into the water with my nose just high enough to breathe.

There he was.  Blue coat and all.  Standing there in my cave, looking around the room before finding me.  His face softened turning to sadness at the sight of me as he stared into my eyes.  Still not having said a word, he walked over to the water where he started taking off his shoes, socks, coat, jacket, and vest.  He then walked into the water, never letting his watering eyes off me as I raised to full height.

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly, slowing closing the space between us.

"It's just water," I lied, walking backward to keep the distance.

He noticed and frowned a little, disappointed.

"Y/N . . ." He said, but it sounded like he also said it in my head.

I closed my eyes and placed my hands over my ears; a pained expression covering my face.  Warm arms wrapped around me, one hand holding my head against his chest.  I immediately go limp at his touch.  He slowly pulled me to a shallower part of the pool.  Sitting down in the water, he cooed softly to me as I sobbed into his warm chest.

"Why did you leave?" he finally asked.

I paused my crying to look at him.  He eyes bore into mine so I looked back down, unable to hold his glance.

"I knew I couldn't keep up my facade if you and Tina started dating," I whispered, shaking in fear.

"What facade?" he questioned, pulling me closer to him.

"Th-that I love you more than a friend."

The silence that followed those words became deadly.  I didn't dare look up.  I know deep down I wasn't strong.  If I was, I would be able to look up at him like an equal or even would have told him earlier.  I also wouldn't have run away like the coward I am.

I turned to pull out of his arms only to have him just tighten his hold on me.

"Newt," I pleaded.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, "That you love me?"

"Yes," I answered weakly.

He then cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.  I was frozen in shock.  Still even after he ended the kiss.  My face turning into a bright shade of pink, I sank down into his lap, staring at my shaking hands.  He wiped away the last few remaining tears and held my hands.  Still not looking up, he kissed me on the forehead then nose before resting his head on my shoulder.  I bit my lip, trying to understand what was happening.

"Newt?" I asked.

Couple minutes passed.

"Newt?"

The only reply I received was a soft snore from the magizoologist.  I gently pushed him off me so I could see his face.  Smiling slightly, I dragged him to the water's edge.  Being too weak to get him out of the water, I rested his head on my lap, brushing his bangs back.  After a while I got the nerve to put my hand on his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, making me pull back my hand in shock.

He smiled and grabbed my hand, opening his eyes and returning my hand to his cheek.  I faltered, not knowing what to do so I just stared into his hazel eyes.  Getting brave, Newt turned and crashed his lips against mine.  I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Crash!

We separated, searching for the cause.  Scanning the walls, we saw a black shadow scurry away.  Newt immediately gave chase.  He ran to the wall and began grabbing at it.  After knocking down some of my collectibles, he finally got a hold of the intruder.

"You bugger!" he exclaimed, bring the creature to his face.

It was the Niffler.  I giggled as Newt began to shake it by its back paws, some of my artifacts falling from his pouch.

Newt then turned to me, smiling, "Shall we bring him back to my case?"

"Definitely," I answered, smiling.

[classic-rock-roller]

1. In your town, there is a homeless man everyone has nicknamed the Library Hobo since that’s where he sleeps in the winter time. One day in summer, you’re at a gas station, and you see the Library Hobo pushing his bicycle by. Kevin jumps out of the car and runs into the convenience store. When he comes out, he’s holding 2 water bottles. He hurriedly hands you one and says, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go give him one.” and motions toward the Library Hobo. He runs off before you can respond. How does the Library Hobo respond, and what does Kevin say when he gets back?

When Kevin gives him the bottle he seems surprised and seems to say ‘are you sure?’ before Kevin shakes his head yes. When Kevin comes back I’d go, “Aww, you’re really sweet.” And kiss him. “It’s hot. I didn’t want him to get dehydrated.” 

2. Kevin has never been a very religious person, and neither have you. One day you come home and he is on his knees in the living room, saying a prayer that you two will have a lasting relationship. He doesn’t know you’re home yet. What do you do?

I wouldn’t want to interrupt him but when he’s finished he’d realize I was standing there and go, “H-How long have you been standing there?” “Long enough to know that with work, we will have a lasting relationship.” 

3. You’re flying out to California with Kevin to visit his parents. As the plane passes over your hometown, Kevin gets up and goes to the front of the plane, and the flight attendant gets on the intercom and says, “Howdy folks! If you look out your windows out either side, you’ll see Allentown. That’s where one of our passengers, @classic-rock-roller was born, and I have up here with me a Mr.Kevin DuBrow, and he’s got something to ask her.” She passes him the microphone, and he asks you to marry him. What do you do?

“Of course I’ll marry you!” I’d run up to the front of the plane and kiss him and the whole plane would most likely be cheering as he put the ring on my finger. 

4. You’re visiting Italy with Crue, and you’re walking around Saint Mark’s Square. Tommy is buying something from a street vendor, and as the vendor hands Tommy his coins, a surprisingly agile beggar woman jumps up, snatches the coins, and runs away. How does everyone respond?

Tommy is kind of just standing there surprised. Nikki and Vince go, “What was that?” Mick knew this was going to happen because he’d been in Italy before and I just go, “Damn, she’s fast.” 

5. You’re on the bus with QR and Kevin is being especially annoying. After a minute, Drew says angrily, “God, do you ever shut up?” and Randy deadpans, “Magic 8 ball says probably not.” How do you respond?

I’d look over to Drew and go, “Do you want me to shut him up?” Drew would go, “Yes, anything to get him to stop.” I’d start a full-on makeout session with Kevin and Drew would go, “Ok, anything but that! Anything but that!” We’d ignore him anyway and Randy would look over at Drew and say, “You just had to bring it up didn’t you?”   

6. You’re on a dock overlooking the ocean. The dock is on a bit of a hill, and there’s about a 20 foot drop to the water. You and Mick are enjoying the beauty, Vince is trying to get a nice photo of the water, and Nikki and Tommy are chasing each other. After a minute, you hear Nikki shout, “No don’t–YOU FUCKER!” Tommy pushed him over the railing and he fell into the water. How do you all respond?

Vince is cackling like an idiot, so is Tommy for that matter. Mick is just kind of shaking his head while trying to hold in laughter and I’m screaming at Tommy for acting like a child and because Nikki could have gotten seriously hurt. 

7. Kevin decided he wanted to learn to play the clarinet, and he’s having a lesson one day. You’re sitting in on it, since the teacher didn’t mind. Kevin’s got the reed in his mouth, and the teacher does too, and he sees her flip her reed over without using her hands. Naturally, he sees this as a challenge, and tries to do the same thing. He tips his head back, and the reed falls dangerously far back in his mouth. He spits it out in a panic and says, “That’s it, this is a devil’s instrument, I don’t want to play it.” The teacher looks angry at him but doesn’t say anything. How do you respond?

“Just try it again. This is literally your first lesson. And maybe this time don’t try to one-up the teacher who’s been playing for twenty years.” 

8. You’re out with Kevin one day on a tour of the city. It’s raining, so you’re sharing an umbrella. He absentmindedly goes to put some change in your back pocket and ends up kind of just grabbing your bottom. You give him a look, and he chuckles. “What?” “That was a smart idea, putting your pants on inside out. That way no one can steal the stuff in your pockets.” You look down, thinking him crazy, and sure enough, you’ve got your pants on inside out. What do you do?

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t realize I put them on inside out.” Kevin literally stops, “How do you not realize?” “Well, after last night...and you rushing me this morning I literally just threw on the closest pants in the dark. So I guess I’ll be wearing them inside out the rest of the day.” 

9. You’re hanging out with QR and the 4 of them are sharing instrumental stereotype jokes (what’s the difference between a saxophone and a lawnmower? You can tune a lawnmower. That type of stuff). Randy hurt Kevin’s feelings with one of his jokes, so Kevin says, “Hey, Randy, how do you get a guitarist out of a tree? Cut the rope.” Randy is outraged, and Rudy and Drew know he’s gone too far. What do you do?

“Kevin,” I say his name dangerously low which usually means I’m really pissed off and that’s when he kind of realizes he went too far. “Oh god, I...I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t say that. Especially with what happened to your friend. Randy, I’m really, really sorry.” Randy is still pissed but forgives him and I go, “You need to learn to think before you speak sometimes.”  

10. You’re at home and are playing a record while Kevin is at work. You’ve got Van Halen playing, and they are QR’s notorious rivals (true story). After about half an hour, your door swings open violently and Kevin shouts “IS THAT VAN HALEN I HEAR?” How do you respond?

“Of fucking course, it’s Van Halen. They’re amazing.” He’d pout and go, “But my girlfriend can’t listen to our sworn enemy.” “I can listen to whoever I want to listen to and besides. When your guitarist looks that good you’re going to get girls listening to you.” Kevin would stride over and go, “You take that back.” I’d look up at him, “Make me.”  

11. You’re painting your house with QR. You’ve got the radio going, and a Jefferson Airplane song comes on. Rudy shouts out, “Hey who is this? They’re pretty good.” You shout, “Jefferson Airplane!” “What?” You’re about to shout again when Kevin shouts, “She said it’s Deaf Person Airplane!” He’s dead serious. He thinks that’s what you said. How does Rudy respond and what do you do?

“Who names their band Deaf Person Airplane?” “No, Jeff-er-son Airplane. Not Deaf Person Airplane.” They’d both look at me and go, “Ohhhh.”  

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

1) You and Randy were supposed to be going on a dinner date, that you’ve been planning for two months. When he pops his head into the room and asks, “Hey, where’s my guitar?” You look over at him. “Why do you need it?” “Kevin wants to do an emergency practice before our gig this weekend.” How do you respond? 

2) You and Kevin have played a joke on Randy and after he’s yelled at Kevin, he comes to yell at you but you kiss him on the nose and give him a smile. He smiles back and says, “I can’t stay mad at you when you’re so cute.” Kevin, who is doubled over in pain from where Randy hit him in the gut, goes, “Seriously?” How do you and Randy respond?

3) You had cooked dinner for you and Randy and had set up candles because it was your anniversary. He had practice that day but had promised you he’d be back in time. Your waiting for him with dinner all laid out and it slowly goes from him being ten minutes late to almost two hours. You sigh and put your empty plate in the dishwasher before going to bed. When he does get home it’s super late and he finds his dinner on the table with your card that read “Happy Anniversary,” He looks at it before saying, “Aw, shit.” What does he do? 

4) You get home from a long day of work to see that your roommate, Stephen, has put a scrunchie on the door handle. Once you get closer to the door, you can hear noises coming from right behind it. You’re pissed because you and Stephen have a ‘No thingamying in the living room rule’ and he’s just broken it. What do you do? 

5) You and Randy are walking through New York City. One of the hawkers is trying to sell you a bus tour. You don’t look at him and tell him no, just before you and Randy are out of earshot, Randy hears the hawker go, “Bitch.” How does Randy respond?

6) You and Crue are at the beach. At the hotel you’re staying in, it butts right up against the bay and there’s a long dock going out to deeper water. You’re at the end of the dock when you hear running footsteps behind you. You think nothing of it until the person running picks you up and jumps into the water with you. Once you come up out of the water, you look to see who jumped in the water with you. It was Tommy. How do you react? 

7) You and your boyfriend, Warren, are looking through colleges to see where you want to go. All of a sudden, he shoves a pamphlet in your face, “You should go here.” You look down at it and read, “Warren University?” “Yeah, then I’ll always be near you,” he says with this cheeky grin. How do you respond? 

8) Your roommate Stephen has been hit by a car and broken both his legs (for the second time). He was put into a medically induced coma so that they could operate on him. He’s been in this coma for almost two weeks and the doctors fear that he may not wake up. You’ve come and visited him every day and just talk to him or read him something from one of his favorite books. One day you're holding his hand while talking to him and you feel him tighten his hand around your own. What do you do? 

9) You’re driving Kevin and a friend from your hometown who’s come to visit. Your friend doesn’t know that you’re dating the guitarist of QR and hang out with the boys. He doesn’t even know Kevin is the singer. You’re driving down the highway when a new QR song comes on the radio. Both you and Kevin whoop and you turn it up. Your friend goes, “Not this shit. The whole band is horrible. Especially the singer. I don’t even know how they got signed.” How do you and Kevin react?

10) You live with Crue and you come out of the shower one day to find that your clothes are missing. You shove on a towel and go out to the living room to scream at Tommy, Nikki, and Vince. They all look at you dumbstruck. When you ask them if they took your clothes they all go, “No we just got back from the movies.” You hear chuckling and turn around to see Mick holding your clothes. (Apparently, Tommy and Nikki have rubbed off a bit.) What do you do? 

11) You’re walking back to your dorm room and are crossing the street when you hear “watch out!” You jump back and are barely missed by a motorcycle. “Hey asshole, watch it!” you scream at the biker. He takes off his helmet and you realize it’s Nikki from your chem class. He looks you up and down and goes, “How am I supposed to watch it when you’re the one distracting me?” How do you respond? 

@osbournebemydaddy , your move, love                       

[deruste]

Lord of light: Rise in the afternoon.

As one would do in my situation as soon as the rich redhead from new york said I was the son of god. Or was it a son of a god. I threw a tray the muscled surfer as the blonde with gray eyes and Jamaican goat man looked in surprise. I wish to say that I thought it was a bull right there and stormed out like a boss. What I actually must say is that I took the quickest way to the elevator and used the employee key to shut it off immediately. My hand was still shaking on the key still in the control panel. “ What the fuck!” I clapped my hands onto my face. “I threw my best job away.” I should properly chastise myself for thinking about my minual wage job and not the fact that those people were properly from a cult. And not the fun kind. I sat in the corner of the elevator trying to compose myself and figure out what the hell is going on! My hand and face were beadings with sweat and with my hands being over them it started to pooling into them. The door finally opened to the main lobby door. And while I could start talking about the gaudy Greco-roman statues and water fountain with a naked bearded man that looked suspiciously like mister...Adriano, I rather run as far away as possible from those loons. The letter popped into my mind when I said his name and the name on the letter kept rattling in my mind. Oceanus, Oceanus, God damn Oceanus. Why the hell does that name sound familiar! It clung and clanged like a loose bot in a long rusted machine. By the time the frustration stopped, I was in front of the statue of Bossman. The statue aside from some difference in features they looked exactly the same. The biggest difference were horns on the sides of his head that looked like crab claws. Maybe...no,no,no,no,no! I'm not believing those guys just because my boss looks like some statue. I looked at myself and saw the nameplate of the statue which made me anger grow. It had Oceanus engraved with some info on the gold plating. Oceanus, eldest of the Titans, father of the rivers and their nymphs. Most importantly of all the most faithful of the divines. Faithful had a marker adjustment the read “mostly” on the tail end along with “tethy forgive me”. Which sounded uncomfortably like Adriano wife Betty...tethy...betty. The more I sounded it out in my head the more they sounded similar. NO no, I'm not going down that rabbit hole. I went past the fountain and went into the kitchen to get friends help. In most case of poverty like me, no family help and no love for foster homes you learn to make backups when you're found out for running away or being an unsupervised youth in general. My backup is Aigle, I know a weird name but she is the closest thing I have to a friend along with Manual. She was in front of a stove cooking some empanadas. The scent nearly distracted me from Aigle. “Seriously one Blanco was enough to make you quit your post.” She said with a low, harsh voice. Imagine your abuela smoking a 12-pack daily while garbling several pounds of sand and you have Aegle sound and look. Very leathery skin that resembles a burlap sack bleached white with very sharp eyes that sometimes flicker like a predator. She was, as I can best describe a grandmother who fought, lived and breathed war than let herself go a bit except for her arms. She flicked her braided silver hair over her shoulder as I described the loons but didn't mention the camp or the son of a god shit because I didn't even want to think about that bit. “You know those Jesus camps on the other islands. The ones were they force people to submit to Jesus or they never leave. They gave me that vibe.” She shrugged her shoulder at my concern giving me an empanada. “ Seriously they were like PTSD ridden cultist,” I said biting down on my food. “Elio remember the Feminist conference.” I shuddered for a few seconds have Nam flashbacks to a large group of women yelling patriarchy and privilege left and right. I still hear them at night, offer one lady a free drink and suddenly you're running from the convention from a mob paying for later damages. “I don't want to but yes, But these-”  she held a hand over my face. “And then there was the congregation of those Haitian Santa Marians.” The sound of several angry priests rattles in my mind as the image of me, Aegle and Manual carrying several snakes away burned itself into my eyes again. The smell of snakes didn't leave my arms for a week. “You were the one who wanted to rescue the snakes.” She gave me an exasperated sigh. “And you verbally assaulted the priests and their faith. You told the head of the congregation that he was a bargain bin pope and his priest’s pedophiles in training. You have a tendency towards-” “Honesty and frankness,” I said earnestly chowing down on another empanada. “ being an assshole, yes.” she gingerly puts a hand on my shoulder as she pulls a fresh batch of food from the oven. “ You tend to assume the worst and then make it worse by reacting according to what you think and not what is not there.” she eyes my messy eyesight, the way my vision darted around to find something to focus on. “You took your pills for the day right?” She chided me. She inspected my face with rigorous perception and urgent worry oozing from a disapproving frown. She was close enough to me that I could count her liver spots. I give a sigh. “I didn't take the pills, they make me slower.” listening to myself it sounded whiny like a kid stomping his foot and crying while his parent was trying not to be mortified. Raised her hands to her face, cupping them in disappointment. “ What did you see?” she held my face gingerly examining my reaction quite closely, her hand felt quite cold and hard for some reason like her leathery skin became part iguana for a moment and her skin flickered green for a moment. I took a breath. “The pale Jamaican had goat legs and you had green skin for a second there.” Her face went stone face stuck in quiet contemplation. For a few seconds, her face went through a gambit of movement. First anger that made her eye go “predator stalking its prey” mode for a second, or what is more vengeful? Then it went more towards sad resignation, a sense of fear that crept into eyes darting every which way. She grabbed me with a pot of food. “What are you-?” she pulled me from the kitchen, the pot swing back and forth as burst through multiple doors. “What else did they say to you?!” Her voice was starting to crack in a panic yelling sort of way. She finally stopped running in a frenzied state and started frantically looking in all directions. After orienting myself I saw we were in the back parking lot of the Hotel, specifically the employee parking spots. It gave me some ideas as to why was Aegle dragging me here. She has no car so in all likelihood with her frenzied state, we might be “liberating” a car. It's also a bit funny that Aegle was reprimanding me for leaving my post but now she is dragging me around in the parking lot looking for a getaway vehicle and I know she is looking for one because she has settled on the “o shit,o shit” look of despair and fear. A classic face in times of crisis most popularized by small black comedians such as Chris Tucker and his upgrade Kevin Hart. “They said some bullshit about me being the son of a god!” it came out angrier than it should but I didn’t care anymore. She didn't seem to hear my words anyway, standing still and staring blankly. I saw a look of pain spike in her cheeks. “Are you-” She began to change. What do I mean by that? Ever seen in some superhero or fantasy stories where there is a shapeshifter that changed seamlessly into a new shape. Remove the seamless part and that was basically what I saw. Through painful, baneful screaming she started to burst through her own skin. Her leathery, wrinkled skin was shedding away making way for hard emerald scales that gleamed what little light that was in the parking lot. Scales popping from the worn skin like long-buried ingrown hairs minus the puss thankfully.   I got weirder when I saw what was happening below her waist. Now before you start making a mental image I'm not talking naughty sections. Trust me if I had to trade what I saw with being harassed by a flashing hobo all day I would seriously consider the merits of staring at a random man's dingleberries. Her legs began fusing quite painfully as her screaming suggested into a large snake tail slightly longer than let's say your average lady, so about 5’5 in length. It had a brown splotchy pattern like the boa snakes that are common this side of the island. Faced with this amount of excitement I took the manliest route and passed right there and then. Dreams are weird, at least that's what I'm told. Visions people have at night that might be related to what they did in the day or nothing at all. Never got it as a concept, or at all really. I didn’t know people dreamed until I left home. Before any conclusions are made I do sleep. It's just I see, feel and experience nothing when I do. Imagine endless darkness to what felt a few seconds to you but when you wake and its morning. That doesn't mean I don't get nightmares, by god do I do get nightmares. It's just that for me they happened when I was awake. Imagine little confusion at people talking about there weird dreams while you nothing or the worst nightmare. Thank you, life. As I ascribed, I simply woke from my lack of dreams. The time was early sunset as the clouds were starting to get bloody red in preparation for when they would be drenched of the black of night. I felt a crushing sensation, not enough to harm but enough to know I can’t move without something hard and rough giving me “Indian burns”. Who invented that phrase by the way? I don’t remember any story about a tribe uncomfortably burning peoples arms, trust me my tribe at least had the capacity for much worse. The discomfort was coming from my torso so I gazed downward trying to glimpse what was constricting my movement. Sure enough, a snake tail was pinning me to the corner of a pickup truck, spilling out from the drivers back window. “Oh good your up. I don't have to prop you up.” The tail receded into the driver seat. With that, I could now see that I was in the back of a pickup truck with my stuff from my apartment on the far back while I was behind the driver seat. “Ssshame, I thought you would be sssleeping the whole the trail through like when we first met.” A memory went quickly in my mind of a kindly older women letting a preteen catch a ride in her truck and her giving some pitty by buying some food for the both of them. I looked around again to get specific info on what trail we were on. The path was a very messy gravel road, they are not too uncommon in the south end of the island to some of the lesser villages, meaning...oh no. “We ain't going towards El ponce if you hadn't figured it out. There'sss a ssstop I want to take you to before we do anything elssse.” The voice was definitely Aegle but much sharper and smoother and snake lisp. She always had one but now it was overpowering. “ So how long?” I said, stealing my nerves. I don’t really want to know, I wanted to forget all this happened and wake to Aegle at my bedside saying I caught a bug the knocked me outperform I could deliver the food. I won't deny that but I also didn’t want to be left in any darkness anymore. “How long were you hiding ...this?” I could barely describe what I witness or at least recall it in a way that didn't warrant a similar response. She apparently heard me because the truck immediately stopped hard enough to send me flying if I didn't have an iron grip at the moment. “You know what, ssscrew sssecrets, ssscrew hiding at this point. You remember how to start a fire?” That seemed a bit disjointed but I obeyed seeing as it was my only option for answers. I gathered some dried sticks and leaves from the forest floor on the side of the road the side of the road. Aegle kept a close eye on me with full reptile eyes as she took the pot of empanadas from the back of the truck. Guess my clothes will smell delicious now since they had been right next to it. “Alright, the first question What are you and what am I?” Obvious questions first to anchor everything in a sense of this what normal is now. “You're a demigod, half mortal half divine. I'm a sssnake.” A bit too obvious but at least she still acted the same despite scales. “A bit too quick to lay it on me but is that a good or bad thing?” “Yessss and no”. She sighed. Aaand back to gibberish Again. “Why?” She held her head with an inquisitive hand while stirring the pot over the fire. Her feature became more youthful, my best guess is that since I witnessed was her shedding her skin in the horror film way and the natural way snake actually does. Her skin was still tanned but now inlined with green scales along the edges of her body like natural body armor. All the rest is what you expect from a snake hybrid, Snakes eye slits, flat nose, fork tongue, and fangs. I would properly be sacred if the face didn’t mostly stay the same. Kind but stern, attentive when needed but will bite your head off if you piss her off, guess that's literal now. “Demigodsss, as the name impliesss are the children of the godsss. In your case the greek onesss.” She explained. “There are other ones? Wait what about Jes-” she clasped her scaled hands over my mouth. “Sssaying the names of godsss draw their attention, that or being very attractive. In the cassse of that one.” She trailed off. “Besides the Judeo god is more metaphysssical nowadaysss.” “That explains nothing.” “Quiet! The godsss are a very … whats the word you would use for angry and horney all the time.” She stammered looking the sky with legitimate fear. I start to rattle in my mind all the greek stuff I could remember, it wasn’t much but a few things rattled.   “Bangry, so they have children with humans sometimes. How does this apply to me in any way.?” She poured the food from the pot in two small clay bowls and gave one to me. A simple soup with a few pieces of steak takes me back to when she let me travel around with her learning to survive. “ Yesss, that is the big question that I don’t know. If they wanted you for their camp they would have done that when you were younger. Then again since they just got out of combat, they may want to quickly replenish their numbersss.” She jabbed me several times in the chest. “Combat? Wait didn't that Jackson guy talks about a camp.” I Recalled, rising to my feet. “Yesss, Wait for What!.” She shot out from her seat and looked like I just said Hitler came back to life and is marching this way. “Are you sure that his name was Jackssson!” She was yelling now, nearly straight to my ear. “I think so?” I blurted out. Her snake features made it look like she was going to pounce on me and swallow me whole for mentioning that guy's name. “Oh by the light of Heliosss! A sssatyr and Jackssson, must be Underwood and the other one? Did ssshe have blond hair and grey eyesss?” She commanded. She opened her mouth and let her forked tongue waggle in the air. Yeah weird but explainable. Snakes smell by flicking their tongues in the air, it's why they flick it every few seconds. Does Not make it less weird just explainable and in this case, the more explainable bits of weirdness are welcomed. “Yeah and a redhead who likes to draw on her clothes, what's the point? Wait! You know those people!” I’m what you can call the quick-witted sort. For example, if Aigle was a monster that wanted me dead or eats me, should have done it by now so I did not have  much to fear from her. Hopefully. Another example if she knew them by name and even as a big snake monster quaked by their mention, safe to say that there either dangerous for both of us or to her. Either way unacceptable. “I have heard storiesss from the mainland of a child of the big three, the main godsss of olympusss. Of a child who fought against all The Fates could throw at him and stand still.” The surfer? Although now that I think about it. I remember the sharpness, the tension in his demeanor. He was playing the fool or perhaps was one but has done things that won't leave his mind. “Their spawn are some of the most powerful, I heard it said that he fought your father sssingle handedly and left without a scratch.”   “Not that big of an accomplishment if I don’t my father position in the divine Ma'am.” She blinked twice and starting laughing. “It’sss nice to know that you still treat fairly, even knowing what I'm truly am. Your father wasss… Remember you can tell me to stop whenever you please. I know it's overwhelming and I know how talking about your family tends to set you off.” I trembled a tiny bit, my fist rested on my four head while my other hand was covering it open palmed. I have mixed views on father and only pity for my mother. Aigle gave away he was the divine one between but I didn’t the hint. Gods don’t die. My father was also arrogant enough to be one. Only his swagger was enough to silence a room, his voice could be reading bedtime stories and be frightful, his stare made men turn to little boys in a few minutes. My mother had fear at least. She always found ways to frighten people, whether wanting to or not, whether caring or not. She did as she wanted and there's where my compliments end. “No, if this is my life now. I have no choice in the matter. Tell me everything that is useful to me.” I raise my face to match her, match her reptilian, predatory stare with my own. She slithered towards me and hugs me. The scales poking into my skin. I saw something clutched in her hands. A gleaming necklace. May surprise you but I really like gemstones, they shine and blind those who seek them and when properly maintained don't lose their luster. One of the two places I actually liked working at was a stand selling Taino necklaces. Sure they weren't actual tribal jewelry, they use more wood and lizard/turtle symbols but I could stare at them all day if I wish. I can barely explain why I like them but they do bring a simile to my face. Aigle let me go and held the necklace in front of my eyes. “Thisss isss my gift to you, a form of protection from certain ...dangerousss elementsss thought I am aware of your opinion on cryssstal healing.” I shrugged. “Honestly with everything that happened I believe Superman is properly in the bushes waiting for Wonder Woman to give me several years worth of birthday money.” She snickered at my comment. I still didn't really believe the crystal healing nonsense but she means well. It also looks really nice. “It's not that grandiossse but this will help keep your mind at eassse. If not that then at leassst focusssed for what comesss ahead.” She wrapped the necklace around my neck. The chain was made of lustrous gold on the right, the left of it was silver. The centerpiece, the thing that had the gems, was an inverted pyramid. “So is it just a snake thing your is that a lisp?”     “Oh that, I just wanted to know if you're paying attention. Most of my kind has but I got rid of the accent years ago to get better work.” She said matter of factly, Thought it did make sense. “ Being a demigod is very dangerous the more one knows about the more your scent becomes irresistible. Monsters hunt your kind for sport or food when they are aware of you.” “Wait for what?” I was drawing a blank the size of Texas. “Think of it this way, typically you learn you're a demigod late in childhood or at least near puberty end. You start making a magical scent when that happens. Either a satyer finds you and bring you to their camp, camp half blood or your die. Your a….” She spread her arms and let them slump making a clunk sound when the scales of her arms hit her torso. “Special case to say the least.” I start to piece together what I understand. “I'm screwed is what you're saying.” she nods. “Oh most definitely its only because your father laid claim to the island.” I listen, particularly to the last bit. Dad was frightening but taking the isle and battling someone that would a fraction of his age was disorienting. “Again I won't say his name but you will know his place in the divine totem pole. What do you know of the Titans?”

[yaelsstory]

Product Of A Murderer - Chapter 7

Summary: Yaël, a twenty-four years old girl with the powers to control the four elements, lost all her memories after a terrible incident. While trying to get her memories back, she somehow befriends Wade Wilson and Peter Parker. It’s a bumpy road,  because after being gone for almost a year, everyone thinks she’s dead and there are many different reactions to her comeback. That …and while struggling to remember her life as it was before, she discovers that she isn’t who she thought she was. Maybe there are a few things she doesn’t want to remember at all… .

Note: This story is the third part of the Sweet Child of Mine-serie. You can read the other parts of this serie on AO3 on my account (Caspinn) or on my friend’s account (kalkoenvsneoklak).

If you want to read more about the story of Peter, Tony and Steve, you should read part one of the series: Being a Stark.

If you’re interested in the story of Natasha Romanoff and James “Bucky” Barnes, I suggest you to read part two of the series: Golden Locks, Silver Arms.

"Tonight We are young So let's set the world on fire We can burn brighter Than the sun"

Fun. - We Are Young

Maybe drinking with Wade wasn’t such a smart idea after all, Yaël realized after a few pints and wines. The man just couldn’t get drunk. Every time he got a bit tipsy, he almost immediately sobered up again.

But the Merc with a mouth kept feeding her drinks. Of course, Yaël could’ve stopped drinking at some point, but she simply didn’t. Was it out of frustration or something? Even she didn’t know, instead just keeping on drinking with zero fucks to give.

The night started with Wade showing up at her apartment, carrying a big box and throwing a piece of fabric at her. The piece of fabric happened to be a very open dress, which Yaël didn’t want to wear. But she came to realization that all her clothes without holes in, which weren’t a lot, were in the laundry.

In the end; she had two choices: going out looking like a hobo or looking like a fancy slut. She still wasn’t digging the slutty dress, but she really, really didn’t want to appear in public looking like a homeless person. It was dark-green, like the color of a pine tree. The cleavage was very deep and there were openings to each side of her ribs. Okay, she wasn’t naked or anything, but still…

“So what, are you like, my pimp?” Yaël asked Wade a bit sarcastically as he was doing her make-up.

“What?! No way, you look way to fancy and fabulous to be a prostitute!”

“Dude, look at me,” she said as she pointed at her breasts. “These two are almost falling out of there. It’s way too tight!”

“They look great! And it might be tight up there but look how swirly your skirt is! It looks like you’re a ballerina made out of satin!”

“And why again do you know how to do my make-up?” Maybe Yaël should be worrying.

“I had and still have my party-days!”

“What do you expect me to think about that?” Yaël laughed. This guy was weird but so, so great. Well, as long as he didn’t start throwing plates around the place. That was of course something she wouldn’t forget that easily.

When Wade was done with making Yaël look like she has royal blood, but the slutty version of that, he took the big box he brought with him and gave it to Yaël.

“What? This is for me?” she asked. Wade nodded and that was for Yaël a sign to open it. Black, matte plates. A dozen of them.

“You like them?” Wade asked. “I promised I’d get you some beautiful plates and these fit with your dark soul.”

“Thanks,” Yaël answered with a wide grin “They are so cool! I mean like, who the heck has plates like these?”

After they put away the plates, they decided it was time to go. “So, are we going to have sex after this?” Wade asked as they were walking down the stairs.

“You wish, horny-boy.” Yaël answered dryly.

A few hours later, Yaël was laying on her back on a filthy floor in a bar. A random dude used her belly as a pillow while they were thinking about weird ways to say their names. Not that Yaël would remember his name afterwards.

“Yaël, you want another?” Yaël looked up and saw Wade hanging above her with a pint in his hands.

“Wade, I lost you!” she answered him, happy to finally see her friend back after such a long time.

“Oh girlie, I really was only gone for five minutes to take a wee, but okay.” Wade answered while glancing at the guy who was laying on her.

“Wait, is that legit a different dude than from five minutes ago?”

“No. This is still Tim.” Yaël turned with her eyes.

“Eh, my name is Jeremy,” The guy answered awkwardly.

“Oh.” It was a bit quiet after that while everybody tried to forget about that last bit.

“Come on,” Wade shooed the man off her belly “Let’s go, before you start an orgy here.”

“Why would I do that?!” Yaël stumbled a bit as Wade helped her get up.

“I don’t know what your natural habits were on that planet of yours!” Wade said while handing her the beer.

“Wait, I’ll come for you later, you gave me your address!” Jeremy said to Yaël with a ridiculous looking playful smile.

“No I did not!” Yaël said, she wasn’t that stupid.

“Yeah, you did, it’s P Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney!” Wade looked a bit surprised at the dude, then he started laughing so loudly that the sound filled the whole bar.

“You…are drunk,” Wade grinned while pointing at Jeremy. He then pointed at Yaël “And you…are a genius! Come on, we’re going home.”

“No! You’re not going to steal my ch-chick!” Jeremy blabbered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Dude, she’s my chick, we’re married! The girl is my property, I even pee on her every now and then!” Yaël curled her nose a bit after Wade’s reply. But she wasn’t thinking fast enough to talk back, this was all so random.

“Dude, I spoke to her a moment ago, she’s my girl too!” another drunk guy ‘joined’ the ‘conversation’, like he didn’t even hear Wade’s weird exclamation. Other guys came buzzing around them too, talking about how Yaël somehow seemed to be their property.

“Wait? Are you guys too drunk or too dumb to see that we’re in New York right now and she gave you all an address in Sydney, you know, Australia! It’s the address Dory always repeats in Finding Nemo, you dumb twats!” Wade yelled, but nobody listened to him.

Yaël totally didn’t like being called a piece of someone and every time some random guy she just danced with or had a drink with, said it, she got more and more annoyed.  So when someone laid his hand on her shoulder to pull her back to him, she snatched out of it and…accidentally used her powers. Being drunk made it way harder to control them.

When she looked up, she saw that one of the curtains was on fire.

“Uh-ow…” Wade mumbled. One of the five men around them, pointed his finger to Wade and screamed

“HE DID THIS, HE’S CRAZY!” Of course, Wade totally didn’t do that, but these five drunk men felt certain he did just so they couldn’t take Yaël home.

“JEZUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Yaël suddenly screamed, way louder than the other men. “ARE YOU ALL IDIOTS?! I TALK TO YOU GUYS AND YOU ALL SUDDENLY THINK WE HAVE A ROMANCE?!” Wade looked at her, picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her outside while she kept screaming. “I HOPE ALL OF YOU WILL END ALONE! BURN IN HELL! ANY OF YOU FUCKING PRICKS MOVE AND I’LL EXCECUTE EVERY MOTHERFUCKING LAST ONE OF YA-”

“Okay, are you now quoting the intro of Pulp Fiction? Girl, stop being way cooler when you’re drunk. You just wait here, I’ll fix you a ride home, okay?” Wade said after he put her back down as soon as they were outside.

“What are you going to do?” Yaël grumbled.

“I’m going to fix this mess inside.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Wade.” Yaël replied annoyed.

“I didn’t say you did… You did nothing wrong actually,” he said while typing a text. When he had send it, he repeated “Wait here” and ran back inside.

“It’s ohso quiet, tudududuu, tudududuuu…It’s oh, so still…” Yaël sang to herself just to see her breath in the cold air. How long was she standing here? She was feeling a bit sad. Why couldn’t she just enjoy an evening without getting herself into trouble? She felt like, like…like she needed a permanent babysit or something, but she was an adult, right? It wasn’t her problem that those guys were stupid idiots filled with testosterone!

That and Wade put her in this stupid dress, maybe he just wanted a fight. Maybe he used her to make a fight. Yaël smiled at her own drunk stupidity.

Yaël was turning in rounds just to make her skirt swirl around. After a little while, she stopped turning, but couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as she stood still, she saw Steve standing in front of her. Then, of course, she tried wobbling over to him, but fell down of dizziness, what made her laugh even harder.

“H-how long have you been standing there already?” Yaël rolled on her back and looked up to Steve.

“A solid five minutes. Get up.”

“Help me in this eternal embarrassment,” she muttered, looking up into the sky with the palms of her hands facing upwards.

“How much did you drink?”

“Seven beers and four wines!”

Steve sighed and helped her get up. “Wait, is that all you’re wearing?” He asked her, she shrugged. “Yaël, it’s January. Where’s your jacket or vest or something?”

“Inside, but I think Wade is causing a deicide there…” Steve snorted, unzipped his jacket and hung it over her shoulders. He signed her to follow him and so she did.

“Since when do you wear dresses like that?” he asked while walking towards his car.

“Wade gave it to me.”

“What? Did he want you to get objectified?” he frowned.

“I don’t like getting objectified.” Yaël muttered, also frowning.

When they got to the motorcycle, Steve pushed a helmet over Yaël’s head. Yaël climbed on and a second later, Steve sat down behind her.

“I know you don’t like getting objectified, so why are you wearing it?” The motorcycle turned on with a hum and Steve steered the vehicle to leave the parking lot it was standing on.

“Because I don’t have other pretty clothes,” Yaël pouted.

“You don’t need revealing dresses to look pretty, Yaël.” He had a point there, didn’t he? Or was he complimenting her? He was! He meant that she didn’t have to look like a prostitute to be attractive, right?

“Did you know I dreamt about you?” The words suddenly flapped out of her mouth.

“Oh, did you?” She could swear she saw him smirk a bit.

“Not like that! But I have like weird memory-dreams where I discover stuff about my past. I don’t really know how it works. How are you and Tony by the way?” Steve blinked a few times, he must be exhausted. How late was it anyways?  He was still waiting for the conversation to end before taking off with his motorcycle. Otherwise the vehicle would make too much noise for them to hear each other. Good guy Steve.

“Wait, Yaël, one subject at a time. Why don’t you tell me more about those dreams of you?”

So, Yaël told him what she had seen at night. She didn’t know how much she told him afterwards, because somewhere during her own words, she fell asleep and that’s when Steve finally started driving. Sometime later, when Steve carried her off the motorcycle, she woke up and started rattling again.

“So how’s Tony? You should invite him! We should like, h-hang out rrrright now!” Steve shook his head and put her back on her feet, looking a bit cautious to see if she’d fall down again.

“Not a smart idea, Yaël.”

“What? Am I not fun enough for this mister Stark? Is he handsome by the way? Don’t look at me like that!” Steve glanced at her, his cheeks turned a bit reddish. When they arrived at the lift Steve pressed the button. This time there was no one sleeping between the doors, because the thing came immediately.

“I… I just don’t think you’d like meeting him.” Steve said without looking at her. What was he talking about.

“Is he no fun?”

“No-yes, yes, of course he is fun, Yaël.”

“So, what’s the problem then?”

“Maybe he just…doesn’t want to meet you.” Auch, why the hell would somebody just reject her like that without giving her a chance? Unless…she once got a chance?

“I fucked up, right?” Steve gave up his language-stare immediately.

“Oh, no, no, not really, Yaël. I mean, you didn’t know what you were doing, and he wasn’t really capable of looking at you differently after that.” Yaël felt a tear running down her cheek even though she didn’t understand what Cap was talking about. Someone didn’t like her, and she wasn’t sober at all, enough reasons to cry.

“What are you talking about?” Steve casually wiped away her tear and signed her to get out of the lift. Apparently, they had arrived at her floor.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated and as you’re drunk, and you don’t even remember big parts and persons of your life when you’re sober, I think it’s smarter to wait until you remember a bit more before I explain this to you. Let’s just say that, when you arrived in New York, you didn’t really know which side you were on.”

“And I made trouble with Mr. Stark?”

“Eh, yeah, kind of.” That was vague, and unfair. She had the right to know what she had done, but Steve was persistent and kept his mouth shut. His lips even turned a bit white from pressing them together after Yaël tried to get the story out of him by keeping asking questions while poking him.

He seemed to be glad when they entered her apartment and Yaël’s concentration surrendered itself.

“LOOK AT MY PLATES!” she happily yelled, totally unaware that she lost her own poke-war and that she had been rejected by an unknown person just a minute ago. Yaël showed the plates she got from Wade. Steve just threw her a tired smile. Then he frowned, like he suddenly thought of something.

“Wait, Yaël, why did Wade put you out of the bar like that? I mean, he always seems so nice, I can’t imagine him just dumping you outside for just a reason like a little fight.”

“I set the bar on fire,” Yaël confessed while staring at the plate in her hands. She felt like it was a crime that Steve wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was about the plates. Steve stared at her for a moment, trying to find if Yaël’s answer was a joke or not.

Then he scratched his head and said: “Of course you did… Someone like you shouldn’t drink, Yaël. Maybe I have to warn Wade about that.”

Yaël could not think of any other reply than just sticking out her tongue.

“Okay, Yaël, we’re going to sleep now, right?” Steve asked hopeful, but Yaël showed no mercy.

“No, we still need to dance!” Yaël grabbed Steve’s waist. Steve tried to gently push her back.

“There’s no music, Yaël, let’s go to bed.”

“You want me to sing Edith Piaf for you?” Steve smiled widely at her for remembering his taste in music. “Steve, dear,” Yaël said as she grabbed his hand and put her other one on his shoulder. He automatically put his hand on her back “We need to practice for that special dance for when you get married to that asshole. Since you don’t have a mother to dance with, you’ll have to do it with me.”

Steve sighed, but let Yaël calling Tony an asshole just this once.

“Yaël, I’m pretty sure that you’re talking about a father-daughter dance, so maybe we have to wait for that when you get married, right? Since you’re not my dad and I’m not your daughter either.” Yaël looked up, still holding him, ready to dance.

“Are you going to do the father-daughter dance with me?”

“Who else is going to do that when you get married?” Yaël frowned as she thought about a detail she was missing there. She didn’t have a father to dance with, nor one to walk her to the aisle or repair stuff for her when she didn’t know how to do it. She didn’t have a dad to save her with the small things of life, like the daddy’s shoulder to cry on or a dad who’d protect her from the big, tough world. Maybe not all fathers are like that, probably not.

Her sight on fathers probably was more magical than reality. She once had a father, though. A very sweet, good man. It’s weird how things can change so enormously. It’s weird how she’d be able to imagine Cem walking her to the aisle but knowing that never happened nor ever will happen.

Steve was a good replacement for all of that cheesy stuff…but that was not what crept into Yaël’s head.

“Oh,” she said as she remembered what it was. “I’m not going to get married!”

“Yeah, not right now, but-“

“No, not ever! You see, I’m banished, I don’t even have the right to get married.” By being drunk, she accidentally started mixing her memories of the two worlds she had been living in.

“Of course, you do, Yaël…” Steve muttered a bit surprised. Yaël laid her head against his chest and yawned.

“No, I don’t, I don’t have that right…”

Steve looked down to answer her, but saw she fell asleep against him.