#I’m gonna jump into a trash compactor

[melancholykiwi]

WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS

[electricratlady]

My Walmart Gripes List

i worked at Walmart stocking shelves starting in 2020 as an 18 y/o and am about to quit as a 22 y/o, as soon as i have another job lined up.

i have endured endless bullshit and… interesting situations from customers and employees/management across the 4 stores i’ve worked at, and i want to catalogue as much as possible to emphasize how working retail (at least Walmart) is NOT WORTH IT.

(worth mentioning that as much as i’ve had bad experiences i’ve also met a lot of nice people and don’t hold anything against them or their reasons for continuing to work at Walmart.)

this is not going to be chronological, since i’m just jotting down these examples as they come to me, but i’m gonna specify which location i’m talking about with Store 1, 2, 3, and 4. also way too many to write at once so i’ll add as i have time/energy to.

let’s jump in!

1. Store 1– i applied and started my job in January 2020 less than a week before the infamous Toilet Paper Rush from Covid. people were so desperate we stopped stocking it on the shelves for a while and just left the pallets they shipped on out on the floor for people to take, and they’d be cleared within an hour or two.

2. Store 1– fuckin 5’3” ginger guy with tons of freckles and glasses came into work several times with a Sons of the Confederacy shirt, and a couple weeks later during a team meeting where we were asked to raise our hands if XYZ he full on did a nazi salute, then smiled and looked around to see if anyone noticed (i was the only one who noticed but managed to pretend i didn’t).

3. Store 1– this was before i was out as bisexual and well before i figured out i was trans. a coworker two years younger than me came up to me, kinda pointed at me, and randomly said “f*ggot?” and i couldn’t tell if i misheard him so i kinda awkwardly laughed and said “what?” and he said it again and i had absolutely no idea what to say, and he said “see, i knew it! i knew you liked men!” and walked away. never reported it cuz i was a dumb kid who was more just scared that someone possibly knew despite me being closeted. turns out! he didn’t know, he was just beefing with my brother on the high school football team and randomly decided to bring me into it.

4. Store 1– same kid as #3 hated doing his job and would often leave the aisle he’s stocking to wander to different aisles to chat with people, somehow never being disciplined for it despite everyone knowing. he even would walk and chat with the guy from our Subway as he took the Subway trash all the way to the trash compactor at the back of the store and back. Dude only got fired after he was adamant that Walmart was giving employees free Kleenex for Covid and walked out with a 4-pack after his shift without paying. dumb bitch.

5. Store 1– one coworker i thought was cool was in his late 20s and, despite very bad anger management issues, was very openly pro-LGBTQ+ and pro-worker’s-rights and would chat about it a lot. then one day we were both monitoring the front entrance to sanitize carts and count people going in/out (Covid protocols), and he told a story about his grandfather being robbed and him shooting the robber as they fled, and at the very end very casually dropped the n-word while laughing, then said “i’m sorry, but if you’re gonna do that shit, you deserve to be called it.” in retrospect i wish i said something to him or management but i didn’t want to risk being the target of his anger problems so i kinda just stopped talking to him.

6. Store 1– during one surge the people monitoring the front entrances had to tell people coming in that our town was a high-risk/concentration Covid area and tell people that we don’t mandate masks but still suggest them (even had some free paper ones up front for those who wanted them). i tried to be as polite and non-confrontational as possible when explaining each time but one bigger guy walking in genuinely just went “you wanna know what i think? FUCK YOU.” and laughed as he walked past me. made me feel shit for the rest of the day.

7. Store 1– this is a recurring theme at Walmart but certain employees love slacking off and don’t really get reprimanded for it as long as the jobs get finished by other people. still remember when we had a rough truck unload and i looked over as we were about to finish and saw two of the guys supposed to be helping (people who are PAID the same amount as ME who was BUSTING MY ASS) just sitting down for 5 minutes, with a look on their faces like “why aren’t you all done with this dumb bullshit yet?” one of those guys was also in my computer science class and was openly passive-aggressively homophobic there, so add that to the tally i guess.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Alright we're finally at the wedding part. Hope it was worth the wait. The next part is probably also gonna take part at the wedding too.

Trigger warning: confronting abusers, gaslighting, mentions of death, brief mention of child sex abuse

Life with your grandmother and cousins was a neverending war. But this was a battle you intended to win.

Anna was getting married on a beach near the Eastern Shore, about fifty minutes away from Baltimore. The ceremony would take place at the waterfront, while the reception would be held in one of the grand ballrooms of your grandmother’s exclusive country club. This was clearly for a tactical advantage. Your grandmother used the country club as her own personal castle. Throwing obscene amounts of money into events was her favorite intimidation strategy.

The beach was overrun with people. That was her second intimidation strategy. She undoubtedly forced Anna to add the entire country club to her guest list, because half the guests were far too old to run in the same circles as the young couple.

You were relieved to see that none of the guests adhered to the supposed dress code, which revealed itself to be just a last-minute power grab. She just wanted to see you blindly obey her one last time.

Hannibal laced his fingers between yours, reminding you of your one major advantage. You weren't alone anymore.

"That woman in the coral dress," He leaned over and whispered to you. "That is Theresa, yes?"

Your eyes scanned the crowd. Even though her back was to you, you could recognize that aggressive auburn updo anywhere. "That's her."

"And the woman at her side," he continued. "The one that understands that it's rude to wear white to a wedding but did anyway-"

"Yep." You sighed. "That's her."

As if on cue, Theresa turned around and saw you. You could barely make out a flash of excitement on her face before she plastered on her characteristic fake smile. She whispered something to your grandmother. Something too long for a simple utterance of "[F/N] is here". Something that visibly caught your grandmother’s attention. Without so much as excusing herself from whatever conversation she was clearly in the middle of, she and Theresa approached you.

You felt like a baby gazelle dipped in steak sauce in the middle of the serengeti. The lions were closing in on you. You briefly considered causing some kind of distraction, but you knew it was too late. You tightened your grip on Hannibal's hand as your grandmother and cousin stepped into earshot.

"[Y/N]!" Your grandmother exclaimed, her voice jumping to an unnatural register. She pulled you in for a hug, which you weakly returned.

"I didn't think you would make it." Theresa said, her voice full of venom. When she hugged you, you fully expected to break the embrace with a serated kitchen knife sticking out of your back.

"And who is this," Your grandma paused, scanning Hannibal up and down. Her expression was unreadable, which was never a good sign. "Charming gentleman?"

You looked back at Hannibal, wearing your sudden excitement on your face. "Grandma, Theresa. This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, my fiancé."

"So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. [L/N]." Hannibal offered her his hand.

"Oh, it's Ms. [L/N]." Your grandmother corrected. "I threw [F/N]'s grandfather out with the garbage."

You vividly recalled the day you found your grandfather's urn in the trash compactor. Hannibal knew about it too. Six year old [F/N] had nightmares for months.

Theresa's expression was significantly more legible. She offered him the back of her hand while glaring at you from the side of her eye. "Dr. Lecter, it's a pleasure."

"Theresa, yes." Hannibal tucked his hands into his pockets. "[F/N] has told me all about you."

Theresa clutched her wine glass between her talons. Beneath her plastic smile, she was coiled and ready to strike.

"[F/N], how did you meet this fine man?" Your grandma asked, running her hand down his arm.

This was an approach you'd never seen her use, but it didn’t surprise you to see her using it either. Hannibal was only attractive to her because he was yours. Even though you knew this, you still felt a tad possessive of him. You snaked your arm around his and held him close.

He looked down at you lovingly. "She and I have a field of study in common, so it was only a matter of time, really. She's a brilliant conversationalist."

"She gets that from me." Your grandmother, always ready to take credit for anything and everything, said. "So you're a psychologist?"

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "A psychiatrist, to be precise."

"So you're gonna charge me when I complain to you about [F/N]?" She joked. "This one gave me more than a few grey hairs."

"Beatrice?" A passing woman interrupted, stealing your grandmother's attention.

"Gladys! Thank you so much for coming!" She said before wandering off without so much as a goodbye. That left you, Hannibal and Theresa.

"[F/N], I'm a little surprised." Theresa commented, taking a sip from her wine glass. "I would have never guessed that you were a gold digger."

Okay, so we're doing this, you thought. Grandma had left you unsupervised and the gloves were coming off. Let's fucking dance.

"And how's your husband, Theresa?" You matched her sickly sweet tone.

"My husband the senator?" Theresa perked up. "He's wonderful. We're enjoying the East Coast summer. It gets so dreadfully dry in Utah."

"Must be hard to enjoy your vacation while fighting off all those abuse allegations." You added.

She seemed to have forgotten that you too could switch from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive on a dime. That you did learn from your grandmother.

Theresa tensed up, though her smile didn't falter. "Well, you know. It's a witch hunt out there. All those women just want to ruin a poor man's life."

"Children." You corrected, finishing your wine in one swig. "I think you meant to say children."

The wedding bells began to ring, alerting the guests that the ceremony was about to commence. You thanked the maker that you'd gotten the last word in.

"Well, I have to go join my sister at the altar." She placed her empty wine glass on a table. "It's been a pleasure."

"Theresa, how long are you and your husband in town for?" Hannibal asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "[F/N] and I would be honored to have both of you for dinner."

"Well, at least one of you has manners." Theresa sneered at you. "We would love to join you, Dr. Lecter. Thank you ever so much for the invitation."

Once Theresa was out of earshot, you let the confusion and outrage overtake your face.

"Hannibal, I ask this with love," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But are you going to poison them?"

"No, love." Hannibal snickered.

"You're right. Poisoning would be too good for her." You said through gritted teeth. "She doesn't deserve a quick death."

"All in due time, darling." He stroked your hair in reassurance. "Come, let's take our seats. The ceremony is about to start."

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[graigoo]

Jivin’ Bones (Chapter Two)

Summary: The above world isn’t what Sans thought it would be, not that he had ever given it much thought. With all his old friends busy living their own lives, even Papyrus away from home more often than not— Sans is left to entertain himself. Bored, he turns back to the Underground. To the broken machine hidden in the back of his workshop. In the process of fixing it, the machine malfunctions and sends Sans into an alternate world.

Thrust into a harsher reality, Sans must survive long enough to find a way back home… while being pursued by a version of himself that’s all too interested to know who the new skeleton in town is.

Inspired/Influenced by Sooner or Later You’re Gonna be Mine

Pairing: Bara!Mobfell Sans/Sans

Warnings: Mature, Graphic Violence, Sexual Content

                                                Chapter Two

Pop.

Sans blinked once, twice, looking from the empty bar stool to his own held out hand.

Had that little… no, not possible. It was a well-known fact that Sans was the only monster in all of the world who could teleport. It was a powerful ability that required a lot of magic, more than some puny, calcium deficient looking skeleton could pull off.

The ability couldn’t be called rare, because that implied there were others who had it. Teleportation was a one-of-a-kind type of power that had monsters jumping at their own shadows and turning to look down every dark alley they passed. Just out of fear that the most mobile of the Gaster brothers would be there. The terror he had painstakingly crafted for years around the use of such an ability was a point of pride for Sans.

But if not teleportation, what other explanation could there be for the loud, familiar pop sound followed by the sudden disappearance of the runt? Unless the runt had turned to dust right in front of him out of sheer terror after learning just who he’d been insulting, but as there was no dust on the bar stool; Sans couldn’t think of another explanation.

And sans any other explanation, he would have to accept the most obvious one available to him, for the time being. Could be teleportation was a skeletal ability. There wasn’t a large enough population of them to really know. Only three- now four.

But if the runt had teleported, that would mean….

Why, of all the disrespectful, insolent, downright rude—That little daisy had run out on him!

Sans’ open hand clenched into a fist, the bones pressed together tightly as he shook with barely contained fury.

“That little…” Glaring at where the stranger had been sitting, Sans slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking it. “Grilby, get your flamin’ ass out here!” He shouted, anger burning hot in his chest.

Just wait until he catches that grifter, Sans will show him what comes of taking one of the Gaster brothers for a sucker. He’ll bend those slender fingers back until he hears them snap, and he won’t stop until that daisy apologizes proper for his rude behavior. He’ll—

“You called?” Grilby said loftily, interrupting Sans’ angry internal tirade and acting like a man who’s done no wrong. The flame monster looked around the bar, from the bar stool, to Sans, to the door. A slight smile spreading across the man’s face as he noticed the lack of miniature skeleton in the room.

“Who the fuck else?” Sans snapped. His language always deteriorated with his mood, and right now he was in a real fucking bad one. Called before the sun could even rise about some strange skeleton, only to show up and have the stranger act all uppity and disappear like he had that right. And now this trash was smiling at Sans like he was the one who messed up.

If only Grilby could read a fucking room.

“You lost him,” the flame monster announced, eyes slight in that taunting way.

Sans responded by reaching across the counter, grabbing Grilby by the front of his cheap jacket, and pulling him half way over it to glare directly into the flame monster’s face. He’s not about to be disrespected twice in one night. Especially not by some do-nothing bar keep.

“Might lose somethin’ else if you don’t watch your fuckin’ tone.” Sans threatened

“You can’t kill me, big brother’s orders.” The flame monster smirked at him. But Grilby wasn’t as effective at coming off unthreatened as the little skeleton had, Sans noted. He could see the purple flames losing their brightness, he could see the shadow of fear darkening those lilac eyes. Grilby shook slightly in Sans’ grip, his breathing was shallow and uneven from poorly concealed panic.

Not that he blamed the flame monster. In all honesty, they both knew Sans had killed for less than a little back talk. Just like they both knew, Gaster’s orders be damned, he’d kill Grilby if he pushed the familiar attitude too far. Sans didn’t tolerate flipmouths well on the best of days, and today was not turning out to be a good fucking day.

It was reassuring though, to see that after the disappearing stint that runt had pulled, he hadn’t actually lost his terrifying touch. That little daisy’s nonchalance had simply been a fluke. The knowledge did wonders for Sans’ temper.

His grip on the other’s jacket loosened, but he didn’t let go. His expression shifted from murderous to calculating. Both threatening in their own, unique ways. Grilby might have gotten the point; that he couldn’t talk to Sans like they were anything close to equals. But Sans still needed to hammer that nail in deeper. Maybe splinter the wood in the process, it all depended on how well Grilby understood the deal that was about to be made.

And if it came across as Sans taking his anger at the little daisy out on Grilby, then he had that right too.

He lowered the other monster just enough that his feet touched the ground. Enough that Sans once again towered over him, eyes glowing bright as he regarded the smaller monster with a calm he didn’t feel. The thinnest wisp of red magic beginning to leak out of his left eye-socket.

Grilby gulped and Sans smiled at the sound.  

“How’d you like to lose another bar?” He asked casually, like he hadn’t been a hair’s breath away from ending the flame monster’s life. Sans could let Grilby go now, but even the bravest of monsters lost their bravado when Sans was so close. And no one had ever called Grilby brave. The other’s flame belying just how slimy he really was.

“You… you wouldn’t!” Grilby shouted like a man afraid to raise his voice. “Where else would I go? Wh- where else would you get your mustard?”

Oh, bad move. Trying for sympathy, trying to make it out that Sans needed him in any way. Like he wasn’t some disposable piece of trash that was only spared the compactor because Gaster had taken some small ounce of pity on him. When would he learn things weren’t the same as they were ten years ago? Sans had moved up and on from the days where Grilby could be considered anywhere within the realm of his equal.

“Not my problem,” Sans said. “My problem is your attitude, talkin’ to me anyway you want.”

“No- no I… I didn’t mean—” Grilby began, only for Sans to cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Was losin’ one bar not enough? Gettin’ kicked outta Fell?” They were rhetorical questions, but Grilby still not getting the point, answered anyway.

“It was one mistake!” Grilby began heatedly, like he was about to start up that long dead argument. Like he didn’t already know Sans hated repeating himself.

“Don’t,” Sans warned. “You got off better than ya deserved.” Considering Grilby was still alive, Sans wasn’t wrong. Not that he ever was anyway, at least where trash like Grilby was concerned.

Sans was already thinking about how easy it would be. The bar was old, fire resistant by the same magic that allowed the flame monster to wear clothes. Course a fire would have been a dull way to do it. Fire’s take everything out quick and clean. Good for taking out competition or doing in the businesses that refused to pay their bills, but not when the intention was for the recipient to really suffer. Fires were just so impersonal, a bat or crowbar, however…

Yeah, yeah… even if their conversation went exactly the way Sans wanted, he might send some of his boys back in Fell City down to Snowdin anyway. Have them smash the place up real good. Might actually do Grilby some good. Remind him just low down in the pecking order he was. That the shitty old bar he clung to was a fucking privilege given to him by the Gaster brothers. And they could take it way just as easily as they had his bar back in Fell City.

Grilby has been skating on thin ice for the past three months, and he’s burning through it fast.

“Ya see, my bro only said I couldn’t kill ya, he didn’t say nothin’ about your bar…” Sans trailed off, the amusement he derived from tormenting Grilby slowly starting to creep into his voice. “… Unless ya were to apologize for disrespectin’ me and lettin’ that little daisy go.”

And there it was. If his brothers were to find out about his first meeting with the new skeleton, it wouldn’t be Sans taking the fall for him escaping. Wasn’t really his fault, anyway. Grilby should have known to drug the bastard’s drink.  

“Bu… but I…” Grilby’s gaze darted around the bar, taking in all he had left in the world. A dirty bar with no patrons. It was more than most had these days.

Grilby looked down at where Sans had his jacket gripped, voice soft as he finally said, “I’m sorry.”

Sans grunted.

“… Sir,” Grilby added dispiritedly.

Sans grinned and released his hold on Grilby’s jacket. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He mocked, condescension dripping off every word, chuckling when the flame monster stumbled back from the abrupt release, hitting and rattling the alcohol bottles on his back shelf.

“I was startin’ to think that runt’s bad manners had rubbed off on ya,” Sans continued conversationally.

Grilby didn’t say anything as he straightened his jacket and dusted off his shoulders. Instead the flame monster watched Sans through trepid eyes. Finally, not answering Sans’ rhetorical remarks.

Reaching behind his vest and into his left breast pocket for a cigar, Sans nodded approvingly. Lesson learned; it was back to business. The mark of a professional was being able to turn down the heat after a successful negotiation. Threats would become meaningless if after the desired results were achieved, he went and carried out the threat anyway.  

“Did you know he could teleport?” Sans asked.

“He can teleport?” Grilby simply parroted back, voice still full of that wonderful tamed quality. “That would explain why I didn’t notice him coming into town…”

“So, you didn’t see nothin’ until he walked into this shit hole like it was open for business?” Sans asked, eyes carefully observing the other monster for any signs of deception… or disrespect.

“It is open for business—” Grilby started defensively.

Sans snorted, “course it is, course it is.”

“I… I mean, yes, I didn’t see anything until he was already at the counter,” Grilby said, sounding just the right level of submissive.

Sans reached around to his back pocket to grab a lighter. “And what did the guy want? Couldn’t be your company.”

Grilby sniffed, affronted by Sans’ intentional jab, but too shaken from earlier confrontation to quip back. Good, looked like Sans had hammered that nail in deep. He couldn’t have the guy thinking they were pals just because he made Sans’ favorite drink. Just because, back before Sans’ name meant something, he and Grilby might have been…

Frowning at finding no lighter, Sans checked his other back pocket. Nothing there either. Seemed that in his haste, he had forgotten his lighter back home. Not that the rush could be blamed, after all a skeleton monster was a rare thing.

Though rare as they were, he still hadn’t expected to walk in and see that choice piece of calico seated at the bar looking like he’d just been waiting for Sans to show up and liven up his morning. The strange skeleton had been about as small as a monster could be, looked real fragile too. Not like the usual straggler types Sans came across. The runt had looked so queer in those ugly shorts and slippers that Sans hadn’t known what to make of him. Still, the puns shouldn’t have caught him off guard the way they did. Though, more off putting had been his own reaction to them.

Looking back on it, Sans should have just yanked the little fucker to him and teleported them both back to his place.

“… He did ask for ketchup, if that’s of any interest to you,” Grilby said as he began to shakily put the bottles that had been knocked around back into place.

“Ketchup?” Sans raised an eye-socket, looking down at the half-empty bottle on the counter. It was on its side, having fallen over either when he hit the counter or pulled Grilby over it. He chuckled and reached for it. Such a fruity drink.

“He really is a fruit cake,” Sans said while inspecting the bottle, giving it a little shake.

The bottle should still have some of the runt’s scent on it, meaning he could pass it over to some of Fell’s finest bent cops for inspection. Half of them being dogs, it would be the easiest way of tracking him, not that Sans wouldn’t put some of his own leg work in. Even with Grilby set up to take the fall, if either of his brothers discovered the runt first, there was a chance he'd let something slip. And if his brothers found out Sans had not only been told about a skeleton monster none of them knew, but had also let said skeleton monster escape…

Sans shook his head to lodge the gruesome visualizations from his imagination. Best not to think too deeply about it. He and his brothers had been on… non-too-hostile terms for some time now, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize that- certainly not some runt of a monster who ought to consider himself lucky should Sans decide not to feed him to the dogs after catching him. Small thing that he was, not like there’d be much to chew on.

Sighing, Sans decided he should finish his business at the bar before his anger could begin fizzling inside him again, a low heat but ready to boil over at any moment, as it was ought to do.

“Ey, gimme a light,” He ordered Grilby with a sadistic smile.

The flame monster’s thin lips tilted down into a hesitant frown, but he knew better than to tell the skeleton no. Without a word, Grilby stepped forward and leaned across the counter, trembling slightly as he blew purple fire onto the tip of Sans’ cigar, lighting it up. Heh, looked like Grilby still remembered the last lesson Sans had taught him.

“Appreciate it,” he said smoothly, bringing the cigar to his mouth and holding it there between his clenched teeth. Sans was a Mafioso, sure, but he still had manners- when they were warranted. It’s what separated he and his brothers from the general criminal population of Fell City. And other, smaller skeletons, apparently.

Though, would the little daisy even be in the city? If he didn’t know who Sans was, there was a good chance he didn’t know Fell was exclusively the Gaster brothers’ territory. Not a crime was committed in that city, not a single weed plucked, without the one doing it stopping to consider if it would land them on the wrong side of a magically sharpened bone.

But if not Fell, where would the stranger go? There was nowhere else to go. The Underground wasn’t the populated place it once was. After the barrier had been lifted, the citizens had rushed to the surface, gasping in the new air like fish that had been held out of water. Sans would have considered it pathetic had he not been right there with them. As it was, there wasn’t anywhere to go in the Underground that a little daisy could be safe. They needed a different kind of light than what the Underground could offer.

No, the runt had to be on the surface, in Fell. Teleportation was limited to the amount of magic Sans could use at any given time, and he’d bet all of his ill-gotten green that it was the same for the smaller skeleton. And there was no way such a tiny thing could carry more magic than him. That meant he had to be up top, probably not far from the mountain. Either already in the city or on his way there.

It was convenient timing, the little daisy’s arrival. What with the elder Gaster brother out of town for the foreseeable future; meant Sans got to deal with the new skeleton his way.

Wing Dings was off in Hotland doing who knew what in the labs, which gave Sans and Papyrus free reign of the city to do as they pleased with it, within reason. Of course, neither of them had any particularly big plans for it. The big plans were always left up to Wing Dings, while Sans enjoyed with the smaller problems in the city. Not because he couldn’t. While their older brother was gone, Sans was perfectly happy to leave the majority of control to the city to Papyrus, who reveled in the chance to make the city more into his image.

Which meant that in the few short months that Wing Dings has been gone, at least three new Italian restaurants had opened up.

The only real instructions Wing Dings had left for them was to continue collecting their protection fees, keep the drug and weapon trade running smoothly, make sure the other mafia families didn’t get too curious about their brother’s vacation, and to report back any suspicious behavior should something out of the ordinary happen. Whatever that had meant.

Now Sans was starting to get an idea. If only he hadn’t been so damn patient with the runt. If only the little daisy hadn’t been so damn funny. Practically a ray of sunshine compared to the kind of folks Sans usually interacted with. Times as they were, every milksop and gadfly was walking around looking like gray was a mood. Who could blame Sans for enjoying a bit of color? Everyone had their vices, and shitty jokes just happened to be one of his.

Sans took a drag of his cigar, lazily blowing the dark red smoke out his nasal concha. It curled in the air and Sans watched it through half-open eyes.

He had wanted to take the little daisy’s hand and teleport them to the top of Mount Ebott, just to see his reaction. It was a rare sight to see a monster without at least one nick in him, even rarer to see him looking all soft and innocent, guarded without really knowing what he was trying to keep out. Made everything he did interesting to look at.

Weird clothes, though. The smaller skeleton had been showing a lot of bone, and while he appreciated the view, Sans had to wonder if it had been intentional. Meant to distract enemies, or maybe the guy was just one of those flamboyant types. Then there were those pink slippers. Pink. On a man! Of all the crazy footwear…

Sans sucked in another drag from the cigar, contemplating his next move.

He needed to find the little runt before people started to take notice of him, and not just because of his brothers’ potential retaliation. Folks were going to assume things, and Sans wouldn’t let the Gaster name be associated with a random skeleton out there looking like some trampy bum.

They had a carefully crafted image to uphold, after all.

With that thought, he turned and walked out of the bar, without so much as a goodbye to its owner. The man wasn’t worth the words, and that Sans turned his back to Grilby was a sign of just how inconsequential a threat he considered the other monster to be.

Sans stepped out of the bar with a yawn and flicked the remnants of his cigar into the snow. He would teach that little daisy to think he could walk out on a conversation with Sans C. Gaster… right after a nap. It was too damn early for this shit.

 ~ Fin

AN: So this was a much, much shorter chapter. I'm trying not to have Fell Sans come out and just info dump everything about this world, but rather have it be revealed organically throughout the story. The next chapter will be longer and back to OG Sans' POV and contain more world building. (i know he's technically called classic, but i like calling him the true OG.)

I'm so glad people are interested and thus far enjoying the story. And as always, continued feedback is appreciated, even (constructive) criticism.

1900s Slang:

Sucker – a gullible person Flipmouth – a person as of and pertaining to backtalk; attitude inflection in voice; disrespectful wording Choice piece of calico – a desirable woman (or monster, in this case) Queer – something/someone that is odd, different, strange or non-mainstream Green – money Milksop – a person who is indecisive and lacks courage. Gadfly – an irritating person or thing

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 20 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“I love you,” she said, laughing even though tears were still rolling down her cheeks, “you crazy, sweet, romantic goof.”

“Okay, in my defense, you’re pretty goofy, too.”

She started to laugh again, but then her face blanched so suddenly he grabbed her by the elbows, worried she was about to faint. “Oh, god, Kristoff, what are we gonna do?”

chapter 20: little pink lines

They were silent for a long moment, and then said in unison, "So do you still want to marry me?"

There was another beat of silence, and then Anna said “yes, with all my heart--” right as Kristoff said “of course I do, baby--” and then she was holding out a trembling hand and he was sliding the ring on and now both of them were crying a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” Anna managed to choke out, “if I’d known you were planning on doing this--”

“No, no, it’s fine, I wasn’t really planning it, it’s just, uh, I’ve sort of been carrying the ring around since I got it waiting for the right moment,” he said, his cheeks flushing as he stood up, only to immediately be pulled back down when Anna grabbed him by the collar so she could kiss him.

“I love you,” she said, laughing even though tears were still rolling down her cheeks, “you crazy, sweet, romantic goof.”

“Okay, in my defense, you’re pretty goofy, too.”

She started to laugh again, but then her face blanched so suddenly he grabbed her by the elbows, worried she was about to faint. “Oh, god, Kristoff, what are we gonna do?”

“Hey, hey, don’t panic, okay? You don’t know for sure, right?”

She shook her head, looking like she was going to be sick, and he quickly put his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. “So it’s...it could be a false alarm, right?”

“I...yeah, I guess. I could just be really late from...from stress or something.”

“Yeah. So no need to panic, right?”

“Am I panicking? Well, okay, I am, but do you feel panicked? Like, panicked enough to--”

“Not panicked,” he said quickly. “Just-- surprised. And kind of afraid. And...excited?”

“...excited?”

“I mean. Um. It’s your choice, obviously, I’m not gonna make you--”

“I wanna keep it. If I am. So if that changes your mind about the marrying me thing again--”

“No! No, god, not at all. I mean, um, I know we haven’t talked about it a ton before, but I want to have kids with you someday anyway, so, uh, I guess it’s just...maybe someday is right now.”

“Really? You’re-- you’re okay with it?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Are you okay with it?”

“I mean, the timing is...not great. But like...it’s not like I don’t have the money, you know? And after I do this Netflix thing in May I’m clear the rest of the year so far, so it’s just-- just, you know, all the press tours and keeping it a secret and actually being pregnant and...oh, god, I might pass out. Is that bad? If you pass out when you’re pregnant?”

She was turning dangerously gray around the edges. He set a sturdy arm around her waist and quickly guided her over to a bench that was off the main path. “Breathe, baby. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Sorry,” she said, her eyes wide and panicky, “just-- oh, my god. We’re gonna have to, like, tell people.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I...I guess we will.”

“Oh, god, this is gonna fuck up your clinicals and you’re gonna hate all the pictures and--”

“Anna. Please, just-- just hang on. You’re getting ahead of yourself again. We don’t even know if you’re for sure pregnant. And anyway, like-- I don’t know. If you are, then I’m serious, I’m excited about it. A little mini you running around? How could I not be happy about that?”

“But we didn’t plan for this.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t plan to run into you again and fall in love with you and everything that’s come along with it, but I still wouldn’t change any of it. And if this is happening now, then I’m sure it’ll work out, too. And...I don’t know. I mean, okay, it hasn’t even been a year, but you said at the beginning it all felt kind of inevitable, remember?

“Yeah. But I meant it in a bad way, like I jumped in headfirst to stuff because I figured it would happen anyway.”

“Okay, well, I guess that’s kind of what’s happening now, but in a good way. For sure.”

She set her hand over his where it was resting on the bench; he flipped his hand palm up so he could lace their fingers together, and she smiled. “Okay,” she said, “but what if it changes things between us? What if now that we’ve got this going on, you change your mind? Or like, what if we have a baby, and it’s really hard to take care of it, and we end up becoming like, that grumpy couple that shouts at each other in Target and argues about changing diapers?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Anna.”

“What if it does?”

“It won’t. I promise. Okay, so maybe things will change between us some, but I think it’ll be for the better. I mean, you’re maybe possibly having my baby. And you just said you’re gonna marry me. How could I ever do anything but love you more because of that?”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I just love you, that’s all. And you love me back, right?”

She nodded, and he opened his arms. She leaned into him gladly, settling her cheek against his shoulder and wrapping her own arms around his waist. “I love you more than anything, Kris,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to know. I’m not going anywhere, not now and not ever.”

“Fuck, I love you. And me either, except-- oh, shit, I do have to go now, I’m supposed to be back already to finish rehearsal. And I...oh.”

Her face crumpled once more. “I can’t wear the ring. Someone will leak it, and then everyone’ll think Hans proposed to me at lunch and tweet about it.”

Ah, Kristoff thought, so this is what it’s like to be a tin can in a trash compactor. 

---

After having bought three pregnancy tests as she’d requested-- “We have to be triple sure, Kris”-- and then going and watching from the audience as Anna made a cameo in one of Hans’s skits to wild applause, Kristoff was a bundle of nerves. The crowds had been insane enough that they had had to go back to the hotel separately, and he’d been pacing for half an hour waiting for her to get back.

He heard the beep and click of the door opening and spun on his heel to see her standing there, her face wiped clean of stage makeup and hair tossed up in a bun, looking oddly placid. “Hi, baby,” she said, smiling as she came over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Anna, are you--”

“Me? I’m fine, really. There’s nothing to worry about, is there? I mean, people are late all the time, aren’t they? You can skip a whole month, you know. Especially when you’re stressed.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling some of the tension drain from his body as she slid her arms around his waist, “okay, so then I’ll just pack the tests and--”

“Oh, shit! You bought them?”

“Well, yeah, you asked me to so--”

“Fuck, no, let me-- oh, god, I’ve got to find out for sure.”

He could only blink in surprise as she jumped back out of his arms and ran over to fumble through the Duane Reade bags on the end of the bed. “I, uh, thought you were just calm about this. And that people were late a lot.”

“Yeah, that was bullshit. I tried meditating in the back of the car and it kinda worked, but I’d much rather just know than try to avoid thinking about it.”

“Wait, Anna,” he said, and she looked up at him, a whole tangle of emotions in her eyes.

He swallowed hard and crossed over to her. “Before we know for sure, I...I want to know how you feel right now. Like, the honest to god truth. Because I’m serious, if you don’t want to keep it, or if you’re scared or upset or...or anything, I want to know the truth.”

“Let’s...let’s sit down,” she said, suddenly quiet, and he did, sitting with his back against the headboard.

Rather than sitting beside him, she clambered up and onto his lap, cupping his jaw between her hands and running her thumbs over his cheekbones. “I will tell you,” she promised. “But now that the initial shock is over, I want to hear what you think about this first.”

“But it’s your choice, Anna. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“I know. But I already know what I want. And I know you, and I know that you’re the sweetest man alive and that you’d do anything for me, including pretending to be happy for my sake.”

He winced, but he knew she was right. Her voice was gentle as she went on. “And before I say anything, I want you to tell me the truth. The whole truth, not what you think I want to hear.”

He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and felt her lean down and press her forehead against his. “And I love you the same, and I’ll still marry you no matter what you say.”

He let out the breath. “I...I want to be a dad, Anna. I always have. And getting to have kids with you...I can’t even begin to explain how bad I want that. And if that’s now or somewhere way in the future, it’s gonna make me the happiest man on the whole planet. Which I still will be, by the way, even if you’re about to tell me you never want kids, because we’re gonna get married and--”

She leaned down and kissed him then, and his eyes flew open when he realized her cheeks were damp. “Baby, why are you crying? Did I say something wrong or--”

“I want to have kids with you, too,” she managed to say in between soggy kisses. “Every time I walk past the spare bedroom I think about how someday we can put a crib in there against the wall, and how we can do a little mobile above it and how we can paint it ourselves and-- and if I am pregnant, then okay, it’s sooner than I expected, but-- but we can make it work, right?”

“Of course we can,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace. “We can work out anything together, Anna.”

“Okay. Then let’s pee on some sticks. Well, I’ll do the peeing. You’ll do the...not watching that part. And the holding my hand while we wait part.”

And so she peed on some sticks, and he held her hand after, and half an hour later six little pink lines stared back at him from the lip of the bathtub, and he was sitting on the cold tile floor, Anna on his lap with her knees pulled up to her chest and her face buried in the already damp fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’m so h-happy,” she hiccuped, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. “But I’m so scared and nervous and-- wh-what’s gonna happen, Kristoff?”

He smoothed her hair back from her face so he could kiss her forehead. “Well. We’re going to figure it out, one day at a time.”

“Sam and Lena are going to have an aneurysm. Like, a joint one.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said softly, although now he was realizing maybe he should worry a little more about it. “Just focus on catching your breath.”

She nodded weakly against his chest, and for several minutes he just held her, letting her work through it all on her own. He had never felt so helpless or so hopeful in his life, and now here he was, both all at once.

“What if I can’t find a dress to fit in?”

“A dress? For what?”

“My wedding dress.”

“Oh! Oh, fuck, I forgot we get to do that too!”

She laughed at that, and though there were still tears coursing down her cheeks he felt himself relax, at least a little. “You’ll be beautiful regardless,” he said, kissing her forehead again. “And anyway, we can do it soon if you want, before we even tell anyone, or later if you’d rather, and then my mom can help you alter the dress and--”

“Oh, god, I’m going to be massive, aren’t I? God, I’m sorry in advance--”

“Don’t even start to think that,” he insisted. “I can’t-- fuck. I can’t wait.”

“For me to look like a whale?”

“To like, be able to see it. Our baby. And feel it kick or whatever and know that soon we can hold it and-- fuck.”

Suddenly Anna wasn’t the only one crying. She sat up to brush her nose over his newly damp cheeks, pressing a kiss in its wake. “I could never do this without you.”

“You won’t have to. Not any of it. I’ll hold your hair back every day and bring you pickles and chocolate and-- and change diapers and fill bottles and everything, Anna, anything you-- or they-- ever need.”

She tightened her arms around him. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Kris. I know it.”

“You say that now, but when I lose all the pacifiers or mix formula wrong or--”

“You’re going to love them, though,” she insisted. “So much.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “I already do.”

[orangeoctopi7]

Do You Even Lift?

Hope you’re all staying healthy and physically isolating yourselves. Unfortunately, I can’t work from home so I’m still working most nights for the foreseeable future. Still, I know everybody’s stuck at home and looking for something to do, so I’m gonna try and post all the WIPs I’ve been sitting on for the past few months.

Here’s the latest chapter of the Spider Stan AU

* * *

Stan had no idea how to broach the subject of what he’d seen last night with Ford, so he asked a not-so-subtle question the next morning.

“So, uh, you had any weird dreams last night?”

Ford looked at him blankly. “No, why?”

“Uh…” Stan stammered. How was he supposed to answer that question? Remember my spider-sense that you hate so much? It went off again last night, so I snuck into your room and watched you sleep for like half and hour until I saw that weird triangle you have all over the house float out of your head.

“I, uh, thought I heard you talking in your sleep last night?”

“Really? What’d I say?”

“Pch… I dunno! You were all the way downstairs, I couldn’t understand what you were saying! Just heard some muttering through the floorboards with my, y’know, super hearin’.” Stan crossed his arms and looked away.

Ford shrugged. “No, it was a pretty normal night for me.”

“Good. That’s good.” 

Their awkward breakfast conversation was cut short by the ringing of the phone. Ford scrambled out of his chair and down the hall to where the main-floor phone was kept. Stan could easily overhear Ford’s end of the conversation from the kitchen.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines… Ah, hello Fiddleford.” Stan couldn’t help but notice his brother sounded annoyed. “How is Emma-May? ...Mhmm… I--I’m glad to hear she’s ok. Oh, Stan and I are, surprisingly, doing very well. There have still been a few arguments but really, I think we’re getting along better than-- better than in a very long time… Look Fiddleford, I know… sigh… I know you want to spend more time with your family. You could stay over the weekend, if you want. ...Yes. I’m sure. Take your time. It--it’ll be good to have you back. ...Ok. See you Sunday night.”

Ford re-entered the kitchen with a conflicted expression on his face. “McGucket will be back on Sunday.”

“Oh. Good?” 

“Why did that sound like a question?”

“Well, ya don’t seem too excited for him to come back.”

“I-- of course I’m happy he’s coming back, he’s my friend!” Ford replied stiffly. That conflicted expression returned to his face.

“Are you mad ‘cuz he lied about his wife bein’ sick?”

“I-- you-- you don’t know that!” Ford spluttered. “But… but even if I did learn that--that your assumption was somehow correct, that doesn’t mean-- it shouldn’t be-- that’s no reason--maybe… maybe he was right.”

“Wha?”

“It--it’s been nice, just spending time together again. Would… would you agree?”

Stan swore he felt his heart leap into his throat. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t look desperate! “Y-yeah.” he choked out with a noncommittal shrug.

“Maybe Fiddleford giving the two of us some space is exactly what we needed right now. We got along better yesterday than we ever did the preceding week. The preceding twelve years, really.”

Stan grinned. “See? Lyin’ can be for the greater good sometimes.”

Ford frowned. “I still believe honesty is the best policy…” he added under his breath, “except for when it’s not.”

Stan burst out laughing. Ford looked away sheepishly.

“What, you forget I have super-hearing already? We were literally just talking about it!”

* * *

After cleaning up the kitchen, the brothers returned to the storage room where Ford kept most of his spare inventions.

“Well, you’ve already tested out the anomaly filtration goggles, the web-shooters, and the--”

“Super hero costume.” Stan finished with a roll of his eyes.

“--high durability textiles.” Ford corrected with an annoyed glare. “Do you see anything else in here you’d like to try out?

“How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t even know what any of this junk does!”

“Well, is there anything you always wanted, when you were out on the streets?”

“Money.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t quite suppress the smile sneaking onto his lips. He’d walked right into that one. “Let me rephrase. Is there any kind of equipment or tool or skill that would have been helpful to you when you were saving people?”

“Huh…” Stan thought about it for a minute. One thing in particular came to mind. “Something to carry stuff with that’d still keep my hands free.”

Ford gave him a withering glare. “Some place to hold stolen goods?”

“Not all the time!” Stan defended. “Like what if when I ran into you and Mc-What’s-his-name there had been more guards and we had to make a run for it up the wall. I couldn’t carry you two and hold onto the gun I’d swiped at the same time, and I couldn’t just leave it there for some mook to pick up and start shooting at us.”

Ford looked at his brother in confusion. “Your parka has pockets, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, big, old pockets that things can fall out of very easily when you’re climbing directly up a wall. I tried sewing zippers on them once, but zippers are tricky. I almost ruined this coat, and the left pocket still won’t lay right. I tried usin’ a backpack a while ago, but it got stolen, and it was throwin’ me off balance when I climbed anyway.”

“Hmm… Ok. So it would have to be compact enough that it wouldn’t swing about while you climb.” Ford pulled out his Journal and began to sketch something. 

“And y’know what? That reminds me of something else that’d be nice to have. Some sorta handle for people to hold onto or like, I dunno, a baby sling or something. ‘Cuz I’ve had to carry a lot of people to safety, and it’s way harder to climb a shear wall when you’re also tryin’ to carry even a little kid, let alone a grown man! This one time I saved a lady from a mugging by climbing up an office tower, and she nearly strangled me, she wrapped her arms around my neck so tight.”

“I think I’ve got an idea!” Ford flipped around his book to show Stan his drawing. “A belt, with different compartments to hold different supplies in. We could even incorporate a holster for any wayward guns. And of course, people could hold onto it--”

“I don’t want people pullin’ my pants down, genius.”

“Oh, right, of course. Then perhaps more of a harness? Hmm… yes, that could allow for more compartments.”

Stan looked at the sketch. “A utility belt? I’m not freakin’ Captain Nightshade!”

“A tool belt is a piece of equipment that people have been using since our ancestors first started fashinoing clothing out of animal skins.”

“That’s not what I’m complainin’ about. I told you, I’m not playin’ at bein’ a hero, Ford!”

“I never said you had to!”

“Then why’ve you got a logo drawn on it?”

Ford looked down at the little spider silhouette he had drawn on the belt buckle. “It’s just artistic license.” He folded his arms, as though that settled it. “Anyway, I had an idea for another test we can run. Grab the web-shooters.”

“Uh, I dunno if I’m ready for more trapeze stunts.” Stan scratched the back of his neck apprehensively.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground this time. I want to see how much weight this stuff can take.”

* * *

Ford led Stan out into the woods, not far from the house, where a large pile of squashed scrap metal lay rusting under piles of discarded pine needles. It looked like something that would come out of a trash compactor in a big junk yard, not something you would find in the middle of the forest.

“What is this?”

“This is what’s left of my old car. You remember Steve from yesterday?

“Ah.” That explained it.

Ford powered up the leaf blower he’d packed out and blew away the pine needles, revealing his squashed car. “Now, the idea is to attach a line to the frame of the car, loop over one of the thicker branches up there as a pulley, and see if you can pull the car up off the ground. It’ll test the limits of both your strength, and the strength of the web material.”

He picked up one of the web-shooters and tried to aim it up and over the thick branch he’d been thinking of. The line just sailed up over the branch and stuck to another tree a few feet away.

“Lemme see that, Sixer.” Stan took the web-shooter from his brother and strapped it around his wrist before climbing up the tree to the branch in question. He fired a line down on the car and then jumped back down to the ground, letting more webbing out slowly to lower himself.

“Oh. Thank you, Stan. I’ll just stand over here where there’s no danger of being crushed.” Ford retreated a couple of yards.

Once Stan had good footing, he grunted and started pulling at the line like it was a rope. It was hard, at first. The web line was thin and hard to get a grasp on, despite how sticky it was. But once Stan got a good grip and found a comfortable way to pull, he felt the car begin to give. With another strong tug, it lifted a few inches off the ground. Stan grinned as he heard his brother start laughing triumphantly.

“Yes! Yes, it’s holding! It’s perfect! How much of a strain is this on you?”

“Heh, just like liftin’ weights back in high school!”

“Wonderful!” Ford began scribbling in his Journal again. “Oh, weights! We need more weight.”

Stan released the line and the car crashed back to the ground. “You tellin’ me you nerds have a weight set hidden in that cabin?”

Ford laughed again. “No, but one Liter of water weighs about a kilogram. We can just fill up water jugs and put them in the car.”

“Kilo-what?”

“No, Stan, kilowatts measure electrical current!” Ford joked with a cheesy grin.

Stan punched his brother playfully in the arm. Ford winced and rubbed the spot, but he smiled back nonetheless. It was like they were teenagers again, working together on whatever experiments they could come up with. 

They ran back and forth between the crushed car and the garden hose, filling up jug after jug with water. Each time they added another jug, Stan lifted it again. When they got to ten jugs, no more would fit inside the flattened vehicle without them falling out, but Stan could still lift it without much trouble. Ford got the bright idea to use the web fluid to stick more jugs to the car. They finally had to stop at 105kg, not because Stan could no longer lift it, or because the line had broken, but because they were out of water containers.

“Pfew!” Stan wiped his brow as he finished the last lift. “How much did that last load weigh in normal weight?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Pounds can hardly be considered normal weight when the United States is the only country that still uses them widely.”

“Fine, how much did I lift in abnormal weight?”

“Over 230 pounds of water, plus the weight of the car… I’d estimate around 1300 pounds! That’s over 300 pounds more than the current world record!”

“Haha! Yes! Eat it, world record guys! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

Ford chuckled and joined in the chant as they walked back home.

* * *

Things were going great. He and Stanford were finally getting along like brothers again! Which was why Stan was terrified to ask Ford about the triangle thing. Stan had a strong suspicion he wasn’t going to like the answer, and what if it led to yet another fight? Just because things were going better between the two of them now didn’t mean the situation wasn’t still delicate.

But he couldn’t just ignore it! His spider-sense had never steered him wrong before, and had in fact saved his life more times than he could count. If it was telling him something bad was happening to Ford, then he had to get to the bottom of it!

He was climbing the stairs up to the attic to go to bed that Friday when he finally worked up the courage to ask his brother a simple question.

“Hey Ford, could… could you tell me more about this thing?” He pointed down at the rug on the landing that had caught his attention his first night in the cabin.

Ford certainly looked caught off-guard by the question. “I thought you said it was creepy.” he finally replied icily.

“Well, yeah, but, you know me. I like creepy stuff.”

To Stan’s relief, this seemed to be the right answer, because now Ford was smiling like a proud mother hen and motioning Stan back down the stairs and into the library. 

“This mysterious figure can be found throughout history! It seems to be the inspiration behind many great civilizations and secret societies.” Ford narrated as he pulled out a large file filled with depictions of the one-eyed triangle. “More specifically, it inspires one brilliant mind a generation to lead their civilization, their society, into a new era of enlightenment!”

“Ok, but what does it want?”

“What?” Ford responded in confusion. “I--I just told you, it wants to enlighten civilizations.”

“Yeah, sure, but what does the triangle guy get out of it? Does he wanna be worshiped? Does he get a cut of the profits?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about money, Stanley!”

“I know, I know, I was just jokin’ about the profits thing.” But he wasn’t joking about the worship thing. “But no one does anything for free! What’s this thing’s angle?” 

Stanford just stared at his brother in disbelief. “You really have no concept of a selfless act, do you?”

“If this thing was selfless, it wouldn’t go plasterin’ its face, or symbol, or whatever it is all over!”

“You can’t assume he has any ulterior motives by just projecting human behavior onto a supernatural being!”

“And why are you so sure it’s some friendly ‘enlightenment’ giver?”

“Because I--” Ford’s expression suddenly went blank and his eyes drifted to some point behind his brother. 

Stan turned around and saw nothing, but he did notice that same twinging spider-sense again. He suspected if he’d been wearing those special goggles right now, he’d see that same sickly yellow aura around his brother.

“Ford? You ok?” Stan asked. No response. “Stanford, snap out of it!” He went to snap his fingers in front of his brother’s face, but a six-fingered hand shot up and grabbed his own instead.

“Just a second.” Ford shushed him with a far-away, dreamy voice.

“Seriously, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“Shhsh!”

After a few more seconds, Ford gave a small nod before focusing back on his brother.

“Sorry about that, Stan. I… uh… I zoned out for a moment there.” He laughed weakly. “I think we both need to go to bed.”

Stan snorted as he watched his brother rush down the hall to his own bedroom. Stanford did have a tendency to zone out from time to time, but that was usually while he was caught up reading or studying or just staring into space, not right in the middle of an argument. And when Ford was zoning out, he wasn’t paying attention to anyone, so he certainly never had to shush anyone. It was almost like Ford had been trying to listen to something. But Stan had super-hearing, and he hadn’t heard a thing. 

Unless… Stan remembered the triangle floating out of Ford’s head a few nights ago… Unless it was something Ford could only hear in his mind.

* * *

As Ford had hoped, he found himself in his mindscape almost as soon as he fell asleep, his muse floating before him. Which was good, because he really needed a word with Bill now.

“You disappear for four nights, only to show up while I’m awake again! And in the middle of a conversation, no less!” He made his annoyance clear.

“WELL EXCUSE ME, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED SOME QUALITY TIME WITH YOUR BROTHER!”

“I do, but that doesn’t have to exclude your night visions, does it? And that doesn’t excuse jumping into the middle of our conversation just to stop me from telling Stan about you!

“I WAS JUST LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, SIXER! YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING YOU’D REGRET LATER.”

Ford sighed. “You’re right, as always. Thank you. Letting slip that I have a literal muse in the middle of an argument certainly isn’t how I want him to find out. I need to find the right time to tell him.”

“I WOULDN’T RECOMMEND IT.” 

“Please, Bill, I know Stanley can be a valuable asset in building the portal! We’ve been testing his strength, he can lift upwards of a thousand pounds! Immagine what he can do to help with salvaging parts from the alien ship or placing the superstructure frame!”

“LOOK, SIXER, IF YOU TELL YOUR BROTHER YOU’RE GETTING YOUR IDEAS FROM ME, AN OTHERWORLDLY MUSE WHO ONLY CHOSES ONE GREAT MIND A CENTURY, ONE OF TWO THINGS’LL HAPPEN. EITHER HE’LL THINK YOU’RE A NUT-JOB, OR HE’LL GET JEALOUS THAT YOU WERE CHOSEN INSTEAD OF HIM. AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO REMIND YOU WHAT A JEALOUS STANLEY IS CAPABLE OF.”

“... He says it was an accident.”

“WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY BELIEVE THAT. AND EVEN IF IT WAS TRUE, DID THAT SAVE YOUR SPIDERS?”

“... No.”

“THEN WE’RE AGREED! YOU’LL KEEP STANLEY IN THE DARK. ALTHOUGH, I GUESS WE COULD STILL USE HIM TO HELP BUILD THE PORTAL. THAT SUPER-STRENGTH SURE WILL COME IN HANDY!”

“Well, if you didn’t want Stan finding out, you shouldn’t have interrupted me earlier. Now he’s bound to be suspicious.”

“AW, I’M NOT WORRIED. A GENIUS LIKE YOU WILL FIGURE IT OUT, NO PROBLEM!”

Ford smiled. “Thanks, Bill, your confidence in me really does make me feel better.”

* * *

Stan wasn’t completely surprised when his spider-sense went off again just an hour after he’d gone to bed. It was the smallest period of time between warnings yet, but Stan was finally getting an idea of what this weird twinging spider-sense was trying to warn him of, so the frequency didn’t bother him. If it really was the triangle guy, then it made sense that he’d come back after whatever had happened to Ford earlier.

Now, what to do about it? Obviously, waking Ford in the middle of whatever was going on just made him mad. Was there a way to communicate with it? Catch it? 

Stan had a dream catcher hanging from his rearview mirror in his car. He didn’t remember where he’d gotten it. He’d probably bought it to cover for all the actual valuables he’d stolen from some gas station or gift shop somewhere. He knew it probably wouldn’t work. It was just some mass-produced trinket, not a genuine article crafted by a Native American who knew what they were doing. But for the time being, Stan didn’t have any other options. It was worth a shot.

After grabbing the dream catcher, the web shooter, and the anomaly goggles, Stan crept into Ford’s room and dangled the cheap trinket over Ford’s head with a line of webbing. He didn’t have to wait nearly as long this time. After just five minutes, Stan saw the triangle float out of his brother’s head again. He was honestly surprised when the thing stopped half-way through the web. It started to struggle, like it was stuck. Just as Stan was about to reach out and grab it, the triangle guy just rose out of the dream catcher like it wasn’t even there. It stared directly at Stan. Despite the fact that it didn’t speak, and only had one eye for a face, it’s expression clearly read “Haha, just kidding. You actually thought that would work? Idiot.”

“W-wait, I just wanna talk!” Stan whispered as quietly as he could. Thankfully, Ford didn’t wake.

The triangle guy looked at Stan intently. And then disappeared.

Stan huffed in frustration and carefully cleared away all evidence that he’d been in his brother’s room that night. Well, that hadn’t worked. But he wasn’t going to give up yet.

* * * 

JWZ CFAY PLVST EIQD, SCM? PPTQ, FLGGX T ENEW IWKLVLX QWW T WQYMWM HALB. N’EW PFOP BT VLTQ BY I KXH XFPYA KBCAY.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Running Scared: The Story

So Running Scared is a buddy-cop movie, right?

Well, heck, you might say. If it’s a buddy-cop movie, I may as well not read the plot description.  A by-the-book cop is forced to work with a wild-card cop to catch the criminal and save the day, while learning to respect each other.  The boss gets mad at them, the car gets destroyed, they’re pulled off the case, and solve it anyway, breaking procedure in the process.

Okay, so you’re not wrong about that second half.  Got me there.  Buddy-cop films tend to not have a whole lot of variety when it comes to cliches, but then again, the same could be said of most genres.  And hey, cliches aren’t necessarily bad.

Before you write off Running Scared as just another attempt to cash in on Beverly Hills Cop, though, there are a couple of things to consider: for one thing, there’s no ‘by the book’ cop.  And these two certainly aren’t being forced to work together.  These guys?  They’re good friends.

Let’s take a look at the setup.  (Spoilers below!)

Two undercover Chicago cops, Danny Constanza (Billy Crystal) and Ray Hughes (Gregory Hines), spot two criminals they recognize: drug dealer Julio Gonzales, and one of his associates, ‘Snake’.  Gonzales, recognizing the pair, drives off before the two can investigate further, but before he does so, he gives Snake a briefcase, which Snake runs off with, and I’m sure is totally legitimate.

Danny and Ray pursue Snake to his third-floor apartment, where they threaten him with a search warrant.  And physical harm.

“Listen, Snake, here’s the situation: I have this gun here. Now I am going to take the gun out and I am going to shoot a lot of holes in the door. If you are standing in front of the door, what can I tell ya? Some of the holes are gonna be in you. Ya catching my drift, Snake?”

Snake lets them in.

The pair open his case, and discover what was so important in there: $50,000.

Unfortunately, possessing $50,000 isn’t evidence of wrongdoing in and of itself, and Danny and Ray can’t make an arrest.  Danny, having an idea, steps outside the apartment, onto the balcony, and makes an announcement to anyone in the neighborhood:

“This block is being designated a Neighborhood Watch Area. There’s a guy up here named Snake. He’s wearing garage-sale clothes and the top of his head looks like a parakeet. He also has FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS in small bills in a briefcase. As his neighbors, it is your responsibility to make sure there are no suspicious characters or evil perpetrators lurking in the area who would seek to do him harm. Again, FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS in small bills, tax free, in a briefcase right in this apartment. Which has a really cheeseball lock! You can bust your way in there, bop him on the head, take the money, nobody would know! So it’s UP TO YOU. Thanks a lot, have a good day.”

Snake, realizing the tough spot he has just been put in, punches Ray in the face so they have an excuse to book him.

While the pair take Snake to the station, they discover that the money in the briefcase belonged to Julio Gonzales.  After a few stops, one at a funeral for Danny’s aunt and the other at the scene of an apparent rooftop jump, the pair take the criminal in.

While at the station, Danny’s ex-wife, Anna, comes in to give him some news: she’s getting remarried to a dentist.  During this discussion, a lawyer comes in with a check for $40,000 for Danny, left to him by his deceased aunt.  Danny is left, presumably, with a severe case of mood whiplash, as he still clearly has feelings for Anna, and is now saddled with quite a bit of cash.

At this point, the plot decides to get going.

See, as it turns out, the ‘suicide’ from earlier wasn’t quite what it seemed.  For starters, the victim was a cop, and he didn’t die as a result of the jump.  He was drowned first.  And seeing as it’s pretty hard to die from jumping off a building after you’ve already died from drowning, the captain of the precinct puts Danny and Ray on the case to figure out who did the police officer in.

The pair decide to use Snake to get to the bottom of it, and convince him (via withholding all but $5,000 of his $50,000) to lead them to Gonzales, planning to get enough evidence to arrest him.  Snake agrees, (again, reluctantly) and leads them to the meeting place, a cargo ship.  While there, they discover that Gonzales is in possession of a box of Uzi machine guns.  During the meeting, Snake pretends that he is in danger, and Danny and Ray rush in, only to be surrounded by Gonzales’s men.  Gonzales announces that he plans to be the next godfather of Chicago, and has one of his lackeys shoot Snake.  As the guns turn on Danny and Ray, two detectives, who have been serving undercover in Gonzales’s gang, announce their identities, and after an ensuing gunfight, arrest most of the gang except Gonzales himself.  After another brief chase, Danny and Ray corner and arrest Gonzales and take him in, clearly expecting to be praised.

Back at the precinct, Captain Logan chews the pair of them out for busting the undercover operation and then needing to be rescued like rookies.  He also orders them to go on vacation.

So, they do.

To Key West, Florida, to be exact.

While they’re there, during their Good Times Montage, Danny decides to quit the force, and convinces Ray to retire as well, so they can open a bar in Key West with the money left to him by his aunt.  Ray agrees, and after their vacation, the pair return to Chicago to deliver their 30 day notice.  

They also find out that Julio Gonzales is out of prison on bail.

Enraged, the two vow to not leave the force until after they put Gonzales away for good, and set off to find him, intending to be a little more careful this time.  On top of that, however, Captain Logan has given them a new assignment: training their replacements before they go, the same two undercover officers from the previous bust.

After an incident involving Gonzales getting away again (This time with Danny and Ray’s pants), the duo are left empty handed (aside from Gonzales’s impounded car, which is towed after Ray spray-paints a no-parking zone around it).

This is probably what the captain is talking about when he tells the two cops they’re ‘training’ that he better not catch them doing anything like what Ray and Danny do.

Armed with a new and improved version of the beat-up car they’ve been driving, (including updates like bulletproof windows, which unfortunately do not roll down) Ray and Danny follow a tip from a criminal to where Gonzales is expecting a shipment of cocaine.  When they get there, however, there are already police officers on the scene, who discover a packet of cocaine estimated to be worth $3 million.  The credit for this find goes to the two undercover cops Ray and Danny are training, and the two are further irritated by the fact that Captain Logan is already treating them like they’re retired.  As the pair head off, they are stopped by a drug agent, who has examined the cocaine and determined that it’s an inferior grade, and, in all likelihood, a decoy for the real shipment.

At this news, Danny and Ray immediately head off to try to find the real shipment, and when they see Gonzales meeting with a priest and nun at customs, they assume that the drugs must be in the area.  Gonzales spots them and drives off, leaving the priest and nun at the platform.  Ray and Danny, driving their police car disguised as a taxi, pick the two up and take off after Gonzales, leading to a chase scene on railroad tracks.  In the chase, Gonzales’s vehicle is destroyed by an oncoming train, but he manages to get away.  Danny and Ray are left with the priest and nun, who they suspect of smuggling drugs inside the ceramic containers within the suitcases they carry.

At first, they appear to be wrong.  At the station, when no drugs are found within the containers, Danny and Ray apologize for being mistaken and the priest and nun are released.  However, the two discover that while there are no drugs within the containers, the ceramic containers themselves are made of pressed cocaine.  The partners get a new lead on Gonzales’s location, and head out for a stakeout.

Par the course for this film, this doesn’t go especially well either.  Gonzales has arranged a trash compactor truck to meet them there and destroy their car (with them in it) if they refuse to return his drugs for a bribe, which, of course, they do.

The pair escape through the back window in the nick of time, but they’re too late.  Gonzales is gone.  The next day, Ray and Danny take Gonzales’s impounded car out in search for him, and later that day, Anna comes to Danny’s apartment to give him an insurance policy she found, and the two have an argument about Danny’s immaturity.  

“You can’t be a kid your whole life, you’re gonna have to grow up!”

“Why? I don’t like grown ups.”

After their heated discussion, Anna leaves the building only to be kidnapped by Gonzales’s men, used as a hostage, offering a trade: Anna for the drugs.  If Danny doesn’t comply, Anna will be killed.

Lucky guy that he is, Gonzales has just hit Danny’s Berserk Button.

“If you hurt that lady, you’ll never be dead enough.”

Danny agrees to the trade, and with Ray’s help, takes the drugs from the evidence room as they prepare to take Gonzales down.  The plan shakes down like this:

Danny is going to enter the meeting place, the Illinois State Building, with the drugs while Ray sneaks in through the basement.  The two plan to arrest Gonzales after the trade, rescuing Anna in the process.

Considering the way their plans have been going so far, it’s not far off to bet that things go wrong, and sure enough, it doesn’t quite go according to plan.

The only way up from the basement turns out to be the window washing rig, which compounds Ray’s job quite a bit.  Meanwhile, during the trade, Gonzales orders one of his underlings to open fire on Danny and Anna, both in transparent elevators right next to one another.  Danny orders Anna to drop to the floor and shoots the underling as Ray enters the building, hanging from the window washing rig.  At the same time, the undercover cops the pair are training enter as well, and a shootout ensues, all set against the lovely backdrop of Christmas decorations.

Danny rescues Anna, taking her to safety before returning to the action.  He and Ray take out Gonzales, even though there’s some contention over who fired the fatal shot, Anna and Danny lovingly reunite, and the two cops decide that Chicago still needs them, and not to retire after all.

Thus ends Running Scared, competently wrapping up loose ends with a happy finale for all on the right side of the law (except for maybe the dentist Anna was going to marry).  If I were asking if this was a ‘competent’ ending, I would have nothing more to talk about.

But I’m not.

I’m asking if it’s a good ending.

Or indeed, a good movie in general.

Let’s start with that second one, actually.

Running Scared is chock full of cliches and tropes.  From the angry police chief to the car getting destroyed, it merrily tromps through its plot, checking off traditional buddy-cop story devices one by one, except for the biggie: there is no conflict between the cops themselves.  They are in total agreement in everything from procedure to their personal lives.  There is no ‘real’ arguing, there is no distrust or rivalry.  They are very close friends.

Does one subversion make for a good movie?  No, not by itself.  But the way this film emphasizes that subversion really does elevate it, in my opinion, to something special.

The story?  Not that original.  The setting?  Eh, if you wanted a good look at Chicago, you could just as easily pop in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or The Blues Brothers.  The action?  It’s the ‘80s.  It was everywhere, and there were plenty of movies with more action than is found here.

In the case of Running Scared, the uniqueness of this film really comes from how the characters interact with the story, rather than the story itself.  Specifically Danny, who the film seems to be a little more centered on, especially during that final act.  Which seems kind of odd, considering the fact that on first glance, there really doesn’t seem to be that much character development for him, or anyone at all for that matter.  But on a closer look, it’s a little different than that.

See, the interesting thing about Danny is that his life drives the plot.  It’s his inheritance, his bar,  his ex-wife that’s been kidnapped, and his immaturity that caused the split in the first place.  Ray, as central and important as he is, mostly tags along and helps Danny out.  When it comes to the actual story, it is Danny’s relationship with both Anna and Ray that brings everything together.  It is his believable warm, easy chemistry with both characters that, in my opinion, puts this on a level comparable to, but different than, other buddy-cop films of the day.  

Once again, at first it can seem like there’s no development in the movie, and after all, isn’t character development what can make or break a film?

Absolutely.

It’s not overt, but there is a subtle shift in Danny’s behavior throughout the film as he takes more and more responsibility for his actions, acting, as it were, a little more mature.  While ending the film still largely a Deadpan Snarker Cowboy Cop (much like his partner), the kidnapping of Anna and her words to him before it happened change his attitude for the final act of the film.  He takes the situation completely seriously, arguably for the first time in the movie, and demonstrates to Anna that he can be a grown-up, especially when it concerns people he cares about.  Danny’s mildly Man-Child ways are brought up a few times in the film, about as consistently as the subplot involving his ex-wife who he clearly still cares for, his development is less about him becoming less of a wild-card cop than it is him taking responsibility and taking his job, and his life, a little more seriously.  Is it pointed out?  No, not really.  In fact, you kinda have to squint to see it.  The change is pretty subtle, and it’s a little rushed, as it takes place during the equally rushed last act of the film.  For all of its good points, the movie does have a tad of a pacing problem towards the end.

However, it does make a difference.  At the end of the story, the characters decide not to retire, to continue protecting the city.  That wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying an ending as it is had it not been for the slight changes in the protagonist, notably Danny (whose idea it was in the first place) and his increase in maturity.  Also more satisfying as a result is his reconciliation with Anna, again, not as effective if it wasn’t for the actual display of responsibility.

Back to our questions.

Is Running Scared a good movie, and does it have a good, satisfactory ending?

Very simply: Yes, to both.

Is it great?  No.  It’s by no means a work of art, but it’s not really supposed to be.  It’s supposed to be a funny buddy-cop movie, and at that, it very much succeeds.  It gives us some likable characters, a competent story, and enough chemistry and laughs to more than make up for the heap of (not inherently bad) cliches that fill the script.  In some ways, it’s very much a standard buddy-cop film.  In others, it’s just a little different, making for a combination that sets this film a little apart from the rest.

Thank you so much for reading!  If you enjoyed it, stay tuned for more articles on some of the other facets that make up Running Scared, and don’t forget that my ask box is always open for discussion, suggestion, question, or conversation.  I hope to see you in the next article.

[oneofyatosfollowers]

One of a Kind- Chapter 8

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191861/chapters/52293733

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13360973/1/One-of-a-Kind

Yukine unbuckled his seat belt and stood up in the middle of the ship. He started at Hiyori from next to Yato, who looked like he was just slapped across the face. Hiyori was going to ship them off? Back to Earth while she hunted for a missing bottle with crummy dirt in it?

"So, what? You're just gonna wonder around the ship by yourself? With all the Secur-T looking for you?" Yukine took a step off the ship, anger threading his words. Hiyori looked a bit taken back, but remained firm.

"I'll be fine. But Yato has been labeled a real threat to public safety! He can't stay here! And I can't go with you. I have an objective here. A mission for the good of all the passengers. I swore an oath!"

"You said you didn't believe the stuff that jerk said!"

"I don't!" Hiyori shouted. Yukine narrowed his eyes at her, but backed down a bit. Hiyori took a deep breath.

"But for now, everyone on the ship does, including all of the Secur-T. I need to focus on finding out what happened to the plant," she said. Her last words sounded like a plea, a hopeless plea.

"You think someone took it." Yato spoke from the transit. His words weren't a question, but rather, an observation. Yukine looked back at Hiyori, who didn't say anything. Her lip-biting confirming Yato hit the nail on the head. After a moment, Yato walked off the ship, his boots clicking against the hard floor. The Eve looked back at him, pinning him with a serious expression.

"Yato, you know how important this is to me."

"I know. That's why we're going to help you." Yato stated. Yukine nodded in resolve, coming to stand closer to the Wall-E. Desperate frustration bubbled up in Hiyori.

"I can do this, but it's become dangerous for you. I-I can't protect you and find the plant, I can't-"

"-I don't need protecting." Yato's voice was strong with certainty. He spoke with such conviction that the room fell silent, no argument possible.

"You'll need our help," Yukine piped up, "please, we're here for you. We're not going to leave you to do this alone." Hiyori looked up, glancing between them with wet eyes. She settled on Yato, who smiled as he always did. Her chest felt lighter and took a breath to say something. Behind her, the keypad made a couple bleeping noises, and the door unlocked.

Quickly, Hiyori rushed to click the lights off while Yukine shut down the shuttle. They both then shoved Yato behind the rack of space suits. Yukine ducked behind some boxes. Hiyori huddled behind the white oxygen tanks. The door opened and the LED lighting of the hallway streamed through, casting a shadow over the large figure. The trio held their breath, the face of the co-pilot coming to mind. But once the lights switched on, they were shocked to see the Go-4 standing there. The group stayed hidden as his bulge-y eyes suspiciously scanned the room. When he didn't find anything, he made his way to the control pad, one hand coming out from under his poncho to mess with the controls.

Yato made eye contact with Hiyori and Yukine, the latter closest to the door. On cue, Yukine looked towards the door, then turned to his friends with a desperate, pleading eyes. Hiyori shook her head, hold her palm to him, telling him to stay still. She did the same to Yato who became distracted by the whirling of the engines starting back up again.

The Go-4 made his way to the open door of the ship, stopping just where Yato once stood. Bending over, his other hand emerged from under his poncho, holding a small brown object. Hiyori's opened wide like saucers while Yato's narrowed sharply. The Go-4 exited the ship, the plant in the glass bottle, sitting perfectly in the center. Hiyori glared at the cyborg as he made his way back to the control panel and shut the shuttle doors.

"Self destruct sequence: activated." The feminine robotic voice announced to the room. Hiyori sucked in a breath, it took everything not to jump out and reveal their presence. Another sound came from the Go-4 who glanced at the screen on his forearm, the face of the Auto could just be made out.

"Kugaha, is the plant in position?" Kouto asked.

"Yes sir," Kugaha hit a large yellow button, "I just shipped it off." The ship doors slammed shut and the individual ship was fired from Heaven's Sun like a cannon ball. The walls slammed shut behind it, quickly vacuuming shut.  

"Good. Come back to my quarters for your next instructions, that Wall-E cannot continue to roam my ship any longer." The Auto cut the feed and Kugaha made his way out, turning the lights off as he went. Once the doors slid shut and the room was silent, Hiyori and Yukine jumped up.

"The plant!" The screamed in unison. Hiyori ran to the control pad, trying to bring it back or stop the destruction sequence.

"Uh, Hiyori?" Yukine chocked out from behind her. She did a double take over her shoulder at his horrified expression. The Eve followed his eyes to the screen above her to see the video feed from inside the shuttle.

"Yato!" She shrieked. The Wall-E was sprawled out on his back, neck bent up against the door. In one hand the glass bottle, the other rubbing his head. At her call, he sat up and blinked rapidly.

Yato scrambled to his feet and looked out the back window to see the ship getting smaller and smaller in the distance. He let out a curse and made his way the transport's control panel, this one seeming much more complicated than necessary. In front of him, a screen turned on and showed the equally panicked expressions of Hiyori and Yukine. Yato hit a small button with a microphone on it.

"Hello! Hello? Can you hear me?" Yato shouted

"Yes, we can hear you! What were you thinking, you idiot?" Yukine leaned in close to the camera and shouted back. Hiyori nudged him aside.

"Yato, listen to me- stop hitting buttons that's not going to help! Yato, behind you is the emergency exit." Hiyori spoke calmly but her voice still shook. Yato doubted her training covered Wall-Es flying in a bomb with a inflatable boat on top and a broken parachute flapping behind him.

"I don't have a helmet! My filter only works if there's oxygen!"

"Under the control panel is a helmet just like Hiyori's." Yukine cut in. He continued giving Yato instructions on how to get it and put it on while Hiyori tried hitting more buttons.

"Self-Destruction set for one minute." Both the ship and the launch room echoed at the same time. Yato's heart soared to new heights, he threw himself against the exit and tried pulling on the curvy red bars.

"Uh, uh, I-I, how do you open this thing!" Yato's eyes darted frantically over the foreign writing, his sensors on overdrive from the stress and lack of knowledge. One thing was familiar, fancy looking boots that matched his helmet.

From the ship, Hiyori clicked a button on her helmet and ran to a garbage shoot. The inside opened up, the pull of space vacuuming out the air.

"Wha-Hiyori! What are you doing?" Yukine shouted in alarm as Hiyori put her hand on the side button.

"I'm going after him. You tell him how to get out."

"But-!" It was too late. The trash door was shut and the vacuum tube ripped Hiyori out of the ship and into the blackness of space. Hiyori flipped her boots on the highest setting, she rocketed faster than her suit could adjust. The frigid atmosphere hit her nervous system causing her teeth to grind.    

"Faster Hiyori! You got ten seconds!" Yukine's frantic voice sounded from her helmet. Hiyori couldn't even formulate a response, her mind only on one track. Go faster. Please go faster. Yato was in there and he needed to get out. She needed to get him out. Yato needed to be out here with her.

The indivdual spaceship was starting to look less like a star and more like a moon. The red hazard lights were turned on making it look like a giant baseball. The insides were red too, illuminating the Wall-E swinging his compactor into the thick glass window. Hiyori zoomed closer as the count down started from three.

The pod exploded. Like a dying star, light stretched soundlessly from a ball of fire. Hiyori scrambled to a stop, floating alone in space. Her brown eyes reflected the glare from her helmet, darting over every inch of the scene.

"No." The Eve whispered like a breath. The pieces of the ship floated out in all directions, not one of them the body of a cyborg. Hiyori numbly tapped her helmet and asked Yukine if he had anything different. She didn't receive an answer. The blonde teenager was balled up on the floor behind the control pad, hand trying to contain his hyperventilating, eyes screwed shut.

"No, Yato. No, no, please." Hiyori said a bit louder. She kicked her boots back in high gear, rocketing towards the fire her sensors warned her to avoid. A couple tears leaked from her eyes. She should have kept a better eye on him. Yato was clever, but he followed her out of his element. He was just trying to help her fluff her arrogance so humans could go back to a planet that had no hope of sustaining them! She tried to protect him. To warn him that she wasn't strong enough. Hiyori chocked back a dry sob.

"Yato," Hiyori morned.  

"Hiyori!" Yato's voice sounded directly in her head. She stopped, heat of the blast just warming her body. The Eve looked around for the source of the call, trying out his name again. Her helmet crackled again.

"Hiyori! Down here! Or is it maybe up?" Hiyori looked towards her feet to see Yato floating some meters away. His new white spacesuit was stark against the black background and his eyes shown just like the stars that surrounded him. He was floating upside down- from Hiyori's point of view- and had his legs out towards her.

"Yato!" Hiyori cried in joy, flying towards him with a bright smile.

"Hiyori!" Yato laughed, her excitement contagious. He held his hands out to her, then fired on his own boots, sending him further away. Yato's surprised face was priceless. Hiyori laughed and flew past the former ship after him. Yato bent his knees and tried the boots again, this time sending his body forward. Hiyori's face morphed into one of playful fear, she held her arms out and leaned back.

"No, no, no, Yato! Wait!" Hiyori let out a puff of air when Yato crashed into her chest, laughing. They were sent spinning like a wheel, cheering as they clung to each other, helmets clanking together. The spinning slowed, their space shoes off leaving only their laughter and gasps of breath.

Once they calmed down, Hiyori pulled back to look him, smile so wide her cheeks hurt. Yato looked the same, when her hands came to hold the sides of his helmet, he returned the action. Yato's thumb moved against the glass, subconsciously trying to wipe the water filling her eyes.  

"You're okay." The Eve's voice was sweet and she blinked away the would-be tears.  Yato's smile was still wide and it crinkled his bright, bright eyes. He nodded and held her gaze, that same feeling from their first meeting bubbling back up. It felt the same as it did now, floating in warm nothing, ignoring everything that surrounded him except her.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Yato said like a secret just for her.

Hiyori felt it too. She never felt this before- maybe a brief moment during their movie night on Earth- but not this deep. It was real, she felt heavy and light at the same time, warmth spreading across her cheeks. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck and her smile softened. Yato followed her lead, arms just barely wrapped around her waist, resting on top of the gun. Their hooded eyes dropped close as they leaned in and pressed the glass of their helmets together. Contentment evening out their breaths.

"Yato! Are you okay?" Yukine sounded from both their helmets. Hiyori jumped back from Yato, who tried to do the same but ending up spinning around. They laughed and Hiyori clicked the microphone button over her ear.

"Yes Yukine, Yato is just fine!" Hiyori reassured him. Yukine sighed in relief over the speakers.

"Thank the stars! I'm so sorry, I didn't want to look or-or to hear but I saw you hug him and I thought-"

"Daw," Yato cooed from his own helmet, copying Hiyori's method, "You do care!" Hiyori giggled and listens to Yukine's responding tangent. She agreed with his point on Yato being an idiot and sneaking in a bomb.

"Oh come on! I'm still in one piece! You did a great job with the instructions!" Yato grinned from his now upside-down position. Yukine practically steamed on the other line, pride ruffling his hardy agreement. Yato suddenly jolted, catching Hiyori's attention.

"Speaking of." Yato flew back towards the still-exploding wreckage and plucked his compactor out of the stars and swung it towards Hiyori. The cube opened up and allowed a plant in a bottle to roll out.

"Yato!" Hiyori gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth.

"Ta-da!" Yato presented with wide arms and an even wider smile.

"The plant!" Yukine cheered. Yato folded his tool back and put it away. Hiyori reaches her hands out with wide eyes and grasped the frail object carefully.

"Yep!" Yato crosses his arms, proud. Hiyori squealed again and flew into Yato's arms, which were ready and waiting. All three of them let out breathy laughs and the Eve blinked back tears.

"Quick, bring it here!" Yukine said.

"What? Why?" Yato asked, separating again from Hiyori.

"Cause there's no air in space, idiot!" Yukine chided. The two outside the ship jumped at the realization. After some failed attempts, and a lot of giggling from Hiyori, the two flew back towards the ship.

"I didn't know you knew stuff about plants, Yukine." Yato said, looking towards the speaker. He sounded impressed.

"Well, uh, yeah. I, uh," Yukine stuttered in the speaker, "have a friend in the agriculture department." Yato and Hiyori gave each other a look like someone just told them cats were lethal to elephants.

"A friend! My kiddo has a friend? That's wonderful news! You should invite them over for a sleepover! Did you hear that Hiyori? My prickly peach has a-"

"Shut up idiot! I've been friends with him longer than I've been your kid, so!" Yukine hissed from the transport room. The two reached Heaven's side and the flat door where the individual ship once was. Hiyori put the plant back in the shoot she came from and told Yukine to reverse the pull. When she went to step inside too, Yato held her back.

"We'll catch up with you later, kiddo! No use getting your friend in trouble helping three fugitives." Yato said floating away from the ship, winking at Hiyori who's blush returned full force. Yukine pathetically tried to deny he was a fugitive, then demanded they meet him in the cleaning closet in an hour.

"We will! I'll make sure, I promise." Hiyori said and drifted away from the ship as well.

"Okay. Be careful." Yukine clicked off the control panel. Hiyori turned around to Yato, only to see nothing but empty space. Movement above her to the right caught her eye. She looked up to see Yato twirling across the ship like a ballerina. He stopped when he felt her looking at him, smiling.

"Come on, Hiyori!" Yato pushed off the ship and flew like Superman. The Eve laughed and gently levitated towards him.

"I see you got the hang of those boots." She remarked. Yato was now on his side, like he was about to be drawn as a French girl.

"Yeah, I hooked them up to my computer and tried to update. It was a bit complicated, and my system's a bit out dated, but it's still ones and zeros in the end. I mostly got the settings and commands." Yato scratched the back of his helmet as he rambled. Hiyori was, nonetheless, impressed.

"You hacked a system more advanced and converted it to match yours?"

"Uh, kinda?" Yato made a face like it was hard to explain.

"I couldn't do most of it, I've only been at it for a couple minutes now, but that basically the gist," he puffed out his chest, "but lucky for you I'm a master hacker!" Yato reached up to rub his finger under his nose only to bonk it against the clear glass. Hiyori laughed at his antics, Yato laughing along with her.

"I didn't know you knew programming, Yato?" Hiyori said.

"It was one of the things you had to learn in cyborg academy." Yato explained. He then faced the front of the ship and tucked his legs in, looking to the side at Hiyori.

"In fact," Yato smirked at her, "I bet I can kick these babies up a notch faster than yours." He took off towards the front of the ship in a blur of white. Hiyori cranked up her own boots and clicked on her audio.

"Oh you're on!"

[awkward-radar-tech]

The Happiest Date in Batuu

Summary: Officer Ronnie Peterson found his dream girl, you. He decided to spoil you with a vacation to Disneyland, primarily to visit Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge. This is a snippet of what you experienced while visiting Black Spire Outpost, Batuu. A/N: The long awaited date to Galaxy’s Edge is here! Thank you to the anon who asked for this back in July for giving me the idea to help you all vicariously visit my home within my home away from home and for being so patient while I struggled on how to make this idea become written words. 

Guide for labels: The numbers in () correspond to the numbers on the maps and the number-letter combo in [ ] correspond to a photo or gif, all here on the photo guide . And if the photo guide isn't working for you, the fic and pictures are on the AO3 version here!

⭐⭐⭐

Ronnie planned to take you on a date to Star Wars land as soon as he found out you also liked Star Wars

Going into the park, you weren’t sure which of you were more excited, but you found out it was Ronnie when he refused to stop while you took pictures of the archway leading into Batuu (1) [1a]

After you took your photos you went in search of your boyfriend, who was in line at the milk stand. [2a]

“Honey! They have blue and green milk!” “I know Ronnie, remember we looked at all the menus last night?” “I’m getting both, and the milk jug.” “Alright.”

As you looked around the First Order area, an officer and two stormtroopers approached you. The officer spoke to you, “Have you seen the creature that comes from?” “Yeah.” “And you still choose to drink it?” “I don’t care.” “Very well.” (2) [2b-c]

The officer also thanked you for your support of the cause since you each were wearing FO hats, shook each of your hands, posed for a “scan”, and then moved on. The troopers didn’t speak to you until they left, saying “Keep your eyes out for resistance spies.”

You were pretty sure Ronnie was going to die, and you had only been in the park for 20 minutes. And then Kylo Ren came out from his Tie Echelon. You were pretty sure you heard Ronnie squeak. [2d]

After Kylo left the area with his two troopers you continued down the path to the right of the milk stand. You approached the cantina and then you heard a screech come from your side, “Babe! It’s the falcon! Look!” (3) [3a]

You took a photo in front of it then got in line for the ride. You each were a pilot, and Ronnie chose to be the right pilot so he could jump to hyperspace. You were yelling at each other on where to go, and you were pretty sure the other four riders thought you two were crazy. [3b-g]

After the ride you walked up the stairs and went into Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities shop, and you were again berated by your excited boyfriend, pointing out every single thing he saw to you. He decided to buy two holocrons, one Sith and one Jedi, along with a bluetooth speaker shaped like a stormtrooper comm. (4) [4a]

You then wandered over to the marketplace, stopping at every stall. You each lit up when you entered the animal stall, looking at the animatronic Loth Cat along with the other animals, and you took your time making every animal for sale make every noise it could. You ended up getting a rathtar and a wampa. And Ronnie got a monkey-lizard from the corner stand to wear on his shoulder. (5) [5a-d]

After helping him place his new friend on his shoulder, you smacked his arm to have him turn around, there was an eye peeking out from the tank above the water fountain. Somebody nearby was telling their friend that it was a baby of the monster from the trash compactor. [5e]

You continued down the path and found the Resistance Outpost, along with a lady in a bright orange jacket running around. You knew she was Vi, the resistance spy Kylo was after, and she avoided the two of you. (6) [6a]

“Babe, we gotta come back when the other ride opens! It is gonna be epic!” You laughed, he was definitely a 5 year old at heart, “Alright, Ronnie.”

You turned around and began walking back into the land, staying to the right of the path so you didn’t go back through the marketplace, passing by Chewbacca as you went. [6b]

You then went into the Droid Depot, and both of you made your own droids, Ronnie made a red R unit he named Frank, and you made a BB unit. Ronnie spoiled you even more and bought you a FO personality chip and a backpack to carry your droid in. (7) [7a-c]

You then continued around the path so you were back in the FO area, where you took pictures in front of the Tie and the First Order banner. [2e- f]

Two troopers came out and they saluted you and one stopped to shake your hands, thanking you for your dedication to the Order

You both got hungry so you walked back over towards Dok-Ondar’s to eat at Docking Bay 7, getting two different meals and both desserts to share. [4b-d]

While eating, Ronnie then surprised you again by saying you had reservations at the cantina in an hour

You decided to go on Smuggler’s Run again, this time you were gunners, so you didn’t have to scream at each other

When you got off it was time for your reservation, so you walked back and got in line to check in. 

Once inside you couldn’t stop looking around, you almost didn’t notice your server approach. You ordered and continued to look around [3h]

DJ R3X played a remix of the cantina song and you couldn’t help but laugh when you looked at Ronnie and saw he was also doing silly little dance moves to the song also [3i]

After the cantina you decided to go on Smuggler’s Run one last time so you could experience being an engineer. You were given the cards to be pilots again, but thankfully the two people who were given engineer were willing to trade. Again, you didn’t have to yell at each other because all you had to do was press the flashing buttons

You made another loop around Black Spire Outpost as the sun was almost set to see the area lit up, taking photos of different areas due to how the lighting accented the decor. [2g]

After watching the fireworks, or celebration as the cast members called it, you each were exhausted and went back to your hotel, ready to fall asleep and enjoy the rest of the parks tomorrow and the next day.

[schmittsglasses]

Do a college au! Those are always my fav!

Pretty much everyone asked for more frat boy Nico, so, well, here you go! Tried to combine this with another anon’s request for more protective Nico, but I got off track.

The frat house is a scrum, a veritable horde of freshmen trying to strong-arm their way in. There’s not much to do around here on a Friday night. It’s a choice between Greek row or wilting Greek salad from the town’s only all-night diner, and even the wildest parties have a maximum capacity. This one’s pretty mediocre. Same drinks, same dudes. Nico’s on the lawn with Link, checking his phone every five seconds to see if Levi’s here yet. The frat’s got a vaguely homophobic, definitely sexist policy that limits the number of dudes who enter. It’s designed to maximize the brothers’ mediocre chances of getting laid, with the tragic side effect of completely crushing Nico’s own stats. No way Levi’s getting in without an escort.

Nico’s palms are damp. He blames it on the beer can, the condensation cool against the summer air. Doesn’t quite explain the crush in his chest, like a trash compactor. Link’s laughing at him a little, he can tell. He turns to him, ready to snark, but then his phone beeps, and he jumps, and it’s kind of a moot point. Levi says I’m here I guess??, and Nico’s never thought of a question mark as cute before. Okay, so he’s drunk. Okay, so he wants a boyfriend. Another text: I’m by the sign.

I’ll find you, Nico says. Link takes a healthy swig from his own can, eying Nico.

“Guess I’ll see you later then,” he says, waving. Nico flips him off. He forces his way through the crowd. It’s all sweat and shoulders and bags slipping down onto girl’s elbows. He breaks free at the sidewalk. There’s another party going on, and it leaks onto their lawn. Nico can see Vik Roy, smoldering at some unsuspecting sophomore. He doesn’t see Levi, and then he turns, and he’s there, two houses down, huddled outside a sorority. Nico hustles over.

“Hey,” he says, and he’s grinning. He thrusts his beer into Levi’s hand. “Glad you’re here, man.”

“Uh… cool,” Levi says. He looks like a rabbit, frozen there, cast in shadow by the bushes. Nico claps a hand on his back.

“C’mon,” he says, and he walks, his fingers a breath above Levi’s grandpa plaid shirt, guiding him.

Levi’s hard to read. He gets all flustered, which Nico likes, but he doesn’t act. Nico can touch his knee or wink at him or invite him to a party, but Levi’ll just do what Levi always does. He’ll get kind of mumbly, yeah, but he does the same thing when Roy makes sex jokes about their TA, Kepner. He’s been at the house twice since they first met, and Nico still has to make every move. He’s starting to feel like he’s forcing something that just isn’t gonna happen.

He nods at Karev, who’s watching the door, and they head inside. It’s no nicer than the lawn. There’s not a ton of people, but the space free of freshmen is filled by trash. Empty beer cans, half-full solo cups, the remnants of pizza boxes from the pregame. Levi’s eyes dart around the living room. He scratches at the back of his neck.

Nico tries to talk to him, but the music’s loud, and Levi can’t seem to focus. He’s twisting his fingers and blinking a lot, barely touching his drink. Nico tries to step closer, to lower his voice to a playful whisper, but Levi just backs up, practically pins himself against the wall. Nico’s starting to give up on this whole dumb crush. Then he spots Link across the room and heads over, nodding at Levi to follow. On his way, Levi knocks a vodka bottle off the TV stand, and someone laughs. He flushes.

Nico looks at him, standing in the middle of the room, his shoes soaked in liquor he can smell from here. He looks like Bambi after the hunters shot his mom. Same big, glossy eyes, hazel through his glasses. Levi buries his face in one hand, breathing deeply, and Nico realizes with a sinking feeling that this whole thing was a terrible idea. He reaches forward. Grabs Levi’s wrist.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Levi leaves wet footprints as he follows behind him. They climb the roped-off stairs. In the upstairs bathroom, it’s quiet. Nico looks at Levi, who’s sitting on the toilet, still working the whole baby animal look.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Nico shakes his head, digging through the cabinet for some paper towels. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. He stands up straight. Looks at Levi. “I never should have invited you here.”

Levi flinches, just a little. Ducks his head.

“Oh,” he says.

“I just mean that it’s not your thing, you know?”

“Oh,” Levi says again, quieter, and Nico huffs.

“Not everyone has to like parties,” he says, and Levi says “I do,” but that’s a lie if Nico’s ever heard one.

“No,” he says. “You don’t.”

Levi’s eyes are on the linoleum. “No, I don’t.”

Nico rips off a sheet of paper towels. He kneels and wipes at the toe of one sneaker, about six layers of dirt coming off with the alcohol. He’s avoiding looking at Levi. Levi’s avoiding looking at him.

And then he feels a hand in his hair. It doesn’t really do anything, just settles there, cupping his scalp softly, mussing up his haircut. Nico’s not breathing. Levi’s not talking. He looks up from where he’s kneeling, hand on Levi’s soaked shoe, and Levi’s eyes are big and shocked, like he can hardly believe what he’s doing. Nico surges up. Presses him against the back of the toilet and kisses him, hard, his hands gripping at Levi’s shoulders. Levi’s hands tighten in his hair. His thumb skims Nico’s ear, and it’s like someone pressed the power button. Electric. Nico’s hands slide under Levi’s ass.

“Wait, wait,” Levi says, breathless. “What are you doing?”

“Not making out with you on the toilet,” Nico says, and he stands up straight, carrying Levi with him. Levi’s legs wrap around his waist instinctively. Nico steps into the shower — it’s a small bathroom, sue him — and shoves Levi against the tiled wall. Levi gasps. His hands scramble for purchase and knock down a shampoo bottle, which clatters to Nico’s feet. Nico kisses Levi’s cheek. His jaw.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” he admits into the soft crook of Levi’s neck, still drunk, half-dizzy. Levi laughs, and it’s a little shrill, a little hysterical.

“I went to a frat party for you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Nico laughs. Jerks his hips against Levi’s, hard, and Levi moans, reaches for something, anything. He finds the shower nozzle. His hand slams down.

The cold water comes too fast for Nico to stop it. He’s sputtering, trying not to drop Levi as fucking ice water rains down on them, like some sort of Biblical punishment for their impending gay sex. Nico’s boner dies a cruel, early death. Levi fumbles for the shower knob. Nico sets him down and reaches for the knob himself, craning to keep his body out of the spray. He turns it off.

They stand there, soaking. Levi’s dark hair is plastered to his forehead. His lips are red and full, and he looks hot and adorable and utterly humiliated all at once, staring up at Nico like he’s expecting him to storm off. And so Nico laughs. He laughs, and he laughs, and reluctantly, Levi chuckles a little too, crossing and uncrossing his arms. Nico steps forward. Kisses the top of his damp head.

“C’mon,” he says. “I’ve got some pajamas you can borrow.”

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines Chapter 38 - Reminiscing

I totally wasn’t gonna write today but got a buzz so here comes the next chapter after a long break from Gacen and Ash they’re back

Gacen and Ash get ready investigate the lead Amy gave them

The blue light of the holocommunicator flickered as Gacen looked up at the still broken holo, he really had to fix it but Ash told him he’d just make it worse, at least it was broken on their end 

Amy’s voice came through “so just to be clear we’re square now no hard feelings about the whole knocking you out thing” Gacen guessed she’d atoned for it, they’d gotten off the resort scot free and had a new lead he’d certainly been in worse interrogations 

Gacen nodded “yeah no worries Ames we’re square but you gotta keep all this Risha/Dubrillion/our involvement stuff a secret ok” Gacen had gotten the impression this whole situation was very hush hush and was aware of how mad Risha would be if he fucked it up

Amy raised her eyebrow and chuckled “haha I’d like to see them try” Gacen was inclined to agree Amy was definitely a very competent fighter, only Ash could really stand up to her in his opinion or a jedi but that’s a whole other thing.

Gacen smiled back “yeah I bet, I’m sure you can handle it thanks for the lead Ames I look forward to the next time we inexplicably cross paths” with that he turned off the holo and made his way to the cockpit. He could see Ash sitting in the co-pilots seat, he plopped himself down in the pilot seat putting his legs on the console. 

Ash turned to him with a tired look “oh uh hey Gacen did you settle up with Amy?” Gacen couldn’t help but smile Ash was not dealing with the after effects of the drugs as well as he had, she was probably used to super efficient high class truth serum not underworld stuff that makes you all sluggish.

Gacen began searching around in his coat “Yeah that’s all sorted we’re even” he paused as he found his flask “you doin alright the drugs still affecting you?” he took a quick swig of booze to calm his nerves, Ash seemed too tired to mind

Ash rubbed her forehead wincing “is it that obvious” Gacen nodded sarcastically, Ash slumped down in her chair “ugh I feel like crap boiled my brain and left it in a trash compactor” wow graphic Gacen wondered if he’d built up a tolerance to these sort of things 

He gave her chair a light shove “but hey you’re one of us now” Ash frowned at him confused “officially done stupid things while under the influence of a drug, you’re a cool girl now” Ash was getting such a experience of underworld culture with him was that a good thing? Gacen had no idea

Ash groaned giving Gacen a glare “don’t start” Gacen chuckled to himself coding the hyperspace route to the Horned Rancors base

Gacen took another quick swig of booze “yeah you’re right you were never cool” he could here Ash grumbling quietly as he prepared the ship for hyperspace “you are gonna wanna look away from the view port unless you want a giant headache” Ash nodded turning her chair around sluggishly. Gacen performed the last checks and pushed the ship into hyperspace, the stars extended into blue starlines as the ship jumped forward into hyperspace. They definitely had been a state at the resort he’d never seen Ash so loose, he may have let a secret out but he trusted her to keep it. He sat there silently for a few minutes taking swigs of booze at regular intervals, he couldn’t remember much about the Horned Rancors except he thought the name was cool and maybe the leader. He was half prepared for a fight or a friendly welcome, both equally likely but if Risha trusted them for whatever all this was they were probably good. She’d certainly done a good job covering her tracks, he finally had a lead on her and this may actually lead somewhere he still didn’t even know if she’d want to see him but like Ash said it’s better to find out than pine forever. He took a long swig of booze and got up glancing over to Ash who was asleep in her chair, yeah that’s fair he hoped she’d be up for when they arrive she kinda helped him look intimidating. 

Gacen made his way through the ship to the engine room and sat down against the console, he liked coming here every now and again it reminded him of her. She was always fixing something one of them had broken when he’d pop in and she’d always give him the same look like she knew he did something stupid even before he’d even told her. He wanted to go back to that so badly he’d loved that life going on silly adventures, outsmarting scoundrels and getting paid for it, when did it all change? He knew when though and he knew why, why did he go to Zakuul? he did the noble thing very unlike him, he should’ve just stayed with her running was the only thing he was actually any good at anyway. Gacen always thought if they were separated it’d be Risha who would’ve left, maybe to become a queen or something he didn’t know but still he never wanted it to come to an end. He could just imagine Guss butting in talking about something bizarre or most likely tmi, he could destroy Corso at cards or have a drink with Bowdarr and uh do whatever Akavi liked to do. But most of all he could be with Risha see her sigh as his latest scheme went wrong or be bewildered as it succeeded, she loved it though he could always tell they were what each other had needed. Gacen took a long sigh and a longer swig of booze he wondered if she thought these things or even missed him he hoped so otherwise he had misjudged her a lot. He didn’t really blame her if she gave up on him though he’d been missing for years and he was aware she could do a lot better. But all of this secrecy it meant something right? at this point he just wanted to know if she was ok that’d be enough then he could at least rest. He let out a quiet chuckle, for all the flirting he did she really had him hooked. Gacen got up and stumbled back towards the cockpit he could mope all he liked but they actually had a lead, find if it actually goes anywhere. He sat himself back down at the console as he saw Ash stirring from sleep. 

She squinted “uhh did we arrive” she sat up looking less like death which was a good sign

Gacen cleared his throat and slurred back “uh not yet we’re still in hyperspace” Ash frowned at him looking to his flask

Ash let out a sigh “have you been drinking?” Ash didn’t look too angry which he guessed was good

Gacen reluctantly nodded “just a little” that was defiantly a lie “I just uh now that we have a lead I’m uh a little nervous and I just need something to calm my nerves ya know” Ash nodded surprisingly calm

“ok just don’t have anymore we need to be ready when we arrive” Gacen nodded putting away the flask, that was fine he’d had his mope time to focus.

better change the subject “you feeling better now?” he could only imagine how she’d handle booze

Ash rubbed her eyes “much better I feel like myself again, alright give me a brief on these Rancors guys” Gacen racked his brain to try and remember anything

Gacen had no idea “uhhhhhhhhh I think the leader is called hugo and he’s a zabrak?” Ash let out a long sigh as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, the old base of the Horned Rancors was in front of them looking more like a spaceport Gacen frowned well at least they were still in business...

[jazzybot4]

Star Wars/FFXV crossover: Noctis as Luke, Luna as Princess Leia, and Prompto as Han Solo. (Bonus points for Gladio as Chewbacca and Ignis as C3PO.)

Okay but I’m gonna swap out some of your castings :D I have a mental image here. “Into the garbage chute, flyboy!” The dark-haired princess hissed, blue eyes glowing with fury as she took out three stormtroopers with precise shots. A hard shove, and Luna was falling into a pile of *something foul*. “What the fuck is this *stink*” Gladio said from under Luna, and she rolled off of him, which was a bad idea. It put her waist deep in wet *foulness*. “Whatever it is, it’s the grossest thing.” she agreed, and then the Princess was tumbling down. Except this wasn’t a Princess. “Fine mess you got us into.” Noctis said, robes drenched. “did you break into Zegnautus Destroyer without a plan or anything at all?” he asked, DONE with the shitty day he’d been having. His leg and back ached, he was in a dress, and now he had blond idiots and brunette giant to look after. “Not exactly.” Luna said, scrambling to her feet. “We’re here because we were *looking* for Insomnia, but it’s just....gone.” she said, and Noctis closed his eyes, feeling that pain again. “I’m Lunafreya.” Luna introduced then. “Captain of the Millenium Falcon, this is Gladiolus, and Prompto.” she introduced her friends. “Ignis should be able to let us out of this thing.” she said, getting the comm out on her stolen stormtrooper armor. “Anything that gets us off this thing.” Noctis said, and then the walls began to move. Oh shit, trash compactors ran before hyperspace jumps! “okay, nows a good time for a dashing rescue!” Prompto squeaked, and then he was sucked under the slime wit ha shriek. This day just kept getting better and better. Luna swore, and went to go rescue their idiot farm boy.

[dw-writes]

Head Above Water - Chapter 1

Hi everyone!! Here is the first installment of my Dazai Osamu x Reader story!! I reallyy enjoy Bungou Stray Dogs, its such an interesting story and I love the characters so much. So I wanted to write a story for it!! And who better to write for than Dazai. He’s such a ridiculous character. Anyway, I hope you guys like this story. It’s...a little heavier, I’m not gonna lie. Because of Dazai’s character and what he deals with... so. Yeah! Anyway! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7  || Chapter 8

Yokohama was a gorgeous place. It was so close to the water, the apartment you found was spacious and affordable, the job you had found at a café was enough to cover the rent, your groceries, and maybe even a pet! You couldn’t be happier!

Last thing you had to do was stop by the Special Ability Department. It was your duty, as a new citizen, to list your dangerous ability with SOMEONE, just in case anything happened.

You were being responsible. You turned over a copy of your visa, your passport, your paperwork with detailed information about your ability, everything! And yet, you couldn’t figure out why there was something nagging at you as you left the building. Why wouldn’t this feeling go away? You had done all the right things, after all. You smiled, pounding your fist into your hand. Everything was okay! You were on the right track! It was time to rebuild your life!

New place!

New you!

“Excuse me!” The voice was soft, male, and had come from a dumpster of an alley you had passed. You walked backwards, staring at it in confusion, wondering if, honestly, you were going a little mad. “Yes, you!” the voice exclaimed. From a hole in the side of the dumpster, you could see a brown eye appear. “Hello there, you adorable human being, you,” he called. You walked over, tilting your head.

“Hi,” you responded. You leaned over to peer into the hole. “What are you doing in a dumpster?”

“Well, you see, I had this plan about dying via a trash compactor. Something about it just meshed with me this morning when I woke up. But I must have missed the trash pick up this morning, because I’ve been trapped in this dumpster for hours now and, honestly, I think I might succumb to the fumes before the compactor and that is not how I wished to die!” he lamented. You stared. “Could you help me out of here?” he asked.

You stood, peering at the top of the dumpster. Atop it was a cement block. There was a rope tied to it and, on the ledge above, there were scrapes. This man had trapped himself inside. You carefully climbed onto the dumpster and pushed the block with your feet. It refused to budge – the thing was far too heavy, at least a third your weight. You stared at the dumpster you sat on. “How did you get this thing on here?” you asked.

“Sheer willpower!” the man exclaimed happily. He patted against the lip. “Please hurry, I believe I’m becoming faint.”

You groaned. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the keys for your new apartment. You gripped them as hard as you could and yanked, ripping the skin of your palm in a jagged tear. Swearing, you smacked your bleeding hand against the concrete block while carefully cleaning your key off on your shirt. “Oh, how the waves crest upon the shore at sunrise, and scatter diamonds across the sands of time,” you whispered to yourself. Your palm tingled. Then burned. Beneath your hand, the block glowed a soft teal as it began to drip away into fizzy, bubbling water. When it was gone, you jumped off the dumpster and pushed the lid up and over with your uninjured hand.

The man burst forth from the garbage with a dramatic gasp. He had refuse in his hair and sticking to his coat, but he still smiled and bounded out, picking himself clean once he was on the ground. He landed in the puddle of water and foam with a splash. “Why thank you!” he exclaimed, “I might have died there!”

You stared at him as you absently fished around in your bag for your compact first aid kit. “Didn’t you say you climbed in there to die?” you asked.

“Well, yes,” he said. He watched as you set your first aid kit on the closed side of the dumpster and pulled out a roll of unsoiled bandages. “I can help with that, if you need,” he pointed out. You glanced up. His hands were outstretched, palms up. You gave him a quick once over and eyed the bandages that wound around his arms and neck. Though they were dirty, they were fastened tight. You took the antiseptic wipes from the kit and handed them to him first.

You introduced yourself. It was weird, honestly. You watched as he ripped the square open and dabbed at the tear in your skin.

“I’m Dazai,” he replied, “Dazai Osamu.” He smile as he tossed the wipe and carefully wrapped your hand. “What’s your ability, hm?”

“Pardon?”

“Your ability.” He wrapped your wrist as well, making sure that the bandage was secure around your palm, thickest around your injury. “That block was heavy. You don’t look like you could life it yourself, no offense. So you must have done something.”

You stared at him. He tied the bandage off on the top of your hand with the smallest – and cutest – of bows. He then patted it gently. “Turned it to water,” you answered softly.

He gasped like a child. “How splendid! Now, I heard someone like you was living here, you know.” He grasped your other hand, leaning into you as though you both were conspiring children. “I had an insiders tip that you were moving here, you see. You have quite the ability.” You started to sputter, staring at him. “It was just luck that I happened to find you today!”

“How—”

“I have my ways,” he said, cutting you off. He winked. “And I have a question!”

“I haven’t even unpacked all my stuff yet?” you mumbled.

“Oh, don’t even worry about that!” He turned, looping one arm around your shoulders. You covered your mouth and nose with your bandaged hand and pulled away from him. He pouted, lifted his coat to his nose, and sniffed. “Oh. That’s…awful.” He even stepped away from you. “Anyway! I have a question.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Would you like a job?”

“I already have a job, but thanks,” you answered.

He pouted. “But it’s a better job.”

“I haven’t even started my new one.”

“Then you can quit!”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Yes it is.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“So?”

You stared at him, walking slowly, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “So? I just met you. You seem to know a lot about me. That raises red flags.”

He smiled. “Oh! That.” He cleared his throat, hand fluttering to the necktie hanging at his chest. “I’m a detective. That’s how I know. The job would be at the Armed Detective Agency, here in Yokohama.” Dazai smiled, tilting his head. “Well paying, it would come with an apartment as well.”

You stared at him, frowning.

“Can I think about it?” you asked.

He grinned. Practically sparkled. “That’s all I ask!” he chirped. “Oh! Can I walk you home?”

“Can I say no?” you deadpanned.

“Nope,” he answered with a pop of his lips. You shook your head, a smile slowly spreading across your lips.

[reefartandwriting]

Fire In the Sky

(Lapidot Wall E AU inspried by the art of @justburrito UwU)

"So be sure to feed the animals..."

"Yes dad..."

"And water the garden..."

"I know, dad."

"And for heavens sake please dont forget to go down and-"

"Use my compactor down at the site. I know, dad. Animals, Garden, Site. We do this everyday. I'm not a CHILD anymore..." I sighed, looking down instead of the worrysome man.

"I... oh honey I know. I'm sorry I... I just hate having to leave you alone. For GOD knows how long..." he fidgeted with a container, setting it on a wheeled carrier. "I just double check things... I'm prone to forgetting."

He turned back around, smiling at me then wrapping me in a hug. "I'll be back... soon... keep pumpkin away from Miss Lindseys cabbage, yeah?"

I giggled. "You know I dont control her, dad. She does what she pleases. But I'll try." We pulled out of the hug and he patted my shoulder, before walking down the ramp to join a good 9 or so more adults with similer containers and wheeled carriers. They walked west, falling into a loose order as the sun rose.

I turned and walked back into our home, metal bits and random artifacts from long ago on the various rotating shelves. I ducked under an overhanging light wire, and pressed a switch. A small whirr sound came on and I smiled as I strapped into my compactor.

Somehow my father had made it fit my unusually small frame, and modified it to be lighter as well. It locked onto my hands, the main box of it fitting comfortably on my back. Unfortunately the Site was a bit of a walk, but I had done it most of my life.

As I made my way steadily down the familier path, a small squeak made me look down, as a orange puff skittered up to my right side. I smiled and slowed, reaching down my hand to allow the small creature to crawl up my arm and tickle my neck before I sped up again. "Up to any trouble, pumpkin?"

The fluff-ball of a hamster squeaked in my ear and I giggled again, starting down the stairs to the Site, made of familier blocks of solid metal, or bits of garbage. I slowed and stopped just at the bottom, removing my goggles for a second and putting it over my heart at a small tribute.

The writing was unfamilier to me, (and most of the Siters) but the picture of a all too well known robot was below it, doing the job that me, my father, and many others now performed. I slid my goggles back on, just above my eyes, and glanced at pumpkin, still on my shoulder, as she made a small pitiful noise.

I scratched the top of her head, then continued on. The story was already told to me atleast 4 times a moon, so it would be a waste of work time for me to recall it, or feel bad.

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

Most of the day happened normally, my compacter working on anything I deemed worthless into similer blocks, and I stacked them up into formations. I was supposed to keep them together in larger blocks, but it always made it more interesting to form them into things resembling people, or the few animals I knew, or even something I'd just randomly seen in one of the "books" that father had found.

I had of course also found things I deemed worth something. A strange human figure with a shaky head, a squeaky animal figure about the size of pumpkin, and a particualairly shiny peice of metel with a wood block attached to it. There was more writing on it, so I put it in my keep pile.

One of the more interesting peices was a small blue box, and when I opened it I found a tiny metel loop, with a shiny stone on top. I took it out to look at it, but put it back and closed the box. I would have to ask dad what it was when he returned.

As I moved to lift the next trash cube, a strange red dot fell directly on top of it, making me jump back a bit. I furrowed my brows, taking a step toward and reaching for it, but as I did, it suddenly shot away in the oppisite direction I was facing, and was gone by the time I turned around.

"What in Suns name was THAT?" I gawked, and only got a small squeak from my pocket, pumpkin poking her head out and nibbling on a peice of... something.

I rolled my eyes at the critter and turned my eyes to a pretty large metel container. I knocked on it a few tines, then roughly pulled on the jammed lever on its surface. "Oh come on..." I growled, pulling harder and stumbling backwards as the door fell off and onto the ground.

I huffed and stood again, but paused, crouching and reaching out to touch the bright green object before me. "A plant... Out here?" I smiled. "Little survivor, eh?" I dug it up, and walked over to my keep box, putting it in a old boot. "You'd be better in the garden."

I closed my keep box and stood, hooking it on my side and checking to make sure pumpkin was still in my pocket.

It was queit, but then the sky grew red. I stopped and looked up, my eyes growing wide as a gaint hulking... something, was coming across the sky.

"Home... I..." I tightened my Compacter onto my body. "I have to get home..." I began running, jogging past the tribute and up the stairs, and streaking down the hard pavement as the giant thing flew over me. I sped up, my breath doing the same.

I tripped, stumbling and falling (rolling, more like) down into the lowgrounds. I scrambled up, as a line of the same red dots passed over me and the thing came closer to the ground, its bottom covered in fire.

I wasn't gonna make it home now.

I ducked behind an old wall, tucking into myself as the ground shook violently. I closed my eyes tight, panicking and gripping my hair as a blast of dust hit the back of the wall.

There was a loud whirring down sound, and I blinked, looking to my left then getying up slowly, peeking around to see that the large... thing, was opening, a sortof pod floating down and landing on the ground.

And it opened, a white light making me blink.

(This is going to be a 10 chapter Fanfic, i already have it planned, but dont ask for regular updates it will be posted whenever i finish them. Also all further updates will be on Ao3 and ill announce them here as i post them.)

[countessofbiscuit]

Of Guts & Garbage

A sequel to Of Nerve & Nerf, written for Rexsoka Week 2018′s prompt “A Different Point of View...” (also on Ao3)

The aesthetics of war were one thing. But the exigencies meant everything from transit tickets and newstacks, to hovercarts and Class-5 droids were heavily taxed. So it’d fallen to Hermione to pick up the slack when the sanitation droid fried itself and Dex opted not to replace it.

(“Sorry ‘Min, FLO’s not programmed for that sort of thing. I can’t pay overtime, but hey, you wanted extra hours, right?”)

No such thing as a free lunch in this economy.

“Unless you’re a kriffing Jedi,” Hermione huffed as she dragged two stuffed trashbags towards the closest compactor on this block.

It’d been a long shift. Made longer by the squished mess of beebleberries a Dug toddler spent an hour dropping onto the floor, and Flo’s worsening flirtation with the dishwasher unit, which had rendered them both idle and unhelpful.

Hermione turned into the alley, some distance behind the diner. Inconveniently, it was also a blackout night; only the very dim glow of a repurposed holo-billboard reminding citizens to go home—and not to use appliances when they got there—allowed her to see much of anything. She willed herself to remain alert, though fatigue blanketed her senses. The power companies had taken the CSF’s advice, at least, and now operated the blackouts on a random schedule to throw off the more organised criminals, but opportunists were everywhere, even in CoCo Town. You could see the sky, but people forgot there might still be scum sticking to your feet.

At her approach, scavenging nuna scurried away from sacks that had been dumped in front of the overflowing compactor. Everything nowadays was someone else’s problem. Hermione decided to test the chute on the far end, trusting in people’s laziness if nothing else—especially the laziness of the new juice joint employees next door. This looked like their recycling, all tidily collected by their fancy sanitation droid, only to be tossed here instead of sent to the plant. The hypocrites.

She dropped her own sacks and walked a couple meters into the gloom. Reaching for the chute hatch, she noticed a pale glow in the space between the compactor and the alley wall. A tilt of her head and Hermione found herself staring at the broad, plated back of a clone soldier. He was pressed up against the wall. Two skinny legs were hitched up and crossed at the ankles around his waist.

Shock rooted Hermione to the spot; it was embarrassment that sent her retreating behind the corner of the compactor. It was dark, but that hair … as blonde as her own. Unmistakable. And the horns just peeking out above the soldier’s head confirmed everything.

It was the unusual couple from table six.

They’d been the last ones out. The Togruta had fallen asleep on Blondie—Rex, his name was Rex—while he slurped a shake, trying and failing to blend in with the regular crowd of transient families and freighter pilots. He stuck out like a beldon in a skylane. Hermione had cleaned around them, not wishing to disturb. He took the hint eventually, but not before she’d wondered if he even understood the delicate etiquette of shift work. He’d nudged his companion awake with such tenderness, almost regretfully, like this was the first good snooze she’d had in weeks. Like waking her up might break something besides the tender moment. The more Hermione had glanced at them, the younger he certainly looked. Wide-eyed, awkward, uncertain. Definitely not a droid and definitely not programmed to be a danger to anything but some Separatist scrap. Or a milkshake.

Now that she’d calmed down and the wails of a passing siren had died away, Hermione could make it out: the breathy, sloppy noises of two people kissing like they wanted to do more—much more—but didn’t know what or how.  

Was this … allowed? She didn’t think Jedi could be romantic. Dex always said that was for the best, joking obliquely that the Duke of Mandalore would never take a seat at his counter, and his life and pockets would be poorer for it. The clones didn’t have arcane precepts, as far as Hermione knew, and the other soldiers’ surprise at finding these two sharing a booth had been short-lived ... though there had been bets won and credits to be quickly spent. Their lives seemed very regimented. Necking in a dark alley at this hour was probably breaking a dozen rules. But these two were officers, however young they appeared; maybe they knew exactly what they were doing?

Hermione almost shot out of her skin when the clone spoke, giving a low voice to her thoughts.

“What are we doing, Ahsoka?”

Or maybe not.

“Really? You want to do this now? Next to the trash compactor?”

Oh great. A lovers’ quarrel on her time—but not on Dex’s dime, because she’d punched out like an idiot.

“We're having our first kiss next to the trash compactor!”

The girl huffed as if hearing something ridiculous. “This isn't our first kiss.”

“What—the—the game? That doesn't count, you were wasted.”

“Well. I thought it counted. What do you know about first kisses anyway?”

“Enough...” came Rex’s reply, hesitant, lilting up into a question left hanging in the air.

“But not enough that you’d be satisfied if we stopped. Really.”

“... No.”

They fell silent again—or rather, nonverbal, returning to their first-maybe-second kiss. Everything about it seemed so illicit, and yet so mundane: two kids making out in a rare moment of privacy, before the adults found them and forced them to … to go fight a war, in this case. Like something out of a fekked up holodrama.

Hermione really didn’t want to be the adult in this situation. She needed to leave. But the trash...

“No. Stop,” came Rex’s voice again, slurred through a kiss. “We should stop.”

Some shuffling, followed by the dull thud of boots hitting permacrete. “We’re not gonna get in trouble, Rex,” said Ahsoka, with brazen certainty. “So what’s eating you?”

Hermione’s palms started to sweat. She was nervous for the girl, oddly sad for the boy, and embarrassed for herself.

“Your mouth.”

“Hey!”

Rex reversed thrusters. Wisely. “No! No. I like it. It’s just…”

“What?”

“It tastes like meiloo-salsa.”

“Oh,” came the deflated reply.

Did clones have a really sensitive palette? He had ordered the saddest thing on the menu.

Ahsoka wasn’t convinced. “No, there’s something else. Please tell me.”

“My stomach hurts.”

“You shouldn’t have had that shake. Bantha-milk—if that’s even what it was—will mess you up.”  

“I should get back to base then. Barricade myself in the freshers.”

Ahsoka mimicked a loudhailer. “Biohazard in dorn block. Bring in the chemfantry!”

“Might bust out an old reg manual to pass the time. Since we’re talking about how much shit I’m going to be in.”

“Ugh!” Ahsoka groaned. “Whose business is this but ours? Who’s gonna know?”

“Your bosses. I don’t have a magna lock on my head like you.”

“You worry too much about that,” said Ahsoka, though Hermione had to side with Rex on that one. Would the girl know she’d been listening in? “Look, if they give us any grief, I’ll … I’ll say I ordered you to kiss me or something.”

A pause. “That makes it sound worse.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Forget I said anything.”

The alley fell quiet and intimate again, as the couple forgot everything except each other. There was nothing for it: Hermione would have to interrupt. She was exhausted, and she couldn’t just leave the trash. It might attract something worse than nunas, and if any police droids rumbled by during the night and scanned the sacks, they’d issue fines, mandatory power outages or no. The juice people could live with that—she suspected they were a subsidiary of TaggeCo, and such companies had entire budgets set aside for environmental penalties—but Dex would dock it straight from her pay.

Hermione crept, quietly and absurdly, back towards the sacks, took them in hand, and shuffled her soles across the permacrete. For good measure, she punted a bottle into the alley. If the couple unglued themselves, hopefully they’d recognize a beleaguered fast food employee, with no reason to suspect any eavesdropping.

It was only when two blades of green light shot up along the alley wall that Hermione remembered the obvious. These two lovebirds, startled out of a compromising position in the dark, were armed and beyond dangerous.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” she squealed, blinded by a sudden flash and ducking down. As if supersoldier would miss.  

“Oh kriff!” said the girl, somewhere above her head. “It’s fine, Rex. It’s just a woman.”

Uncurling a little, Hermione found the helmeted clone looking down at her. He’d dimmed his lights, but she couldn’t make out much besides the distinctive black visor.

“Let me take those, ma’am,” he said, all politeness behind the artificial mouth, severe and downcast.

He had a rich voice—strangely disembodied by the helmet—and that same clipped, offworld accent as the Guardsman who collected what was left of the morning’s caf af half-ten each day. Or was it a different soldier each time? She’d never asked his name, and swore she’d start tomorrow.

“It’s fine—” she began, as one of the sacks was gently tugged from her hand.

“You’re from Dex’s,” observed Ahsoka, jumping down from the compactor as Rex tested the hatches for an empty chute. “I hope we didn’t keep you late?”

With a glance, she directed the question at Rex. He didn’t answer, stuffing the silence and the compactor with a shove of the trashbag.

The awkwardness weighed on Hermione, so she lied. “No, um, a toddler made a mess.”

Rex returned with an outstretched hand for the other sack, but when Hermione lifted it for him, the bottom fell right out. A quarter-shift’s worth of garbage decanted itself onto the ground.

“Fek!” she cursed, bending down to gather the cleanest pieces first. Plasto: another casualty of war, now that the best of it was being used in clone armor. Then she silently cursed herself for the unkind thought.

A cool hand touched Hermione’s shoulder, lightly, and the sensation of standing too close to the edge of something vast sliced through her. For a moment, she feared the Jedi had read her mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” said Ahsoka. She motioned for Hermione to step back.

Hermione did so, glad for Rex’s helmet lights now as she watched napkins, sauce tubes, meat wrappers, and all manner of diner detritus wobble and float upwards into the air. With a clap! of the Jedi’s outstretched hands, the pieces smashed together, crunching in on themselves like a super dense star. This ball of trash Ahsoka then sent flying into the compactor, with enough capital-F Force in its wake to slam the hatch closed behind it.

Hermione blinked a couple times. Few people actually witnessed a Jedi in action, and here she was, treated to a practical, yet magical, post-shift demonstration behind the diner.

Next to her, Rex gave a loud buzz from behind his helmet and signalled for a halt like a bolo-ball official. “Endex. Inappropriate use of the Force, Padawan Tano.”

Ahsoka made a gesture that would’ve stopped speeders, had any been around. “I’ll show you ‘inappropriate,’” she leered at Rex, then, recalling that they weren’t still alone, softened her features. “We can’t let you go home by yourself, Miss … ?”

“It’s Hermione. But really, I’m fine. The station is only a few blocks away.” She didn’t say it would be an hour or more before the next train. The place would still be half-lit, and she didn’t relish holding the oxygen between these two all the way home.

Ahsoka shook her head. “No way. Not in a blackout. Rex can escort you home.” She turned to the clone. “You take the bike. I’ll, uh, hop back to the Temple.”

Now Rex’s helmet really looked like it was frowning. To go from an intruder in their little rendezvous to a bogwing in the nest made Hermione want to sink into the ground. He stood there, askew and a little artificial, a plain white sign to indecision. He so palpably wanted to object, but if he wouldn’t—couldn’t?—counteract his superior girlfriend giving a strong suggestion, she’d do it for him.

“No. I wouldn’t dream of—”

“Soter,” Rex said suddenly, poking at his wristcomm.

“What about him?” asked Ahsoka.

“He’ll be out.”

“Oh, good idea,” Ahsoka nodded, turning to Hermione, while Rex’s helmet bobbed in some silent conversation. “You’ll like Sergeant Soter, he’s very genteel. Not sure about his passengers though.”

“He’s on his way.” Rex extended his arm in an after-you fashion, ready to get going. “Soter will see you home safely, ma’am. Wants to be a designated driver when he grows up.”

It sounded like she was about to be thrown into a cab full of drunk clones. That too seemed unlikely ten minutes ago. Genteel or no, her parents would be shocked.

“That’s ... very generous, thank you.”

“I’m Ahsoka, by the way,” the girl said as they walked towards the front of the diner. “I’ve been coming to Dex’s for years, but it’s been a while since was on Coruscant.”

“It’s a long way from the Jedi Temple to come for a meal.” That sounded accusatory, in the circumstances. “I mean, it’s so beautiful up there, I’d never leave.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I’ve been on dry rats—sorry, army rations for what feels like half a cycle. And no one makes a nerf burger like you guys.”

Probably because no other establishment cared less for its food-safety rating and served up raw meat slapped between a bun with a shrug. “Dex will appreciate that.”

The pavement in front of the diner still pulsed with speeders and groundcars, but it wasn’t heaving, and Hermione was belatedly glad for the company. She had neither Togruta vision nor headlamps to slice through the enforced darkness, just puny human eyes that wouldn’t see anyone till they were right on top of her.

“Do you live far?” Ahsoka asked, weaving some more small talk as they waited.

Deep enough that her neighbors would probably shed tears of joy for some Jedi street-sweeping. “Thirty-two levels down, just off the Endion Tunnel,” she said, as if talking to a local, and Ahsoka nodded like one.

“It’s very kind of your sergeant to drive me,” Hermione repeated, as Rex ambled up with the idling speederbike. She couldn’t shake the odd feeling of being a massive inconvenience, when any other couple’s dilatory antics would’ve just made her cross.

“Our pleasure, ma’am. We like to do a good turn by civilians. Show the Guard we don’t just infil every now and then to organize piss-ups in their cantinas.” Rex dipped his helmet sideways, maybe in an exaggerated wink. Then he seemed to spot something on Ahsoka’s back. With a hesitant hand, he reached under the girl’s headtail and when Hermione saw it—a dress clasp, undone—she flushed and looked away. Stars, what had she interrupted?

Staring pointedly at tendrils of speeder lights, Hermione tried to absent herself from their moment. At last, a blinker indicated in their direction. The vehicle that pulled up was army, the Galactic Roundel and blue decals illuminated by Rex’s headlamps. Another fully-armored clone, presumably Sergeant Soter, jumped out, threw a brief salute at the two officers standing next to her—“Sirs”—and trotted around to the other side.

“Soter, ma’m,” he said, by way of introduction, before opening the passenger door expectantly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sit up front with me.”

Rex stepped forward to peer into the speeder. “Zip. The di’kut,” he said, shaking his head at one of the two armored figures passed out in the backseat.

“And who’s this?” Ahsoka asked, pointing to the one missing his helmet, his face almost completely obscured by silver glitter and—Hermione’s eyes strained in the dark—blood?

“One Trooper Xero of the 327th, Moon Company,” said Soter. “Didn’t think they were still on Corrie.”

“They aren’t,” Rex sighed. “Clean him up, throw him to Sticky, and if he remembers how to count and stack blocks like a good cadet, he might not get slapped with an AWOL.”

Rex thumped the back of the speeder and turned to Ahsoka, who was already astride the bike, adjusting her goggles. With a dashing flick of his skirt-thing, Rex settled in behind her.

“Happy to take over PT tomorrow, sir. If required,” Soter said, all innocence, as Hermione buckled up.

“That won’t be necessary, sergeant,” said Rex. He gripped Ahsoka’s waist primly, like one might hold a teacup with lifted pinkies. “Carry on.”

“Sir.”

Ahsoka revved the bike’s engine. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Hermione with a bright smile.

“You too.” Some platitude about “coming back soon” tugged at the tip of Hermione’s tongue, but her mother’s old Corellian proverb about not speaking of the voyage home rang in her ears. So she just returned Ahsoka’s wave and watched the unusual couple drift into traffic, wishing them a more private conclusion to their evening.

Soter turned towards her, dimming the lights on his helmet, which bore the same blue accents as Rex’s, minus the tooka ears. “Now, ma’am, you could make me the luckiest man in the galaxy tonight—”

Hermione braced herself. These accelerated soldiers certainly lived in the fast lane. Maybe gentility in the Grand Army meant proposing to a girl before propositioning her.

“—if you tell me everything those two got up to.”