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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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FATWS One Shot #2 - The Beginning of a Family

Word Count: 1804

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Human Trafficking (once, it was a mission Reader did), Minor Character Injury

Setting/Characters: The first half-ish of The Avengers in 2012; Reader, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, Mentions of Loki, Phil Coulson, and Clint Barton, OC!Agent Anderson

A/N: Here’s One Shot Number 2! I was thinking of making it longer and adding the actual Battle of Manhattan, but I dunno if I’m gonna do that. I just wanted these to be One Shots of first meetings and other smaller events. I didn’t want to do scene-for-scene two parters. If you want me to, I can, I don’t mind doing it, I just wasn’t planning on it. I’ve kinda been slacking today, which is why I haven’t cranked out more than this one, but I’ll see if I can finish one more for tonight. Tomorrow’s another late night for me at work, BUT! Tomorrow night FATWS comes out! So I will be doing the next Episode! I also don’t have Friday off this week, so the Parts might bleed into Saturday, but they will come this weekend!

Reminder that this has nothing to do with FATWS the show, but I don’t have a title for my FATWS Series, which is what these are based off of, so this is what they’re called for now! If you have any ideas for names, feel free to send them in! I’m just too lazy to come up with something clever for the whole Series.

Thank you so much for reading! As always, not beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You were exhausted, coming back from an assignment that lasted a little over two months. It’d been your first one since you were assigned to help Steve adjust, and you were guessing they’d keep you on desk duty for a few months before sending you back out again. Which frustrated you to no end.

But then you got back your personal cell phone from a fellow agent and, seeing you had a few voicemails - which you never had - you flipped it on.

“Hi, Y/N.” Your lips turned up at the man you started growing close to over the past year. “I-I know you’re on a mission right now. I mean, you just left last week. Anyways, I just…I hope you’re doin’ okay. You probably won’t get this until later, but…still. I hope you’re safe. I, uh, I got that book. The one you were joking about me getting. The U.S. History for Dummies one. It goes farther back than I need to know, but I still read all of it. It helped. I wish you were here though. But I know you’re working. And that’s important. Um… I guess I’ll see you in a few months.”

The phone beeped before the next message played. “I took your advice. I got a sketchbook and some other stuff. There’s a ton of new supplies. I’m kinda excited to try them out. Maybe they’re not new but they’re more accessible now than they used to be. And I found a gym. In Brooklyn. It’s kinda run down - a hole in the wall type place - but they don’t do memberships and they don’t care how long you stay as long as you pay for your time. So that’s nice. I guess. Anyways…hi. I don’t think I said that earlier. It’s Steve, by the way. But you probably guessed that. Um…that’s all. I just wanted to let you know. Stay safe, honey. Abbyssinia.”

You listened to the next couple ones, all along the same lines. Steve telling you about his day; about the dog he was allowed to pet on his run or the different coffee he tried this morning at your previous suggestion. You snickered a little, shaking your head. You would never guessed that Hitler hitting, Nazi punching Captain America was so…soft. Cute.

His last voicemail was from earlier that morning, and it made her brow furrow. “Hey, honey. I, uh…God, I really wish you were here. I was told you’d be getting back last week, but then they said it might be another couple weeks because something happened? I hope nothing happened. Please be okay. I’ve really missed you. I know it’s only been a year, but…you’re the only familiar thing I have right now. I guess Fury was right to choose you since you were the first person I saw. There’s a, uh, problem. Fury’s got a mission for me. Some guy named Loki stole the Tesseract. Which was HYDRA’s secret weapon. That blue cube thing. I was just getting used to laptops and fast food and this…it’s just a lot. Overwhelming. You were always good at making things less intimidating. I’ve gotta go. Some SHIELD personnel are picking me up now. We’re going to…somewhere. I’m sure you would know, but they haven’t exactly told me. Hoping to see you soon, Y/N. Please be safe.”

You frowned at the information, looking up at one of your fellow agents, Anderson. “Hey.” He turned his head towards you from his conversation with the copilot. “Is something going on at HQ?”

“The Helicarrier.” Anderson corrected. “Fury just called it in. Something with the Tesseract. And some guy’s mind controlling people. He’s got Barton, apparently. The director is bringing a few people on board; Banner, Stark, Romanoff. Rogers, too, I heard. He wants you to be there ASAP, so we’re going there now.”

Letting out a sigh, you rubbed your eyes and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

*************************

Fury met you as you walked off the jet, lugging your duffle bag over your shoulder. You were still in your clothes from the mission; a human trafficking ring in Guam. Dirty, torn up jeans along with a white tank top hugging your torso and a flannel, unbuttoned, over your shoulders. One of your sneakers had a hole in it, too, and you were walking with a slight limp from the dislocated kneecap you got a few days prior.

“Agent.” He nodded in greeting, passing you a file. “The others are waiting. We just brought in Loki.”

You chewed your cheek, narrowing your eyes as you scanned the information in the file. It had personal files of the others, but you didn’t need to look through those. You knew Natasha very well, considering she taught you half the things you know, along with Barton. You knew Stark - of course you did - especially after you helped set Natasha up to be his secretary a while back. Banner you were also knowledgeable about, seeing as you went undercover to find him when he first took off and had been part of the tracking team on him ever since. Thor you had learned about after his fiasco in New Mexico from Coulson. And, last but certainly not least, Steve Rogers, who you knew better than any file could explain.

“Walk me through this; Thor and Loki are the real Thor and Loki? Like, from Norse myths?”

“Apparently so. You know about the New Mexico incident with the two last year, don’t you?”

You nodded, pinching your lips together tightly. “Well, yeah, but I thought…I dunno. I guess it just didn’t click. So,” you tucked the file under your arm securely, raising an eyebrow at Fury. “We’re fighting a god? An actual god?”

“With an army of aliens.” He confirmed.

“Wonderful.” You huffed as the two of you turned a corner, making your way onto the bridge, just in time to hear Stark talking to Banner about him turning into the Hulk.

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube.” Fury butted in. You crossed your arms behind Fury, leaning on your good leg. “I was hoping you might join him. Before you do, this is-”

“Y/N! You’re back!”

You shot a grin to the blonde, who perked up upon seeing you. “Hi, Steve. Just in time, too, huh.” You nudged Natasha slightly. “Hey, Nat. Sorry about Clint.”

She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You looked over to find Banner frowning contemplatively at you. “Do I know you?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Fury beat you to it. “Formalities later. Y/L/N, we’ll bring you up to speed-”

“I’ll get there, sir. How are you boys planning on tracking down the Tesseract?” You questioned, nodding in the two geniuses’ direction.

“I’d start with that stick of his.” Steve suggested, turning to look at the duo as well. “It may be magical but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the Cube.” Fury stated. “And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

A tall, broad as hell blonde looked at Fury, confused. “Monkeys? I do not understand-”

“I do!” Steve jumped in, pointing at Thor, before leaning back in his seat at the silence that came after his exclamation. “I-I understood that reference.”

You chuckled and shook your head, winking at Steve when he smiled bashfully at you. As the two scientists - was Stark a scientist? - started heading out, Steve hopped up, padding over to you.

“You’re back early.”

“Late, technically.” You shrugged, letting him pull you in for a hug, your hand rubbing his back. “I got your calls.”

He pulled away, his ears turning red. “Oh, yeah. I, uhm-”

You sniggered. “It’s fine, Steve. You can call me whenever you need to. I’m just sorry I couldn’t answer you sooner.”

“You were working.” He shrugged half heartedly. “Did it go okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Steven. I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes just as a yawn threatened to escape your lips. “If not a little tired.” You tapped on the star against his chest. “Nice suit, by the way.”

“Ha ha.” He grinned, eyeing your own clothing. “You’re matching me.” He tugged on the red, white, and blue flannel hanging from your arms. “You also look like shit.”

You snorted. “Wow. What a gentleman. Let’s get this whole Loki situation over with so I can go to bed, yeah?”

He chuckled a little with a nod. “Sounds like a plan, honey.” The two of you started out of the bridge. “You should shower first, though.”

“You’re a bully, you know that?”

“I’m just sayin’!”

“I’m just sayin’!” You mocked with a huff. “Leave me be, Rogers.”

His laughter was cut short, making you look over at him curiously, only to find his slitted eyes studying your movements. “Why are you limping?”

“Relax, Captain. I just dislocated my knee. It’s fine. Shit happens on missions, you know that.”

“Is that why you came back late?”

Shaking your head, you lead him to one of the private rooms the Helicarrier had so you could shower and change. “No. I just needed a little more time. That’s all. Now let’s focus on the problem at hand. We can talk more later.”

He hesitated, leaning against the doorway and watching you set your bag on the small cot. “Okay. As long as you’re alright.”

Your heart jumped a bit at the concern laced in his tone, the apprehension in those blue eyes - which you found out had some green in them - making your breath hitch slightly. “I am.” You spoke softly with a firm nod of your head, trying to assure him and his worries. “I promise.”

“I’m gonna go check on Banner and Stark, then. Come find me when you’re done.”

You cleared your throat to recover yourself, throwing him a cheeky grin. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, before turning and walking out, leaving you alone and confused.

What was that? You’d never had that reaction to anything. Your heart doesn’t race whenever someone walks in the room. Not like it did with him. What the hell did that even mean?

You shook your head, clearing your throats. You didn’t have time to dwell on that now. You doubted it was anything more than a fluke. You were just tired and seeing someone familiar, who was genuinely excited to see you was like a breath of fresh air after your operation. That’s all. Yeah.

With that decided, you headed to the shower, head spinning with new thoughts of this problem with the God of Mischief and that stupid blue cube.

All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 2 #fatws series #the beginning of a family one shot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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weerd1 · 3 years ago

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A quick guide to the nine flagged posts I have.

I don’t post adult material (though I follow sites that do and think everyone on Tumblr should be allowed to post whatever the hell they want to and I will exercise my right not to follow them if I don’t like it) so imagine my surprise when I looked and saw I have NINE posts that are flagged! Of course, I’m not the OP, so I can’t do anything about this but have a snit.

This first one is a collection of GIFs of Star Wars characters losing loved ones. Please note, there is not a hidden smut bomb at the bottom of the original post, @staff.

This one is me commenting on how much I like the DC Animated Universe. No nekkie Wonder Womans to be seen.

Here’s a great post with Scotty and Captain Picard sharing some time on the bridge of the classic Enterprise (no bloody A, B, C, or D). They do not then engage in “checking each other’s warp core” in the final GIFs. At least not in what was aired in the episode. That might be Riker who had the 2PM appointment to follow up and always makes Ensign Jizzmopper sad.

Ah yes, the underground mutants of “Beneath the Planet of the Apes.” Stroke material for decades of horny...Atomic Bomb worshippers?

A really great story about an African-American woman who helped engineer Navy ships. Must have been tagged by some CRT hater.

Once again, Star Wars. Women of Star Wars though, so perhaps this one does arouse some prurient interest. You all know how I feel about Phasma and Hera Syndulla.

A lovely collection of graffiti art featuring Princess Leia. And nope, no surprise “Princess Lay-YOU” images at the bottom, I swear.

Perhaps the most risqué of them all, covers from “PS-The Preventative Maintenance Monthly” which is a comic book the US Army has printed and distributed for about 60 years to make sure young soldiers who can’t read a standard maintenance manual can have cartoons to show them the way. I pointed out on the original that Joe Kubert did their art for several years (created by Will Eisner too). I am sure some lonely G.I. in a faraway land suffering a dearth of actual p*rnography has indulged themselves to the Will Eisner created Connie Rodd (or MSG Half-Mast; he’s a big chunk of man), but I don’t think we’re drifting into the adult material market. The Pentagon’s budget and policies are obscene enough without mislabeling PS.

And finally, a Captain America comic where he makes J. Jonah Jameson shave his Hitler ‘stach. There are no erotic shaving panels included, sorry.

Honestly, the most obscene thing in any of these images is that you can see I have Amazon Music, which breaks my heart to pay for, but it allows my elderly mother to play lots of bluegrass and Waylon Jennings on her Alexa.

So Tumblr: how about we just slightly get our shit together, huh?

#tumblr #tumblr staff #star trek #star wars #planet of the apes #princess leia #PS magazine #Captain America #Raye Montague #staff please knock off this bullshit

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

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Since the finale aired, I’ve been yammering on about how it would’ve only worked as a finale to s2, and now that I’m actually rewatching s2, I stand by that even more staunchly. The finale doesn’t work in a post-s2 supernatural universe.

This is the version of Dean we saw in the finale-- the one whose only mission in life was to Save Sammy, to help him get his revenge and allow him to go out and live a Normal Safe Life pretending that hunting and monsters don’t exist. The one who just wanted some pie, to drive his car, and had no real connections beyond Sam in the world outside of Bobby. Even Dean’s characterization in the finale is this far younger Dean who’d never allowed himself to crack open and truly understand love. It would take me years to plow through everything I’ve ever written about him as a character and his long struggle to emotional maturity we saw evolve over the next 13 years beyond this episode, but the tl;dr will always be “this s2 Dean is the same as the Dean in the finale.”

The goal of s2 was saving SAM from his “destiny,” too. In this era of the show, Dean didn’t have a “destiny” the same way Sam did. The ONLY thing that mattered was freeing Sam from “becoming evil,” and being manipulated into terrible things. What Dean wanted, what he was “destined” for by the narrative was irrelevant, because all of his choices and emotional burdens were tied only to saving Sam. To freeing Sam so he could safely return to his “normal life.” Go back to college, have a family and the white picket fence life.

This was before Dean truly began fighting for HIMSELF. Which only really and truly began after he sells his soul to resurrect Sam. That’s when Dean truly begins fighting for himself. Sure, he’s angry with John during s2 for trading his own life for Dean’s, for putting the burden of “if you can’t save Sam, you’ll have to kill him” on his shoulders with his dying breath, but Dean is still fighting against John’s authority and the complicated tangle of feelings of his own childhood and not actually coming to terms with his own wants and needs and wishes out beyond that yet. He’s still unwittingly confronting the “destiny” John had set up for him, and hasn’t moved beyond that yet. It’s only trading his soul for Sam’s that finally brings Dean into the cosmic narrative that will fuel his introspection and personal growth for the rest of the series.

And out beyond that point, his entire character arc explodes into orbit.

Dean’s entire character arc in s3 is confronting this very basic fact: he doesn’t deserve to have been sacrificed just to save Sam. He doesn’t deserve that burden, and he does deserve to live. This is the realization he comes to before eventually being dragged to Hell and then rescued by an angel, who literally tells him, “you don’t think you deserve to be saved” in the aftermath of that. From that point on, we have TWELVE SEASONS of Dean struggling with what he “deserves” versus what is “fate” and “destiny” and eventually confronting what he WANTS if he truly could choose his own destiny.

Plus, out beyond that point, he has Cas. And nothing changes Dean, pushes him to grow and understand himself, and accept himself-- all of himself, from the good to the horrific-- than the pure and unflinching acceptance of Castiel. Cas never looked at him and said “you are evil,” or “you are worthless.” (well, they’ve both said some pretty awful stuff to each other over the years, but there was either brainwashing or other deeper issues pushing those things on them, and they have ALWAYS eventually come back to one another, and the awful stuff was dealt with). Point is, Dean and Cas both began running these parallel arcs of duty versus desire, and for Dean, the duty was always framed around “taking care of Sam” versus pursuing any sort of ambition or goals for himself. They would fight for this for most of the rest of the series, until eventually the goal for ALL of them would be about discovering what they would want for themselves.

The show explicitly dealt with this, repeatedly, over later seasons, asking all of the characters the big questions: is this what you would choose for yourself? What WOULD you choose for yourself if you could?

And then they made the narrative of the final season, of the final Big Bad, the fact that they had NEVER had real freedom, and that their entire lives (and the entire history of not only this universe but every parallel universe) had been Chuck’s Puppet Theater, and true free will had been a lie all this time. Pushing all of the characters to confront their own choices and understand what about who they were as people was separate from what Chuck pushed them into choosing and doing all these years. The main thing that Dean (and also Cas, and to the extent she was included in the narrative this was Eileen’s issue as well) were being pushed to come to terms with what really was real, and were their feelings and choices their own or imposed on them for the furtherance of Chuck’s story.

At the end of the road, finally free and out from under Chuck’s control, they knew what was real. For Sam and Eileen, they had chosen each other. Cas had chosen Dean, but Dean hadn’t yet had a chance to reply, but anyone with two eyes and a brain knows what he would’ve said in return. It’s what Cas stopped him from saying even back in Purgatory in 15.09. And yet, for some reason Sam and Dean forgot all of that, as if none of it had ever even really happened at all, and we went right back to who they were right after they finally defeated the YED, before we even knew Azazel had a name, let alone the fact that the ultimate boogeyman of their entire lives to that point had been nothing more than a fanatic pawn in a much larger destiny for both of them.

The end of s2 was the last time Dean sacrificing himself so Sam could have a normal life, where Dean really felt there was nothing more for himself than fulfilling his father’s orders to save Sammy, even feels remotely plausible. It’s the last time we can feel like Dean might find peace and contentment in a Heaven where John is nearby to be proud of him, and where Dean would actually feel like that validation was even relevant to his own life.

And that finally brings me back to s2, where that was actually addressed through John’s self-sacrifice to save Dean, to serve Dean up to the narrative and provide a stage for this self-transformative journey INTO being a version of John himself. Only... Dean DOESN’T choose that. He fights to save Sam at all costs, even when it seems clear that the right answer would probably be to KILL Sam instead. When not only the ghost of John Winchester plaguing Dean’s mind would make him doubt his own drive to save his brother, but the John Winchester Insert Character of s2-- Gordon Walker-- basically put Dean’s own doubts out there in plain words in 2.10:

GORDON: I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?

DEAN: That's not Sam.

GORDON: Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you. But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?

This, the episode where Dean finally confesses John’s final orders to Sam, where Dean has decided that saving Sam is all that matters, even when circumstance and everyone else is practically screaming at him that this could all be over if only he gave in-- be it his own self-sacrifice OR killing Sam. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, the universe doesn’t care (and neither does Chuck... especially at this point... and the proof of that is Sam’s s15 nightmares where one of Chuck’s alternate universe endings for Sam and Dean was Sam actually going Darkside on demon blood and killing Dean... any iteration of the old drama, Chuck has explored all potential endings-- oh, except the ending where TFW gets to just be happy and live... that’s the one ending they never get and the only one they deserved in the end).

also from 2.10... loads of chat about “destiny” and one of Dean’s first “we should just lay all this shit down and take a vacation” moments when he suggests they go to Amsterdam and enjoy some of the not-coffee-coffee-shops, which Sam counters by doubling down on the fact that Dean has a destiny in all this as much as Sam does:

SAM: Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do.

DEAN: Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.

SAM: You mean you don't believe in my destiny.

DEAN: Yeah, whatever.

SAM: Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me.

DEAN: I can try.

And that’s it, right there. This is the “neither of you can try for a normal life outside of the other while the other is still alive.” This is Sam pinning a destiny to Dean that’s just as inescapable within Chuck’s narrative as Sam’s demon blood and psychic powers.

This is the core essence of Chuck’s story about them. The sibling dynamic that Chuck failed to free himself from, and that Sam and Dean failed to free themselves from after Chuck’s demise in 15.19.

Destiny. One must die so the other can live.

And considering the next 13 seasons of the show and the long and emotionally grueling character arcs Sam and Dean proceed through where they truly confront the core of who they are as people-- as individuals outside of their duty and destiny-- the finale ceases to make any sense outside of Chuck’s narrative for them. If 15.20 really happened exactly as we saw it on screen, then Chuck still won.

And they had to loop Sam and Dean all the way back to where they were emotionally at the end of s2 in order to make it seem plausible. Which, for those of us who actually care about what they endured after s2, makes the finale entirely implausible as a whole.

#spn 2.10 #spn 15.20 #spiders georg of the tnt loop #while i was writing this up i also watched 2.11 and yep... still holds up #the ghost of john winchester #chuck's process

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angelkurenai · 4 years ago

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Cheesy fanfics - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Cheesy fanfics

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 3,520

Warnings: Spoilers for 15x20 I guess

Prompt: Hey! Thought I'd help your creativity out a little bit! How about "I almost asked you out in Winter Ball back in highschool but I chickened out and now it's Christmas and we're both alone and single so maybe this is a second chance?" Very Hallmark Movie esque, but I have faith in your creativity and am sure you're gonna kill it (if you choose to do it of course!). Hope it helps!

“You have to be kidding me.” you gasped, pressing a hand over your mouth as your eyes widened “Dean? Is that really you?”

“Depends, do I still look like the guy you remember? Or am I the old ass idiot I saw in the mirror this morning?” he joked, almost giving himself a pat on the shoulder for how playful he sounded and how he didn't trip over his words.

He had tripped over the cereal the moment he saw you, already, anyway. He was glad you had not noticed him at that moment because with his luck, he would have made an even worse fool of himself and ended up on the floor faster than could be humanly possible. But, in his defense, they weren't even supposed to be there and the moment he saw you, looking so damn beautiful as if not a single day had passed, he had been floored in any way that mattered other than literally.

“Oh shut up and come here, you asshole.” you scoffed, pretending to give him a glare but the smile that was on your lips was too bright for his mind to register anything else in the first place. It was all he could think about, all his treacherous heart could think of as it danced around like crazy in his chest.

“Ah hell, it's been so long.” he chuckled as well, letting his arms wrap around your form, his entire body melting on the spot as you squeezed him close to you “Too long.” he whispered, mostly to himself as he gave a squeeze in return, your body fitting perfectly with his the way it always did “I understand now though.”

He finally pulled away, though he let his arms rest on you for a few more seconds; just like he had let the hug last a bit longer than needed. It was self-indulgent, he knew it, but if he let himself memorize the way your body fit in his arms after all this time, then nobody could blame him.

“You understand?” you tilted your head to the side, and he almost felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs in that very moment. To look at you from this up close again, still in his arms, and to realize all over again just how easy it had been for him to fall for you in high school, it was inevitable that you could steal his breath away in a matter of seconds.

He cleared his throat “You didn't expect to see me all old and wrinkly. You expected to see the ghost of me, coming by to say Merry Christmas.”

“Well, you're not exactly wrong on that. Although, I didn't expect and certainly far from hoped it would be your ghost I saw this Christmas. Maybe some unlucky folk that died years ago.” you said with a soft shrug, voice low but tone as casual as talking about the weather. Fact which had not changed over the years and which brought a pleasant kind of warmth through Dean's chest, making him chuckle deeply.

“Well, thank you for your thoughtfulness. I've gotten close to that once or twice, can't deny it, but-” he noticed you stiffening up in his arms “All is good. In fact, it's better than it's ever been. You'll see. I'll get to tell you about it hopefully, one day.”

“Hopefully soon.” you said softly, nodding your head as you finally took a step backwards to put some distance between you because even though you'd have loved to stay like that forever, Dean had always been a a friend to you – a good one, yes, but one that had no idea about your feelings for him – and also because you were currently standing in the middle of the aisle as it was “Before you disappear without a single word for the next couple years or so, I suppose.”

“Yeah I uh- Well, you've got a point there. I'm-” he stopped himself, swallowing thickly over the lump in his throat “I'm really sorry about that. I- I wanted to- You have no idea how much I wanted to contact you but shit just kept getting crazier and I... I couldn't drag you into it.”

“What?” you whispered “No, no Dean, I didn't mean- That's not why I said it. I'm not mad nor do I blame you for it. No more so than I could blame life, both yours and mine. I mean, you could have always vanished without a single warning.”

“I wouldn't do that. I would never do that to you. You're too-” he stopped himself, clearing his throat “You've always been too important to me.” he confessed softly “I should just assume that I am somewhat important to you too, right? Given that I'm not a ghost by your own hand right now.”

“Hmm let's give it some time, shall we? Wait till about the end of the day to see how it turns out.” you said with a smirk, and a chuckle following soon “That is... if you will be around for that long?”

“Oh I actually plan to be around here for a lot longer than that. I mean-” he tried to hide his own giddiness when he saw the way your eyes widened and sparkled with happiness “It's Christmas, isn't it? People are celebrating and spending time with their loved ones and eating too much and watching sappy movies and I was never particularly one for the latter but it doesn't sound so bad to me.”

“You mean you're... on vacation? No ghost or vamp's got you here?” you frowned deeply.

“No, I uh I've actually been... trying to get a bit away from that. I am on vacation now, yes, but besides that I... Well, I don't do that anymore.” he said with a small shrug, not sure why he felt almost self-conscious about it “Not- Not hunting. I mean, yes, hunting. But-” he cleared his throat, taking great notice of the surprise if not shocked look you gave him “It's not like I am out. I'm more... slowly getting out of it. Taking fewer cases, looking for an actual job, you know that kind of stuff. There are fewer cases in general anyway.”

“And going on vacation, apparently.” you noted with a small smile, voice almost breathless in disbelief, and he nodded his head.

“And got a dog.” he pointed out with a grin, loving to see your eyes widen before a a wide smile spread on your lips. Gosh how he loved that smile. Always had and always would.

“Wow. Dean, that's really- wow.” you confessed, blowing out a soft breath “To tell you the truth, that was really the last thing I expected to hear. But certainly the best one too.”

“Thank you.” he smiled, and boy had he missed the way you could make his heart beat inside his chest “It's actually been so long, so much had happened since we last spoke.”

“Yeah no kidding.” you laughed “This- wow. That's incredible news, Dean. So...” you looked down shyly for a second, as if unsure “What really made you make the choice at last? The Dean I remembered didn't even see this as a chance. To get out of the life, it seemed like an impossible dream back then. Any... particular reason why now?”

“You could say that.” he nodded his head, struggling to hold back a grin when he saw the nervousness on your features, the eagerness and doubt to hear what he had to say. And it wasn't because he loved torturing you but because there was always a small part of him that held onto hope, that after all these years had not let go of you and his feelings for you, and that small- alright, great part of him, wanted to know if you were interested in him. Just like he had hoped and waited back then, trying to understand if you really had feelings for him. He had been so hesitant, unsure if he should really try his luck or if he was going to ruin the best thing he'd gotten in his whole life. In the end, he had chickened out and lost his only chance.

Or maybe so he thought. Because looking at you look at him in that way made him believe, hope even, that maybe there really were second chances in life. All he had to do was figure it out.

“Not- not that there is a person in my life that made me leave all that behind, no.” he chuckled “I'm still as single as you remember. That much hasn't changed.” he said with a half smile, feeling his heart flutter in his chest when he saw relief flood your features and your shoulders relax “It's just that, well-” he shrugged “Fighting against the devil, meeting his son and most recently beating god, well, that can change someone.”

“God as in...?” you blinked in surprise and he shrugged once more.

“Ah yeah, the big G. It was no big deal, but it had to be done, you know? He was a dick. Now somebody else is running heaven. The devil's son as I told you, he's family though so that's great. But that's a long story, I'll probably tell you another time.” he brushed it off “So yeah, as you see, things did change. And Sam and I are more free now, that's why we decided to really do what we like, honestly.”

“Yeah that really is a lo-”

“Oh and I killed Hitler, so you're welcome for that, by the way.”

“...Thank you?” you blinked, tilting your head to the side in confusion “I- Honestly, Dean, I was gonna ask if you mean it or not but knowing you? I'm fairly sure you're not joking here. And just because I wouldn't like to freak out in the middle of the market and look like some lunatic, I'm gonna change the subject yeah? Good. So-” you cleared your throat “What are your plans for the holidays? Seeing as you are in town.”

A deep chuckle left his lips and he nodded his head “Yeah, that's a better topic. Uhm honestly, haven't thought that far yet. I was just driving with Miracle, that's my dog by the way, and decided to stop by here to do some shopping without Sam shoving his rabbit food in my cart, you know?” he said, leaving out the part where seeing as the holidays were right around the corner he couldn't stop thinking about you - just like he did every time that time of the year - and drove back to the town he had first met you in hopes (and possibly with a lot of wishful thinking) that he could see you even from far away. It had not worked out in his favor the past couple times, he didn't expect it to happen this year but here he was and here you were and he felt worse than a child on Christmas' day. Giddy and buzzing with excitement and nerves, almost lightheaded the longer he looked at you.

“And you?” he asked after a few second, even though he would have been content looking at you and taking everything in forever “You got me carried around talking about my life and you didn't tell me a thing about yourself. Anything... interesting going on? I don't suppose you plan on spending the holidays all alone?... Besides your family and friends I mean.”

“Alone? No, of course not. I've got the most handsome and loyal man waiting for me at home. So I'm picking out whatever I can for the both of us now.” you grinned and he was almost sure you too could hear his heart shutter inside his chest, at least before you spoke up again “Yeah, I might have a bit trouble since I don't know what he likes yet but I think he'd find it easier to communicate with Miracle than with me, so I improvise.” you shrugged with a grin “I got a puppy a couple months ago as well.”

“Oh oh!” he blinked in surprise, his hands shaking in relief as a smile that made his cheeks hurt got plastered on his face “That's great! I remember you always wanted one. It's so great to see you finally got that. So you... I assume, you don't got... someone else then? I- I mean, not that it would have been a shock. Any guy should thank their lucky stars to have you by their side.”

“Nah no guy in my life like that. It's been a while actually. I'm just as single as you this Christmas, I'm starting to think there must be a pattern. Just like it happened back in high school, when we first met.”

“With the only difference that you're always the pretty one out of the two of us. I mean-” he laughed “Look at you, all these years have passed and you remain as beautiful as then if not more. It looks like not a single day has passed.” he breathed out the small confession, letting some of his truth slip into his words as he admired you. Things he had not been able to tell you back then slipped from his lips in a matter of seconds, though not any more easily.

“Yeah, as if.” you scoffed a laugh, looking down with a shake of your head “Besides, I remember someone else being the most popular kid in the school, even if you were the new guy. I mean, you had all the girls practically begging for a single look from you Dean. It was as if you were some god walking amongst us, even with some of that bad boy attitude. It had never been like that for me and the boys, heck I can't even remember a single guy that looked at me like I was a goddess or anything.”

If only you had decided to turn your head and take a look at him then you would get to see that and so much more. He had always looked at you as if you had put the stars up in the sky for him. Sam's words, not his. And if he had scarred off any guy with a single look or a couple more words during that time, it wasn't because he was acting worse than a territorial Alpha. Again Sam's words. The kid did talk a lot, yes, Dean had decided early on back in high school.

“I mean-” another laugh from you brought him back to the present “It's no surprise that none of the guys asked me out in Winter Ball back in high school, I didn't make it easier with how closed off I was back then.” and Dean and his looks didn't make it easier for the few that were about to ask either “So I'm cool with being alone this Christmas too. But what's really surprising is how someone like you is. I mean, you didn't go to that Winter Ball with anyone either, I remember that correctly?”

“No uh yeah, you're right. I never went to that one with anyone. Even though some girls-” he stopped himself before shaking his head, a laugh slipping past his lips as he he looked down for a moment.

“What?” you asked with a sweet grin and he almost caved right then and there. Or maybe he did, maybe he should at last.

“I just- I never realized my life was such a bad Hallmark Movie. I mean, I always thought it was a tragedy but no, gosh, it's a sappy Christmas movie.” he laugh, shaking his head in disbelief, taking in your laugh and the way it made his heart flutter.

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean-” he paused, he could take it back, he could change it, come up with something else and all this would be forgotten but then... then another chance would be lost again and this, this was not the same life anymore; he was not the same man, or better yet he was finally the man he wanted to be with a life he wanted and had full control over “I mean to say that... I almost asked you out in Winter Ball back in highschool because I've always had feelings for you but- but I chickened out and now it's Christmas and we're both alone and single, so maybe this is some second chance? Cause if it ain't that, then, it sure is a sappy movie or a cheesy fanfic... with a bad ending.”

The words were out before he could take them back. And part of him felt proud for himself, after years of endless pining and daydreaming - clearly Sam's words, thank you very much - he never thought there would come a day when he said all of this and yet here he was. Another part of him, a greater part, felt terrified. You looked at him with wide eyes, lips parted in shock and he had to hold himself from taking it back. He had lost one chance he wasn't going to lose this one too, no matter the outcome. And the outcome he did fear especially when there were no words coming out of you. His heart was pounding in his chest, all of his blood rushing in his ears and his lungs hurting because of how long he was holding his breath. His worry was slowly but surely turning into fear, however before he could say anything - not to take it back but to make you feel less bad about having to turn him down. It was an option, very plausible given how much of a catch you were as opposed to him, you spoke up.

“Or...” you spoke softly, playing nervously with the sleeve of your sweater “Or there is a third option, you know. I mean-” you shrugged and he felt like he was forever holding his breath, waiting for you to look into his eyes, holding his gaze for a few seconds before you spoke up “I always liked fanfics with happy endings?” before he could get to question you, you pointed upwards. And as his eyes followed yours, he did take notice of what you previously had. He blinked in surprise a soft laugh leaving his lips.

“Personally, I love cheesy movies or fanfics.” you said and looked back at you he noticed the shy grin that was on your lips and he made him feel 18 all over again “And if that mistletoe hasn't been there all this time... then, well, I think the new guy that's running heaven is really having a fit with our lives right now.”

“I don't know, I will really have to ask him next time I see him I think. Sam did love to tell him about my endless pinning and daydreaming every time Christmas was around.” a heartfelt laugh made his chest rumble, pleasant tingles filling up his entire body especially as he heard you giggle.

“Did you now? Wow. This day is full of surprises, then.” you bit your lower lip for a moment before adding “Well you what, we're gonna have a family gathering and dinner for the holidays tomorrow. I know it's on short notice but if you'd like to then... you know you're always welcome in my place and-”

“I would love to come, yes.” he breathed out almost embarrassingly fast, but your smile made it all worth it.

“Wonderful!” you grinned You don't need to bring anything, we've got everything, but if you'd wanna you can bring Miracle. And if Sam manages to make it here until tomorrow then he's more than welcome too.”

“Sure, I'll tell him. See if can be here.” he would but he already knew that Sam would do anything to give the two of you more time together so he knew he wouldn't be showing up “The real question here is: Will that aunt of yours be there?”

A beautiful laugh immediately came from your before you looked at him a bit apologetically “For a moment there I thought you'd have forgotten. Yeah, sorry, there's not way to avoid that.”

“So long as I'm not sitting right next to her on the dinner table, I think I will survive.”

“She's gonna keep her hands to herself, I'm sure. Besides-” you shrugged softly, looking up at him through your lashes “I don't think she would hit on my date too.”

“No, I don't think she would either. But in case you need to make it more obvious, kisses are allowed 24/7.” he said with an innocent shrug.

“Ah yes, about that.” you smiled, leaning up to peck his cheek “I would love to give you more, hopefully very soon. Especially in front of the Christmas tree at my own apartment afterwards, while we catch up.”

His eyes widened in surprise and you giggled before he breathed out “Gosh, I freaking love cheesy fanfics.”

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docholligay · 4 years ago

Photo

I laughed out LOUD at this, I have never heard it called “Moral narcissism” before and that is all I’m going to call it ever after.

Shocker to all of you, I’m sure, but I disagree vehemently with his position that there are good guys and bad guys. People aren’t that simple and its the oversimplification of people living complex lives, because everyone really, really likes to be able to put things into baskets, that lead to half of the absolute bullshit the internet has wrought. Yeah, but Doc, what about HITLER? I literally have a stance on human beings I call “Well, Hitler loved his dog” because every human being, no matter how bad they might be, has some redeeming aspect, some spark of the divine, unless they are LITERALLY a fictional fucking character WRITTEN to be a piece of shit in all moments. I come from a religion with a magazine based around Jewish thought and life, with a section literally called “My Favorite Anti-Semite” with the definition of: My Favorite Anti-Semite: an occasional series of tributes to writers, artists, philosophers, and others who hate us and to why we still find value in their work.

I do not come from a basis where in can be boiled down to, “There are bad guys, and good guys”

Now, don’t misunderstand me--those of you familiar with my work know I do in fact believe in evil, and I believe that neutrality and inaction is a type of evil, but I don’t believe we ARE good or bad, I believe that we DO good or bad. Who we are is up to us, and is based on the things we do. God (he of the nebulous existence) did not create us for the purpose of setting us on a train track, he gave us a bunch of fucking stones and bricks and shit and says to us, “WELP. Whatcha gonna do, tiger?” And sure, some people have really nice pressure treated redwood and some people are dealing with a corrugated tin situation, but whether you choose to create or destroy is ON you, not IN you.

And most people believe they are builders. and some of them even try, but like, none of us are architects, and all of us fuck up. We have all DONE bad. Some of us have done bad often enough that we might be defined as temporarily bad, or cowardly (which I define as a type of evil, but that’s on me) or selfish. But most of us are, to quote Lemony Snicket, chef’s salads of good and bad. It’s not so simple.

Now two things:

Accepting Alan’s premise that there are good guys and bad guys, I howl-laugh at the idea that he defines himself a “good guy.” Why? What have you done? You managed to NOT be Nadia, and that’s fair (and I’ll get to you in a minute) but what have you actively done that is GOOD? Good isn’t not being bad.

If Nadia wants to call him a moral narcissist (love it) that’s not fucking fair either. He’s not nitpicking at your word choice and slapping himself on the ass because he doesn’t call people idiots, or explaining why a character take is morally incorrect because it doesn’t fit very specific guidelines. HE’S CALLING YOU A SHIT FOR YOUR PART IN BREAKING UP A MARRIAGE AND THEN TREATING THE GUY LIKE SHIT. That is BEYOND fair. You should be sitting there going, “Yeah, that one’s on me”

#Doc watches Russian Doll #RD episode 5

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mrsalwayswrite · 5 years ago

Text

Tipsy Confessions (Darrell “Shifty” Powers x f!Reader)

So based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because I love it!

Warnings: None...just Shifty cuteness.

Words:3200

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

He looked down the barrel of his M1 Garand rifle, lining up the sight with the target at the end of the shooting range. The noise of his fellow paratroopers drifted away to blessed silence. There was something for him when lining up his shot, everything else seemed to fade away. The world narrowed down to himself, his rifle and the target. The faint breeze kissed his cheek and made the ends of his hair sway. Shifting the rifle just slightly, he accommodated for the wind. Finally, he was ready. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold, squeeze…

Bang!

"Nice shot, Shifty."

Darrell "Shifty" Powers looked up at the target, an almost perfect bullseye, just a little to the left, then over to his friend standing nearby. "Thanks, Popeye."

"Can we head back now?" Floyd Talbert asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why? You gotta brush your hair or somethin'?" Popeye Wynn teased.

"That's why I get all the dames at the dances and you don't."

"Come on, lectures will start soon." Smoky Gordon stated good-naturedly, then he pointed at Talbert. "And you owe me a pack of smokes. Told you Shifty could hit the target."

"You said bullseye, not just hit the target."

"Well, he did it."

Talbert grumbled but dug the pack out of his pocket and tossed it to a smirking Gordon.

Bang!

Shifty looked over his shoulder in the direction of the gunshot. He thought they were the only ones there. This was his favorite time to practice since everyone else was either at the mess hall or relaxing in their barracks. Usually he came alone but today Popeye decided to keep him company and then from there Gordon joined them, dragging Talbert along.

To his surprise, he saw you a few lanes over, laying on your belly, rifle set in front of you with your finger still on the trigger. The ODs they gave you were just a one or two sizes too big, thus your sleeves and pant legs were rolled up a few times. Somehow you still pulled the look off well. Instead of looking like a child playing dress up in too large clothes, you looked…. well…. good.

Talbert gave a low whistle. "She's a good shot, I'll give her that."

"Even if she arrived with Hitler's head in a sack, Sobel would still hate her." Gordon stated, watching you closely.

"And Guarnere."

Another shot rang out and Shifty would easily admit...he was impressed. Not because you were a dame and knew how to shoot a gun. His mother would string him up sideways for thinking something like that. No, the distance you were shooting at...most of the soldiers did not even try it. Only himself and a few others shot that far with any accuracy.

And you were dead on.

Finally you stood up, slinging the rifle over your shoulder when you noticed the four men staring at you. He could see the hesitation in your usually guarded expression. You had only joined Easy Company once they arrived in Camp Mackall. Sink thought your connections and resources in Europe would prove invaluable to the paratroopers. Unfortunately, by that point, most of the men had bonded and were not looking to add an outsider...especially a woman. Even worse, you spent most of your time with Intelligence so the men could never get a good read on you.

"Hey, doll," Talbert called, a flirtatious smirk lighting up his face, "you going to be a sniper for Easy?"

You moved a little closer, head held high and shoulders back. “If the need arises...and that's Lieutenant to you, not doll."

"Yes, ma'am."

Your gaze moved his way, eyes assessing with just a look that seemed to see more than they let on. "Are you Private Powers?"

"Ah, everyone calls me Shifty, ma'am."

"You're an excellent shot. If you have the time, I'd appreciate some pointers from you. I'm better with a pistol."

He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "It's not a problem, ma'am. I'm… I'm not sure how I can help though. You're an excellent shot yourself."

Your lips turned upward at the corners but you just shrugged. "Thank you, but there's always room to improve."

"How good are you with a pistol?" Talbert asked, gaze skimming over you. "Think you can hit that target?"

The target he pointed at was only about five yards away, any paratrooper was expected to hit at that distance. It was almost an insult to think you could not.

And the look on your face after he asked...you definitely took it as an insult.

Without removing your eyes from Talbert's grinning face, you pulled the pistol off your hip, pointed at the target and unloaded it.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

"Have a good day, boys. Shifty, I hope we can talk soon." You stated, switching from staring down Talbert to a small smile at Shifty. Then you stomped away, reholstering the pistol, rifle still slung over your shoulder.

Shifty's gaze moved to the target and froze. All six shots were in the center of the bullseye...which you had shot at without looking.

"Tab, you better not piss her off. She don't even have to look at you to kill you." Popeye japed.

Shifty's eyes darted back to your retreating form in awe. He had never met a woman like you before. And damn, if watching you shoot did not do something to him.

"Oh, now that's a knockout." He softly said, unable to tear his eyes from you. Never mind him giving you pointers, he wondered what you could teach him!

"Yeah, yeah. She can shoot." Tab muttered, turning to head back into camp.

"You're just mad she showed more interest in Shifty than you." Gordon joked then screeched when Talbert hit him upside his head.

Shifty ignored their taunts as the group walked back towards their barracks. He found you beautiful, any man with eyes could see you were attractive. But watching you shoot, that focused look on your face and the confidence you held...that was going to be a problem for him, he could already tell.

Especially with the way he kept having to readjust his pants so the others would not notice the effect you had on him.

*****

"You're starin' again."

"Mmm?" Shifty blinked, it took a long minute for his friend's words to sink into his brain. When they finally resonated, he practically jumped in his seat, face turning red. "What? No, no, I'm not."

"You're starin' at her like Perconte when he sees garlic bread." Popeye stated, clearly amused if the shit-eating grin said anything.

"What?" Perconte yelled further down the table.

"Nothin', Frank! Wasn't talkin' to you!"

An argument broke out with Perconte demanding to know why Popeye said his name. Shifty only half listened, his gaze drifting back to you across the mess hall. You were facing away from him, talking with some of Easy's officers.

It had been several weeks since the encounter at the shooting range. Since then whenever you were around, he became a bumbling mess. He stumbled over his words, a blush continuously heated his face, a couple times he tripped when you would casually touch his shoulder or arm. Yet the whole time you were kind and patient with him, ignoring his awkwardness. Or at least he hoped so. A few times the two of you would find the other at the range and shoot together, giving one another pointers or creating silly competitions. It was during this that he realized he was falling for you.

Hard.

Like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and feeling gravity control one's descent as if that person was just along for the ride.

It did not take long for the others to notice how his gaze was always on you when you were nearby. How his brain ceased to function properly as if you were all he could focus on. How he would go out of his way to try and say hi to you every day. The dopey smile on his face when you smiled or laughed, even if you were across the room.

And thus, the teasing began.

One of the more embarrassing moments was when Sobel was leading a strategy practice in the woods, quickly getting everyone killed from his impatience. Shifty, you and two others were forced to be left behind as wounded while everyone else tramped back to the rendezvous point. During those hours of laying in the grass, you and him, lying next to each other, began a quiet, running dialogue telling stories from your lives. Who taught you to shoot, what you were doing before the war, favorite foods, ect.

Once the four of you were relieved and allowed to return to the rendezvous point, you broke away to return to your separate barracks to clean up. When Shifty returned to 3rd Platoon, they immediately teased him about his rumpled clothing, the grass in his hair and if he remembered to wear a condom when you two….

He still blushed thinking about some of the graphic things they said.

Not that his mind had not enjoyed picking up those images and replaying them in his dreams.

*****

He was drunk.

Or at least tipsy.

A part of him knew going out was a bad idea. He never drank. Just did not like the taste of beer. It always sat like lead in his gut. But at the moment, he did not care.

Easy celebrated the fact that they were moving on from Camp Mackall soon. One step closer to be official paratroopers. One step closer to war. Drinks were flowing, some even found local women to dance with in the bar. Glenn Miller crooned over the radio. Sobel was gone on a forced weekend pass. Everyone was in high spirits.

Shifty sat at a table with a few others from Easy, listening to Luz tell some story...and he kept giggling.

Giggling!

Popeye was giving him an amused side-eye as he sipped his own beer. They all knew Shifty did not drink. Sure, he got teased about it but most respected it. For a very specific reason tonight when someone offered him a beer, he took it. And then another. And another.

He felt sort of floaty as he sat there. Everything was funny. His head was spinning slightly but it did not ache. That was good, right? He could still see straight...mostly. He was beginning to see why the others drank often.

When he looked around the bar, he finally spotted what had made him start drinking. You reclined at a table talking to Lt Winters and Lt Nixon, which was unsurprising. What was different was the dress you wore. It molded to you in sinful ways and dear God! he almost swallowed his tongue when you walked into the bar. Between that dress, the red lipstick and victory rolls in your hair, he swore even sunrises were jealous of your beauty. Others definitely noticed, a few buying you drinks but you refused to dance with anyone. A comradery had finally developed between you and the men of Easy, most accepted your presence and the intelligence you provided. Plus, your marksmanship added points and willingness to take the brunt of Sobel's verbal abuse.

You laughed at something Nixon said, head tipped back and a hand on your chest. A sappy smile grew on Shifty's face as he watched your joy radiate. He loved seeing you smile and laugh. Even if he was not the cause of it, he liked you being happy. You had the ability to make even the gloomiest day seem like the peak of summer sunshine.

Excusing yourself from the table, you started towards the outside door. With a bright smile, you redirected slightly and stopped at his table before passing it.

"You boys having a good time?"

A chorus of "yeahs" answered from those around.

"So, when are you going to admit you're in love with me?" Talbert asked, cigarette between his lips. Over the past weeks, he shamelessly flirted with you, even more than Luz but everyone knew it was done jokingly and when superior officers were not around.

"Mmm...the same time Sobel admits he has a hidden stash of pornography in his footlocker."

Malarkey's chair dropped back down onto its four legs as he gaped at you. "And how in the hell would you know that?"

You just winked. "Well, I'm off. Have a good evening, boys."

As you stepped away, Shifty found himself stumbling to his feet to catch up. "Y/n, ma'am."

You stopped, turning to watch him as he approached your side. There was no plan, no rationale in his following you. It was almost instinctual. He wanted to be near you...to hear you laugh again...be graced with one of your brilliant smiles. Now though, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak, his brain sluggishly tried to come up with a reason for him to be near you.

"I'll walk you back if you like. It’s...you...you shouldn't walk 'round alone none." His words tumbled out, somewhat coherently in his rush so he was not just awkwardly staring at you.

You smiled, your face lighting up. "Thanks, Shifty."

A giggle escaped him and he practically felt his heart splatter on the floor at your feet. You were so beautiful and looking at you made him feel warm inside. Or was that the alcohol?

A few wolf whistles follow you both out but he did not pay attention. He floated walking next to you...or felt like he did. He was unsure. His boots caught on a rock and he stumbled faintly but tried to play it off. For some reason the ground swayed just enough under his feet. It reminded him of the floating dock in the next town over from his home, how it was stable yet unsteady. The stars were really pretty tonight. Not as pretty as you. Oops...he stumbled again and a giggle slipped out.

"Are you well?"

"Ah?" He looked over at you, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning him as if for an injury. "Yes, yes." He giggled out. Why would he be injured? No more Currahee!

And then he tripped, almost landing on his face if you had not caught his arm.

"Stop. Stop. Look at me." You moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his chest to hold him still.

Your touch sent an electric current through him. It sharpened the warmth of your hands on his chest, how good they felt there. How your breath ghosted over his face as you peered at him. How close your bodies were. No one could ever compare to you. His feelings, his affections, bubbled up inside of him like a champagne bottle after being shaken, threatening to explode.

But he could not say anything. No! It would be wrong. So wrong. Not right. You were a superior officer...and... just incredible.

"Shifty, are you-"

"I like you. " He suddenly blurted out. The cork of the champagne bottle finally popping off.

You tipped your head to the side, watching him. Your hands still on his chest, still so close to him. Your eyes seemed to draw him in and he did not have the strength to escape their current, pulling secrets and truths from him.

Before he could stop it, his mouth disconnected from his brain and went on autopilot. Secrets and thoughts spilled out he had never told anyone. "I think youse beautiful and strong and an amazin' shot...and... I like you but not like...I like Popeye or Gordon or Lipton, no. I like-like you... like I want to kiss you and hear you laugh. But I can't tell you cos youse an officer and you would just laugh at me. I love watchin' you shoot. Rogers says you have a great ass but that don't matter to me cos, well truth is, I think I--"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, clogging the outpouring of words. "Are you drunk?"

He shook his head then changed his mind and nodded. Christ, he hoped he was drunk. Maybe you would ignore his ramblings then. Oh, what had he done? What happened? If he suddenly sprinted away, could he somehow hide from you for the rest of the war and he could pretend this never happened?

"Right. Here's what we are going to do." You tapped his chest with your pointer finger, drawing his attention back to you and ceasing his inner panic. "I am going to walk you to your barracks so you can sleep this off. After everything you just said, if you still feel this way in the morning, I want you to tell me all this when you are sober. Since I like-like you too. If not, then you owe me breakfast in exchange for my silence, jerk, and we'll never speak of this again." You smiled, other hand still on his mouth. "Nod if you agree."

He did not think he ever agreed to anything so quickly in his entire life.

"Good, let's get you back now." You pulled your hand away from his mouth and slipped it around his arm. Together you two walked, arm in arm, towards his barracks.

Shifty still felt like he was floating on air. For more than one reason.

*****

A few hours later, just as the sun was rising, he stood outside the barrack you were staying at. Practically bouncing on his toes, he knocked on the wooden door. Thankfully you stayed there alone since there were no other female paratroopers. You opened the door wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, hair amess and a sleepy smile on your face.

"I still think you are the most beautiful woman and I like-like you a lot." He exclaimed without preamble...and then paused. "And I'm sober."

"I like you too, Shifty."

A stupid grin spread across his face, cheeks warming up but he did not mind for once. "Can... can I... hug you, ma'am?"

You laughed lightly before grabbing the front of his ODs and yanking him inside, slamming the door behind him. Before he could utter a word, you pushed him against the closed door and slammed your lips against his, your hands gripping his ODs tightly.

Oh.

Oh!

This was much better than a hug.

Cupping your face, he returned the kiss fervently. He sank into your mouth, loving the feel of you pressed against him, how everything seemed to fade away and your touch and taste were all that mattered. You deepened the kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth. If you did not have him pinned to the door, his knees would have given out. His hands slipped to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Your tongues fought for dominance, which he would gladly let you win if only you did not stop. But it was when you whispered his name against his mouth that he almost came undone right there.

Finally you broke apart, desperate for air. Both of your chests heaving like you had been sprinting up Currahee. Staring into your face, your pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen; he decided he liked this even more than watching you shoot. Then he dove back into your mouth with unbridled passion, wanting to test how good your accuracy was in other ways.

Yes, this was much better than a hug.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ww2 #world war 2 #shifty powers #shifty powers x reader #darrell powers #mzwrites

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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in support of Texas relief, @claraxbarton donated $50, and requested Dean Winchester & Bucky Barnes. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Curfew to get back to their bunks is 2200 hours but Carlisle's still trying to prove something and so Bucky's still out, too, because hell if he's going to let some jerk from Long Island out-drink a Brooklyn boy. "Think you're gonna fall asleep soon, punk," Carlisle says, grinning wide and loose and his eyes real red, and Bucky raises his eyebrows and knocks the next shot back. He doesn't rise to the punk thing even if he wants to sock the jerk one. See, Steve, he wants to say, but of course Steve's not here. Bucky sucks the inside of his cheek, not feeling the burn anymore after this much—maybe a bad thing—but he waves to the girl leaning against the bar, signaling for another. Becky, is her name, which caused some comment from Carlisle too. She's in a too-short skirt and Bucky knows from when Carlisle got a hand on her ass that she's not too worried about keeping the hemline down, giggling as she leans over and puts the next round on the table. Carlisle pulls her in by the hand, murmuring something in her ear that Bucky can't hear over the jazz from the jukebox but that she hears perfectly well, from how she giggles and leans in, her bosom squishing up and catching Carlisle's attention just fine. Bucky sighs, sits back. Maybe the competition's over, after all. He sips at the next shot instead of downing it, actually tasting the whiskey—crap, but better than he used to be able to afford back home��and ignores how Becky's showing off the top of her stockings, the peek of white thigh above them, and looks over the top of Carlisle's head at the lawyer-type who's been sitting toward the back of the jazz club, this whole time, watching them.

Hat on the table, a beer half-sipped at his right hand. A paper pad open, at his left. Doodling something. Bucky sips at his shot again and Becky's now in Carlisle's lap, her arms around his neck. The bar's emptying out, most everyone from boot camp gone home, and Bucky's maybe got a point to prove but he's tired of this. He knocks back the rest of his shot and then reaches out and takes Carlisle's, and kicks him under the table for good measure. "Hey!" Carlisle said, distracted from sweet Becky's plump white throat, and Bucky said, "Sorry, pal, you forfeit by way of boring me to death," and gets up from the table in a scrape of the chair on the wooden floor, and Carlisle starts to stand up but of course Becky's weighing him down and she says, "Hey, slugger, you're gonna leave me all alone?" and Carlisle's distracted, soothing, long enough for Bucky to walk away, toward the back of the bar, the shot still heavy in his hand. He wants to drink it but he wants something else, too.

Jukebox, in the back. He leans over it, flipping through. Glenn Miller, Gene Autry. He wonders who put on the run of Louis Armstrong—fourth song in a row, by his count—and in the corner of his eye he can tell that the lawyer-type is watching him, from the table right there, and doing a good job of pretending he isn't.

2200 hours. Bucky checks his watch. Ticking closer. He's not the most rule-abiding guy at the best of times but he knows he's been pushing it, with his sergeant, and if he's found out to be back late again then—well, it's latrine duty for sure, if not a full ten miler with all his gear. He sucks the inside of his cheek. Worth the risk? If he's thinking of going to Europe to fistfight Hitler, then what isn't?

"Hey, pal," Bucky says, turning, with this feeling in his gut like running into a fight in a back-alley in Brooklyn—but the lawyer's up, leaving his beer half-drunk on the table, walking past him to the hall where the WCs are. Bucky licks his lips. There's a doodle left on the table, a torn-out page from the guy's pad: some weird symbol that Bucky doesn't recognize, in heavy pencil-marks, sketchy and strange. He frowns, looking over his shoulder, but the door's swinging, and he's—sure, almost. He's gotten that kind of look, before. He's given it.

The hall's empty, but there's another door at the end, frosted glass, EXIT in reversed letters, just closing. An alleyway—well, hell. Bucky's done worse in worse places but the danger of it is leaping in his throat, now. The chances that someone might see, might catch his uniform in the dark, might—but he's a real knucklehead, it turns out, and he's pushing through the door, the glass of booze still clutched in his other hand, and then: the alleyway, and whatever's waiting, and… the lawyer nowhere to be seen.

He turns around, squinting in the mostly-dark. Trash bins, and a cat racing away out toward the streetmouth. Bucky steps forward, looking—wondering if he was seeing things he wasn't meant to be seeing, wondering if his stupid heart was manufacturing things that weren't there, like always—and—there, on the other side of the wooden gate, a glow. A candle? No: a… circle, somehow drawn on the alley wall like with fire. Strange symbols that he can't make out as he gets closer. They're bright but slowly fading and he reaches out, caught by the strangeness. No heat, as his fingers hover over the coal-flames. In the center, one of the symbols looks like a star, and he licks his lips and takes a deep breath and like an absolute knucklehead presses his hand flat against it and then –

"Of course I'm—look, I'm the one who had to haul his ass into the trunk, okay? And he's heavy as hell. So, thanks for sending me out here solo, by the way."

Bucky keeps his eyes closed, trying to keep his breath even. He's waking up slow, not like from a bad dream but from a deep, long sleep, and he hasn't had one of those since before basic—since before Joe moved back into Ma's house—since before he slept over at Steve's, when they were younger and Steve's mother was at the hospital, and Steve was snoring on his half of the bed but Buck was—well, it hardly matters. His head feels queer, memories close to the surface and hurting. He's laying on something soft.

The man starts talking again: "Dude, for the last time—yes, Sam, I'm sure. You know how many History Channel docs I've watched about Cap and the Commandos? There's some kind of federal law that it's all they show at noon on a weekday. Check the insignias from the uniform, I'm telling you. This ain't a reenactor, it's the real deal. Plus there was that Thule sigil still burning on the alley wall." A pause. Bucky doesn't know the half of what this guy's talking about. Thule? What the hell is a history channel? "Yeah. Hey—look, he's—okay. Call me when you find something."

Another pause. There's a shift, fabric rustling, and then a creak of bedsprings. "You want to stop faking? You're not that good at it."

"Says you," Bucky says, but he opens his eyes.

A room, like a hotel or something. Nighttime, from the dim, and a lamp making a pool of light between the two beds. He's on one, laid out on his back, and on the other, when he turns his head: a man, older than him, sitting on the side of the mattress, watching him. Bucky presses his lips together, looking. Not the lawyer type who gave him the slip in the alley and not anyone he's ever seen. The man's looking right back at him, studying his face, and then his eyes go skipping down Bucky's body, and Bucky's still wearing his uniform but he feels—"What's a Thule sigil?" he says, to cover up his reaction, and the man's eyes jump right to his and he grins, like Bucky's some circus pet that just did a trick he didn't expect.

"I think we better start with 101," the man says. Generic accent. Where are they? "Name's Dean. I'm a hunter. Sorry for kidnapping you, but you were passed out in an alleyway and I wasn't sure the cops would know how to handle a guy from 1943 who's—uh, you." He scratches the corner of his jaw—hasn't shaved in a few days, apparently—and then shrugs, and nods at Bucky. "Your turn."

"James," Bucky says. He surprises himself and blinks at the man. Dean. "James Barnes. Probably AWOL from my unit at this point, depending on what time is." Another grin, but this one more natural, and Bucky decides he probably doesn't want to sock the guy one. He starts to sit up but his head—ah. Woozy, the world tilting some, and Dean reaches out quick and grabs his arm, helping pull him upright. It hurts but not like getting punched, or the one time a guy coshed him over the head in an alley fight and he woke up to Steve grimly holding his brains together. More like a hangover but he didn't even have that much to drink. When he's up, boots on the floor, Dean sits back and just looks at him again, all over, and Bucky looks down at himself too like maybe there'll be something interesting to see. It's just him, though, in his uniform a little worse for wear for eating dirt in the alley, but Dean keeps looking at him like…

Dean's spinning something in his hand—a metal rectangle with a shiny glass face. He sees Bucky looking and grimaces, and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "Sorry," he says, "not sure we're ready to do the whole Back to the Future II thing, here," and Bucky doesn't know what that means, either, but then Dean says, "Here's the thing: it's 2013," and Bucky blinks at him and says, "Bullshit."

Dean's eyebrows go high. "Wow," he says, under his breath, "okay, so it really wasn't like the newsreels." Bucky stares at him. "Um," Dean says, and then says, "Shit, Sammy doesn't know everything, hang on—" and he picks up something from the bedside table between them and points it, and then there's a flashbang of color and light and… a man, talking about the stock market, in brilliant color and as vivid as Dean sitting across from him. "Don’t tell your pals in the unit about Wolf Blitzer, I don't want to create a time paradox or something where someone doesn't get born," Dean's saying, but Bucky just sits and stares, frozen on the bed. It's like… a marvel, from that World Fair they went to, something that Stark genius would think up. He gets up, finally, and Dean's quiet, and he reaches out and touches the glass and it sparks against his fingers, static, against where there's a box that says February 15, 2013, 9:57 pm. "Yeah, it's an old one. A television. I can't remember if you have those yet or not."

"Who are you, pal?" Bucky says, not turning around. The light hurts his eyes, it's so bright.

Dean sighs, behind him. The sound from the television goes away and Bucky touches it again, shaking his head, and Dean says, "James Buchanan Barnes. You go by Bucky. You're from Brooklyn." Bucky looks over his shoulder and Dean's looking at him—looking older, looking tired. "You joined the service in 1943. You're in the 107th and, from what I can tell, you haven't shipped out to Europe yet, because you were in an alley in Georgia, instead, and you haven't—" He gestures vaguely to Bucky's side, eyes dipping, but Bucky doesn't know what he means, and he's got this vague panicky feeling stuttering up in his chest. Like being caught at something only this time he hasn't done anything wrong.

Dean stands up. They're the same height, same build. Dean's dressed like a farmer, in denim pants and a plaid shirt untucked, but he doesn't carry himself like one. A hunter, he said, and Bucky braces himself. Hunting what? The door's too far away for him to lunge and make it before Dean could get there.

"I'm not here to hurt you, man," Dean says. He laughs, lightly, shaking his head. "Like, that's the last thing I want to do. You're Bucky Barnes. I can't—tell you what that means, I guess, but… It means something. But you're not supposed to be here."

"Where's here?" Bucky says, tightly.

"Well, seventy years out of place, for one thing," Dean says. His mouth curls up on one side. "Though I gotta say, you're hot for an old guy."

Bucky takes a breath, while Dean grimaces. "I feel like I just hit on George Washington or something," he mutters, eyes dropping to his boots.

"Even if you add seventy, I'm not that old," Bucky says, after a second, and he can tell he's coloring up but he's not—men don't—he's never, even in alleyways and in dark rooms and in the one dance club he ever got brave enough to go to, one night when Steve was staying up with his mother and Bucky was so strained in the heart he thought he'd crack in half, he never—out loud, he never.

Dean looks up. Calculation. He's a looker. Even back in the unit among all the guys, Bucky could say that and not have anyone question it. Brownish hair, green eyes, freckles like a kid from a sodapop advertisement but he sure doesn't look like a kid. A man, carrying himself like one, his muscles obvious in the blue plaid, his hands square and sure. Bucky looks at them instead of into Dean's face. He's never sure but now he's very not and he doesn't want to—so there are Dean's hands, on his hips, and his knuckles, and his clean neat nails. Safer to focus on than the insanity of what Dean's telling him—the future, Bucky thinks, again, the world wheeling off its track, where somehow some man in some hotel in Georgia knows who he is, and says he's hot. Howard Stark's World of Tomorrow couldn't possibly.

He steps forward. Dean's hands lift, low, cautioning, and Bucky licks his lips and walks into them, lets Dean catch his hips. "Whoa, sailor," he says, and Bucky says, "I'm in the Army," and then he picks up his head and kisses Dean, square on the mouth, heart leaping into his throat.

Brief, hard. He grips Dean's shoulders and they're—oh, shocking, hot and firm and real in a way that he's turned over by, half-convinced that it's a dream, but all his dreams have been insubstantial as air, gossamer that slips away when he tries to hold it. There's a burst of air, Dean exhaling hard through his nose, but his lips are—soft, his chin scratching against Bucky's, and after a second of stupid clenched-eyed hope Dean's hand slides up his side and he readjusts his head, tilts, makes the kiss… softer, easier, and Bucky gasps in air he didn't realize he was holding onto and Dean's mouth follows his, closing over his bottom lip and sucking very softly, and Bucky thinks out of nowhere without his brain having any say-so Steve, and he pulls away then, jerking so hard that Dean says, "Whoa, whoa, buddy—" and Bucky almost hits him but turns away, puts his hands over his face, breathes out hard and quick and tries to ignore how his lips feel oversensitized, burning.

There's a strange metallic sound while Bucky's heart is trying to beat out of his throat. It cuts off mid-racket and Dean says, "Great timing, Sammy," full of sarcasm, and Bucky drags his hands down over his cheeks, covers his mouth. Turns around, to face his stupidity like a man. Dean's holding the metal thing to his ear, apparently listening, but his eyes are fixed to Bucky's. "Oh, just traumatizing a war hero," Dean says, and then his attention shifts and he rolls his eyes, holding the thing away from his ear with this expression so what are you gonna do?, like a guy from the deli taking a call from his henpecking wife, that Bucky snorts. Dean smiles at him, easy, and puts it back to his ear in time to respond, "Yeah," and then, "Got it, okay—look, text it to me, I left my pen in Kansas," and takes it away and holds it in front of himself—another whirling flash of color, a picture of some man, and then Dean pokes a red circle and it goes quiet.

"So," Dean says. "Sammy knows how we can send you back. Gotta do it by midnight but that's no big deal, I've got the stuff in the trunk. Scary adventure's gonna be over soon, soldier. You'll have to worry about the AWOL thing on your own."

He's poking at things on the rectangle again. His thumbs move very quickly. Bucky's watching his face, downturned, apparently casual, except that his ears are bright blushing red.

"War hero," Bucky says, finally.

Dean's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks up under his eyebrows. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?" he says. Bucky shakes his head and Dean bites the corner of his mouth. His mouth. Bucky looks into his eyes instead. "Yeah. Look, I can't—tell you this stuff. I don't know if they had sci-fi in the 40s but you just… can't tell people their future, okay? It's a bad idea. You might change something, or do something, and you'd screw up time, and then, I don't know, giant vampire robots might take over Manhattan as soon as I send you back."

"Vampire—?" Bucky says, bewildered, and Dean groans.

"Forget that, too," Dean says—fat chance, Bucky thinks—and Dean shakes his head, sighing. "Look, all this… time travel crap is new for me, too. Didn't even know it could really be a thing before a few years ago, and I didn't know regular people could just smear some stuff on a wall and speak some mumbo-jumbo and just make it happen. And so—we found this record that an unexplained event had happened, on this day in Georgia, and Sammy—that's who was just on the phone—he said, well, go check it out, and he's faking like he's not sick so I just let him send me out on the errand, and then it turned out to be you, and I'm… babbling, this is embarrassing, but you're you and I gotta say, whenever we were kids, Sammy was Superman and I was Batman but when we played Commandos he had to be Cap because I always wanted—"

Dean cuts off, and now the red's in his cheeks as well as his ears, even if Bucky doesn't know what goes there. "So. I'll send you back, but." He lifts a shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to."

He looks real sorry. Bucky leans back against the dresser, with the silent television flashing colors by his shoulder. He tries to imagine it. Boys in some hazy, magic-screen future, playing at being him, the way the kids in the neighborhood play being Flash Gordon. It's too big to fit into his head. He says, instead, "So… we win, then." Dean frowns. "The war. We win? If… me and the commandos and whoever the Captain is, we all get to be heroes. We must win."

Dean licks his lips, and looks… guilty, as all hell. "Yeah," he says, voice strange. "Yeah, you win."

Oppressive, to hear it. Not relief but responsibility. Bucky nods, takes a deep breath. "Well, all right, then," he says. He smiles at Dean, his very best. "Then I think the big hero deserves another kiss."

Dean startles, and laughs, and Bucky grins until Dean's head drops. He swallows. The future, settling onto his heart; the past, roaring up to meet it.

#ffcc #dean winchester #bucky barnes #my writing #-- hey i hate to be that guy but i gotta apologize #this is less a story than a collection of paragraphs #but i feel like i forgot how to write at all #this doesn't match up to the donation #but i hope it gives you some mild entertainment #imagine bucky barnes watching cnn #that could be funny at least right?

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thewebcomicsreview · 5 years ago

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Seeing as I don’t have a job right now (one week furlough), I managed to get a lot of writing for Saffron and Sage done today. Now I feel good! Time to ruin that with a Homestuck 2 Liveblog! Last time: Jade kidnapped “Yiffy”, much to Jane’s distress! No time for that, though, as we’re back with the Candyland Kids.

HARRY: vrissy, i know this is a stressful predicament but i think that's going too far. HARRY: my dad believes in us. HARRY: and if he thinks there's something we can do, then there has to be a way!

Kind of interesting that Harry holds his dad’s opinion in such high esteem, considering that his dad has been AWOL pretty much his whole life.

TAVROS: Uncle john isn't to blame for this,,, HARRY: yeah, no shit tav. HARRY: this whole situation is because of YOUR insane hitlermom.

How the hell does Harry Anderson know who Hitler is? When did that conversation come up? This is a completely different universe!

TAVROS: Is less sincere,,, than it is,,, an attempt to weaponize something difficult for me, TAVROS: In order that you can win an argument,,, with harry anderson,,,,, VRISKA: GRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! VRISKA: WILL YOU ALL JUST VRISKA: SHUT!!!!!!!! VRISKA: UP!!!!!!!!

A good example of why characters like John, Jade, Vriska, and sometimes Karkat are important in Homestuck or in stories generally. They actually do shit.

VRISKA: Neither you nor your friends have anything really important going on. VRISKA: Your lives and your planet are a total 8ore! VRISKA: 8ut somehow John loves you anyway. VRISKA: Try and be fucking gr8ful for that every once in a while. VRISKA: Not everyone is so lucky.

Vriska please do not be pining for middle-aged John Egbert. You have literally half a dozen semi-official love interests (John, Terezi, Eridan, Tavros, Meenah and Kanaya), please don’t pick the one old enough to be your dad. It was already weird enough when Adult John got hot and bothered by teen Roxy in the epilogues, to say nothing of you fucking a middle-aged homeless clown in a bush.

thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG]

Oh, fuck you, Homestuck. It’s bad enough that Harry and Dave are both going to be referred to as “TG” in chatlogs, but now Vrissy and Vriska are both AG and have the same font color!

TG: i've allocated the strife specibus with the scissorkind abstratus? TG: hm. TG: using this weird vocab and stuff feels... well, weird. TG: i'm not sure why, but it seems as though everything that's about to happen is that much more important now. TG: or maybe it already was, but i just didn't understand just how important until this moment.

One issue with wearing your metaphor on your sleeve as much as Homestuck 2 does is that thematically important lines become really obvious.

I like how the triangle-shaped panel around Vriska escaping the crowd by simply walking into it is reminiscent of a magic 8-ball. That’s clever!

VRISKA: Your society... no, your whole planet... it deserves to 8urn str8 to MEGAhell, and I'm gonna 8e the one to fly it there! VRISKA: I'm gonna shatter your paradise into pieces with my 8are hands and SHIT IN ITS GRAVE!!!!!!!! VRISKA: HOW'S THAT FOR A FUCKING ST8MENT! VRISKA: YOU GOT ALL THAT, JANE CROCKER? VRISKA: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT'S COMING FOR YOU???????? VRISKA: YOU'VE MESSED WITH VRISKA: ********VRISKA******** VRISKA: ****FUUUUUUUUCKING**** VRISKA: ********SERK8T********

There’s some extreme Dungeons and Dragons energy here, where Vriska’s plan to escape a mob of reporters working for a totalitarian dictatorship run by literal gods is to simply walk outside and publicly declare her intent to destroy the world as punishment for its sins.

And yeah, this is how that plan usually works in DnD, too.

Man, the next page is a wall of text, whereas in old Homestuck this’d be an animation. I get “fair wages” and “small budget”, but is still feels weird to see a big Strife scene merely get described with boring-ass words.

Fearing gunfire, the few paparazzi who aren't currently getting their asses handed to them by the world's angriest traffic cone start to trip over each other, diving for cover.

The world’s angriest traffic cone.

Far away, in her lair, Jane Crocker grabs the two sides of her computer monitor with enough strength to snap it in two. She can't believe what she's watching. Behind her, from a shadowy corner of the room, there is an agitated growling noise and the rattle of chains.

Is that Yiffy? Is Yiffy an animal? Please tell me Yiffy is not a person that Jade named Yiffy.

....Actually, please tell me that Yiffy isn’t an animal Jade named Yiffy that is Jade’s child via sex with another animal that might be my breaking point.

Vriska alights on the ground, rakes her throat, quietly spits out a little wad of blue, and wipes her mouth unceremoniously. Tavros pats Harry Anderson tentatively on the arm. Vrissy tries to be badass and cough up something too but she doesn't really make it work.

Vrissy::Vriska Vriska::Mindfang

It’s weird that John’s sprite is the same even though he’s middle aged now, but I like that his God Tier outfit doesn’t fit any more. Isn’t it magical? Ahh, who cares.

JOHN: this old thing is pretty uncomfortable in a lot of ways. JOHN: hm... JOHN: when we get a moment, maybe the two of us could brainstorm a redesign? JOHN: no pressure though. HARRY: !!!

Oh, that’s why! That’s cute.

JADE: theres something i need to tell you

don’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadog

JADE: john... i have a daughter JADE: shes almost harry andersons age JOHN: ... JOHN: ... JOHN: you have a daughter.

Named Yiffy?

ROSE: It was at this point that Jade came to me. ROSE: I could understand her pain quite acutely, and so... ROSE: I agreed to carry a child on her behalf. KANAYA: . ROSE: ... Without telling Kanaya.

Without-

Kanaya is your WIFE. You LIVE WITH HER. Even ignoring the question of why you’d keep 9 months of pregnancy from your wife, how? Kanaya would have been living with humans for years at that point and she’s literally in charge of reproduction don’t tell me she thought Rose just got fat for a while and then lost the weight really fast.

ROSE: I'm... not sure why I made that decision. ROSE: I regret not telling Kanaya, of course. ROSE: But I can't say that I regret going through with it. ROSE: At the time, it didn't feel as though the deception was even all that prolonged. The whole affair was... short. ROSE: Purely physical, and nothing more.

ROSE: John, there isn't a father. ROSE: Jade and I are the sole parents of this child. JOHN: oh. JOHN: ... JOHN: OH. JOHN: oh i'm so sorry, i didn't th- ROSE: That's quite alright John, although you might like to direct that apology more towards your sister. ROSE: All I will say is that if you would like to take up the particulars with us, ROSE: Some *other* time,

Actually, if John doesn’t know that Jade has a male dog’s genitals due to a fusion accident, I’d love to know what that all-caps OH means. What does he think happened, that Jade and Rose managed to have a baby?

JOHN: so... how did you hide the pregnancy? ROSE: Oh, that was simple. ROSE: Jade's genes being, as they are, part canine, the gestation period was substantially reduced.

OH NO

Yiffy is literally a furry, isn’t she? Moreso that Jade, she’s a full-on “Can be naked onscreen and it’s okay because she’s covered in fur” dog girl.

JOHN: i think i understand everything so f VRISSY: WAIT!!!!!!!! VRISSY: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME VRISSY: NOT ONLY DO I H8VE A SISTER VRISSY: 8UT YOU NAMED VRISSY: YOUR ****SECRET CHILD**** VRISSY: ********YIFFY********????????

Vrissy makes an excellent point.

ROSE: We didn't call her Yiffy. ROSE: That would be a quite ridiculous thing with which to burden a child. ROSE: Her full name is Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley.

Vrissy looks as though she is about to shit the belltower they are standing in, brick by brick.

ROSE: It was, in hindsight, a monumentally terrible decision acting as the final chapter in a long series of novels, each one full of progressively more terrible decisions than the last. ROSE: But that is the name that we decided upon.

Oh, wait a second. Vriska changed Vriska Maryam-Lalonde to Vrissy, and changed Harry Anderson to just Harry. So obviously she’s going to rename Yiffy to literally anything else, then rename Tavros, and then we’ve got a new set of four kids as Vriska leaves to do something else. That’s what going to happen, right? Right? Please?

ROSE: You have to understand... this whole situation ended up playing out a bit like an ironic game of chicken between the two of us. ROSE: Something that far outstripped anything that the Strider fraternity could have produced in their wildest, most jpegged creative wet dreams. ROSE: But in the end that triumph of irony came back to bite us in the fucking ass, as irony is wont to do. ROSE: There was absolutely no possibility of us casually letting you all know that, by the way, we had had a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking. ROSE: At least, not right away. ROSE: But carapacian change-of-name paperwork is so complex and circuitous that, eventually, keeping quiet forever just seemed like the more reasonable option.

This is, even for Homestuck, monumentally stupid. You named your daughter Yiffany Longstocking as a joke and then kept the child secret because you were embarrassed. You two are awful fucking parents. You are the worst parents in the entire series, and that includes Bro Strider and the spider that made Vriska feed it children.

And we’re literally at the point where the writing is bad and the joke is how bad the writing is. This isn’t enjoyable to read; you can’t make a bad B-movie My Immortal fanfic on purpose.

Even now, Yiffy is likely being held at spoonpoint

I feel like “Jade and Rose have a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking” can be a joke or it can be drama but maybe not both at the same time.

#Homestuck 2 #Homestuck #Homestuck 2 Liveblog

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unbiasedcabaret · 4 years ago

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love death + robots

objectively the most badass name for a tv show

anyways here's my review of the first season. it is ranked. but rankings change depending on whether I wanna look at pretty animation or be invested in characters/story. there are short, slightly (extremely) stupid reviews next to them too.

(Also rankings are so hard. Am I basing it off of rewatchability? how impressed I was on the first watch? would I want to go back to that world? the animation? the characters? my investment in the story? Currently, I'm going off of what feels right and how excited it makes me basically)

18. The Dump: Eh. I couldn’t get into it. Boring animation, like it was definitely good quality, but nothing particularly interesting. Like okay, dumpster monster. Cool cool cool. This felt so long when it was relatively a shorter episode.

17. Alternate Histories: Never have I been so disappointed so fast. The premise sounded so cool, I was really hoping they’d go realistic with this one, explore some really interesting theories/possibilities. If I look at it objectively, pretty okay. I liked hitler’s long legs, did not enjoy the weird prostitute part, and had an okay time at the ending. Eh.

16. When the Yogurt Took Over: I don’t get it. Oh wow, humans are so dumb even the yogurt left us. Or oh wow they were so smart they got everything they wanted genius yogurt. Okay so? I didn’t care about anything happening, because I got over it kinda fast.

15. Lucky 13: Fun. I love pilots loving their ships, especially with this slightly sentient(?) ship thing going on. I enjoyed the rise to the top, could’ve been a less predictable fall perhaps.

14. Ice Age: Great start, I was hooked from the second the civilization started developing. Might’ve helped that I was high as fuck while watching this. Didn’t really go anywhere, there was no resolution, no reason, nothing. Honestly just felt a little underdeveloped, they should’ve pushed it a little. Very cool premise though.

13. Beyond the Aquila Rift: I don’t fully get the hype not gonna lie. Like I was interested definitely but the twist didn’t blow my mind it just seemed like it made sense. Didn’t have the ‘oh fuck’ moment and wasn’t especially blown away by the animation

12. Sucker of Souls: My favourite part of this was when they literally killed the exchange student. Very fun. Also when his head was split in half and it split into layers. Other than that, eh. The cat thing was interesting but then they never actually used it so what was the point. It just went nowhere and wasn’t that cool. Okay, I take that back the chase scenes/fight scenes/anything action was very engaging.

11. Shape-Shifters: I agree with that one guy who said bad-ass. I love it when fight scenes are actually all out because you KNOW motherfuckers tend to hold back for the sake of plot or whatever. I like it as a short though because it’s interesting to think about, I’m just not too interested in seeing where it goes after. (Which is a good thing because they did all the fun things in the short).

10. Three Robots: Really interesting, loved the characters, loved their skewed understanding of human history (kinda makes me question how much we really know about the past). Odd ending but high me was impressed

9. The Secret War: I was super into it. I love a good fight scene, great backstory, great animation. I just watched Aquaman and the creatures reminded me of those guys from the trench, especially with the flare at the end and I’m not complaining.

8. Blindspot: Why does this episode get hate. It’s a heist with robots how is it boring. I personally love heists, especially in the fast&furious style thing. I loved the characters too, and I’m now questioning my ability to get attached to robots this fast. Also enjoyed the murder, because I’m so used to people being saved at the last minute. I would definitely watch the fuck out of this movie because there could definitely be fun ways to fuck with the whole ‘there are no stakes because we can’t die’ thing.

7. Suits: PERFECT. So perfect there is nothing wrong with this like absolutely nothing wrong. I was into it, loved the robots, loved the characters, loved the world. Would wanna go back into this world and see more of it. Just the idea of casual alien encounters is so fun to me. I’d definitely watch this movie. Honestly felt bad when Jake died which is surprising with an 18-minute runtime. Basically, I view this as a little Pixar version of the show and I had a fun time.

6. Fish Night: So pretty so mesmerising so mystical. I wish the fish part went on for longer I would’ve watched the shit out of it. I kinda wanna go and see that whole scene again. Great short. Very perfect.

5. Helping Hand: Gravity but gory. Did not see it coming so it was a very fun surprise. Nothing wrong with this and I would watch again. Especially liked the part where no one somehow managed to save her and she figured it out on her own. (Not from a feminist point of view, more from a predictability point of view)

4. Sonnie’s Edge: Brilliant fucking animation (when the neon outfits/parts thing came I had to replay several times), great fight scene. I shouldn’t have been deceived by that dude’s girlfriend but she was good, so when she extended her nails through Sonnie’s skull it was great. Apart from the animation and the direction, the story did kinda fall flat now that I think about it. Like it felt a bit, okay so? types I think.

3. Good Hunting: Very great animation, great story, great storytelling. Loved the world and the way the world developed. Loved the automatons. Loved the combination of magic and machine. I didn’t expect her to be able to transform at the end so that was extremely fucking cool. Loved that she got her agency back and that the son was able to break away from his father’s habits. Hated seeing that one guy’s dick.

2. The Witness: SEXIEST animation. Spider-verse vibes especially with the bang! or whatever and I wish there was so much more of this. I was definitely more interested in the action sequences than in the weird sex stuff mostly because I saw no point to that. What was the point of the whole vladmir character when we don’t even know what he’s like. Like he was given way too much importance in my opinion. Technically she didn’t even have to leave that room. The loop stuff was pretty cool though like I had to go back to the beginning to make sure because- slight mindfuck. But I think this animation, and this beautiful beautiful world, was wasted on this average ass story. Could’ve been way cooler.

1. Zima Blue: Oh god this was a good fucking episode. Didn’t think it was gonna be this good. First of all the art itself was so cool. The were spray painting literal space rocks you cannot get more anything than that. Then his whole story? His origin? His truth? FUCK me. Also the animation was so distinct. It was so, it’s own. So specific. And it worked so well with the story. I don’t want anymore of this short in the best way possible. Also I thought of this art thing that starts like this but the blue starts becoming better and then a whole universe comes out of the blue and it starts right back where he started - murals of the universe. And his final work is a universe with like a tiny blue square to show that it repeats forever? Idk what that means but I kinda wanna make it but it’d definitely be plagiarism. Also I can’t do art.

#may 2021 #love death and robots

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 5 years ago

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This fiction is dedicated to @sergeant-donny-donowitz. Thank you for your wonderful works and good luck with your exams! 👍👍👍

The fanart does not belong to me but to his righteous creator and so are the characters from Inglourious Basters who are the property of Quentin Tarantino.

TW: violence and swearing.

Also, English is not my first language, so don’t be too harsh on me!

Past hurts as a baseball bat...

Nantucket Island, autumn 1947.

After a long day of work, Hans Landa was eager to come back home. His job as an executive of the Nantucket Bank was exhausting. Oh, he did not complain: he had a comfortable house, a massive wage, a good job, and he was free.

Something he could not have afforded if he did not negotiate with the American general staff, that famous night of June 1944. In exchange for letting the Basterds taking down Hitler and his government.

The Basterds... Thinking of them made Hans wince with pain as he grazed his infamous scar. For two years, he had hidden under a wig this painful souvenir left by Lieutenant Raine.

Every night, he heard this low and threatening voice laced with the Tennessee accent :

“I'm gonna give you a little somethin' you can't take off.”

Then, this unbearable pain when he felt the knife carving his flesh until he was permanently cursed by his past. The Apache wanted to be sure he won’t get away so easily...

When he finally arrived home, the former SS sat on a chair and poured himself a glass of wine. This house seemed too big for him... but he did not complain about his loneliness for now. He even appreciated to be the only inhabitant of this place.

His glass in his hand, he got up and went to the living room when he took place in his armchair. He looked at the sunset with wonder: another day ended in his paradise when no one would ever hunt him down...

Suddenly, he heard a soft creaking that startled him. He asked:

“Who is there?”

No answer. Hans put his glass on the table and went to see where did come from the noise. But nobody was here. Reassured, the Nazi criminal took a book and started to read...

He was reading for an hour and a half when he perceived a sound. Not a sound, but a feminine voice who whispered:

“Hans. Did you miss me?”

He jumped from his seat, scared to death: he recognized this voice. It belonged to the actress Bridget Von Hammersmark. This bitch who dared betray her country... But it is impossible: she is dead in France, when he strangled her at the premiere...

But he was sure he heard her voice. It could not be anyone else... Suddenly, he heard another voice who soughed:

“Do not dare forget your victims... They might come back to haunt you...”

The other voice was masculine, with a slight German accent. Hans trembled with fear: he was sure he heard the voice of Wilhelm Wicki. One of the Basterds who died during the standoff in this tavern. Where was it, already? Oh, yes: it was in the small village of Nadine... May he was hallucinating?

“Landa, did you think you could escape us?”

For sure, Landa thought he became crazy : he heard another voice from a deceased Basterd. This time, it belonged to Hugo Stiglitz, the one who murdered 13 S.S. officers. He died... Well, he was supposed to be dead with Wicki and Hicox in France...

“Looks like you’ve missed your chance, Colonel.”

Speak of the British spy, his voice ringed into Hans’ears. He grabbed his hair as he tried to convince himself that he is hallucinating. It was the only rational explanation...

As he tried to reason himself, Hans nearly lost his mind when he saw Bridget Von Hammersmark, Archie Hicox, Whihelm Wicki, and Hugo Stiglitz appearing in front of him. Their eyes shot deadly glares and their smiles were... predatory.

“It’s been a long time, Herr Colonel.”

Hans turned around and felt a pang of fear clutching his guts as he saw Smithson Utivich appearing next to him. The “Little man” smirked at him in a devilish way he never expects.

“Do you see that, guys? The terrifying colonel Hans Landa is shitting in his pants!”

Landa watched with horror as Hirschberg made his entrance in his living room. One of the youngest Basterds had a wicked smirk on his face that would scare anyone who would cross his path.

“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Near Hirschberg was Omar Ulmer, the soldier who slaughtered so many high-ranked officers during the premiere. The slight burns on his face proved that he survived his encounter with the Grim Reaper...

“So, Jew Hunter, how does it feel to be trapped? Scary, ain’t cha?”

And as he expected, Aldo Raine appeared in his uniform, an arrogant smile on his lips and his knife at his belt.

“Did ya think we’ll forget? How stupid of you! Remember the last time we met, I gave you a little somethin’...”

Stuttering, Hans tried to negotiate:

“L... Listen: you can’t kill me. I made a deal with your general and I was amnestied!”

“Yeah, right. But, as you can guess, a Basterd’s work is never done. And we want to finish the job once for all!”

The other Basterds approved, with enthusiasm. Hans wanted to cry for help, but he quickly realized that no one would hear him. No one would rescue him tonight.

Resigned, he shrugged and asked:

“So, what do we do, now? If you want to kill me, I beg you to do it quickly!”

Aldo retorted with despise:

“Don’t cha dare thinking we would grant that wish? Oh no: for you, we saved a special treatment. A long and painful one...”

The Apache smirked and added:

“You pretend to be one of the best investigators of Europe, but I’mma pretty sure you did not notice someone is missing. Don’t worry, he’s coming for you...”

At the same time, Hans heard this infamous sound: a baseball bat slamming on the floor as if it was a countdown before his impending death.

And under the applause of his fellow comrades, Donny Donowitz made his entrance, his bat firmly held. At his moment, Landa believed the “Bear Jew” was, in fact, a Golem sent by his victims to avenge them.

“Ready, Landa?”

The Bostonian accent sounded so scary from Donny’s voice that the Nazi was unable to speak.

“Ya know what? I don’t care... You’re on decks!”

And just before the bat collided with his face, Hans Landa thought that, no matter how hard he would try to erase the past and escape to the justice, the Basterds would have the last laugh on him. And tonight, they will dance on his grave...

Do not hesitate to leave comments and thanks for reviews!💌💌💌

#inglourious basterds imagine #halloween fic #gift #inglourious basterds fanfiction #revenge

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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New X-Men Xtrospective Part 1: E is For Extinction “They Will Need Us”

I am SO fucking excited for this one. As might not be obvious to ALL of my readers but should be obvious to some, I fucking love the X-Men. They are one of my favorite superhero teams period as are several of their spinoffs such as X-Factor (All versions), New Mutants, and Marauders. I love the wide cast, the hugely vast universe within the already vast and wonderful marvel universe, and the sheer amount of GREAT stories. I own all 11 movies, have several action figures, and two posters from Jonathan Hickman’s current and utterly dynamite run right above me right now as I work, as well as a marvel 80′s themed poster behind me that’s at least half x-men for good reason. I love this gang of mutants and I have not talked about them enough.

I”ve done some X-Men stuff sure: I’ve talked about hickman’s time as head writer of the books a year in earlier this year, I did a few scattered reviews back when I did single issues of comics, and then we get to the one I beefed big time: covering ALL of X-Men evolution. While it’s a noble endeavor I freely admit to overexerting myself: I recapped the episodes way too closely, gave myself no real schedule and did so while I was already covering two shows a week at the time. My point is it was a good idea, but the timing was REALLY fucking bad and if I do it again, I intend to do it right and iwth a proper place in my now properly paced schedule. I also planned to do the movies which, unlike evolution, I have solid plans to do once I clear out some of my projects. Point is I burned bright and then exploded and took a whole projecet with me phoenix style.

I had until this moment yet to do a really big x-men project, something digging into the comics, something that could help fans both of the comics and not get familiar with something really good, and help me dig into both the good and bad of something. I jsut needed the right start.

Then Christmas gave me that spark, that project that gave me the idea for a butload more x-men content on here and was the perfect starting point for some. See my friend Marco lives in Honduras, and so since i couldn’t afford to send him anything for christmas in the mail, as i’m not exactly rich, I instead offered him three reviews of anything.l He still hasn’t taken up two of them, nor one I gave him for graduating college, but the first one was a doozy, something he hadn’t read due to not liking the art, which is fine as I have some art in comics I don’t like everyone has diffrent tastes, at least for the first arc, and something VITALLY important to x-men as a whole and that’s the backbone of hickman’s current run: the first arc of new x-men, e is for extinction. And given New X-Men is one of my faviorite comics of all time I not only lept on it.. but decided fuck it I’m covering the whole thing. So every so often on here from now until I finish, i’m going to be covering Grant Morrisons ground breaking, mind shattering, status quo destroying run on the children of the atom. This.. is going to be fucking awesome. Buckle up.

New X-Men came about in 2001. Stop me if you heard this one: The X-Men, once marvel’s best selling title and one of i’ts most beloved, had been set adrift in a seal of editorial bullshit, bad writing, bad storylines and a stale continuity where not much could change or grow and things always reset to about the same place it was last week. If this sounds familiar it’s because it somehow happened AGAIN thanks to Ike Perlmutter’s bullshit, hence the current hickman run, but we’ll get into all of tha tsome other time. Point is as it was in 2018, so it was in 2001: The x-men were in bad straits and marvel reached out to a host of various creators to swing for the fences and find a new direction, something to bring sales and life back to the book. To my shock they actually took a LOT of diffrent pitches in before Morrisons won and from huge names: Geoff Johns, who had not yet returned to DC never to leave, Alex Ross, Keith Giffen.. all huge creative types. but in the end the best man won.

For those unfamiliar with him, Grant Morrison is a gloriously batshit scotsman with a long, storied and delightfully insane history in comics, mostly at DC before and after this comic. This is for good reason: DC scouted Morrison specifically because of his early work at 2000ad. See at the time Alan Moore had hit it really big with Swamp Thing, taking a d list, so so book and making it into an utter masterpiece and giving it thoroughly interesting mythology. Given it was a blockbuster hit that’s still widely loved and discussed, as it should be today, DC decided to repeat the strategy of asking British indie comics creators to come do the same to another property. This same experiment is why Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman exists, so.. yeah it was actually a great strategy and naturally Grant had their first big hit with Animal Man, a metafictional take on a b-list hero that made him a loveable family man, while also putting him through hell and playing with the medium and dc’s vast history, the last two being Morrison’s trademark from then on out.

They’d next go on to reinvent one of my other faviorite teams: THE DOOM PATROL! The patrol are a bunch of victims of strange accidents who got powers out of them that are basically curses... and Morrison solidified that concept, taking over after a weak run that ironically enough was trying to imitate the x-men’s success at the time. Instead Morrison just went all out with his weird shit for the first time and made them a team of broken but likeable people with weird powers fighting just the weirdest most incomprehensible shit, a run i’ll likely be digging into eventually along with the team as a whole. It’s also, along with Gerard Way’s recent run, the bedroock for the current and utterly masterful doom patrol series I need to catch up on. They also apparently once wrote a satrical comic starring and lik mocking hitler... a fact I somehow JUST learned but naturally doesn’t surprise me at all.

Morrison’s career at dc, after doing some creator owned stuff there when Vertigo opened up, hit it’s peak in the late 90′s as they were given the go ahead to reinvent the Justice League, with the wildly successful and awesome JLA, another book I probably need to take a look at that put the big 7 back into the team. And by now your probably getting the point of me covering his career pattern.. besides giving morrison the praise they deserve, and they’d have some really great runs after this.. and some terrible ones but no one’s perfect. My point is that at this point in their career Morrison’s greatest skill was taking something that had grown stagnant or been forgotten, blowing it up and reworking it into something glorious and new. Taking what worked, scraping away what didn’t and on the whole making something fucking glorious out of it. So here we are. The X-Men needed a new coat of paint and uncle grant had their lcd laced psycadelic paint bucket and brush shaped like a pidgeon at the ready. And for better, way better and admitely sometimes here and there worse,they changed the x-men for good. Some changes were rolled back out of spite, others finally got their chance after said rollback recently, and some were just outright thrown on the grown and smashed with a hammer. But for the most part Grant left a huge impact on the x-men and i’m here to show you why, warts and all. To me my x-men, this is new x-men. Now naturally there’s even more exposition but i’ts more in what COULD’VE been. Originally while Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Professor X were all part of the team the other two members of the slim roster for this run, Beast and Emma Frost.. weren’t. Originally Morrison was going to have Colossus and Moira Mactaggert, long time team ally, token human until very recently, and now thanks to hickman one of the most important x characters peirod and long before that a fan favorite of mine, on the team, with Moira taking over for beast.

This.. didn’t pan out since Marvel apparently either didn’t give a shit about their plans or already had things in motion as the climax of the longtime legacy virus storyline killed both off. Colossus until Joss Whedon, bastard he may be, brought him back for his terrific Astonishing X-Men, and Moira SOMEHOW stayed dead until House/Powers of X. See this speaks to one of the big roadblocks morrison faced: Jonathan HIckman currently has absolute power and all his writers working in concert, a new way of doing things comic companies shold honestly copy en masse as it’s really working wonders. Grant.. was just one of many writers and one of three main x books the others being Chris Claremont’s XTREME X-MEN, basically “let the legend do what he wants since he can’t get freedom on the main book” and another writer on uncanny... before eventually chuck austen took over and I will tackle that horrible mess some other time. Point is while Morrison was setting the tone, costume style and making the big waves, they still didn’t have full power and thus had to play nice with eveyrone else. So their next idea was Rogue, making mer more like her x-men evolution version.. except Chris wanted her, so that was out, though being a decent enough guy he willingly gave up Beast since the moira thing meant Morrison needed a science person. As for Colossus replacement, as it turned out a fan had suggested Grant do something with Emma Frost since Gen X was canceled and while Morrison had zero intention for it clearly Emma clicked with hthem and she was soon both a main part of the cast and one of their biggest contributions to X-Men as a whole.

As for what I think of the needed changes.. they ended up being for the best. I do like Moira... but Hank ended up being a much better fit for the team dynamic wise and power set wise, while Emma was the same. While Colossus, Rogue and Moira are all fantastic characters, I think what we ended up with was just a better mix overall. I DO think the team is incredibly white, but that’s a general x-men problem, even with having an assload of diverse and intresting characters, so it’s not entirely his fault. All in all it’s a fantastic roster: four of the x-men’s best, their leader in the field for the first time in forever, and a new and intresting wild card. IT’s a nice ballance of characters and we’ll get more into it as we go. Now all the expositions done, we can finally dive head first into new x-men. I hope you survivie the experince under the cut.

After an utterly gorgeous and striking cover, the one used up top, we get one solid page to introduce us to Morrison’s mission statment, how they feel and how good Frank Quitely’s art looks

I cropped it best i could for tumblr but this one image immidetly says a lot. Our heroes are just.. easily taking down this sentinel, an old model... the same one we’ve seen a dozen times. What were once the grim, possible destroyers of an entire race of beings in days of future past and devistating killing machines in the present.. had become stale easily defeated murder bots There had been noble attempts to really make the sentiinels work again like the horrifying omega sentinels, humans forcibly converted into sleeper agent killing machines, during operation: zero tolerance, but otherwise they were mostly just a prop for the x-men to knock down. And that.. really is morrison’s whole point. Lampshading and mocking the fact the x-men had grown stale, things hadn’t really progressed.. and that it was time to move on. But to Uncle Grant’s credit, they not only uses this as a mission statment but it’s plot relevant: this mission will both be explained soon and explains why Logan and Scott are out and about enough to end up where the plot will soon need them. It also helps, via the sight of the syndey opera house establish something Morrison made a staple of their run: the X-Men going global. While the x-men were never really NOT global post claremont, Morrisons run has them handling rescue missions and what not worldwide far more often than most runs before it sans Claremont, and really made it feel like they weren’t just another super team but a global force of good with a specific goal and mission. More on the global aspect next time, as that’s where it really comes in but I felt it was important to show it was there for minute one.

So yeah before we move onto the first full scene of the run, let’s talk about the costumes.

We’ll talk about Emma’s later since she’s not introduced to the story for a while but yeah. There’s a sharp, obvious and immediate change just in the outfits, which take after the movie’s more military look, having the x-men not only look more like a unit but more like a professional orginization. Someone to come and help when needed. While this would take on more siginifigance in a bit, we’ll get to it, it also fits Morrisions own views that the x-men were less of a traditional superhero team and more something different on the edges that fought things out there, sorta what like he did with doom patrol. And it’s honestly a valid interpretation as the x-men are often seen as outlaws and misfits by society for beingn well.. mutants. Not as trusted as the avengers. So having them adopt this look played into that: Having them look more professional and focused as The X-Men have a less blanket mission statement than the avenger.. but also mildly threatning. Something to alarm the humans. It’s an utterly brilliant look thrown best together by the big yellow x’s, still giving it a nice flash of color to show off and show this is still a comic and this is still damn colorful.. this just isn’t your AVERAGE supherhero comic or the x-men your used to. IT’s a real shame the only fox x-men movie to use it was fucking dark phoenix.. a film where it didn’t even fit as xavier was getting flashier and more reckless so why wouldn’t he have more garish and colorful and more traditional superhero outfits. They did look good in their variants in first class though. Props there. Point is this is a classic, utterly stunning look, and tha’ts coming from someone whose fine with goofy superhero outfits and perpetually bitter hawkeye is almost never allowed to wear his actual comic outift and is instead stuck with shades instead of you know.. a mask. Or anything resembling an actual good looking costume. This though this is how you do a less superheroy costume: practical and realistic, but still cool looking and comic book friendly.

We cut to a mysterious lady, we’ll come to know her as Cassandra Nova and while I know her origin... i’m saving it for later as the comics themselves explain it eventually, and a simpering dolt she brought with her, Donald Trask, a distant relative of the creators of the sentinels who, via holograms she’s showing cro magnons slaughtring the neanderthal. Her point is that Mutants are going to do this and she’s clearly fearmongering him and trying to talk him into genocide: to wipe them out before they wipe out humanity. And it’s here we get one of hte most important plot points of Morrisons run and one of the most intresting: according to cassandra’s research Humanity will be no more in 4 generations. Mutankind is on it’s way to overtaking them at last.. i’ts still a few decades off.. but it’s coming. It’s sometihing that the whole decimation nonsense sadly snuffed.. and John Hickman has thankfully brought back. I’ll get to his run once i’ts complete in a few years, but point is it’s an utterly marvelous plot hook: Humanity, whose already attempted genocide a few times, is now in real danger of what their petty, racist, fearful attacks have been about: being replaced. It’s one of the central themes of the work the other two being “Just what IS mutantkind and what will it be”. WHat are they as a people? We’ll dig into these as we go but the threat of exctincion is the backbone of this arc... and will lead to something truly ghastly.

It’s then we get our title page.. which nothing really to add it just looks really good and helps show off who are cast is and what they can do with striking simple art.

And since we’re already talking the art of the book, let’s take a moment to discuss an intresting detail of this run: despite it’s short length there’s quite a few diffrent artist, who we’ll talk about of course as we get to each one. The most common and notable though is Frank Quitely. Frank Quitely is one of Morrison’s closest and best creative partners, having a unique, squishy art style.. i.e. the one my friend didn’t like which is why i’m covering this. And while I like the art style quite a bit, I do get why it’s not everyone’s cup of tea: His art is squashed, weird, and admitely some faces can be good god no incaranate. But it’s also why I like it: his characters feel unique, each body and figure feels like it was custom made and thus feels.. real. Like this is a person before you. And given comics can often surrender to having everybody look the damn same, this is nice. His faces may sometimes look similar but his bodies are where the action is. But while having a realistic feel his work also has a weird alien quality that perfectly fits Morrison, and thus his run on x-men. I will say while I love All-Star Superman, his art fits less there in the more hopeful silver agey story, so he’s not an artist for EVERY STORY OF EVERY TYPE.. but when it comes to sci fi weridness, he fits it like a glove so i’ts unsuprising he and morrison are practicaley soul mates, nor that his art sets the tone perfectly for the run: this is something new, diffrent and strange.. and what says x-men at it’s best more than that?

So after our opening titles we cut to the mansion where Hank is showing off his latest and greatest invention: Cerebra. Cerbebra is a massively upgraded version of Cerebro, aka Professor Xavier’s iconic helmet that allows him to track mutants to help them out.. and covertly backup their conconousness for his long game plan, but shhhh, don’t tell anyone yet that’s not going to be retconned in for a few decades. Though i’m damn certain if Morrison has heard about the current era of x-men and how it both builds on what he built, shatters the status quo and is incredibly weird, he’d be damn proud. As for how it’s diffrent Cerebra not only has a large dome around it but said dome allows the machine to amply Charles powers to a global reach. He can now see mutants all over the world anywhere in the world, something I didn’t realize wasn’t ALWAYS a thing because it seems so simple. It’s also likely to bring it more in line with the movies. And while marvel has done TERRIBLE with bringing things in from the movies or in line with them in recent years, i.e. making star lord more like his movie self while forgetting that’s how he already used to be in canon before later writers thankfully did hte better step of merging the two, Hawkeye’s outfit, Cap’s outfit or Nick Fury Jr. But for every mistep there’s also been tons of times it’s worked out really well such as here, as well as bringing hulk into the avengers for the first time since the founding, making tony stark more like the mcu version and less like a nightmarish self righetous dicktator who rightfully gets beat up and called out a lot, making Scott Lang prominent since he became prominent in the MCU, Wakanda being a major force in the marvel universe as it always should have been and various titles that have popped up to tie into movies, often bringing back a team or property that hadn’t had a book in some time like Ant-Man, Black Panther, and Shang Chi just to name a few. It’s not always hawkeye looking all jeremy renner is what i’m saying.. though thankfully comics clint isn’t that uninteresting. Hopefully the series will change that.

So yeah along with a bigger shinier cerebro we’re also introduced to a big change in Hank whose taken on his lion form rather than his classic gorilla with a weird haircut or his return to that except bald. Here he’s more like aslan in a human body and I.. love it. It looks great, helps sell hanks delima of being brilliant while looking like a beast and makes sense: he kickstarted what was likely his own secondary evolution by drinking the potion that made him bestial, so it only makes sense his body wouldn’t be all that stable even if it took years to change again. And even that makes sense as hank was breifly turned back to his original hairless ape mutation during x-factor, easily one of the books.. worse decisions honestly and one that louise simonson thankfully later undid. That probably bought him some time hence why it’s only mutating further now. It also adds an intresting wrinkle which the run will explore further: how far does this go? Will he regress? and how much hank will be left? And how will society treat his new form?

For now he’s actually extatic. While he’s going through hormonal changes, and giving out some excellent banter with Jean

Which also includes one of the greatest lines in comic book history, one that’s been in my head for decades and made me absolutely love henry mccoy.

He’s just great is what i’m saying. As you can tell it’s stuff like this why i’m glad Moira fell through. While I love her.. Morrison’s hank is just a delight and one really questionable subplot aside, we’ll get to that, he’s one of the highlights of this run with an intresting internal struggle, and great chemistry with EVERYONE. And that is the main reason i’m glad Moira fell through as his history with everyone but Emma, who he still has a great raport with, means each interaction has weight. He’s close friends with both scott and jean and thus serves as their needed confidant, while still being able to buddy and banter iwth good old weapon x, and speak with his mentor charles as an equal. While I love moira... Beast just fits into the cast too perfectly and I 100% suspect Morrison was only using her because, while she’s awesome, Claremont wanted her and thus gladly snapped her up when he no longer had a science person. I’ll get into his Jean soon enough but she’s likewise fantastic and easily my faviorite version of the character.. not that until very recently there was much honest competition.

So Cerebra fires up showing a massive cloud of mutants, showing just how much of a huge spike theirs been with Xavier wondering what it all means.. and Hank seeing a weird flare on the mointor for just a second with his special eyes. But since Xavier isn’t stupid and isn’t the kind of idiot who just dismisses it as a fulke, and since Scott and Logan are in the field, he decides to confrence call them in to see if they can go take a look.

And naturally we get to see what their up to and get context for what the hell happened in the first page. Our heroes were on a rescue mission to save Ugly John, tha’ts what people called him, a three faced mutant who ends up passing out as they head out of the atmosphere for a second. Wolverine is regenerating and smoking out of his neck becaue he could still smoke back then before marvel decided “he’s setting a bad example”.. in a comic meant for teens and adults.

I mean I get it on some level as the x-men cartoon was a huge thing in the 90′s and Ben Grimm is basically a giant children’s toy with the mind of a surly 40 year old jewish man from yancy street, but stilll it’s just.. why. I may not like smoking but it’s not like it was SPIDER-MAN saying

It’s a grown man.. whose not a sterling roll model and who Claremont went out of his way to have Logan point out his healing factor means it really dosen’t hurt him in the long run and when Kitty, an actual teenager, tried one of his cigars she choked. I know it’s a weird thing to get hung up on but while i’m all for keeping kids from smoking, this was a really clumsy way to try and hehlp that that made no sense and will never make any sense.

One tangent later we find out that Cassandra was showing Trask a simulation on a flight to, unsuprisingly, south america, to a sentinel blacksite. Between covertly funding civil wars as they do, the US Goverment naturally founded an experimental sentinal project, and a second master mold during the production of the first line... when larry trask asks where it could possibly be well...

Subtly was not the trasks strong point.. or common sense... or.. not realizing their creations would dominate humanity too or not dying.

Anyways we then cut back to the x-men, as their having a psychic zoom meeting with Charlie giving one of his patnted big speeches.. and like a lot of this comic it’s too damn good not to use

The reason I couldn’t should be obvious: This one speech sums up the x-men, why their great and why their necessary in a nutshell: in a world full of prejucided morons.. there’s plenty of scared kids who NEED the x-men to protect and guide them, and with a surge in the mutant population, their needed now more than ever. We also get a good explanation in universe for the uniform change: Charles had them in the superhero outfits hoping humanity would accept them if they were packaged as something they know. Since that clearly hasn’t worked he’s trying new ways to reach out and thus going with a diffrent more rescue team approach to the uniforms. He assigns Wolvie and Cyke to go check out the flair as you’d expect and the meetings over. On the blackbird we get our first hint at a subplot as Logan noticed Cyclops couldn’t wait to get out of there, and is being a tad distant to his wife. He actually has reasons for being kind of cold for once instead of just bad writing as he just came back from being possed by apocalypse. Yeah that happened. So the experience has rattled our boy some what. More on that as we go. But Jean ducks the subject with hank but does breach the fact that Charles has been going kind of crazy with the spending, new uniforms and ambition lately. Hank explains it perfectly: After all the death, suffering and misery the x-men have endured lately, the aforementioned deaths I talked about that took Colossus and Moira off the roster, have lionzed Charles to make sure it was all worth something and look towards the future.

But enough hope time for horror as Cassandra makes her first direct move, trying to take over Charles brain , make his body her own and use cerebra to kill lots and lots of mutants. We then get one of the best moments of Morrisons run with Charles response to a horrifying monster trying to take his brain

While it is shocking to find out Charles has a gun..it’s a grim but kind of understandable precaution. The guy once got fully taken over by a brood, assembling the New Mutants in part because the brood wanted to create more of i’ts kind with more super powers. You’d be paranoid too if some of your beloved students were brought together partly due to your good intentions and partly because a space monster wanted to make more space montsters out of helpless teens, and even horribly gaslighted one of them. We’ll get to that some day. Point is Charles brain is one of the greatest weapons on earth and if the wrong person got a hold of it, it’d be the end of said earth. Thankfully Charles does not need plan gun, as Jean yanks Cerebra off him but the sheer HATE Charles felt from Cassandra, the sheer power has rattled him.. and also told him she’s in Ecuador and his X-Men need to be warned NOW. It’s a great way to set up just HOW powerful Cassandra is. Speaking of which as our first issue of the arc ends, we find out two things: Cass faked being int he government but really just used dead soldiers as prop.. and just what kind of sentinels are out there.. wild sentinels. Easily my faviorite variant of the old killing machines and one that’s barely used despite being really damn awesome. Their adaptive killing machines, designed to mutated just like their pray and take tech from around them, as a result they look like a jumble of guns and parts.. but not only does it give them a unique, cool look.. but it makes them ten times deadlier as instead of being big bricks of robots that while intimidating, the x-men know how to kill... their unpredictable variable killing machines. You can figure out how to kill one sure.. btu the next might be entirely diffrent. They are one of morrisons best creations and I hope someone uses the idea again.. aka hickman. Please use it jonathan I know your focused on nimrod but come on.

And we end on one of the best lines of the entiire run as we close out the issue

Yeah it goes without saying but i’ll say it anyway; Morrison is really damn good with dialouge and being damn quotable.

So we open with another great quote “When I got up today I didn’t expect to kill 20 million people”... and Cassandra being aware Wolverine and Cyclops are on their way and sending the Wild Sentinels to dispatch them. Also our heroes brought Ugly John along while while a dumb move, Wolvie does point out how dumb it was to divert to Ecuador with a civlian in tow.. after the plane crash of course. As for “wait what plane crash’, the sentinels attack and start picking it apart... and since letting them have such good tech is a terrible idea, Scotty blows up the damn plane. So to recap our heroes are stuck in ecuador, surrounded by murder machines, and oh look their there and knock off cyclops viser. Fantastic. So yeah our heroes are fucked. And naturally captured by the enemy.

The rest of the x-men are doing SLIGHTLY better. While beast makes a note for his girlfriend, more on that later on, Charles is in bed, half alive, explaning the rationale I gave for why he has the gun with Jean refusing to let him get back out of bed and you know.. put on the device that just nearly killed him. But when beast announces they lost contact with our boys.. yeah that ceased being an option.

Back in the Ecuadorian Genocide Factory, Cassandra does the obvious and kills donald trask as his real purpose..was to stick around and be stupid for a bit while she copied his dna so she could have full control of her new murder toys.She soon uses them, having a horrifying death chamber slaughter john.. or at least flash fry him. Wolverine takes it how you’d expect and since the sentinels need to “perserve trask dna”.. they can’t fire on him without killing her. Scott escapes.. and in a heart wrenching scene mercy kills john.. before getting badass.

To anyone who says Scott Summers is boring, unintersting, or a stupid asshole idiot head I present exhbit shut the fuck up. Morrison gets scott just right, deconstructing his emotional suppression, while showing him off as a dedicated, companionate man who gets the job done and who seconds after tearfully having to mercy kill an innocent mutant whose death was partially his fault, wastes no time making it painfully clear to the person responsible she WILL die if she tries that again. Logan however realizes she’s already won in some fashion as she’s grinning.. and yeah never a good sign when a genocidal madwoman is grinning like a loon.. and when we find out why.. it’s even less good> We cut to Genosha. A lot of you probably know what happned to Genosha but in case you don’t know what it is it was once a horribly racist country that genetically enslaved mutants and used them for slave labor. It was freed, but still struggled to truly move on.. till Magneto showed up, took the country for himself and made it a home for all mutants. When we last saw him he once again tried to take over the world leading to Logan seemingly killing him. Right now though Emma Frost finally enters the scene teaching some mutants.. when a young one named Negasonic Teenage Warhead.. yes that one and yes she was entirely chosen for deadpool for her name, reveals, via precognition, that their all going to die.. right as the sentinels attack.

Genosha.. is gone. In an eyeblink 16 million mutants are dead, a possible future gone, and one of their greatest leaders is no more. Yeah Magneto WAS alive.. but paralyzed so he could do nothing when his island was utterly slaughtered. Only a handful of mutants will be revealed to survive. Humanity had done a lot to mutants before .. but for once.. they’d succeeded in wiping a massive chunk out. What was an x-men location for DECADES at this point.. was now a smoldering crater. A what could of been that would hant the x-men ever after, even now into utopia it remains the darkest day in mutant history outside of hte decimation. It is a truly horrific moment.. and if the changes already hadn’t made it clear this is morrison saying “NO character is safe, nothing is safe, and nothing will be the same and I damn well mean that”. In one act of hate the world has changed. And it hasn’t finished changing yet.

Issue Three opens hammering in things, as Jean and Beast are in the ruins of genosha, with Xavier having found ONE surivor among the rubble, and our heroes sturggling to find even them, though Jean eventually picks them up and uses her TK to sift through the rubble.

They find Emma who emerges from a bunker in shock, clutching NTW... and not realizing she’s dead until later and revealing she now has diamond skin, her own secondary mutation. Secondary Mutation was a birlliant idea, new powers sprouting up within established mutants.. it’s just morrison barely used this great idea as did hardly anyone else. Only X-Men Blue ever really dug into it and those were artifical at that. IT’s a great idea..it’s just barely used and at most heavily implied to explain changes in powers like Jamie Madrox Multiple Personalities later on or Doug Ramsey’s vast increase in power. Disapointing.

While Charles takes in the tragedy and the fact his old frienmie is dead, the x-men wonder what the fuck Cassandra is and what to do with her.. why did she kill 16 million people, and what the fuck is she. I mean I know, but as I said i’ll explain that when the story does. IN the other room Beast tends to Emma who wants none of not fucking killing Cassandra.. and is utterly right. Bitchy, because i’ts Emma, but right: she killed 16 million people. Say what you want but while it may not be up to the x-men to kill her.. she shoudln’t be living much longer. She commited genocide. Emma decides fuck that and prepares to leave summoning a cab and making peace with being a glorious living fabrige egg. Emma did apparelty change in generation x.. but Morrison is responsible for returning her not only to being a bitch, but a gloriously delightful one And really I don’t think they reset her character entirely: she’s not the heartless monster she started out as: she has empathy, grace, and caring.. she just buries it under a lair of absolute bitch and after you know, surviving a fucking genocide who can blame her? And honestly.. I love their verison of her. She provides a nice contrast to the more idealistic, even logan, x-men and a nice contrarian voice in the room without being obnoxious and her style and sacrastic swagger makes her endlessly entertaning. Thanks to morrison she’s stuck around to this day and went from a pretty good character.. to a great one. And what makes her this way, or as jean puts it “such a bitch?”

With that settled, Hank explains what Cassandra is: a competing species. As he puts it sometimes evolution takes a quantum leap forward.. and Cassandra is the result. Thus she wants to wipe out the compettition and is so far above humanity, she dosen’t need them... especially since she knows what Hank now knows: humanity is at an end. As hank puts it we have an E Gene, one that basically shuts off a race.. and thus the x-men now know what we learned earlier and that cassandra wasn’t lying: in 4 generations there are no more humans and something has to repalce htem. And Cassandra wants it to be her.

Before Logan can do what he does best, and asks why she looks like charles, Cassandra escapes, and Scott briliantly urges them to fight only on instict as she’s a telepath. A damn awesome fight insues including Cassandra donning Charles Psoonic battle armor, Scott being put in his black bug room and the general good looking chaos you’d expect from a superhero fight. While this goes on Emma has an ephinany and realizes she likes to teach, the x-men have a school.. and she shoudln’t give up on helping kids just because of what happened and turns around.

Cassandra is near victory, slipping her way to Cerebra.. and planning to kill only one mind before getting to the millions she wnats, a horrifying slug manifesting around her.. only...

So the x-men accept this and cassandra rises.. seemingly saying “I am charles” Huh... and then charles uncaracteristiacally shoots her saying things must change

We’ll get to what all of that means next time as we close on Jean and Scott in bed. Scott explains why he’s been so distant as what I said earlier: fighting off apocalypse stripped away a lot of illusions about himself and he’s having a hard time walking back from that but Jean is willing to help.. but before they can resolve their issues.. charles has an annoucnment to make and grant has one last whopper of a suprise to end his opening arc on, and just like genosha...it’s a game changer of titanic proportions

No longer is Xavier’s School hidden. Their walking into the light now and so is charles. Hope they surivive the experince. Obviously this move is brilliant: while it removes the veil of saftey the x-men had it also brings on tons of new possiblities and unlike secondary mutation, this one not only stuck but would impact the x-men for good: no longer would they hide and cower.. their mutant and proud.. and their here to stay. E For Extinction is one of the best x-men stories period. Blisteringly paced, full of great character, great concepts and utterly terrifying and terrific moments that would impact the x-men all the way to present day. It’s beautifully drawn, well paced, and a masterwork. I highly recommend it and it’s a great kickoff to a great run. Shame the run couldn’t of ended on this kind of high but.. we’ll get to that. For now this is a masterclass in how to start a run and if you haven’t read it do so NEXT TIME ON NEW X-MEN: A bunch of weirdos try to harvest mutant organs, the x-men get a brain in a jar and a new teamate, and Scott maybe cheats on his wife. Until then, goodbye goodbye goodbye.

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platypanthewriter · 5 years ago

Text

No Expectations

Just an idea that wouldn’t git, so I wrote it. Maybe it’ll leave me alone?

Steve’s eye caught on the new guy tending bar at Harvey’s, and he nearly broke his nose dropping the pint glass into his face. Billy Hargrove wasn’t the very last person he’d expected to run into trying to get another round, he thought—Hitler might might have been more surprising, or Ronald Reagan—but he stared all the same, until Billy looked up and grinned.

“Seen a ghost, Harrington?” he asked, and Steve felt like an idiot for wanting to nod—he knew Max’s brother had made it out of Starcourt Mall, and into intensive care, and then weeks of physical therapy—they’d all taken turns as moral support, helping her pick out awful presents.

Steve swallowed. “Max said you left. ‘Cause your dad’s an asshole.”

“Don’t forget monsters,” Billy grunted, pouring shots with a spin of his wrist, and sliding them across the counter to someone and her gang of friends. “Dunno why you all didn’t get the hell out of—”

“Why come back?!” Steve asked, not because he minded Hawkins, but because of the thick scars across Billy’s shirtless chest. He tried to remember what they’d talked about, the last time he’d taken Max, Lucas, and Dustin to sit around Billy’s bed, the day before he left.

Billy glanced at Steve’s face, then lowered his eyes to the glass he was drying. “Max needs a roommate while she gets her degree, so I’m back.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, spinning his empty beer glass against the counter. Billy’d laughed, startling both of them, when Steve had helped him get to the bathroom, and he’d nearly fallen. He’d been heavy—and warm, from his blankets, Steve remembered—and Steve had grabbed him with both arms, asking whether he was okay. Billy had started laughing into his shoulder, muttering “shit, shit, sorry, shit,” the whole way down the hall, and left the next morning. “You didn’t say anything,” Steve told his glass, and wished he hadn’t, because it sounded childish once it was out of his mouth.

Billy paused in his plucking of mint leaves to look up. “...what did you—”

“Nothing,” Steve cut him off, looking at the boy who’d shoved him around, hit him with a plate, and nearly died trying to save Eleven. “Nothing.” He stood up to pull his coat back on, and Billy half-fell across the counter, knocking over the ketchup and pepper shaker to grab Steve’s glass.

“On the house,” he said, running to the taps, and Steve opened his mouth to tell him what he’d been drinking, then let him fill it with Bud Lite. “On the house,” Billy repeated, running back to smack it down in front of Steve, so the suds lapped over the edge. “Sorry,” he panted, grabbing it back and wiping the glass. “Here.”

“...okay,” Steve bit his lip, but sat back down, and whover was next to him slammed a fist on the counter, yelling. Billy got them drinks while Steve contemplated his free beer.

He was a third through it by the time Billy stopped in front of him again. “...so,” he said, and Steve snorted.

“You got something to say?” he volleyed back, and Billy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, flashing a smile.

Steve tipped his head back and drained the glass, and a shot glass slid out of Billy’s hand and clattered to the floor. Steve stood on the side bars of the stool to lean over the bar, watching Billy scramble around with an arm under the cupboards. “...maybe you should learn to bartend,” he suggested, and Billy flipped him off.

“Order a real drink, Harrington—”

“Have to be up early,” Steve told him, grinning down. “Bet you get to sleep in.”

“You wanna know?” Billy pushed himself up, his back and shoulders flexing, and Steve swallowed. Billy brushed off his jeans. “I’m off in two hours,” he said. “If you…”

“What?” Steve asked, feeling strangled.

“If you want to catch up,” Billy said, shrugging, and Steve blinked.

“Um, you’ve been—Max probably told you everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Billy shrugged, backing away, and Steve smacked his hands on the counter.

“No, wait, yeah, let’s—let’s catch up!” he said, too loud, and Billy laughed.

That night he sucked Steve off in the parking lot, against his station wagon, and Steve garbled “Holy shit,” and “What the hell” and “You’re so good at this” into a stream of gibberish, sinking to land on his butt on the gravel.

“...some kinda catching up,” Steve panted, his knees on either side of Billy’s.

“Mmn,” Billy leaned in, heavy against Steve’s chest, kissing up the side of his neck.

“Your place or mine?” Steve whispered, and Billy stilled, then laughed.

“Can’t get enough of me?” he asked, and Steve snorted.

The next morning, Steve got dressed, brushed his teeth, and then crawled back over the covers, kissing Billy’s shoulder and the side of his head as he laughed, curling deeper into the blankets. “You haveta work today?” Steve whispered, and Billy rolled to blink up at him.

“Mmpf?” Billy asked, squinting up. “...why?”

“I’ll be done in an hour or two,” Steve told him, letting his thumb rasp against Billy’s stubble. “Want me to bring back some food?”

Billy stared up at him for a second, then nodded. “If you want to come back here.”

“Do you have to work?” Steve asked again. “I can make myself scarce.”

“Nah, I can go again,” Billy propped himself up on his elbows. “Kick me awake later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve rolled his eyes, and leaned in for a kiss Billy dodged.

“Morning breath, asshole,” Billy whispered. “Hey.”

“Mmn?” Steve asked, standing on one leg to tie his shoes.

“Wait, dickbird, tell me you love me, if we’re gonna play house.”

Steve leaned on the bed again to shove his blanketed bulk, but leaned in to smack a kiss on Billy’s head. “See you later, babe, love you, g’bye,” he said dryly, and Billy rolled away, groaning into his pillow.

When he showed up later, Billy was sitting on the arm of the couch, peeling the label off a beer bottle at eleven am. “Didn’t know whether to lube up or set out the candles and tablecloth,” he said, laughing, and Steve walked around for another kiss.

“Honey, I’m home,” he told Billy, who pressed up against him, wrapping a leg around Steve’s butt. “Daydrinking without me?”

“Welcome back,” Billy whispered, grabbing Steve around the shoulders and falling back onto the couch, so they landed in a pile of limbs. “Thought maybe you stood me up.”

“In sickness and in health, right,” Steve said against the skin of Billy’s throat, and Billy grabbed him tighter.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Billy laughed. “How long you gonna play house with the town fag?”

“What?” Steve stopped mid kiss, breathing against the buzz of Billy’s voice in his throat.

“No, nevermind,” Billy snorted. “I’ll get it when you stop returning my calls, right.”

Steve pushed himself up, doing a pushup to stare down at Billy Hargrove’s grinning face. “What? You—”

“Ssh,” Billy pulled him down again, and in the ensuing kisses, Steve forgot what he’d wanted to say.

Every so often Billy’d ask again—“How long’re we gonna play house, Harrington?” and Steve would stop to ask what that even meant, and Billy would distract him again, and demand flowers, chocolates, or a welcome-home kiss.

He didn’t even seem to know what to do with flowers, Steve realized—he just stood staring at them, until Steve rescued them back, cut off the ends, and filled the blender with water as the closest thing to a vase. For Valentine’s Day, he brought over the biggest, pinkest, sparkliest heart-shaped box he could find, and licked melted chocolate off Billy’s abs, thighs, and eventually, everywhere else. The next day, he replaced the sheets.

When Steve sped over from work and walked in on lit candles, covered dishes, and Billy pulling garlic bread out of the oven, Billy said, “Five month anniversary, right?”

Steve tried to remember what day it even was, kicking his shoes off, and Billy laughed, backing away.

“Just playing,” he said quickly. “Just playing house.”

“I like playing house,” Steve told him, sliding in his socks across the linoleum to kiss Billy’s neck where he was bent, frowning into the tinfoil. “Need to talk to you about that.”

“...thought you might,” Billy said, stopping his inspection to clench his fists against the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Kinda silly, us both having houses,” Steve said, the way he’d practiced in the mirror. He slid a hand under Billy’s shirt, stroking his thumb over Billy’s taut muscles. He felt a scar, and grabbed Billy’s hips to turn him, suddenly needing to get his face under Billy’s shirt and kiss his skin.

“What—what are you saying,” Billy asked hoarsely.

“Don’t like it when you’re not there at night,” Steve told him, looking up from where he knelt on the floor. “I roll over and there’s this cold space where you aren’t.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, and he started laughing, but his eyes went all red and shiny, so Steve didn’t mind.

“I have a garage,” Steve said persuasively, and Billy snorted, coughing.

“That’s your offer? A garage.”

“You could wash your Camaro and the rain wouldn’t ruin the wax,” Steve tried. “And there’s no stairs. I know you hate hauling groceries up here.”

Billy just kept snickering, leaning back against the counter, and Steve bit his lip.

“Or if you like it better here,” he surrendered, and Billy laughed harder, sinking down to the floor. Steve wasn’t that attached to his house, he thought. “I would do all the dishes,” he offered, and Billy tilted to lean against him, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

“You’re bargaining with me,” he whispered, and Steve shrugged, beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything.

“You can just tell me where to shove it,” Steve forced a laugh, and it came out sharp. “We can eat.”

“I get to sleep in your bed, though, right,” Billy whispered, sniffling. “Not the garage.”

“What the hell,” Steve whispered back. “Don’t make me bite you.”

“Go ahead,” Billy laughed. “I’m yours.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Steve told him, yanking them both to their feet, so he could slap the keys he’d made into Billy’s hand. “You want to, right?”

Billy nodded, standing there in the kitchen, holding the keys out and staring down through them. “I—I want to. I want to. Are—are you sure you…”

“What?!” Steve asked, assessing the bread—it looked fine—and sliding it onto the prepared plate.

“This—this is what you want?!” Billy asked, probably waving at himself like an asshole, and Steve kept his eyes on the precarious stack of bread, spinning to kick Billy lightly in the shin.

“Stop sounding like you’re the discount version of something,” Steve told him, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he bore the bread out to the table. “Yeah, I want to fucking play house, come play house with me. Forever.”

“That sounds kind of ominous,” Billy said, his voice shaky.

“Gonna play the hell out of this house,” Steve muttered, and Billy started laughing again, leaning against his shoulder.

“Feed me bread,” he commanded, and Steve shoved him, but pulled him back again after grabbing a slice. “Honey. Babe. Lover,” Billy whispered, and Steve shoved the bread in his mouth, feeling his face heat.

“Hurry up and eat, sweetums,” he whispered back, and Billy choked, coughing.

The first morning Steve awoke to sharing a house with Billy Hargrove, he was gone from the bed, and Steve stomped petulantly down to find him naked, in an apron, making breakfast.

He laughed until he cried.

#Harringrove #Canon divergent #platypan #Billy survived #And now it's a few years later #They meet again #Billy thinks it's a one night stand #Steve has a date! <3!#platypan fic

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