#Would other joe would still be replacing real joe (even though it is real joe's soul inside of other joe)

[captainshorter]

Well at least he's honest in his intention this time

OH DAmn

Oh okay well, Ming was right. I get why Joe is doing this but damn:(

DAMN MING CALM DOWN

[icallhimjoey]

Are you still taking requests?

If yes, I’d love to read about pure domestic bliss. Peak Soft!Joey! Things he does for us that make us go all speechless and love him even more. Little things like running us a bath when he senses we had a shit day, takes care of us when we’re home with a cold…things LIKE THAT!

I could really use that rn. <3

um, so, hyper independent reader not used to someone wanting to take care of us in the smallest of ways???? goooooooot it got it got it Wordcount: 3.3K

---

For You

You rarely asked for help.

Didn't need any.

Joe thought hard, but couldn't remember you ever asking him for anything. Or anyone else for that matter. You didn't ask for help in big ways, but also didn't ask for help in any of the small, little ways.

You did things yourself. Didn't bother people and, even though things took time and effort, and were sometimes a real bitch to figure out by yourself, you always did. Eventually.

Sorted through whatever on your own, because that's how you'd always done it. How your childhood had shaped you. What you'd gotten used to. Who you'd become as a person.

You took care of, well, everything. Were organised in ways Joe couldn't even really phantom a person being organised.

"What do you mean you just fixed my washing machine yourself?"

"Was just the little motor inside, I opened it up and it needed a little part replaced."

"What the..."

"Was easy. I watched some tutorial on how to–" you stopped, had to laugh at the face of shocked disbelief and somehow sheer annoyance he made and finished, "There's tutorials for fucking everything online, it really wasn't that hard."

Yea, Joe wasn't so sure.

"All right then, I guess I'll go and cancel the order I placed for a new one."

Because he would have never even thought of opening whatever panel on the back of whatever machine to have a look inside. To look up what he'd be looking at, and to get a screwdriver out to fiddle around inside.

It was out with the old in the the new far to easily with Joe.

Didn't go like that with you.

You took care of shit yourself. Were the person that people would come to for help. Because that's what you did. Took care of your own shit and helped others with theirs.

It took some actual getting used to for Joe.

Girls had never been like that before with him.

They'd ask for shit, would whine at him in a soft baby voice until he'd do whatever they'd asked. Sometimes it'd be cute, but it could be annoying as fuck too. He'd always cave, however, and it would somehow genuinely increase his well-being. To make someone else happy by doing a small task they asked of him. Fed his ego a bit. Upped the self-esteem a little.

And it wasn't that you didn't accept help when it was offered to you.

Not at all.

You just never asked.

It took weeks for Joe to learn that he'd have to figure out for himself what he could do to help. To take care of you sometimes.

It was why sometimes, when you'd be sat doing whatever paperwork needed doing, or answering whatever e-mails needed answering, Joe would silently wander around your flat.

Looking for things maybe he could do.

Things that maybe you'd left for a bit.

Joe wasn't big on cleaning.

Or organising.

But he could pick up clothes that were left discarded on the bedroom floor. And he could shove whatever products were left out in the bathroom into a drawer. Could open the dishwasher, dishes still dirty, but stacked all wrong, not leaving enough room for the rest that were left on the counter still. He could sort that out for you, no problem.

You always thanked him with a squeeze in his side, or soft kisses to smiley cheeks. Made Joe blush a little, knowing he'd found a thing he could do to help, to ease your load and make you happy.

Until one sort of weird Friday afternoon. It had just gone noon, and Joe received a weird text.

"quick q, did you say you had work today?"

Just things he had to read.

"they wont let me leave on my own"

What the fuck?

"Hey, what's going on? What do you mean they won't let you leave on your own?" Joe decided he needed immediate answers, and called in response to your texts.

"I'm fine," was the first thing out of your mouth, quickly followed by, "Don't worry. If you don't have the time, I can see if–"

"Answer my question, please." Joe cut you off.

"I... I don't know, I keep feeling– I'm dizzy. I lost my balance and fell when my foot got stuck on a threshold– I'm not hurt," you were quick to assure, not wanting to worry Joe.

"Did you faint?" Joe was already on his way out the door.

"No, I'm not lightheaded or anything. Just feel like I'm gonna be sick, and like, my eyes won't stay still. It's more annoying than anything else. Mary says I probably haven't slept enough, or something."

You sounded like it too. All annoyed. Frustrated by the way your body was letting you down in the middle of a work day and now had to ask someone to do something for you.

Had to ask your boyfriend to come pick you up.

Like that was the end of the world, somehow.

"All right, I'm out the door." Joe said, coat billowing behind him as his legs rushed him down the street. "Do one thing for me, yea? Don't fucking move."

Not like you could. Moving your head made you want to throw up. Maybe you just hadn't had enough water and were a bit dehydrated. Or a lot hydrated. You didn't know, but thought having water would be a good idea anyway.

You had little sips in the reception area of the office until Joe arrived.

"Hey," 

"You all right?" Joe crouched down in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, then on your cheek. He ducked his head to look you in the eye.

“Yea fine. Just dizzy when I stand. Or move. That’s all.” 

“She hurt her wrist,” Mary said loudly as she walked over.

You did a quick Joe, Mary - Mary, Joe, introducing them to each other. Joe stood up straight and they shook hands, exchanged polite smiles, and then turned their worried gazes back onto you.

“It’s fine, nothing serious,” you gave your hand a twist and turn to showcase how fine you were. When you’d suddenly lost balance, you’d braced yourself with your one free hand. It would maybe take a day or two for it to feel normal again, it had just taken a blow. 

"It'll sort itself out."

"Are you accompanying her the whole way home?"

"Yea, took the tube here, but," Joe looked at you whilst he fished his phone from his pocket. Unlocked it with his face and swiped to find the Uber app.

"We're getting an Uber back." 

Good. Yes.

You were glad.

You would probably feel just as sick in a car, but the hassle of escalators, tunnels, stairs, more tunnels, more stairs, the hot air but the cold winds, and just, other people... even just thinking of the whole process, of public transport, made black and white spots creep up behind your eyes.

Mary seemed glad too, told you to get some actual rest, to take it easy and to feel better soon as Joe helped you onto your feet and guided you out of the building.

You had to lean into him heavily, nausea gripping you by the throat as you walked down to where Joe said you'd be picked up in a minute.

Focussing strongly on putting one foot in front of the other and not moving your head around too much, your mind echoed left, right, left, right, left, right. You felt Joe's grip strengthen around your waist as the world kept pulling you to the side.

"Jesus, do we need to go to A&E?"

This wasn't the time for jokes. You were busy trying to generally survive. The lack of balance, the world spinning and tilting, was disorienting and didn't leave room for humour.

"Have someone look you over?"

Joe wasn't joking, though.

"No," you swallowed. A mistake. "I just need to lie down and be still."

Joe helped you slide into the car, then used his fingers on your jaw to tip your head back against the headrest. Held a palm over your forehead a second, making sure it stayed in place before he carefully got you into your seatbelt and shut the door as softly as he could.

Sitting still like this, it was okay. Head back, sat up right, no weird smells.

This was fine.

You told the driver not to worry. Lied and promised him you didn't feel sick, just dizzy, and prayed you wouldn't actually throw up.

Joe rounded to the other side and slid down the seat to be right beside you. Sat in the middle seat, and after doing up his own seatbelt, attention was back with you.

An arm pushed through behind your neck, curled around your shoulder as you got pulled in.

Resting your head on Joe's shoulder wasn't any better than having it upright and tipped back, but Joe used a large palm that covered most of your scalp and then softly scratched fingers into your hair.

That was better.

You closed your eyes when the car pulled onto the road.

Having the actual world move fucked you up way more than you thought it might do.

The light that moved as you drove still filtered through enough, so you turned your head and hid your face against Joe's arm. Found darkness and peace there, and took measured breaths. Tried to ignore how your brain felt like a carousel. Could still taste the coffee you had about an hour earlier.

"Just crossed the river," Joe softly spoke near your ear.

He was taking you home.

"Five more minutes."

When you arrived, Joe wouldn't let you get out of the car by yourself. Said, "Hang on, wait here," and rushed out to jog around where he opened your door. Then he turned, and crouched down. Got down on one knee, and held out his arms behind him to guide.

"Joe, I can walk,"

You'd never ask to be carried.

"This feels safer. Come on."

But Joe insisted, and so you slid from the backseat right onto Joe's back. Slung arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. Closed your eyes again, which didn't really help the nausea, but it felt nice to pretend you weren't really there.

Joe walked with bent legs, never fully straightening his knees, and you got the smoothest piggyback ride you'd ever had, right into your flat.

Right into your bedroom, where...

"Oh, fuck,"

You looked up, peeked over Joe's shoulder and, you remembered as you saw it.

You'd stripped your bed that morning, threw all sheets and covers into the wash and had planned to make the bed later, when you'd get back after work. Would use the other set that you didn't like the feel of as much, but which looked nicer.

"Okay, sofa." Joe turned on his heel, spun too quick, and made you groan with discomfort.

"Sorry, sorry," Joe stilled completely. Waited a couple seconds. Said sorry again and then walked you over into your living room where he carefully lowered himself and let you slide onto your sofa.

"How are we doing?" Joe checked in, went to close the curtains to get the place as dark as it possibly could in the middle of the day.

"Just need to sleep it off, I think," you said, trying to control your breathing as you bent over slowly to take off your shoes.

Your hands got moved aside by Joe, who moved to sit down in front of you on his knees.

"Sit back,"

And so you did. Inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Accepted that the room was just going to be spinning for a while, nothing you could do to make it stop.

Joe took off your shoes and gave both socked feet a rub before coaxing you to lay back.

Throw pillows got moved into place, a blanket got draped over you, and Joe felt something pang inside of his chest at the sight of you laying flat on your back like this.

You were a side sleeper.

Would always curl up into a ball, would pull your knees up all high that would get Joe in the back some nights. Most nights. Joe always had to turn around and move one of your legs to hook over his hip to omit the uncomfortable press of boney knees into his spine.

Joe had never seen you try to fall asleep on your back before.

"Need anything else?" Joe whispered, still hovering over you, now toeing off his own shoes.

Not like you were going to ask, were you?

If Joe wanted to take care, he'd have to ask you for what you needed.

You hummed, said, "Nothing," slung an arm over your eyes and then followed up with, "Quiet.".

All right.

Joe could be quiet.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep at all, thank fuck.

For a second, Joe thought of going back home. Leaving you to get some rest, ensure your place would actually be quiet. But then he thought of your bed, and decided, might as well make it.

Joe found a set of sheets, but knew it was the one you found a little scratchy. Then he found your washing, transferred it all into the dryer as silently as he could and then thought, yea might as well, when he saw you'd left the bathroom messy.

Joe tidied up.

Decided halfway through he could also cook later. Take on dinner.

What else would he appreciate someone doing if he couldn't move without holding onto a wall?

Lots of things.

He was going to do them all.

Joe moved around with intention, shuffled on his socks, did everything as quietly as he could. Still closed cupboards too loudly, and made himself wince several times. He would freeze and would listen if he could hear you stir, if he'd disturbed you.

Not a peep from you. Not once.

Good.

Joe found the fridge empty, then grabbed your reusable shopping bag and your keys. Would only be a minute.

Downstairs, he checked your mail, opened your little metal post box and found a slip for a delivery that you'd missed, for a parcel that needed picking up. Decided to do that too, because, why not.

When Joe got back and carefully went to check if you were asleep still, he saw that you'd curled up with both your knees pressed into the back of the sofa. Couldn't help but smile to himself.

Nearly three hours later, you jolted awake. Took a look around the room, frowning, squinty eyes, and tried to figure out what woke you up. Why you were on the sofa again. What day it was.

You could hear the oven close in the kitchen, and let your head drop back down onto the soft pillows from the sofa.

You remembered.

And you felt... better. Sort of... just fine. You noticed gravity was pulling at you just right again. Huge difference compared to before, when it got you from all different sorts of angles.

Shaking your head side to side, everything felt solid. Steady. And you were really fucking hungry.

"Joe?" you called, and had to cough right after.

"You're up!" Joe stepped into view, drying his hands on a tea towel and he... Joe looked windswept. Untamed. Disheveled and tousled, face all flushed. All smiley and excited looking.

"How are you feeling?"

The opposite of how Joe looked, but, fine none the less.

"Better," you smiled through squinty eyes.

"Yea? No longer dizzy?"

"I don't think so," you shook your head once more, to check. Felt fine.

"Feel sick?"

"No... I'm hungry."

"Yea?"

"Yea." you looked around, still a little dazed and, what was that smell?

"Good, dinner's in the oven." Joe made his way over, and took a moment to grin at you. Leant down and just grinned at you. You didn't know what was so funny, but Joe made you laugh anyway.

You still felt a little shaky when Joe kissed you. Small pecks. Then a long one. Another grin, followed by a suspicious frown from you, and then, more kisses.

"What?" you asked when Joe wouldn't stop smiling.

"Nothing. Just glad that you're okay. How's your wrist?"

You rotated it. Gave it a little shake.

"Bit sore, but not bad, thanks. And thank you for coming to get me from work, I really couldn't have– I don't know what happened, do people get their balance affected from lack of sleep, do you know?"

"Yea, I googled, and apparently, you can. So that could be it, but it also could be a million other things." Joe shrugged.

Hmm. All right. Well, at least you felt better now. Nausea gone. Vision no longer swimming.

"Want to take a bath?" Joe suggested, and you groaned at the suggestion.

"Yes,"

"Okay, be careful, the water was practically boiling when I filled it fifteen minutes ago,"

You gasped softly, immediately pouted.

"You... you already filled the tub?"

Joe's eyes twinkled.

"Babe, I did so much," he exclaimed all proud, and started going down the list.

Joe had done a massive food shop, picked up a parcel from the post office, cleared out the dishwasher, tidied the bathroom, folded the laundry and put it all of it away, made dinner, made the bed–

Joe had to stop when he saw your eyes blinking rapidly, eyelashes wet. You seemed overwhelmed, a bit.

"Are you..."

A sob wrecked from your throat and you immediately laughed, because you were well aware you were being silly.

"You're crying?" Joe asked, smiling, already pulling you in so you could hide your face into his chest.

"You didn't have to–"

"Stop, I know I don't have to. I wanted to. Believe it or not, sometimes people enjoy doing things for you."

People usually loved it when you did things for them, but, you loved doing things for other people, so you understood.

"You made the bed?"

You knew Joe fucking hated making the bed.

"Yea, used the nice sheets,"

"I put the others in the wash this morning–"

"No," Joe corrected. "I put those in the dryer and used those," Joe pulled back, tilted his head down enough to catch your expression. "The other ones are– they don't feel great, right?"

Joe saw your face scrunch up again and quickly tucked you back under his chin.

"Maybe just get rid of those all together,"

"They were an expensive–"

"I'll get rid of them." Joe said, knowing you probably never would yourself.

Unbelievable.

You didn't deserve Joe.

Joe would disagree and fight you on that, so you didn't say that shit out loud.

Joe held you for a bit longer, his affection pouring over you until it was dripping down the sofa and leaving puddles on the floor.

"Bath's getting cold," Joe eventually murmured into your hair.

"Thank you," you managed to croak out as you accepted the kisses Joe pressed to your forehead before he helped you up from the sofa.

He held wary arms out, ready to catch you if it turned out that standing up was still a task too tricky, but you seemed steady enough. Could walk towards the door without going sideways.

"You know what?" he said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you across the room.

"Get in the bath, I'll join you in a sec,"

You caught his little smirk as he looked at you over his shoulder, stepping closer towards the kitchen.

"With dinner." Joe finished, and, fuck off. That sounded like the best fucking idea you'd ever heard.

"Hey," you said, making Joe stop, and for some reason, you caught a flicker of worry in his eyes before they softened as you smiled.

"Thank you," you said again, this time more earnest than you'd done before.

Joe needed to know you were grateful.

"Anything," Joe started, squeezed his eyes shut tightly to bring his point across properly.

"Anything for you."

the end

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

[brassknucklespeirs]

Sᴄᴀʀʏ Dᴏɢ Pʀɪᴠɪʟᴇɢᴇ [Jᴏᴇ Tᴏʏᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Genre: Speed run enemies to lovers??? But also funny and cute???

Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of sexism, descriptions of warfare, mention of blood and wounds, the general idea is if you couldn't handle band of brothers, don't freaking read this okay?

Disclaimer: No disrespect to the real men of WW2, this is based off the actors portrayal from HBO

HI GUYS! I'M SO EXCITED THIS IS MY FIRST FIC BACK AND I'M SO HAPPY WITH IT SO PLEASE ENJOY! I'VE MISSED YOU GUYS LIKE CRAZY

To say Y/N was not warmly welcomed as a female replacement in Easy Company was an understatement. She was at the bottom of the food chain at this point; the Toccoa men being at the top, with her fellow replacements being beneath them, and then her at the very bottom thanks to her lack of an extra limb between her legs. In all honesty, she wasn't as bothered as she thought she would be, but perhaps that was because after making it through basic training she was more than use to being leered at; whether it was in distain, lust, or indifference was dependant on the man.

It wasn't all bad she guessed, but even in those men who did show her kindness, she still saw the hint of apprehension in their eyes as the smile they held didn't quite cover the look from their gaze. She was the only female in Easy company, while all of the other women that she had trained with were sent to Dog and Fox company. She held a sliver of envy because of this, for she didn't truly understand why none of the others had joined her in Easy, and yet here she was, the only woman in a company of men who saw her as a silly little girl playing dress up. Any time the monachopsis had crept in she pushed it away, reminding herself of why she was here, why she was persisting through the cold, both that which she was dealt from the men and that which the snowy terrain of Bastogne had brought her freely.

She kept to herself mostly, though it drove her slightly mad as she wished to share the unfamiliar sense of comradeship that she saw flowing between the men around her. Y/N would often find herself staring longingly as she watched them unconsciously huddle closer to each other to keep warm, while her stomach clenched in disappointment as they shared quiet laughter in their foxholes, exchanging jokes and light-hearted taunts to bring their spirits up as much as they could.

Yet here she was, alone in every meaning of the word except physically, holed up in a foxhole with someone who did not care for her existence as he looked down on her as a nuisance. Y/N's gaze would often flicker to the man beside her, taking note of how he pressed himself as close to his side of the dirty dugout in the ground, like she was a plague to be avoided. She could never stop her teeth from sinking into the raw flesh of her chewed bottom lip to keep herself from speaking to him, knowing the last time she had tried, he had ripped into her. The man had thrown insults and harsh words about how she was an army experiment gone wrong, and how the only reason she was allowed to be here is because they were that desperate for running targets to distract the Nazis from shooting at the 'real' soldiers. Every word had hit its mark but she refused to show it, keeping up her façade of indifference and annoyance until he had turned his back on her, at which point of time she had shifted her head in the opposite direction to let the tears that threatened to spill fall down her cheeks.

It was easy to see how Joe Toye was the man everyone painted him out to be, yet where others saw him as strong-willed she saw him as stubborn, and in the place of being a good leader, she had seen a pushy prick who expected those around him to bend and shape to his will. His sense of arrogance truly did stun her when she first arrived to the front, and though she never really got over it, she learnt how to play the ignorant card for the sake of her sanity; or perhaps for the sake of her position in Easy company, for she wasn't quite sure if she would be kept around if she bad-mouthed one of her sergeants. Yet it was in moments like that, when Joe used the consistent excuse of needing to watch the line to keep his glare off of her that she would watch anything but the line. She hated herself for it sometimes, knowing that her lack of normality had caused her to seek out any familiar comfort she could around her. The familiar comfort in question being the picture of a handsome face. He was all sharp angles from side on, with his sculpted jawline and large, curved nose, and she found herself flitting her gaze over his features in moments of quiet. A little too easy on the eyes for someone lacking any means of a soft spoken personality, she had thought to herself once as she forced herself to look away from him.

Y/N's jaw ached from how tightly she was grinding her teeth, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso as she tried to savour in her own warmth. Her gaze held envy as she eyed Malarkey, Muck, Penkala and Luz huddled together, giggling to one another while they talked in hushed voiced. She wished to know what it felt to relish in the cosiness they seemed to hold between one another, wanted to know what it was to laugh over such meaningless jokes to break through the bitter sensation that wrapped its way around her lonely heart. She huffed out a breath of frustration as she downed the rest of the lukewarm coffee that Lipton had previously handed her, the cup having already been half drunk when the first sergeant had taken pity on the clearly shivering woman and offered her the rest. Y/N sent Lip a small but grateful smile when she handed him back the mug as he shuffled past her, a stiff nod of his head and his own small smile being the acknowledgement she received before he walked off.

Y/N rolled her rigid shoulders as she walked back towards her and Joe's foxhole, her rifle tucked tightly between her arms and chest while her hands were squished under her armpits to savour the little warmth her body gave off. Her entire body froze for a moment as a whistling sound rung through her ears, carried through the breeze from the town of Foy below them. Y/N's head snapped behind her to look towards Lip over her shoulder, the first sergeant stared back at her with wide eyes, the both of them letting the realisation fall over them. Lipton's voice of authority resonated over the company members close by as he yelled to take cover over and over again, a mix of alarm and agitation leaking off every sharp syllable. Y/N's feet seemed to move without any further thought when the first shell hit the ground with an almighty bang, digging its nose into the dirt before scattering it across the frozen terrain. She threw herself into the closest cover she could, a shallow foxhole that looked as if it had been given up on halfway through being dug, her arms immediately covering her head while she pressed her cheek against the snow. From the position she was in, she was able to see the chaos that ensued around her as trees exploded and men screamed over the noise at one another. Her teeth sunk into the skin on the inside of her cheek, and the metallic taste of blood told her she had clenched too harshly as the anxiety built up in her chest.

The lone figure of a man in the distance caught her attention as they seemed to be the only person who had stupidly continued to scramble for cover while those around him had found theirs. Her gaze shifted to the trail of shells hitting the forest floor, and her uneasy grew, noting that the path they travelled was heading straight for the running soldier. She wasn't quite sure what led her to the point of brainlessness but in a split second decision, she was up and out of the half dug foxhole, her feet pushing her full force across the snowy ground towards him, her quads aching with every step. The cold wind blasted across her face while several bursts of heat would hit her cheek as the shells grew closer to her. Her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest as she watched the trail of destruction close in to her position with every step she took closer towards the figure. With seemingly seconds to spare, her body collided harshly with his, throwing his body to the side as they narrowly avoid a shell that blew the trees behind them to splinters. Y/N wasted no time as her hands gripped at the man's uniform and pulled him from the ground though a burning sensation along the side of her hip told her she had been hit. She didn't take the time to analyse her wound, throwing the man into the closest foxhole before diving after him, though another shell from behind them caused her to tumble in after him as it threw her off her feet. She managed to catch herself before she completely crushed the man beneath her, her hands and knees hitting the ground either side of him, holding her above his body. As the blasts continued around them, she took no time to ponder the precarious position she had landed in, the warm heat of the man she had saved pressed against her torso as she sat straddled over his lying body. She felt his chin pressed against the top of her head as she curled tightly into him, her face hidden in the crook of his neck without thought.

As the shelling eased and the forest around them grew silent once more, Y/N raised her head towards the sky as to angle her ears in such a way to hear better, but the ringing that echoed from the remnants of the blast was like an alarm bell. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard Lipton's voice yell to stay down, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. She tilted her head back down towards the man as she felt him wriggle beneath her and a blush rose to her cheeks as she turned to apologise and move only to meet the dark eyes of Joe Toye. Her face hardened as she stared down at him, his eyes looking up to meet her gaze with surprise evident in his pupils. Y/N breathed harshly through her nose, pulling one leg over his body so she no longer perched in his lap before she tugged them to her chest, shuffling to the other side of the foxhole with a stiff expression. Joe said nothing but his eyes continued to watch her for a few more moments, his gaze causing the hairs on her arms to rise; or perhaps that was the chill the air held, she wasn't certain. Y/N ran her tongue over her top teeth as the silence enveloped them, but her irritation rose the longer it went on, her fingers gripping tighter at her rifle causing her knuckles to turn white.

"You're welcome, by the way." She spoke suddenly, her tone cold but the way she kept her eyes off of him expressed the idea that she didn't care; she certainly did care, and she expected grateful appreciation for saving his sorry ass. She turned her attention to what was going on above the foxhole they sat in as she pushed herself to a crouch to poke her head cautiously over the edge of the dugout, her eyes sweeping over the area as she analysed it carefully. Joe watched her in silence for another moment, his eyes trailing over the side of her face as she remained oblivious. He had previously noted that her face held a gentle beauty, but in this moment with messy hair peaking out from under her helmet, brows furrowed and her jaw visibly clenching, she held more of a wild divinity, like a budding rose that’s stem held many thorns. He drew in a breath as he forced himself to turn away as he thought to himself, A little too beautiful for someone who holds such an icy façade.

"Yeah. Thanks." Joe finally muttered shortly as he gazed down at his hands. Y/N didn't turn to look at him, but rolled her eyes at his stiff reply, not overly convinced he meant it. She opened her mouth to reply, swivelling on her toes to looked down at him only for the burning in her hip to arise again. The woman let out a strangled gasp, her hand immediately flying to the sliced flesh on her hip as the adrenaline running through her body began to dissipate. Joe's eyes widened, watching as she moved quickly to sit on her uninjured hip, all but collapsing beside him. "Shit Y/L/N. This just happen?" The sergeant called while moving closer to her, and if she wasn't focussed on her pain, Y/N would have seen fit to roll her eyes once more. She groaned, biting at the sensitive flesh of her lip as she pulled some of the torn fabric away from the wound, revealing the blood leaking from her body.

"Yeah. Next time remind me not to save your sorry ass." Y/N replied with as much of an taunting sneer as she could muster, completely disregarding their difference in rank as quite honestly in that moment she couldn't have cared less. Someone needed to dish it back to this man everyone once in a while to ensure his head didn't grow too large, and if that person had to be her, then she'd give it her best go. Even now as she squirmed uncomfortably at the burning gash on her hip, she was fully prepared to release the feminine rage that she had held caged in her chest for the last few months if she really had to.

Neither of them were given a moment to continue this exchange of simmering annoyance as a new bout of whistles filled the air causing Y/N to whine in distress, curling into herself to grasp at any comfort she could. She looked up from under her brows towards the sky as the first explosion went off, but immediately flinched in discomfort, turning her body away and pushing herself as close to the side of the foxhole as she could. When the not-so-solid soil wall seemed to wrap its arms around her tightly in a moment of shared unease, Y/N realised she had, in fact, unconsciously turned away from the wall of the foxhole, not towards it, and found herself pressed firmly against the warm body of Joseph Toye. The man's arms remained steadfast around her waist as the chaos outside the foxhole continued, his own fear slipping through with every 'bang' that was heard. The ground shook violently as a shell hit close by and Y/N let out a strangled scream of terror. Her hands unravelling from themselves to grasp at Joe's jacket, tugging herself closer to him while she tried her best to focus on the warmth that radiated from him, or the way his fingers could be felt rubbing back and forth over her spine. Even if he was a particularly cold man towards her, it had not been the first time she had used him as a distraction, though this was much more than just admiring him from afar. There was a certain intimacy in being held as if she was the only thing that could bring reassurance to the soldier beside her, a type of intimacy she had gladly welcomed at that moment as she too tightened her grip on his shirt, even going as far to hide her face in the fabric covering his shoulder.

A heavy silence hung over the air when the shelling stopped, the only noise being the creaking of nearby trees, half destroyed from the blasts and desperately clinging to hold their form. Y/N stayed leaning against Joe, his warmth offering comfort as her body grew tired as the adrenaline had leaked faster from her than it had the last time. Her wound began to burn hotter than last time, and a pained whine left her lips as she lifted her hand, pulling her face from the man's jacket to watch as crimson blood trickled down the palm it had begun to stain.

"Shit. MEDIC!" Joe screamed out as he glanced down at the woman as she lay groaning against his side, her hands coloured with scarlet liquid while her face was screwed up in a look of discomfort. "Uh, how many fingers am I holding up?" He asks, his voice a mixture of worry and uncertainty, his hand showing three fingers. Y/N seemed to pause her groaning for a moment, her head tilting up to look at him, her face showing disbelief at the words. Her gaze flickered between his face and his fingers, too confused to answer immediately as she took in the dead-serious look of concern on his features.

"I'm not dying you fucking moron. It's a shallow gash not a mortal wound." She replies with a quiet snort from her nose in amusement. Sure, the sliced flesh burned but it was certainly nothing to write home about, and she was more than prepared to never think about it again once she had been seen to by a medic. Until that point, she would ensure she'd made it clear to Joe that she deserved a little bit of appreciation for drawing blood for him, even if it was her own. The man rolled his eyes at her answer, pushing his fingers closer to her face while his brows tugged together in silent frustration.

"Just answer the fucking question Y/L/N." He said firmly. With a huff of irritation, Y/N gave her answer before using the hand that wasn't pressed tightly against the wound on her hip to flick his own hand away from her face.

"Thank the lord above they didn't make you a goddamn medic." She muttered under her breath quietly, though the roll of his eyes told her he had heard the words leave her mouth. The corners of her lips quip up in amusement but she pulled her eyes away from him as a heavy set of footfall could be heard coming towards them. Gene appeared beside her before she could blink, his presence causing her to jump in fright  "Jesus Gene, I just told Toye I wasn't dying. Don't you dare make me look a fool by giving me a heart attack." The woman mumbles lightly to the medic as he doesn't waste a second, pulling her hand from the wound and inspecting it closely.

"Sorry Y/L/N." Gene muttered gently, his eyes flickering up to hers for a moment in polite acknowledgement. He looked back down at the gash and noted several splinters still sticking out causing him to screw his face up in concentration, his eyes analysing the best way to get them out. He pulled his tweezers from his pouch and without warning, plucked the first splinter from her hip bringing about a cry made up of surprise and discomfort that rose loudly from her lips. Without thinking, her hand flew out to the side, landing on Joe's thigh, before squeezing tightly to sate her pain.

"AH, come on Gene, a little warning would be nice." She groaned, her fingers digging into the flesh of Joe's leg while she squirmed against his side as if trying to shuffle away from the medic and his tweezers. Joe let out a huff of bemusement as he glanced between her hand on him and her face, though he couldn't help the slight redness that dusted his cheeks.

"So would a homecooked Christmas dinner made by my ma, but we can't always get what we want, can we Y/N?" Joe said almost mockingly. The woman threw a warning glare over her shoulder in response to his words, not appreciative of his snark as she had a pair of tweezers shoved half an inch into a gash she took for him. Y/N watched as Gene finished pulling the splinters from her flesh, and wriggled uncomfortably as he stitched up the wound, yet the bleeding crimson that escaped from her had already painted the snow beneath her.

When the medic had finished up with dressing her wound as well as he could with his limited supplies, he had quickly disappeared off into the snowy terrain surrounding them. The woman kept her gaze on him as he ran off, a small smile of amusement painting her lips when she sees him scurry away so quickly. Movement against her hand reminded her that she was still gripping at Joe's thigh and without a single glance she retracted it as if she had been burnt, and it honestly looked as though she had been from the rose dusted blush on her cheeks. She didn't say a word to Joe, turning her head away from him so he could not see the embarrassment that so clearly showed on her face, yet the man used it to his advantage as he glanced out the corner of his eyes to look at her, his expression that of curiosity and intrigue. With a silent huff of amusement and a subtle shake of his head, Joe realised he had been wrong about Y/N, very wrong indeed.

▄︻デ----══━一

Joseph Toye had held a deep distain of the female replacement since the moment she showed up. Every part of her annoyed him; the way she seemingly refused to interact with most of the men as if she was above them, the way she watched them closely with narrowed eyes, the way she held herself like she was special because she was the only woman assigned to Easy company, the way she was so god damn distracting. He had decided quickly that she was not at all what a normal soldier was supposed to be, and let his thoughts and assumptions cloud his judgement. But after she had saved his ass from being blown sky high, he felt a strange feeling nag at his gut; guilt. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, mostly questions, of why she had taken the risk, why she would have bothered to put herself in the line of fire for anyone. He had a fair idea that she would not have known that it was him she was saving, the snowy haze that lingered in the air making it hard to see anything but silhouettes. Yet even then she had still gone out of her way, and gotten hurt in the process, just to ensure whatever random soldier that had failed to find cover was unharmed. She was braver than he gave her credit for.

His eyes followed her every move after Gene had left the foxhole they had fallen into, though in all honesty, they had been watching her for much longer than that. He remembered the way she interacted with Gene, and he wondered why she seemed to show a softer side for only a few of the men. Perhaps it was all backwards, and it was the other men who had given her a harsher side, one that had pushed her away. The guilt that ate at him came back as he realised his mistake, his mind flashing through the memories of what he had said to her, and how he had watched as others did the same and did nothing to stop them. That feeling didn't stop him from staying silent though, and if anything, it made him more reluctant to speak with her as he had come to know just how much he had screwed up. He felt like an idiot, so busy assuming the worst in her to see that he was a large part of the problem. She wasn't putting herself on a pedestal, she was protecting herself by being closed off to those around her who had taken one look at the woman and decided she wasn't worth their time.

They had lost Skip and Penkala the next day and following that, they had lost Buck, who seemed to feel the weight of the world collapse on him after he saw the explosion that took the two soldiers. Y/N could see where it had all gone wrong with the lieutenant, having watched as the light seemed to leave his eyes day by day until finally something gave way. She felt for him, but she could do nothing as she felt her own pressure on her shoulders, just as everyone else did, pushing her further into silence as she let her thoughts consume her more with every passing moment. The woman had sat quietly in the foxhole beside the ever present sergeant as Buck was led away by Lipton and Luz, tears leaking from his eyes and whimpers leaving his lips. Her mouth had grown dry, her heart clenching almost painfully at the sight of the broken man. Her eyes had meet Joe's for but a second as they shared a look that mirrored the other's, worry and unease swimming in their expression before she pulled her gaze from him, gulping down the feeling of disappointment.

The days following were much the same as each other, and though the two had spoken the odd word to one another when needed, they had generally kept to their own side of the foxhole. The only thing different was that of Y/N's lack of attention on Joe; her eyes no longer strayed to him and remained heavily on the line before them at all times aside from when she was sleeping. It seemed as though her lack of interest in him had increased his interest in her as if he had picked up the slack she had let loose. Her lip was chewed raw as every time she got the urge to look at him, she had countered it by tearing into her flesh with her teeth, like a punishment for having such ideas. The healing gash along her hip held a slight ache, yet it was the itch that drove her crazy, and she had already been growled at by Doc for ripping the scab open. It was the little things such as these that she used to distract herself from him; since she had saved him, he had changed from being the distraction to being distracting, and it sent her mind into a frenzy of thoughts.

It was early evening by the looks of the darkening sky when Joe had wandered off from their shared foxhole to grab some grub, his eyes finally moving from Y/N's form as she continued to watch the line from her spot. He wandered over to where several of the men had gathered to eat, and he made his way to Bill's side as soon as he spotted the man who grinned towards him. They chatted to themselves quietly while eating, mostly about Buck and his departure. Joe held his hands under his arms to warm up as the cold breeze pierced his coat, and his eyes were set on Bill as he spoke until something Cobb said had caught his attention. The sergeant had snapped his head towards the latter man when he mentioned something about Y/N, something lacking respect for the woman.

"Come off it will yah Cobb, she's just trying to do her job." Toye voice was firm as it cut through the air, his eyes holding a warning glare that only caused the smaller man to smirk as he turned to look at him.

"Oh? Tell me, has she been serving you as her sergeant well in that foxhole, hm?" Cobb snarked causing a couple of groans and noises of disappointment to sound from some of the men around them as the words left the man's mouth. They may not have all warmed up to the idea of a woman in the company, but she had not done anything to give room for such a derogatory accusation. Joe's hands clenched around his rifle as his jaw grew tense in anger, simmering in his blood while it began to boil. He didn't have time to question his own mind as it acted on autopilot, preparing to defend his foxhole partner's name against this soldier who loves to stir the pot a little too much for his liking.

"Show some god damn respect. She's done exactly what the rest of us have, her being a woman doesn't change that." He replied, his knuckles turning white, holding himself back from socking Cobb across the face.

"Except she hasn't. She's been here for what? A couple of months? Yet what good has she been?" Cobb said with a huff, his upper lip twitching in annoyance. Joe's mind flashed with memories of her body colliding with his to stop him from being blown to bits, and of the blood that leaked from her body as Gene patched her up. His jaw grew sharper, if it even could, the curve of it looking as if it had been cut from steel while the muscles connected to it rippled tightly under his skin.

"You seem to have gotten over this problem with the other replacements a while ago. Just say you're being a sexist prick and go Cobb." Joe said sternly, taking a step towards the shorter man with a dark look on his face. He held his head high as his gaze looked down his nose to assert a warning dominance over the other man, expressing the risk of opening his mouth to talk back once more with that action alone. Cobb seemed to gulp, his eyes trailing over Joe's imposing form as he realised his mistake. He said nothing as he stepped backwards, his feet taking him away from the dark haired man, only lowering his head in a show of capitulation before he scurried away. Joe followed him with his dark gaze until Luz placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention away from Cobb in hopes that he would not run after him to smack him across the face. Lipton watched from not too far away, having heard what had gone one, but he did not proceed to move closer as he glanced over his shoulder to Y/N who stood hidden from the scene behind him. The way her eyes remained on her coffee, wide and vacant, he knew she had heard every word that had been shared between the men.

"Don't let it get to you Y/N." Lipton said quietly as he turned to face her causing her to look up at him. She nodded but didn't say anything. In all honesty, none of Cobb's words had bothered her as she was so used to having comments like that thrown around about her. What did confuse her was the way Toye defended her so firmly, unwavering and looking fully prepared to hit the other man for what he said. Her eyes lingered on said man over Lip's shoulder, taking the time she hadn't used in recent days to look at him, especially now as it seemed no one but the first sergeant before her were aware she was there. She took note of the fact that it took Luz several words to calm Joe down, and she wondered whether he had been defending her or if he had simply been defending himself against the accusation that the two of them had been less than professional in their foxhole. The woman pondered the thought all the way back to their foxhole, though she didn't let the thought consume her enough that she couldn't be vigilant about her surroundings, her gaze remaining on the line as she settled back into her position. It wasn't long before Joe returned, his face no longer holding a tense anger, yet his brows were still furrowed in what she could guess to be concentration. That sat in silence for several minutes, both sets of eyes carefully running over the snowy terrain in front of them until the man's voice cut through the quiet.

"I'm sorry." Joe's voice was like a knife cutting through the tension, though his tone held a genuine edge to it, one that made her whip her head towards him in shock.

"What?" Y/N exclaimed before she had a chance to stop herself, completely thrown off by his words. The man took a deep breath before finally turning to return her gaze, his eyes hold sincerity.

"I said I'm sorry." He repeated, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed his nervousness at the feeling of her eyes piercing into him. "I think…I think I assumed several things about you that have turned out to be very wrong, and I apologise."

"I-" She stuttered for a moment as she processed his words. Her mouth opened before shutting quickly, a motion she repeated multiple times, trying to select her next words but choking on them every time. Joe forced himself to hold back an amused smile at her flustered expression, knowing it was not the right time.

"And the things I said and the way I acted because I let my own assumptions cloud my judgement were uncalled for." He continued, his hands wringing around the barrel of his rifle as a means of comfort for the conversation was necessary but it did not stop his stomach from churning.

"You can say that again." She mumbled under her breath, but he heard her and let out a loud exhale from his nose.

"Look, I'm trying to apologise here, can you just give me a second?" The man groaned, feeling a nervous frustration as he wished to express his vulnerable thoughts without the snark she held in her tone. Y/N pursed her lips, her teeth nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she did. She nodded slowly, raising a hand to push a stray hair from her face before she opened her mouth.

"Right, yes. Continue." Her eyes ran over his face as she spoke, taking in every miniscule detail to memory unconsciously.

"Thank you." He said with a grateful nod, "As I was saying, I shouldn't have said what I did. You aren't some failed experiment, and you certainly aren't just a running target. Hell, you've shown more in the last few days than a lot of the men have the entire time they've been here." His cheeks held the slightest tinge of red as he spoke the words to her, his body tense as he waited for her reply.

"Well…thanks Sarg." She says slowly, her expression showing she didn't quite know how to take his apology as she had not at all been expecting it. Y/N's heart bet out of her chest as their eyes met again, his lips turning up into a small smile that she would never admit made her stomach clench in a strange mix of unease and attraction. She knew for the sake of herself, she had to take his apology with a grain of salt, ensuring that he showed he was sorry more than just expressing it in words with little meaning. Her mind flashed with a rerun of his angered face staring at Cobb with a menacing look she'd seen a few time from him.

"Just Joe is fine." Joe's voice broke through her thoughts once more, and it took her a moment to gather herself, realising what he meant after a few seconds. She blinked animatedly as she looked at him, taking in his expression, the small smile mixed with the genuine look in his eyes. The woman chewed the inside of her cheek once more before nodding.

"Alright, just Joe." Y/N replied with a hint of playful grin on her lips, and the man chuckles lightly at her jest. They shared a friendly smile, feeling a strange weight taken off their shoulders; Joe knowing he was able to show he was willing to find a way to redeem himself, while Y/N was simply happy to feel a sense of comradeship from someone she had to spend so much time with.

▄︻デ----══━一

The seat beneath Y/N jostled as the truck hit a stray pothole in the rustic road they drove down, moving towards the town of Haguenau. She felt a sense of warmth as she sat sandwiched between Joe and George, her head titled down with her lower face nestled into the scarf wrapped around her neck. Luz, who had been struggling to not talk her ear off with random gibberish, had finally closed his mouth as he let his tiredness set in, his eyes fluttering closed every now and then. Y/N held a small smile on her face while she watched him, shaking her head in amusement as she turned away from him. A sigh left her lips as she readjusted her sitting position, her tailbone numb from the hard wood of the seat below her while she wished for anything to be able to find a comfortable way to lean her head back to relieve the ache in her shoulders. She shifted her head from side to side, testing each placement of her head she could think of, only to groan quietly in frustration once more. Something soft pressed against the back of her head suddenly, and she fought against herself to not jump in fright, turning her eyes quickly towards Joe. She took note of the way he held his hands raised as he adjusted his own scarf behind her, obviously aware of her discomfort, yet he said nothing and only motioned with a nod of his head for her to lean back. She sent him a small smile, before snuggling her head back, sighing in content at the perfect positioning. Y/N closed her eyes, rolling her shoulders a few times as she settled down for a short nap, ready to shut out the world for as much time as she could. Joe observed her, nodding to himself in silent satisfaction knowing he had been the one to bring her comfort, and he turned away from her with a hint of a smile.

Y/N had woken with a jolt as they came to a halt, her eyes snapping open within a second, gaze already surveying the area around her to ensure she was safe. A gentle hand lay itself on her shoulder and she shifted to stare at Luz as he grinned at her, sending her into a sense of calm, her grip loosening on the rifle she had clutched at tightly. Her lips twitched into a grateful curve at the man, a small nod of her head acknowledging his action before she jumped down from the vehicle behind Joe, her boots hitting the ground with a crunch when she landed.

Y/N had wandered behind the other men, catching sight of Lipton as they made their way towards the houses causing her brows to pull down in concern at the sick man. She jogged quickly to the first sergeant's side, her hair that she had let down to relieve her aching scalp bouncing against her back with every step until she made it to him. Joe had glanced over his shoulder to ensure she was there, but as the spot she had once lingered in lacked her presence, he quickly whirled around to see her walking with Lipton in a different direction. The man groaned under his breath before changing the course of his pathway, manoeuvring through the crowd of men to follow behind her. His eyes scanned the environment around them, flickering to Y/N between completion of every sweep of his gaze.

The trucks had rattled so obnoxiously loud on their drive that Y/N's brain seemed to echo the sound even as she wandered around the house they were setting up as the company CP. The woman nodded her head with a smile as they made their way into what was left of the entertainment room, her expression directed towards Speirs who had acknowledged her greeting with his own tight lipped smile, though if one was to blink they would have missed it as he disappeared into a different room within an instant. She walked behind Lipton as she ushered him towards the couch in the middle of the room with a wave of her hand.

"Sit Lip, take your kit off and I'll make you a warm cup of joe." She said with a motherly smile pulled across her lips, warm and gentle. Lipton nodded with a grateful expression on his face, but it quickly morphed to discomfort as he pulled his webbing off, his muscles aching painfully with every movement. Joe entered not long after, taking his helmet from his head to run a hand through his hair, a sigh of content leaving his lips as he felt the absence of cold wind whipping against his skin. He peered around the place, regarding Y/N tinkering with a small cooker she had pulled from her pouches, a small noise of triumph coming from her lips as it burst to life with a kick start from her lighter. Joe bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from tugging at his lips, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before turning to Lipton.

"Nice place you got here Lip." He muttered with a raised brow. Lipton let out the slightest snort of amusement at the man's words, but his lack of energy led him to do nothing more. Lipton lowered himself slowly to the couch with a groan that made her move quickly to him, a blanket she had found in the other room in her hands. Joe had watched her with a small grin as she tended to their first sergeant, a comforting expression evident on her face.

"Managed to snag this for you. Hopefully it'll teach the lad who was using it previously to take more vigilance while napping." Y/N joked as she tucked it over Lip's body while he coughed uncomfortably. She leaned over him, pressing a hand to his head to check his temperature, sending him a reassuring smile. "Joe can you grab that paperwork over by the table please?" She muttered to him, her hand reaching towards it with a point of her finger as she wandered back over to the water she'd left to boil for Lip's coffee. One of her hands rose to pull her helmet from her head, placing it down on the piano beside her before she shook her hair out to let her scalp breath, having been stuffed painfully tight into braids under that metal for too long.

Several minutes later, the woman held the freshly made coffee in her hands, making her way back towards Lip and Joe as they conversed over the paperwork she had previously talked about. Footsteps made Joe shift his gaze to the door, eyes landing on Webster with an unimpressed look as he emerged into the room with a fresh face and lively expression.

"Sergeant Toye. Long time no see." Webster said as his sweep of the room led his eyes to Joe. The latter man snorted, rolling his eyes in bemusement at the newcomer who Y/N did not recognise.

"Long time, huh, you can say that again." Joe all but sneered at him, causing him to almost flinch at the harsh action. Y/N laid a hand on Joe's shoulder as she approached, leaning behind him and Lipton on the couch, as if she was silently telling him to settle down. She handed Lip his coffee, receiving a quiet 'thank you' in reply.

"Sergeant Lipton, feeling alright?" The new man said, eyes flickering between the first sergeant and Y/N, something Joe was more than aware of.

"He's got pneumonia." The woman expressed, while tucking the blanket she had placed on Lipton tighter around his body with her free hand.

"I didn't know we had field nurses this close to the front." The newcomer said in confusion, his words causing Joe to bristle under Y/N's hand. The woman felt her own annoyance flare up, not because she was assumed to be a nurse as she had no issue with that at all for the nurses were admirable women, but because this man had not stopped talking since he'd arrived, and yet they were still no closer to knowing why he was even here.

"Does she look like a fucking nurse to you Webster?" Joe exclaimed grumpily, his hand motioning to her combat uniform, her newly sown chevrons on display along her sleeve, and rifle that still stayed slung over her shoulder protectively. She squeezed her hand once more over his shoulder before letting go and standing, crossing her arms over her chest as Webster stared at her in disbelief.

"My apologies Corporal…" He replied, leaning forward ever so slightly as he waited for her to finish his sentence. She wanted to be sympathetic, but she was very quickly coming to realise how it was to welcome replacements like she had once been, the frustration and envy she felt from his appearance being so clean alone was enough to cause her to lose her sympathy as she became increasingly aware of the grime that marred her skin.

"Y/L/N." The woman concluded, her eyes not leaving Lipton as she moved to whisper to him, asking if he would be okay without her. With a nod of confirmation, Y/N prepared herself to leave the room, and as he realised this, Joe stood, putting his helmet back on and readjusting his rifle sling.

"Corporal Y/L/N. I'm Webster, Private Webster."

"Yeah, I gathered that." She replied dismissively as she grabbed her things, placing her helmet on her head before walking from the room without another word. Joe smirked at her words, a weird sense of pride swelling in his chest. The man sauntered after her, his eyes staying on Webster as he passed him, dark and menacing when he noted the rifleman peering at her back curiously. His shoulder bumped the Harvard man's when he passed, a silent warning to watch himself around Y/N, before he too disappeared out the door. Joe found Y/N not far from the front door of the building, conversing with Luz as she seemingly waited for him to join her on her walk back to first platoon.

"That was a good one Y/N." Joe said as he approached the two, both of whom turned to look at him wandered over. The woman blinked at him several time without a words before she reached forward in a sudden surge of movement, a look of faux concern covering her face as she raised her hand to Joe's forehead. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his eyes flickering between her and Luz who held the same look of confusion as he did.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked while the back of her hand was pressed gently against his head.

"You feeling okay Joe? You just complimented me." She said, a mocking wide eyed look on her face as she played her role of the worried soldier.

"Ha ha. Very funny doll." The man muttered with a roll of his eyes, while Luz chuckled under his breath behind the two, the amusement clear in his gaze that moved between them. The radioman's stare shifted to Malarkey who had wandered up beside him, watching the two with a similar expression as his.

"My goodness, we should get Gene over here, you just gave me a pet name. It's looking bad Joe, I think you may be worse off than Lip." Y/N continued with a gasp, but a small smirk pulled to her lips when Joe gave her shoulder a playful shove. "So easy to rile up, aye tough guy." She mumbled with a grin as she looked at him one last time before turning and walking off towards their platoon housing. Luz turned his gaze upon Joe when she disappeared, watching as the latter man followed her every step with his eyes. Feeling George's own eyes on him, he shifted around to look at him, taking note of the smirk pulled across his lips as he stared at him with raised brows.

"What?" Joe asked in confusion but his brain slowly connected the dots, Luz speaking clearly of the suggestion he was putting forward with his expression alone. "Don't look at me like that." He continued as the shorter man stayed silent. Luz raised his hands in mock surrender after he slung his rifle over his shoulder, but the smirk never left his lips.

"I wouldn't fault you if you did. She's one hell of a dame." The man said before following Y/N down the street, leaving Joe behind for a moment as said man lost himself in his thoughts.

"He's right you know." Malarkey choked out, and though his face held a dull vacancy, he still managed to send Joe an encouraging smile that quipped at the edges of his lips. Joe looked at the other sergeant for a moment, thinking over the two men's words before he huffed a noise of amusement from his nose, but he covered it with a faux frustrated groan before walking off without another word to follow her towards their platoon.

▄︻デ----══━一

It had become increasingly aware to the men in Easy company that Joe seemed to follow Y/N like a shadow, and with the woman's promotion to corporal for the same platoon Joe was the sergeant for, it was even easier to go about this. The female paratrooper was more than aware of how he lingered constantly at her side, and she relished in the feeling of knowing someone always had her six, especially someone such as the slightly intense man known as Joseph Toye.  They moved like magnets; where Y/N went, Joe wasn’t far behind. The two made a good command team, leveling the scale with a contrast in strengths and weaknesses as Y/N made up for Joe's lacking people skills, while the man gave more of a harsh authority where she held a motherly presence. They held an even stronger sense of comradery, having come so far from their icy ways in Bastogne, literally and figuratively.

It seemed everyone held an awareness for this dynamic between the two. Well, everyone but David Webster, even after he had received his first warning the day he returned. It was a funny thought, the man being such a poetic and literary man, and yet he couldn't read into the protective affinity Joe held for the female paratrooper. It was a common theme for the Harvard man to watch Y/N with a look of intrigue since the moment he wandered back into company after his extended stay in that English hospital. Webster was in luck, having gotten away with it for several weeks now, as Joe's attention was kept elsewhere with more important things to protect the woman from. It wasn't until they reached the Eagle's Nest that things changed, and quickly at that; Webster's luck had run dry.

They had found themselves in an interesting juxtaposition, as the further into Germany they went, the further away from harm they seemed to be, with the surrender of a massive number of German troops. It came with the news of victory in Europe that the men had taken the time to revel, indulging themselves in the liquor that flowed plentifully, a gift from Hitler himself as they rounded up bottle after bottle from the dead man's cellar. Y/N sat happily beside Bill and Joe, laughing at a tipsy remark that Luz had made while sipping straight from a bottle of expensive champagne. Her face screwed up at the taste, not particularly fond of champagne but continuing to like the buzz it gave her.

Webster's eyes had strayed to her as they usually did, an action that Liebgott picked up on. A smirk rose to the cab driver's lips, shaking his head at his friend while taking a sip of Cognac from his glass. The Harvard man shifted his gaze when he felt Lieb looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed while glancing between said man and Skinny who sat beside him.

"Can I help you with something Joe?" David asked with a brazen tone. Liebgott's grin grew wider, a cheeky glint in his eye the longer he stared at Webster.

"No, no. Please, continue your shameless staring." The man countered teasingly, his mischievous nature getting the better of him as he felt the desire to let things unfold without his interruption. Webster's face screwed up as an unease settled over him, knowing that nothing good ever came from Lieb's mischief. He rolled his eyes and turned away, shaking the feeling off and setting his sights back on the woman who he had become quite taken with.

Y/N had felt eyes on her for a while now, but she didn't feel the need to seek out who it was, not caring much as she sat leaning her body just the slightest amount towards Toye's side. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, taking note of the precarious position his arm was in, slung over the back of her seat but not close enough to touch her. She sucked her teeth to conceal her smile, but was caught by Bill who held his own teasing smile, his eyes flickering between Joe's hand and her face. The woman squinted her eyes at him playfully before taking another swig of champagne, downing the rest as the men began to cheer for her. She threw her hands up victorious, the empty bottle displayed for them to see. Joe chuckled beside her, looking over the side of her face, admiring her gleaming smile and the way she had her hair down for once. In a moment of coincidence, his eyes flickered passed her and landed on the man sitting at a distance, staring directly at Y/N. Joe took in the way Webster seemed to hold a starry eyed, school boy expression on his face, causing him to narrow his darkening eyes. His lip twitched unconsciously, his arm drawing closer to the woman without her noticing. Joe's gaze moved towards Y/N when she stood suddenly, on a mission to find another bottle of foul tasting but expensive wine. His eyes followed her figure, and he wasn't the only one as his gaze flickered to Webster once again.

Webster took a deep breath as he watched the woman wander across the room to a table in the corner that held multiple bottles of liquor, a bright smile on her face as she glanced over her shoulder to acknowledge a joke that Luz had thrown to her when she passed him. His hand clenched around his glass before he patted his leg as he stood, causing Liebgott and Skinny to look at him.

"I'm gonna do it." Webster proclaimed proudly, squaring his shoulders before heading over to her. Skinny leaned forward quickly to protest against it, his face showing concern.

"No, Web, I don't think that's a good ide-" The man stopped, turning his head towards Liebgott as he laid a hand on his chest, pushing him back to his seat.

"Shut up, I want to enjoy this." He said with a grin, his eyes trained on Joe Toye as he waited for the man to strike.

Y/N stood at the table, moving aside several bottles as she read over each label to decide what she would drink next. She was oblivious to the man that closed in on her position, his mind running with things he would say as he mumbled to himself different greetings. The woman had shifted in her spot, a new bottle pulled to her chest when she twisted around to walk back to her friends. He chose his words before he opened his mouth to say them as he walked up behind her, only several metres between them. Her gaze moved to him just as he went to take one last step closer only for a larger body to step between them and Webster stumbled as to not walk directly into the brick wall that was Joseph Toye. The taller man glowered down at the Harvard man, eyes dark as he squinted them.

"Where you off to in such a rush Webster?" Joe said firmly, his arms crossing over his chest as a small sneering smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Y/N had stopped walking back to their seats, opting to step up behind Joe, just enough so she could see what was unfolding. Webster's eyes glanced towards her form as she came back into view, and he rolled his shoulders to make himself seem bigger as he looked back to Joe.

"I just…wanted to talk to Y/N." He said, tilting his head up to seem confident in his words even though he was holding back a squirm from how dark Joe's gaze was. The man in question raised his brows, glancing over his shoulder to look at the woman, his grin widening as he saw how she stood closely behind him.

"Bold of you to assume she wants to talk to you." Joe retorted, shifting his eyes back to Webster. The latter man clenched his jaw in annoyance at the interference between him and Y/N.

"And you speak for her why?" Webster shot back, his own arms crossing over his chest. Y/N all but rolled her eyes at the interaction, but let it continue as her curiosity got the better of her, though she was ready to jump in if she must.

"I don't, I just know what she likes, and what she doesn't." Joe said with his smirk reaching ear to ear, his head tilting mockingly as if his words suggested more than what the conversation involved. Webster looked taken aback at the man's words, gaze flickering between the two before him, noting the way Joe had shuffled closer to her, and how she leaned towards him ever so slightly.

"Oh. Oh." Webster raised his eyebrows as if piecing a puzzle together, but at the realisation, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his gaze moved to the floor for a moment. "I..um..I'm just going to…" The man stuttered, his cheeks going red as he realised his mistake, reaching towards the table to swipe the first bottle he could reach before turning around and scampering off with his tail between his legs. As Webster sat back down, head lowered in shame and disappointment, he was aware of the amused giggle that left Liebgott's mouth, greatly entertained by the scene he had watched intently. He only laughed harder when Webster leaned over to smack him across the head in retaliation, dodging the hand before throwing his own back, all while giggling profoundly.

Joe watched Webster go, the smirk never leaving his smirk until he felt a hand grab at his bicep and tugging him towards their friends.

"Come on tough guy." Y/N said, her eyes rolling once more. He couldn't see her face as she had turned away from him, walking in front of him without taking her hand off his arm. He allowed himself to be dragged back to the table and sat back down beside the woman as she too took her seat. All of the men around them held looks of amusement as they looked at the two, before going back to their conversation and drinks when the pair said nothing.

"You're such a pain in the ass." The woman muttered to him beside her, her eyes not looking away from the men in front of her to gaze at him.

"You love it though." He whispered back while leaning closer to her ear, and he watched as the corners of her lips twitched upwards, her eyes glancing at him for a moment before she gave him a gentle shove to the chest.

"Shut up." She threw towards him dismissively causing him to laugh quietly, Meanwhile, her hands fiddled to open the bottle but she failed miserably, letting out a low huff of frustration. He took it from her suddenly, using his hand behind her to hold it and his other to pop the cork before handing it back to her. She muttered a quiet 'thank you', taking a sip of it while throwing her head back. Joe looked at her with a small grin, lowering his hand from where it had previously hovered to open her bottle, letting it lay over her shoulder, his hand hanging over her collarbone. Y/N inhaled quickly, almost choking on her drink while glancing out of the corner of her eyes at him again only for him to look away, gazing up at the ceiling as if pretending he didn’t do anything. She let out an amused huff from her nose before she allowed herself to settle against him, shuffling discreetly closer to him, her shoulder pressed carefully against his side. His smile grew, noting that she did not reject his advance, and he grew more bold as he tugged her closer so her neck rested against the inside of his elbow. Another breath left her nose, almost a sigh of content as she soaked in the feeling, the atmosphere of the room mixed with the man beside her setting her at ease.

Some of the men left early that night, deciding they would take the extra time they had to sleep, while other continued to party late into the night. Y/N felt herself growing more tired by the minute as she snuggled unconsciously into Joe's side. Her eyes seemed to flutter closed every now and then, before one of the men's loud laughs or boisterous words would make her open them once more. She yawned, using her hand to cover her mouth before she turned her face to hide in the collar of Joe's shirt, letting herself slip into a comfortable sleep. She didn't know how long she had been asleep when she felt Joe move underneath her, and she went to groan in annoyance until she felt an arm slip under her knees with another across the back of her shoulders, cradling her to a chest that smelt all too familiar.

"I've got her. I'll see you boys tomorrow." Joe said with a smile as he held the woman close to him, carrying her off towards the room she was staying in.

The man settled her down gently on the bed before tugging her boots off, and throwing the covers over her carefully. He took a moment to admire how peacefully she looked as her hair splayed out behind her on the pillow, low breaths leaving her lips. He smiled once before turning on his feet and making his way to the door, but he paused when he heard her voice call out to him.

"Where are you going?" She mumbled sleepily, one of her eyes squinting open as she looked at him standing a few metres away by the door.

"To bed, baby doll." He replied, his hand resting on the door handle.

"Then get in." Her hand reached towards the edge of the blanket as she held it up for him. His brows shot up and he froze for a moment but quickly made his way over, hopping as he tugged his boots off hastily. He lowered himself onto the bed beside her and he didn't waste any time before tugging her towards him, allowing her to snuggle up against him. She let out a sigh of content as she found her place under his arm, her cheek resting on his chest. She felt a calm feeling rush over her, the tranquillity and warmth he brought her could be compared to nothing she'd ever felt before; all she knew was that with him around, she could never imagine feeling more safe.

"Goodnight Y/N." He whispered into her hair as he planted an affectionate kiss to her head. She let out a hum before turning to look up at him, her gaze staying on him unmoving for a moment. He returned her stare, both of their eyes holding the same look of endearment as the other. Y/N seemed like she wanted to say something as her lips parted but no words left her as she became distracted by him, something she had been many times before. He leaned forward slowly, and she knew in a second what was happening as she met him in the middle, their lips meeting softly. Y/N had moved to lean closer to him, propped up on her elbow as she shifted onto her side, her hand resting on his chest. Joe's hand moved to cup her jaw as their lips moved slowly, tentatively, even though the both of them knew full well that this would happen eventually and neither were shy to think it. Y/N was the first to pull away, keeping her face close to his as she let her eyes trail over his face once more, a fond smile tugging to her lips.

"Goodnight Joe." She muttered back quietly, before pecking him one last time on the lips and then lowering herself back down, her face tucked into his neck. He could feel her smile against his skin, one that mirrored his as he stared into the darkness of the room at the ceiling. Her heart raced in her chest, much like his, and she couldn’t stop grinning until sleep took her and she fell asleep in the arms of her tough guy.

Taglist: @peggyvan (if you want to be added to the taglist for all my fics then flick me a message x)

[jojodelaguerras-wooden-stick]

Some Christian Borle works that I hope vox fans will know about !!

I assume that there are many hazbin fans who are discovering CBorle or my tiktok has just been fueling this misunderstanding. Anyway, live laugh Christian Borle

Spamalot (OBC) - Historian/Prince Herbert/others

He is so funny in this, especially as Prince Herbert and not-dead-yet Fred. Being ragdolled and shaken around by the king as Prince Herbert or insulting Sir Robin with his tambourine as a minstrel

Legally Blonde (OBC) - Emmett Forrest

I know this is one of his most iconic roles but Emmett deserves more love literally the sweetest character and CBorle played as him so well. His "little miss woods comma Elle" AH and the little things that makes Emmett RAHHHHH

Some Like it Hot (OBC) - Joe/Josephine/Kip

Did you know that he does most of this show IN HEELS. Not only that, TAP DANCING IN HEELS like are you kidding. He also wrote some lines for the show! I love the whole show in general, it is so funny and so real in how they talk about identity and how you present yourself. I can write a whole essay but that'll be for another day. I love this show with all my heart

Little Shop of Horrors (2019 off-bway revival) - Orin/others

Speaking of heels, he too was in heels for this production, but much much less than SLiH. Still, the talent is there. Especially when he plays all the different characters, from a crazy dentist like Orin to Skip Snip. He is also super unhinged and likes to drag out his death as Orin to make the audience laugh. I recommend watching the tiny desk concert first if you are not familiar

Thoroughly Modern Millie (Replacement) - Jimmy Smith

There's not much for this show, just a video of him singing What do I need with love. I liked his singing in this and the small details he does during this song to show that Jimmy has fallen for Millie is cute

Mary Poppins (Replacement) - Bert

He may claim that he was the worst tap dancing Bert but he was still a champ for learning all that choreo and even going upside down in step in time. Another one with crumbs :" Gosh what I would give for a boot cuz rn its just the disney on Bway videos and jolly holiday. He did it with Laura Michelle Kelly :)

Me and My Girl (New York City Centre) - Bill Snibson

He did this show with Laura Michelle Kelly too :))) AND THE SHOW IS SO FUNNY it's so underrated and has very funny lines. Someone said that it was basically 2 hours of CBorle being silly. I also love his and Laura Michelle Kelly's dynamics as Bill and Sally. Speaking of this couple, Bill and Sally are literally as healthy as Emmett and Elle and i love that for them

Peter and the Starcatcher (OBC) - Blackstache

Literally my favourite show of his. His blackstache is so animated and silly I love him. And his agility sliding over the trunk and running around. His moments in Mermaid Outta Me ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ silly lil guy. Similarly to Orin, he likes to drag out his hand pain to make the audience laugh. AND HIS CURLS omg this era of CBorle hair is the best imo. And he won his first tony for it! That goes to show something about his portrayal of Captain Hook and how it needs more love !!!!!

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (OBC) - Willy Wonka

A lot of people seem to see this role as the role he went bald for. We joke about Borled Egg a lot but he brought such beautiful unhingeness to this role that really brought out the joy of this show.

Footloose (The Muny) - Director

He also directs! Though there is no boot for this production, he talks about his experience directing and working on the show in some interviews and a reunion zoom call. The cast talks about how he allows them to be free in their portrayal of the characters while giving advice and proper directions, especially since he was in Footloose for tour and bway. I would have loved to watch it since footloose is a show I like too. NaTasha Yvette Williams is also in this!

Anyway, he has done a lot more shows, he's been in the industry for nearly 30 years so he has a lot under his belt and I wish he wasn't just reduced to Vox's VA, Marvin or Shakespeare. He's a brilliant actor with impeccable comedic timing and seriousness. He's not a two-time Tony award winner for nothing!

[somewhere-to-be]

Insatiable - Rhys Montrose x Reader

You're a journalist covering Simon Soo's gallery opening when you meet Rhys Montrose and get a bigger story than you bargained for.

Joe Goldberg is replaced with a reader insert - I'm sorry Joe, I wanted to write Rhys working with a more willing companion. Reader also has questionable ethics because finding out the killer's identity will not be a turnoff or a red flag (later - this is just part 1).

Covering a gallery opening by the rich, for the rich was not a part of your career checklist. But Kate Galvin's galleries were too 'important' to London's snobby elite circle that it just had to be covered. Since the paper's resident art critic was out of town, someone had to attend it. That someone just happened to be you just because you had made the mistake of debating with him about how critics didn't know shit because when impressionism started as a movement, the artists were criticized as being too lazy to complete their paintings. Somehow, he thought it made you qualified enough to cover anything important in his absence. So, here you were, attending this party and seeing art that you actually didn't care enough about so you could make sure it appeared in prominently in the Culture section, letting all the plebians know what they were missing out on. In other words, a snoozefest.

You tried not to feel underdressed in your version of a black-tie attire but it was hard when you knew everyone here had outfits that probably cost more than what you would make in a year. At least there was an open bar and hey - free champagne! You picked up the flute of bubbly wine in front of you, downed it in a go, and picked up another glass. Yet another thing that was probably more expensive than anything you'll ever own.

The paintings themselves were fine but Simon Soo came across as too much of a try hard. You had even got in touch with Kate to ask if he'd want to do an interview - you were going to try to make it a good piece even if you didn't care about it - but he'd declined. Kate had been apologetic enough, she was a professional. She took down your email to send you the pictures of the art to accompany what you were writing, but even she knew it wasn't a big deal if Simon turned down interviews. He got enough publicity anyway and all of his art was going to be sold. After getting done with your 'job' quickly, jotting down a few notes in your phone of the cat paintings hanging on the walls, you looked around at who was in attendance.

You saw the usual celebrities in the crowd - Lady Phoebe with his boyfriend - the American who had opened up the knockofof SoHo House the Entertainment & Celebrity Gossip section spent way too much time talking about. But you spotted another familiar face that you hadn't expected to see here - London's favorite boy, Rhys Montrose.

You'd read his memoir, of course. Everyone had. He was too good of a writer. You'd then also listened to the audiobook with his narration and the way he told his story had mesmerized you. If he decided not to run for mayor like everyone wanted him to and never wanted to write another word again, he would make a killing as a voice actor. But you would still judge him for the name of his book. Good Man in a Cruel World. Come on. Self-important much?

"You're - " "Yes, I am." he said. He greeted you with a smile. "Enjoying the exhibit?"

Two seconds into a conversation with him where you had said one word and you knew why everyone liked him so much. It wasn't just how hot he was - and he did look better in person - but he just had an effortless charm in the way he carried himself. The way he made you think he did actually want to talk to you even though you were sure he must have been tired of meeting his fans at this point.

But when would you get this chance again? You introduced yourself and mentioned you were covering the show.

"Just a stupid fluff piece. As if the internet doesn't have enough cats, real or painted, and for free, without paying the millions for the privilege of a name attached," you finished talking and then immediately regretted everything you had just said. It wasn't a great look to talk shit about the event you were supposed to cover while you were there. Maybe you shouldn't have had that third glass of champagne. You tried to save it with an awkward laugh. "All off the record, of course."

Surprisingly enough, he chuckled. He leaned in and whispered with a conspiratorial smile, "Off the record, I agree with you. But you'll keep my name out of it, won't you? I'm just here as a friend."

"Of course," you said. People would be more interested in reading about what Lady Phoebe had worn anyway. You were relieved that your little slip-up hadn't gone wrong. If anything, he seemed to like you more because of it. Finishing the rest of the drink and very knowingly making the choice to say it that had nothing to do with the buzz you felt from being near him and not just the alcohol, you added,"Besides, you haven't done anything I'd want to write about."

"Is that a challenge?" he said, his eyes twinkling. "Nothing at all?"

You were extremely aware of his complete attention - on you, on the conversation. But you weren't sure if you were imagining it or if he really was flirting with you or if he was just indulging you. You decided to go with option one and play along.

"It's been what? Months? Almost a year? Since you published your book? You've received enough praise for it already. You can't expect it to last forever. What did The Times call your book again? Unflinching, gut-wrenching, and painful?"

"It was unflinching, painful, and humorous, actually," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets.

You smiled at him. It wasn't fair that he got to be handsome, smart, funny, and be not able to take things seriously.

"Well, there you go. You don't need any compliments from me then, do you?"

The way he looked at you, just you, it made you feel like you were the only person in the room there with him. You hated how much it made your heart speed up. You hated how well this worked.

He leaned in to add in a low voice, "I have a terribly insatiable appetite for praise."

Before you could figure out how to react to that, you spotted Gemma coming your way with the Nigerian princess in tow, presumably to talk to Rhys. "Time for me to go," you said, looking over in their direction.

Rhys followed your gaze. His smile didn't go away but it didn't reach his eyes anymore either. He didn't like them but he didn't want them to know it. "Sure you can't stay?"

"I'm sure you can fend for yourself. Unless you wanted to tell me you're running for mayor."

"Ah, I'd love to but I can't."

"You can't blame me for trying. Here's my card," you said, tucking it into the pocket of his suit. "I'd love to hear from you when you do want to tell me that. Or anything."

You slipped away quickly before you could see how that went over. You had flirted with Rhys Montrose and gave him your card. It was entirely unprofessional and it was the most exciting thing you'd ever done.

All that was left to do was eat more bite-sized appetizers until you didn't need dinner and then go back and type up the article.

Until there was a commotion. A girl - couldn't be older than early 20s - in a fur-lined jacket. She splashed red paint. And ran away as security chased after her. There was silence - a general wave of shock - followed by a few murmurs. Was this real? Was this a part of 'the act'? until Simon strode forward and picked up the paint and splashed it on the painting again.

People clapped - they were all too willing to believe this had been an orchestrated performance communicating a message. You knew Soo wasn't that deep. Across the room, you locked eyes with Rhys, who wasn't clapping along.

The crowd dispersed and you hung around, trying to see if you could find Kate for a quote on this surprising new development. There was no point even trying to get to Simon. But she seemed to have disappeared and so did the girl after having been dragged away by security in what definitely did not look like a performance.

Very curious indeed. You couldn't see Rhys either, it was disappointing that he'd left. Not that you thought anything might happen between you, it was ridiculous to think that, right? He hadn't struck you as a flirt from his memoir but there was no way there was anything more there. It was just him having a cheeky little chat. But still, who whispered things like I have a terribly insatiable appetite for praise with that look on his face and not mean something by it?

You were jolted out of your thoughts of Rhys by someone's scream. Was there more to this performance that you'd have to add to your article? As you made your way towards the direction with the others, you saw security hurry past. The doors to the exit were blocked off and soon, you discovered that there was another headline that would be about Simon Soo that would now be on the front page - the one about his murder.

[gamebunny-advance]

Heaven Studio - Vs. Tatiana (aka Vs. Karate Joe) [WIP]

(Original RHRE Version)

- Figure Fighter

- Flockstep

- Samurai Slice (3DS)

- Airboarders

- Rat Race

- Hole in One

+ Sumo Bros

+ Frog Hop

+ Basketball Girls

Okay, so this one is actually unfinished beyond just the lack of visual edits, but I need to let this stuff go, or I'm gonna keep using it as a distraction from other more important projects X(.

Even though this one technically has the most games changed in it, it somehow doesn't feel too different from the original incarnation. Probably because the core games are still intact. The only ones that I'd say were a real loss were Rat Race and Hole in One. Basketball Girls replaces the latter well in terms of sound, but in terms of theming it seems kinda odd. Rat Race really didn't have a good replacement, so I just filled its void with other games already in the mix.

Tatiana's original set of games were based on "things I associate with CEOs," time, swords (or anything else that resembled a clock hand), and trio games to represent B2J and Kliff infiltrating the tower. Anything that didn't fall under those was just padding, so losing them didn't matter so much.

Frog Hop was the replacement for Flockstep due to their similar gameplay and cues, but I actually quite like how easily it slotted into the mix. I almost wish I'd thought to use it in the original mix since Flockstep was kind of a filler game anyway~ (Well, I added it to represent the fans in the audience, but that probably doesn't get across that easily). I'm not quite sure how I would recolor this game though. Should the lead frogs be Mayday and Zuke, or Tatiana and Kliff? Or maybe the Goolings themselves (though I'd have to put their sections in sepia if that's the case)?

I also re-added a "revisit games from the last 5 mixes" section. In the last RHRE version, I only had one section like that, but in the original I think I had 3 or 4 then pared it down to put more emphasis on Tatiana's original games for the mix. Since just enough games from that last version were missing, I decided to work in one more section like that, and I think it works pretty well.

Even though this is unfinished, I'm glad that I was able to at least get to and retain most of my jokes from the original mix. (Tbh, I don't even know how I originally visualized Samuari Slice "stealing" Lumbearjack's "kill," but I think the random Quiz Show is enough of a non-sequiter to be at least surprising if not funny in its own way.)

[harrison-abbott]

Most of us were young and almost

All of them were loud. You were by

Far the quietest and thrown into this place

Of mayhem. With the steam and shouting

And the radio music, and the different

Accents whizzing about. The job was dull

But it was easy and there was never a non-

Eventful shift … You learned how other

People talk in a manic environment and

You learned to raise your voice a bit.

It was hard at first but you got there.

You met other people who were interested

In music and you got jamming with them.

You met girls and learned how to speak

To them and you’d always been super shy

Around that lot and so this was beneficial.

You learned how to stay stuff that was

Funny, and how to avoid saying things

Which were mean. You wrote songs on

The side in between this and university.

Almost every night you’d head out on

The town and drink the beers and you’d

Go home at 3 a.m. and the bakery was

Open with its yellow windows. And you’d

Be able to head into work again without

Being comatose. All of the colleagues

Were ace. There was loud bantering Dave,

And mischievous Steven, and foul-mouthed

Tracy, and big chubby friendly Calum,

And flirtatious Joe, and half-serious half-

Fantastic Pawel, and mentally ill Katia,

And stick-thin Lewis who played electric

Guitar and who joined me on stage; and

Irish Laura with the dyed hair who became

His girlfriend; and Katie with the ginger

Hair and baritone voice; and Scott who

Was totally useless with his job and

Never put any work in but everybody

Loved him because he was funny. That

Was all back in 2014. And I’m remembering

It now because it was ten years ago this

Summer. And the World Cup was on in

Brazil. And they gave all of the staff these

Little mini Brazil tops. Just cheap things.

That was the good thing about soccer.

It brought cultures together. And even

Though it was only a part time minimum

Wage job cleaning dishes it was fun and fine.

Was a real lively environment in which to work.

…………………………………………………

And the World Cup ended and then it slipped into

The autumn and things began to change. First thing

Was that Steven left the kitchen, and a lot of

The banter died with that. He was replaced with

Zoe, who was okay at first. But she got heavily

Overworked because a few other chefs left

Too, so she had to work about 70 hours a week.

She got ratty and she took it out on the colleagues.

And Joe left, and that took a lot of the humour

With him; and the manager friendly Calum

Was replaced with another manager who changed

A lot of the rules. And then the manager above

Him made us close an hour later at night, whilst

Also cutting our hours. So we had less money

And we had to work longer into the night.

And then loud bantering Dave left too.

And so it was just me, Zoe, and a handful

Of others in the kitchen. We had to put up

With Zoe’s wrath, whenever she felt like it.

Lewis and Laura were on the floor staff team.

Lewis got her pregnant. She went four months

Without knowing she was pregnant and then

They were shocked when they found out and

They didn’t feel they were equipped enough

To keep the baby so they decided to give it

Up for adoption. And many of that old 2014

Team left the city altogether. So they weren’t

Even around for pints in the evening. Those

That had replaced the old team weren’t into

Hanging out after the shifts. Lewis and Laura

Had the baby and then they passed it on for

Adoption, and then they left the city too.

And so it was pretty much me left in the joint.

That would have been in the autumn of 2015.

It’s crazy how much can change in a year.

Whereas I had been cheerful going into

Work the previous summer it was all but

Miserable now. I stayed on (miraculously,

Now that I think about it) for another couple

Of years, only because I needed the money

And because I was still studying. And there

Were a few colleagues who came in who

Were sound enough. On the floor team,

A few other cats who were nice folks.

It’s just that that ’14 period was never

Reincarnated. Lost forever. I miss it.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

A post I made yesterday reminded me of how much I enjoy the absolute reverence Nish Kumar has for John Oliver, and how funny comparisons between the two often are. When he was hosting The Mash Report, Nish was often lauded as “Britain’s John Oliver”, as though John Oliver were the only other person to ever host a topical comedy TV show. Though actually comparisons were getting made even without that, as you can see in the start of this short compilation, from before The Mash Report began. At that point Nish was just considered similar to John Oliver because he did political comedy, as though John Oliver were the only other person to do political comedy.

But to be fair, I do see the comparisons beyond just the fact that they both do political comedy and hosted... or used to host... a TV show about it. There’s a similar outlook on the world and a similar “voice” behind it. A particular way to approach serious topics, by starting with just a monologue of things they genuinely believe, and then interspersing jokes and pop culture references and sort of compulsive self-deprecation every few sentences. And if we start with the idea that anyone who’s appeared on a topical comedy panel show has “done political comedy”, then John Oliver and Nish Kumar are both a lot more informed than most people you’ll see talking about that stuff (not more informed than other actual political comedians, but more than what you’d get on an average Mock the Week). They also both have the style I like of filling their points with asides and caveats, to let in room for nuance.

As Stuart Goldsmith delicately pointed out in that first clip (I say “delicately” because he was clearly trying to avoid accuse Nish of “ripping off” John Oliver, and I hope it’s clear that I’m not trying to do that either, comedians being influenced by others is normal and good; it’s how the best parts of comedy carry on as it evolves), I don’t think that’s a coincidence. The views Nish Kumar presents are his own, and so are the jokes obviously, but he was clearly influenced by John Oliver when developing that style. And not just television John Oliver – Nish Kumar has talked before about having been a long-time fan of The Bugle before he started appearing on it in 2016. He’s complained at times about how some of the running jokes in the Zaltzman and Oliver-era Bugle had meant he could never look at Florence Nightingale the same way again. The Florence Nightingale jokes started in 2008, when Nish would have still been in university and just starting to develop his comedy style. Of course that helped shape it, and I’m glad it did. There are thousands of aspiring comedians out there being influenced by Joe Rogan; I’m very happy to see some good guys also occasionally pass on a bit of their craft to the generations that follow them.

So at some point in Nish’s career he did start getting called “Britain’s John Oliver” a lot, by various people for various reasons. Except for Andy Zaltzman, who thinks it’s hilarious to call him “The British John Oliver”, a subtle difference that makes it much more of a dig at the actual John Oliver. Nish’s rise to fame coincided with John leaving The Bugle, where Nish literally replaced him as a Bugle co-host, and Andy Zaltzman dealt with that by making a lot of jokes about John being a traitor, just one of which suggesting that Nish had replaced him in all senses of the word (there were others, and they were just jokes and I’m sure Zaltzman and Oliver were on good terms in real life, but I have heard the words “Fuck you Percy Primetime” out of Andy’s mouth with what I’m fairly sure was at least some genuine bitterness, during the peak of John’s messy and prolonged departure from The Bugle). Now that I think about it, between the early 2010s and the late 2010s, Nish Kumar took over John Oliver’s place as Andy Zaltzman’s Bugle podcast partner, and as a go-to person in Daniel Kitson’s stand-up stories about his friends. It’s possible that Nish Kumar did actually just wait for John Oliver to cut ties and then steal his entire life.

Anyway, this is a short compilation of clips with Nish Kumar + John Oliver (just Nish talking about John, and one brief clip of John responding to the comparisons - I don’t think I know of any video or audio evidence of those two actually interacting with each other, though I might look that up now). The clip at the beginning is funny, as it’s Nish Kumar explaining that you’ll never get accused of ripping off a comedian who isn’t of your race because people never put comedians of different races together in their mind. Obviously, that interview occurred before Nish got famous enough so everyone did, in fact, start comparing him frequently to a white guy. It then goes into some Bugle clips and one from The Mash Report, all of which are, to use a technical comedy analysis term, fucking adorable. Genuinely adorable how obviously Nish reveres John Oliver, how excited he was to finally meet him and get to chase him all over a field, how he was genuinely willing to metaphorically throw hands with Piers Morgan to defend him, and how he took a moment out of his actual TV show to mention it. I’ve heard him go into more detail in some interviews as well, breaking down in more intelligent detail why he admires John Oliver so much, but I really like these clips where he’s just being funny while being really excited about his hero.

[sinceileftyoublog]

John Coltrane Reissue Review: Evenings at the Village Gate: John Coltrane with Eric Dolphy

(Impulse!/UMe)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Not even two years after A Love Supreme: Live in Seattle saw the light from Joe Brazil's private collection, a new John Coltrane treasure has been given to us, unearthed this time by accident. A Bob Dylan archivist, scouring through the archives of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, found an August 1961 recording of John Coltrane with Eric Dolphy at Greenwich Village's long-shuttered Village Gate. While Coltrane's November performances from the same year at the Village Vanguard have long been available, either as part of his 1962 live album or a 1997 box set, this collection shows some familiar players a bit rougher around the edges. Future Nina Simone and Dylan engineer Richard Alderson, who wanted to test a newly found single ribbon microphone, decided to record the set, and everything from McCoy Tyner's restrained piano to, well, the overall sound quality, has the vibe of a group of geniuses still figuring things out, a fascinating snapshot in an ever-changing time in jazz.

In an era where our most revered artists take seemingly forever to release new albums, it's hard to fathom just what luminaries like Coltrane did back then, and the rapid pace of change they faced in a burgeoning music industry. In March, he released My Favorite Things on Atlantic, which yielded surprising hits in adaptations of George Gershwin's "Summertime" and Rodgers and Hammerstein's "My Favorite Things", the latter of which received significant radio airplay. Two months later, his Atlantic contract was bought by Impulse! While he kept Tyner and drummer Elvin Jones in his band, he replaced bassist Steve Davis with a young Reggie Workman and brought on multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy, forming the basis of a live quintet. His studio ensemble grew even larger on the first album he recorded for Impulse!, Africa/Brass, also one of his first to employ two bass players. Eventually, though, he'd settle into the Classic Quartet, Jimmy Garrison replacing Workman for the next several years, the four producing stone cold classics like, yes, A Love Supreme. It's impossible to separate this context when listening to Evenings at the Village Gate: John Coltrane with Eric Dolphy in all of its rawness.

Really, Evenings at the Village Gate is a true moment in time and one of arguable significance, though listening to it is a fascinating exercise. You constantly find yourself wishing you were there to witness it, watching an audience in real time react to where you know jazz would end up. As Jones' pattering drums and Workman and Tyner's steady bass and piano introduce "My Favorite Things", Dolphy subtly flutters his clarinet. Six minutes in, Coltrane announces himself with a brawny saxophone line before blasting streaks of notes above the band. When he very occasionally returns to the song's main refrain, it's like a sigh of relief before he embarks on another freeform journey. Sometimes, you can hear an audience member clapping, thinking his solo has finished, but he keeps going. Dolphy offers a similarly tattered solo on Benny Carter's "When Lights Are Low", while the rest of the band lurches. Tyner's solo, for example, is sprinkled but so low in the mix you can almost clearly hear background chatter in the club, and you can definitely decipher Workman's plucks. The band is risky and adventurous, unafraid to fail.

The final three tracks performed would eventually be recorded, including "Impressions", a Coltrane composition first set to tape in 1962. The version on Evenings at the Village Gate is an early run-through the way a lot of jazz instrumentalists do today. On one hand, hearing him breathlessly and immediately whittle away at schemas of jazz must have been thrilling. On the other, compared to the live versions of the song from months later, on this one, Coltrane embraces true chaos rather than controlled chaos. Only Jones and Tyner are truly honed in here, the former shining with his dexterousness throughout and underrated dynamism in his be-bop duet with the latter. If you've always thought Coltrane's recording of "Greensleeves", meanwhile, sounds a little bit like "My Favorite Things", Tyner somewhat interpolates the latter song as Jones' drum fills pervade the performance. Tyner's two-handed solo mid-way through simultaneously showcases the song's theme and his own phrasing, while Coltrane and Dolphy enter much later, as if they've been stockpiling on reserves before gradually taking the tune to dizzying new heights.

If there's a true highlight on Evenings at the Village Gate, it's of course the only known recorded version of Africa/Brass' "Africa". Art Davis fills in on additional bass drones, with Coltrane on tenor saxophone, and the song feels like the most the band had been in sync all night. Perhaps that's because there's nothing else to compare it to, but the performance is still thrilling taken on its own, from Jones' raindrop pitter patters to Tyner's unshakeable refrain. Coltrane and Dolphy give way to the rest of the band for a while, and the tune slowly ascends as they tease a return, first giving Jones his due with a rolling solo and then actually returning to rapturous applause, skronking and squeaking away. You have to think that some members of the audience had no conception for what they just saw. You also have to think the set made them want to dive in further.

[adultswim2021]

Frisky Dingo #10: “Flowers for Nearl” | December 18, 2006 – 12:30AM | S01E10

This will likely be attached to a future post, but I stumbled on a Friday Night Fix promo (Adult Swim’s online video service that would debut new episodes on Fridays) that advertised this episode’s title as “Ten”, which makes me think these episode titles I’m displaying for Frisky Dingo came at a later date. It could also mean that whoever cut that promo together just didn’t know what the episode title was and didn’t feel like speaking to Adam Reed to figure it out.

Previously on: Simon is still a runaway. The Xtacles are still in danger of having their heads exploded each hour. Xander and Killface are both blind and being human trafficked. The Xtacles are planning to pass off Nearl, the local “retarded wino” as Xander Crewes in order to make the head explosions stop. 

This is a very memorable episode, and I remember thinking this was the best of the season. Standalone isn’t the right word, but there is a story here with a beginning, middle, and end, which is nice. It mostly focuses on the Xtacles giving Nearl a makeover, discovering that he looks exactly like Xander Crewes, and then injecting him with a brain serum to make him intelligent. He fulfills his intended purpose of making Stan think that the Xtacles have indeed captured Xander Crewes to make the exploding helmet thing stop happening.

This is when they learn Nearl’s true nature: the reason he looks like Xander Crewes is because he actually is Xander’s long-lost twin brother. He was hospitalized and abandoned on the streets when the hospital closed. This is how he became a homeless wino (Mr. Ford, the pet shop clerk from the last episode, is the orderly who drops him off). This plot thread ends when one of the Xtacles shoots him in the head point-blank. When the other Xtacles scold him, he defends his actions by claiming he was merely simplifying everyone’s lives, that the “plot” (of their lives, I mean) was getting too complicated and having a long-lost twin in the mix would only make things more annoying. The Xtacles begrudgingly, then enthusiastically agree. Real funny.

We also get a little scene showing where the real Xander winds up: with Killface in a sweatshop manufacturing Awesome-X dolls. Killface is popping off the Xander head and Xander is replacing it with Stan’s. Both of them being blind, neither of them have any idea what they are making. They do, however, find out that Simon is now running a rabbit knife-fighting ring. End of episode. 

Most of the laughs in here come from cultural references. Nearl is lured into the Xtacles’ ship because they told him it’s Babar’s house. The Wammy from Press Your Luck is a looming threat on the DNA testing machine (this scene also includes a bit of audio outtakes from the actor playing Stan. Come on guys, this isn’t Space Ghost. Nah, just joshin’, I think it’s funny, please rip-off Space Ghost more). There is a run of the 70/30 dickheads yet again flexing how well-read they are by recalling plot details of Flowers for Algernon (the plot of which largely inspired this episode, obviously), Harrison Bergeron (we get it, you’ve read Vonnegut. WELL SO HAVE I SO FUCK YOU BITCH), among other things. I think. Actually the next thing they reference is Tom Bergeron, so maybe I’m overstating things.

Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam is also referenced. I’m embarrassed to remember this but at the time this episode aired I did not know this band and thought the reference was instead to THIS SONG, which I knew because in the late 90s my mom bought it for me for Christmas. She was concerned that even though I was a teenager I did not ask for a single music CD, so she bought me Pauly Shore’s stand-up album, which had that song on it. Earlier this year I randomly found this video and realized I actually saw it in 1991 on MTV. Not only that, it was literally the first time I ever watched MTV in my whole life. I remember my friend Joe, a fellow kid who was also not allowed to watch MTV, turned to me and said “that’s why I love MTV, there’s so many babes!”

The apex of the exploding head gag is reached when one of the Xtacles mentions that he’s missing his kid’s recital, and they cut to a little girl at a piano in front of an audience at a school auditorium, sighing because her dad isn’t there and proceeding with her performance. She (and his new baby, being held by his wife shown in the crowd sitting next to an empty seat) is wearing an Xtacles helmet. The idea that his kids would have Xtacles helmets on, as if it’s an inherited trait, is so exquisitely stupid that I love it. The joke turns dark when they realize she’s susceptible to Stan’s random on-the-hour head explosions. Guess what happens next? This is a serious contender for the funniest joke in the entire series.

So that’s this one, a real peak for the series as a whole, and very likely the best episode of the season! I’m glad I got to it!

[SORRY THIS POST WAS POSTED LATER THAN USUAL I WAS JACKING OFF TO THE PAULY SHORE VIDEO]

[battingforhours]

Basin Reserve, Wellington: Day Two

Even though much of the evening sessions on days one and two have been washed out (well, more of a drizzle) England still find themselves in a staggeringly strong position in this match. Their relentlessness with bat and ball leaves opponents little room to manoeuvre and even less margin for error. New Zealand look particularly frazzled here.

The session of day two, which had begun half an hour early, offered quite the contrast in fortunes. At one end, there was plenty of dubious cricket, where wickets fell with regularity:

- Harry Brook struggled to regain his imperious timing from the previous day, chipping a return catch to Matt Henry in the third over to depart without adding to his overnight score.

- Ben Stokes replaced him and played what is becoming a frustratingly familiar innings — equal parts watchful, sumptuous and silly. One late cut down to third man stood out in particular, but he once again threw his wicket away playing a very low percentage shot to a shorter ball. He’s a much better player than this.

- Ben Foakes managed to trip over when coming down the wicket, comically attempting to save himself by shoving his feet backwards whilst prone on the floor, but he was out stumped.

- Stuart Broad arrived, swung hard, stole a few runs and then swept over the top of a full delivery from Michael Bracewell.

- Ollie Robinson connected with a couple, was given a reprieve by a stunningly unexpected dropped catch behind the stumps, but decided to chip the next ball to mid-off.

At the other end, whilst watching his partners all finding ways to dismiss themselves, Joe Root was helping himself to some handy runs that eventually nudged his Test average back above 50. Having played himself in for three balls, he unfurled his reverse scoop and collected six runs. He timed the ball better than anyone else, making perfect connection with a slog sweep over cow corner that drew a purr from the crowd. Ben Stokes surprised everyone by cutting this sublime effort short, calling his team in at 12:20 with Root 153* — such a well crafted innings, changing in tempo as it moved the match further in England’s favour.

New Zealand did not fare brilliantly in the brief period before lunch. Devon Conway was nicked off by some classical Jimmy Anderson seam bowling, despite the complete absence of an appeal from the keeper. Kane Williamson then played a baffling shot, prodding out at a length ball with a back foot cover drive that was merely edged to Foakes for another catch. The championship-winning captain looks a shadow of his former self at the crease, which is sad to see. 12/2 at lunch — once again, Stokes earns reward for putting opponents in positions they don’t want to be in.

Will Young had been brought into the side to bolster the misfiring batting lineup, but he struggled to escape the same fate as his dismissed colleagues when facing up to Anderson’s examination. It meant New Zealand emulated England in being 21/3, although the expectation from this point was that lightning was not about to strike twice.

Henry Nicholls did show glimpses of his runscoring ability of old, cleanly driving down the ground and sweeping Jack Leach hard once he was introduced into the attack. Tom Latham, the top order’s lone survivor, was also playing assertively against Leach — one shot down the ground in particular made a real statement of intent. Unfortunately for both, it would be their undoing.

First, Latham. He played a reverse sweep to Leach, appeared to glove it up in the air and was caught by slip. Rod Tucker had no hesitation in raising the finger; Latham had no hesitation in raising his arms to review it. Aleem Dar spent a long time comparing angles and judging the lines on Snicko for a decision that appeared to be a fairly obvious not out. And yet at the end of his one-man deliberations he decreed that the umpire was to stay with his original decision. He was evidently unable to conclusively rule that the ball had not flicked the glove strap on its way up to the arm guard, so the original decision was retained. Latham was not happy. A local fan directed some abuse to him for his shot selection. It was a tough scene at 60/4.

Nicholls had escaped unharmed after a couple of attempted sweeps earlier in his innings, but for him too it was the reverse that dismissed him. The ball was too short for the shot, particularly given it had started to really bounce quite sharply at times on the second day, and he merely edged it into his pad and watched the ball plucked from the air by a tumbling Ollie Pope at short leg. Things were looking rather problematic for New Zealand at 77/5.

The wickets had brought together the stars of the 2021 tour to England, Daryl Mitchell and Tom Blundell. Both had made runs in the previous game, although not simultaneously. This seemed the chance to stop the bleeding and recover the innings. Mitchell had driven the first ball of his innings back past Leach for an impressive boundary, but then played quite watchfully. As tea approached, Stokes and Leach took time to bring what had been a fairly defensive field up into a more attacking one. They were offering runs if Mitchell was willing to take the risk with a solitary ball to be bowled before the break. He chose a defensive shot, but the ball looped off the face and gave Ollie Pope a whiff of an opportunity — he moved forward with the shot, snatched the ball from the air and celebrated the catch. 96/6 as the teams walked off for tea. England can do no wrong at the moment.

Michael Bracewell has some talent with the bat, but seems to be someone that has never made it hard for anyone to get him out. This latest soft dismissal saw him chip a ball very tamely back to the bowler, giving Broad his first wicket. Tim Southee walked out at eight, struck two big sixes, and helped Blundell through to a premature close of play at 16:45 when the rain started to fall with sufficient strength.

The small matter of a three-hundred run deficit with just three wickets in hand faces New Zealand at the resumption of play on day three. There are few signs that they have anything in reserve that can halt England’s serene progress towards a second victory here. Perhaps they can surprise everyone tomorrow. Perhaps they will have to follow on. Or, most likely, they may have to spend another day chasing leather around the Basin Reserve as England pile on a big score.

[danwebster37]

Basin Reserve, Wellington: Day Two

Even though much of the evening sessions on days one and two have been washed out (well, more of a drizzle) England still find themselves in a staggeringly strong position in this match. Their relentlessness with bat and ball leaves opponents little room to manoeuvre and even less margin for error. New Zealand look particularly frazzled here.

The session of day two, which had begun half an hour early, offered quite the contrast in fortunes. At one end, there was plenty of dubious cricket, where wickets fell with regularity:

- Harry Brook struggled to regain his imperious timing from the previous day, chipping a return catch to Matt Henry in the third over to depart without adding to his overnight score.

- Ben Stokes replaced him and played what is becoming a frustratingly familiar innings — equal parts watchful, sumptuous and silly. One late cut down to third man stood out in particular, but he once again threw his wicket away playing a very low percentage shot to a shorter ball. He’s a much better player than this.

- Ben Foakes managed to trip over when coming down the wicket, comically attempting to save himself by shoving his feet backwards whilst prone on the floor, but he was out stumped.

- Stuart Broad arrived, swung hard, stole a few runs and then swept over the top of a full delivery from Michael Bracewell.

- Ollie Robinson connected with a couple, was given a reprieve by a stunningly unexpected dropped catch behind the stumps, but decided to chip the next ball to mid-off.

At the other end, whilst watching his partners all finding ways to dismiss themselves, Joe Root was helping himself to some handy runs that eventually nudged his Test average back above 50. Having played himself in for three balls, he unfurled his reverse scoop and collected six runs. He timed the ball better than anyone else, making perfect connection with a slog sweep over cow corner that drew a purr from the crowd. Ben Stokes surprised everyone by cutting this sublime effort short, calling his team in at 12:20 with Root 153* — such a well crafted innings, changing in tempo as it moved the match further in England’s favour.

New Zealand did not fare brilliantly in the brief period before lunch. Devon Conway was nicked off by some classical Jimmy Anderson seam bowling, despite the complete absence of an appeal from the keeper. Kane Williamson then played a baffling shot, prodding out at a length ball with a back foot cover drive that was merely edged to Foakes for another catch. The championship-winning captain looks a shadow of his former self at the crease, which is sad to see. 12/2 at lunch — once again, Stokes earns reward for putting opponents in positions they don’t want to be in.

Will Young had been brought into the side to bolster the misfiring batting lineup, but he struggled to escape the same fate as his dismissed colleagues when facing up to Anderson’s examination. It meant New Zealand emulated England in being 21/3, although the expectation from this point was that lightning was not about to strike twice.

Henry Nicholls did show glimpses of his runscoring ability of old, cleanly driving down the ground and sweeping Jack Leach hard once he was introduced into the attack. Tom Latham, the top order’s lone survivor, was also playing assertively against Leach — one shot down the ground in particular made a real statement of intent. Unfortunately for both, it would be their undoing.

First, Latham. He played a reverse sweep to Leach, appeared to glove it up in the air and was caught by slip. Rod Tucker had no hesitation in raising the finger; Latham had no hesitation in raising his arms to review it. Aleem Dar spent a long time comparing angles and judging the lines on Snicko for a decision that appeared to be a fairly obvious not out. And yet at the end of his one-man deliberations he decreed that the umpire was to stay with his original decision. He was evidently unable to conclusively rule that the ball had not flicked the glove strap on its way up to the arm guard, so the original decision was retained. Latham was not happy. A local fan directed some abuse to him for his shot selection. It was a tough scene at 60/4.

Nicholls had escaped unharmed after a couple of attempted sweeps earlier in his innings, but for him too it was the reverse that dismissed him. The ball was too short for the shot, particularly given it had started to really bounce quite sharply at times on the second day, and he merely edged it into his pad and watched the ball plucked from the air by a tumbling Ollie Pope at short leg. Things were looking rather problematic for New Zealand at 77/5.

The wickets had brought together the stars of the 2021 tour to England, Daryl Mitchell and Tom Blundell. Both had made runs in the previous game, although not simultaneously. This seemed the chance to stop the bleeding and recover the innings. Mitchell had driven the first ball of his innings back past Leach for an impressive boundary, but then played quite watchfully. As tea approached, Stokes and Leach took time to bring what had been a fairly defensive field up into a more attacking one. They were offering runs if Mitchell was willing to take the risk with a solitary ball to be bowled before the break. He chose a defensive shot, but the ball looped off the face and gave Ollie Pope a whiff of an opportunity — he moved forward with the shot, snatched the ball from the air and celebrated the catch. 96/6 as the teams walked off for tea. England can do no wrong at the moment.

Michael Bracewell has some talent with the bat, but seems to be someone that has never made it hard for anyone to get him out. This latest soft dismissal saw him chip a ball very tamely back to the bowler, giving Broad his first wicket. Tim Southee walked out at eight, struck two big sixes, and helped Blundell through to a premature close of play at 16:45 when the rain started to fall with sufficient strength.

The small matter of a three-hundred run deficit with just three wickets in hand faces New Zealand at the resumption of play on day three. There are few signs that they have anything in reserve that can halt England’s serene progress towards a second victory here. Perhaps they can surprise everyone tomorrow. Perhaps they will have to follow on. Or, most likely, they may have to spend another day chasing leather around the Basin Reserve as England pile on a big score.

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

[massivetyrantduck]

We're back! Incorrect quotes part 3 let's go

Warriors, texting in the group chat: I wonder what Apple shots would look like?

Steam(im experimenting with names for him): *Sends a picture of of a syringe with an apple slice shoddily edited inside*

Legend: *Sends a picture of a shot glass with an Apple poorly drawn inside*

Hyrule: *Sends picture of person dunking a Basketball into the hoop but replaced the basketball with a poorly resized apple*

Warriors: I hate all of you.

~

Steam: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Legend: Not by the law!

~

First: I’ve invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Wind , nodding: Knife Monopoly.

First: I was actually going to play Russian roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

~

Twilight: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

Legend: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Sky: Fuck you.

~

First, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK??

First, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

~

Time: Wake me up-

Steam: Before you go go

Wild: When September ends

Warriors: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

~

Time: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Wild: Bet you I can!

Steam: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~

Time: Guys where did Wild go?

Twilight: They got arrested.

Time: How the hell-

Wild: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

~

Wind : I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Hyrule: Sky is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Wind .

Sky: I feel like Wind is the more responsible one of us two though.

Wind : We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Sky: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

~

Wind : Oh, my God. Do you know what this is?

Time: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.

~

Legend: Maybe the real monster was the friends we both literally and figuratively murdered along the way.

~

Twilight: So... what’s goin’ on?

Steam: You want the long version or the short version?

Twilight, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Steam: Shit’s fucked.

Twilight: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

~

Hyrule: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

~

Time: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon.

Hyrule: Cool.

Time: Do you know who Joe is?

Hyrule: JOE MAMA!

Wind , not even looking up from their phone: Damn, that backfired.

~

Time: I have an idea.

First: A good idea?

Time: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

~

Legend: We’re about to do the tazer challenge. You want in?

Twilight: What's the tazer challenge?

Steam: We taze eachother, then drink. (no Steam my hc is that ur 17 and my hc is drinking age in hyrule is 18 dont underage drink)

Twilight: How do you win?

Legend: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

~

Warriors: Do you have a bobby pin?

First: Yeah. *searches in their hair*

First: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

~

First: Some of us are still ‘it’ from a childhood game of tag.

Steam: way to just fuck me up on a Tuesday.

~

Time: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Hyrule: Mine just says "Hyrule no."

Time: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

~

Twilight, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Legend: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

~

Hyrule: My assistance will be an act of beneviolence.

Legend: ...Don’t you mean benevolence?

Hyrule: No.

Legend: *proud mentor noises*

~

Legend: I'll offer you some friendly advice-

Wind : I don't want your advice.

Legend: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

~

Hyrule: You know, studies show that keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun.

Hyrule: That's why I own TEN guns.

Hyrule: Just in case some maniac tries to sneak in with a ladder.

~

Time: Stressed.

Four: Depressed.

Twilight: Possessed.

First: Obsessed.

Wind : Impressed.

Warriors: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Warriors: I just wanted to join in.

~

Hyrule: Good morning.

Wind : Good morning.

Wild: Good morning.

Warriors: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Four: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS!

~

Warriors: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob.

~

Four(Blue and Vio): BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm.

Time: That is not something you actually have installed.

Four: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

~

Time: If I run and leap at First, they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Time, running towards First: Coming in!

First: No! I’m holding coffee!

First: *Drops coffee and catches Time*

~

Time: You know you can die from that, right?

Sky: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.

Wind : *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.

Legend: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

[lyrebright]

Everything about S1 of TMA from like, the last five episodes on is just really hype, but the final two episodes--which, alongside the closing statement of MAG038 really just feel like one long finale--kick it up to an wholly new level.

And it's very cool.

MAG039 is here,

and so is the worm wife

(and her worm kids)

(who are very hungry)

MAG039 is entirely and definitely my favourite episode of TMA thus far. It's got so much.

archives crew interactions. jon's facade finally cracking. joe spooky.

Okay so. I'm going to be all over the place with this episode because FUCK chronology apparently

So in my last post I mentioned I was going to leave my thoughts about the Table (You Know The One) for this one because. Well.

(Two for two for homophobic furniture :/)

Ironically the night before I listened to MAG039, I was discussing TMA with friend @jackassrabbit and we got to talking about the statements that had really gotten us, and I mentioned a very early statement that had still stuck with me--MAG003, "Across The Street."

I actually mentioned this in a post really early on in my liveblog tag, but the gaslighty unreality of someone being replaced but only you knowing is a deep seated irrational fear of mine. So I remembered this statement because of this conversation with my friend.

And then my friend said this:

Which, uh. Definitely put me in the mind to be paying attention and remembering MAG003, both because I was intrigued and it is, again, a personal fear I was now bracing for.

When I was joking in an earlier post about Sasha having the gumption of a horror movie final girl I should have know that was me cursing her to not have their survivability.

my friends who like to bully me so much

rest in peace queen

the MOMENT she went into artefact storage I was like Oh No She's Dead because I was now VISCERALLY REMEMBERING the MAG003 table and the fact that it was in there

Audio work was a lot for this episode actually btw

I had to yank my earphones out when Sasha screamed ):

HONESTLY I'm sad she's gone and I'm gonna be stressed about the FAKE SASHA NO ONE REALISES IS FAKE for forever but at least she went out as episode MVP

Saving Tim. Corkscrewing Jon's worms. Setting off the fire alarm. Going to bug Elias about Saving Her Boys. Sasha James I have feelings for you and now they are sad ones.

Speaking of feelings. Jon ♡

Glad to see him finally having that mental breakdown (they would soon regret this statement); when I said that I thought his skeptic act was breaking down around him j didn't think it was like. Actually an act?

Like Jon as a paranormal happenings denier has been super interesting because it wasn't a case of flat out denial, because there were things he clearly did believe in even if he was trying to rationalize it, so his confession that he's been feeling Watched this entire time and has been suffering Rampant Paranoia is...i have thoughts but theyre not solid yet. They're percolating.

Thinking back to how tired and strung out he seems post "real" statements now like I noticed with the knowledge that he Feels Watched during them is also like Oh That Makes Sense

BTW "you didn't...die here, did you?" would 100% win funniest line in any other episode but unfortunately here it has to compete with joe spooky, so

This conversation between Jon and Martin made my heart go aww though.

God. In any other episode Tim would have won MVP (unfortunately for him Sasha exists and never will again so SHE gets play of the game). Even though he didn't quite take the crown I love him.

WORM WKFE

hi jane

she says only one word but I love her so much

God this got long I will. Give MAG040 it's entirely own post and end this one here, I am so sorry.

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

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TBC :)