#but ford has set the bar SO LOW

[atalana]

so like genuinely nothing against fiddlestan shippers, i don't quite get the appeal of the ship but you do you, glad you're having fun

i do however find it one of the funniest things to come out of the gravity falls revival

bc like im sure to the people shipping it its perfectly wholesome and above board (and also tends to be set pre-memory gun)

but the only thing i can think every time i see it is "yeah i hit that guy with my car at least twice and im still a better boyfriend than you"

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

[sloshed-cinema]

Rango (2011)

Las Vegas was a mistake. Where films like Chinatown or Who Framed Roger Rabbit tackle the dark side of the development of Los Angeles in some form or other, Rango is in a way a similar approach to the monument of hubris and human folly in the desert that is Sin City. When would-be thespian and all-around chameleon out of his habitat Rango stumbles into a frontier town called Dirt, he quickly learns they’ve got a water crisis. And as is tradition with this sort of matter, of course the politicians are never the true controlling or corrupting hand in the mix. Never! There are plenty of colorful characters and Wild West archetypes to explore, from the feisty gunslinging love interest holding out on selling one final land deed to the mayor to the gaggle of saloon ne’er-do-wells to the old dude with the bristly mustache who sounds like a rusty door hinge. As a chameleon, if you will, Rango slips effortfully between various Wild West caricatures himself as the need fits him, easily digging his own grave deeper and deeper only to escape at the last second. Similarly, a heavy leaning on the visual stylings of John Ford Westerns makes for fun action set pieces where the filmmakers combine gambits we’re familiar with and this specific world. An endless pursuit of stolen water is replete with low-horizon images of our heroes on roadrunner-back as they traverse Monument Valley. Bats with Gatling guns and musical accompaniment dive-bomb our fleeing caravan after a bottle of water has been retrieved, and make airplane noises when they crash and explode. This race to and from becomes, if you will, Mad Max: Furry Road.

The approach to character design in this is equal parts clever and gleefully horrifying. The bristle-mustached feller is an owl, so his pointed nose is his upper beak, but his lower beak? What happened to it? Where did it go? Why does that bar wench frog lady have giant frog tits? Why does the mayor’s turtle face remind me so much of the bad guy from A Bug’s Life? There’s also a very perplexing Goofy and Pluto situation. Most bird characters in the film are sapient, and yet they ride roadrunners because it’s a fun gag. Our villain predators—Rattlesnake Jake and the hawk—are both more animalistic in form, but only one of the two speaks. Interestingly, both have fun metal mods: the hawk has a metallic beak tip, and Rattlesnake Jake’s tail is a Gatling gun. Why are some insects actual insects, and others part of this town? The answer is “because a character designer thought of a sick-ass way to make a snaggle-toothed scorpion dude for one scene so it made the cut” and fuck it, that’s FINE.

In a year when meta is so exhaustingly oversaturated (oh boy, I can't wait for more Deadpool killmenow), it’s wild to see something so self-aware in an earlier form. Opening with commentary from our adorable narrator mariachi burrowing owls who ferry us through the film, the story wastes no time in letting us know it knows what it is. Rango literally breathes condensation on the fourth wall to draw a rectangle and put himself in a frame, which is both the screen and the glass of his habitat from which he is about to escape. He will break the fourth wall, if you will. Along the way he encounters briefly “himself” in a nod to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and the Spirit of the West is a gruff Clint Eastwood type who also draws that same rectangle. I mean, it’s no Ryan Reynolds making asinine pop culture references which will be irrelevant 15 seconds after release, but it’s something.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'quest' or 'water'.

The mariachi owls show up in a scene.

Direct camera address.

Isla Fisher's "Western" accent gets very dicey.

BIG DRINK

Humans appear in a scene.

Someone gets pricked by cactus thorns.

The hawk shows up.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Oh hell yeah I have!

If you don't know what we're on about - come on under the Read More, you really want to see this.

So, Morgan is a British car company that just… keeps building the same cars. And not like how Ford has been building the F-150 for a while. To illustrate the difference: here's a '56 F-150, left, and a 2023, right...

...and here's a '54 Morgan, left, and a 2020, right.

But let's take a car that makes even bigger a deal of its heritage and tradition: here's a 1940 Jeep next to a 2007…

...and here's a 1937 Morgan next to a 2021.

Basically the most substantial stylistic update in 84 years was the camera.

Well, at the turn of the millennium, Morgan set off to make its first new design in nearly four decades. Something more aerodynamic - hence the Aero 8 name! Something more technologically advanced - for instance, no structural components being made of wood! (Yeah, the bar was pretty low there.) Something like a "Morgan supercar", as they presented it.

The result looked, well… shall we say "striking"?

But you want real striking? How about the AeroMax it evolved into a few years later!

And of course, to truly christen it as a real supercar, they also had it compete in GT3. And it does indeed look like the result of an alternate timeline.

But if you’ll allow me a fun lights story: Look back up at the left column of the old/new comparisons. Notice something? The headlights are all the same! That's because the shape of your headlights was mandated by law - 7" circular 'sealed beams', as they were called. My car uses them!

This meant any set of replacement headlights was compatible with any car! How great! But while the standards did expand over time -four smaller lights, rectangular ones (it was the 70s, how could they not have a thing be rectangular), four smaller rectangular ones, etc.- the possibility to design more aerodynamic and/or expressive headlights seemed just too neat, and over time designing your own headlights became allowed and, due to aerodynamic and aesthetic advantages, almost instantaneously standard.

Be careful who you call ugly in the first half of 1985.

However, to this day headlights remain an absolute bitch to design and manufacture and most importantly incredibly expensive to homologate - if you're a Ford or a Toyota that's no problem, but if you're a manufacturer whose cash flow looks less like “two sales a second” and more like “two sales a week” it’s really not a trivial expense. Luckily, Morgan -and most other low volume manufacturers- can just still keep using the standard headlights it always used and get by with the standard taillights they make for buses or trailers, and hey presto, not their problem!

But what do you do when you’re trying to make a sleeker, more modern design and those old school lights are not going to fly?

Well, one solution is just to use smaller, more modern off-the-shelf LED projector lights...

...and maybe also encase them in a housing to make it look like they're custom headlights.

But what if that just doesn't work with the design you're going for? Well, you can just borrow someone else's work!

Be careful who you call ugly installed on a Lancia Thesis.

Indeed, most low volume manufacturers like Morgan either use standard or otherwise off-the-shelf lights or just purchase them from bigger manufacturers. (And by the way, car people love to recognize parts from one car in an otherwise unrelated one. If you want to approach someone who's into cars just tell them "Did you know the TVR Cerbera used the taillights of a Mk3 Ford Fiesta? The different shape is just a housing!". Guaranteed hit. It's very forward as an approach but they'll be too shocked to notice.)

Indeed, the Aero Morgans used more aerodynamic headlights from other cars - the New Beetle and the Mini.

But the noteworthy thing is how.

See, those lights were modeled to follow the outwards curve of the New Beetle and Mini front ends, so Morgan, who placed them on the inwards curve of the fenders, just... switched them around so they'd curve inwards instead.

So if you need to replace your right Morgan Aero headlight, the right headlight is a New Beetle headlight, but not the right headlight, the one that's left on the New Beetle. Unless you took the left one, making the one that's left the right one, which is not the right one because in the Aero it's not the right one because they made the one that's left the right one. Unless you have a newer Aero, where the headlights are bigger because they are Mini headlights.

...come think of it it's quite astonishing I've gone through my entire life without ever getting stabbed.

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

do you have any good facts about gt3 cars or gt3 racing? currently foaming at the mouth for some of the cars in that class

I have a good fact about this ask! I viewed it and the notification went away and I completely forgot about it until I was brushing my teeth so here we are now!

One cool fact is the team that runs itasha liveries, Goodsmile Racing, which I mentioned in my post about itasha, which if you don't know is... well... this.

As far as the rest goes, my knowledge of GT3 cars is shallow enough that anyone invested enough in them to ask will know all I do. But, on the off chance that you don't and to entertain the public:

This is a Ford GT.

And while it's bigger than the 1960s racecar it's inspired by and by its mid-00s revival, it's really not that big! It's under 4.8 m (188 in) long and 1.1m (44 in) tall. That's about the length of a Camry and three quarters the height. Squish a Camry real hard, basically.

This is a BMW M8. It's not that small. It's a whole 23cm (9in) taller than the GT. It's a touch narrower, but its race version is instead 18cm (7in) wider than the GT's.

This creates a rather striking difference in size when they are side by side, which, given they compete in the same class, often happens.

Now, some Japanese exaggerated that size difference with image editing because he thought he was funny.

He was.

This sparked a series of "Big M8" memes that got progressively more overboard.

"But aren't these GTE cars?", you may object.

And yes. They are. I just didn't know the difference when I started writing this post. So that's how much I know about GT3 cars.

I guess I could tell you some fun facts about the road cars they are based on - like that the first Audi R8 was based on parts from both these cars!

While chassis and powertrain were heavily shared with the Gallardo due to Audi's Lamborghini ownership, the R8 also had a "base" V8 trim that used the engine from the RS4 (aka the Real Sporty version of the Audi A4 - of which by the way Father had and thoroughly loved the convertible, exquisitely competent car! Turbo issues aside I thoroughly recommend).

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[murderousginger]

Wear You Like A Halo

Peaky blinders 

Cops & Robbers Part 4

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Steamy kisses. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 6.5k

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @blinder-secrets @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @theshelbyclan @peakascum

In true Tommy fashion, the kiss was never spoken about once it happened. It had been a short, soft kiss. One that could have meant anything, and the possibilities left you more conflicted than the goodbye kiss to John ever could have. 

In the weeks after that night, everything had stayed relatively the same. The Shelby's still came in and conducted business or drank. You still helped Harry keep the bar in order. And you and the Shelby men still were on good terms. John had been distant for a time after that night; he had slowly started coming back around and you both were trying to find the new line that the friendship needed to be built around.

One day when you had come into The Garrison early, you were taking care of the few day customers while Harry worked on paperwork when Finn came running in. 

"(Y/N)," he said, bounding up to the bar, "I was hoping you were here."

"'lo Finny," you said with a smile. "I came in a bit early so Harry could catch up. Why were you looking for me?"

"Tommy asked me to get you and Lizzie," he said, looking nervously at the patrons at the bar. "He said 'go get (Y/N) and Lizzie Stark, it's her off day from being secretary, and take them both to my office' and that's what I'm after." 

"Oh did he?" You ask with a raised brow. "I suppose what King Tommy wants, King Tommy gets. Let me go talk to Harry and we'll be on the way."

Finn nods excitedly and you walk to the back. 

"Harry?" You called as you walked to the back office. "You got a moment?"

"Sure, sure," the man waved you in. "What do you want? I was almost done. One of the regulars driving you mad?"

"No, not that," you said as you leaned in the doorway of the small office and rubbed your arm. "Tommy has Finn at the bar, said he's here to fetch me to bring to the office for something."

Harry's eyes shot up from the paperwork and his brows knitted together. He licked his lips, dropping the pen and taking a deep breath before speaking. 

"(Y/N)," he started kindly. "I know you've known the Shelby's since you were children. I know," he paused, looking for words, "I know you care for them. And them for you, as far as I've seen. But be careful."

You tried to give him a confident smile, but it mostly felt forced.

"I'm careful, Harry," you said. "I've done plenty you wouldn't approve of before working here. I'll do plenty you don't approve of now."

"I have no doubt, little bird," he chuckled. "But you can only play with fire so long before something burns."

You nodded. 

"I know," you said quietly. Harry gave you a long look before smiling and nodding toward the hallway.

"Off with you," he said gruffly. "Tell the regulars I'll be out in a moment. Tell them not to help themselves in the meantime."

You smiled and nodded again, walking back to the bar.

"I'll be back," you called behind you. 

When you got back to the room, you told the regulars to wait on Harry in the back, and you gathered your coat from behind the bar.

"Let's go, Finny," you said, and smiled as he raised his arm for you to take. 

You let him lead you to the vehicle and open the door for you. You crawled in as he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat. Finn turned the ignition over and off to Lizzie's apartment down the road you went. 

Finn left you in the car to fetch Lizzie. You decided to scoot to the middle of the bench and straddle the stick shift to allow her the passenger seat so no one was forced to sit alone in the back. A few moments later you saw Finn escorted Lizzie out of the building and to the car. 

"(Y/N)," Lizzie said stiffly. "Do you know why Tommy wants us on my day off?"

"No clue, Lizzie," you said as Finn got in on the other side of you. "But I'm sure it's not regular business." 

Finn stiffened beside you and hesitated, but you weren't sure why. He started the vehicle and apprehensively shifted into first gear. 

"Well obviously he didn't want me for regular work if he's sending Finn," Lizzie said. "But why is he asking for us both?"

Finn drove slower than usual down the road, and you weren't sure how long it would take to get to the office at the current speed. 

"I wasn't told nothin'," Finn said, still putting slowly down the road. "I already said so."

"Yes, Finn," Lizzie said sharply. "We know your brother doesn't tell you anything. I was asking if (Y/N) knows."

You shrug, both shoulders touching the other two. 

"I didn't know I was asked for until Finny interrupted my work at The Garrison," you said, still noticing the Ford hadn't picked up speed since you left Lizzie's apartment.

"Oh for fucks sake, Finny," you said exasperated. "Push the clutch in, will you." 

You grabbed the shift between your legs and shoved it into second gear. 

"Yes ma'am," Finn gulped as he did what he was told and the Ford picked up speed. 

Lizzie chuckled. 

"Looks like you have a virgin Shelby after you as well," she said.

"Shut up, Liz," You said angrily. "He's a boy. Not everyone is ready to look for your services."

Lizzie quieted and held a scowl.

"Now can you be a man and shift or do we need to pull over and I drive?" You growled at Finn. 

"I'll drive," he said, edge in his voice. "Tommy told me to pick you up. He won't take kindly to you driving me back."

"I highly doubt Tommy would scold you if I took over the car," you said. "But I won't sit in first gear the entire trip. So grow up."

"Yes ma'am," Finn murmured, hesitantly grabbing the shift between your legs and moving into third gear. 

The rest of the drive took much less time.

When you arrived, Finn opened the passenger door and helped you both out of the car before leading you up to Tommy's office. He knocked on  the closed door twice before Tommy called out "come in" in a rough voice. Finn opened the door for you both and let you walk to the chairs in front of Tommy's desk before closing the door behind you. 

"Sit down, ladies," Tommy said, head buried in paperwork and glasses on his face. "Let me look this one paper over and then I'll be right with you."

You both apprehensively took the two chairs and sat stiffly, eyeing Tommy. As you waited in the silence, you couldn't help but look Tommy over. 

Tommy's brow were tightly knotted as he read whatever paper was in front of him. His glasses barely hung on his nose, and his right hand held a cigarette that had been burning without his breath for quite some time. When he finally looked up, he looked at you first. His face relaxed as he noticed the intensity of your stare, but all emotion was soon hidden behind a blank face. 

"What do you want, Tommy?" You said, breaking the silence. "Why are we here?"

"Right," Tommy said, clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair and looked between you both. "We have business, and we need" he paused, looking for the word, "decorations, with us. Distractions." 

"You need women so they don't look so hard at you," Lizzie said blankly. Tommy nodded. 

"Exactly," he said. "But we want women we can trust. They know Polly and Ada are family, and this isn't a family event. We need you two to come along and give them something to look at." 

"I'm not a whore, Tommy," you said angrily. "I'll not be traded."

"No trading," Tommy said, arms open as he tried placating your fears. "And no whoring. We just need you to pretend to be our girls while we talk." 

"You need us to pretend to be your whores," Lizzie said with agitation. "So they'll be looking at us and you won't be asked to be with theirs."

Tommy nodded. Lizzie pursed her lips and gave a short nod. You squinted at Tommy. 

"Can't you just bring whores for that?" You said.

"I don't trust whores," he said agitated. "I trust you. Now will you do it or do you need to keep fighting me?"

"It's not like you're really asking us," you snap back. 

"You're right," he said. "I'm not. We'll get you a nice set of dresses and pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I'll tell Harry you're off, (Y/N)."

"Fine," you both mutter. Tommy's blue eyes looked sharply between you both before he nodded more to himself than to you. 

"Dress not so low on my back, please," you say softly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Right," he said, jaw clenching. "Be off with you. We'll see you tomorrow. Someone will deliver the dresses before then."

You both stood up and numbly walked out of the office. Once out of the building, you both paused, seeing Finn had already left with the car. Lizzie lit a cigarette.

"I see how he watches you," she said through her exhale of smoke. "But I'm the one he visits at night when his head is too loud."

"He still pays you, though, doesn't he?" You said quietly. "He pays you because it keeps you distant. It writes you off. He might go to you, but it's a transaction."

Lizzie froze, anger bubbled just beneath the surface. She dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and stormed off toward her apartment. 

----

You were nervous through the night and into the next day. You didn't know exactly what you would be doing that night other than being pretty and quiet. 

Isaiah delivered the dress and matching heels around lunch. You tried to offer him tea or a snack but he waved you off.

"Nah," he said. "I've got more running to do," he walked backwards to the road. "But have a good time at the party. I peeked at the dress." 

He sent a wink that left your mouth agape as he ran down the road to finish doing whatever errands were given to him. You hugged the box to you and disappeared back into your home. 

You looked closely at the blue box before you finally had the courage to open it. You unwrapped the paper within and gasped at the sleek silky slip dress below. It was the same blue as the cotton one you had bought that was now your favorite. It had beading along the shoulders and heels dyed and beaded to match. You ran your hands over it lovingly, knowing the price they must have paid was far higher than you could ever afford. 

You got ready over the next few hours, curling your hair, putting it up off of your shoulders, putting on lipstick and getting dressed. You had found a small matching clutch in the box that you decided to place your lipstick and a few dollars in as you waited. You hesitated, looking at your small knife before slipping it into the bag as well.

Shortly after seven you heard a car park outside. You decided not to wait for them to come and get you, and instead stepped out of your home and locked the door behind you. 

"We were coming to get you, like a lady, (Y/N)," Arthur called from the street waving his hands in the air as he walked to you. 

"John and Tommy have never treated me like a lady in my life," you said, "no reason to start today."

"That's why I was comin' for ya," Arthur said as he gave you a side hug. "You look perfect. Lizzie's already in the back seat. In you go." 

He opened the door and ushered you in. You slid in, seeing Lizzie against the other door looking out the window and John in the middle seat giving you a wicked grin. Tommy was sitting in the passenger seat in front of you. Arthur shut your door as you settled in and he moved around the vehicle to the driver's seat. 

"Hello hello," you said, nudging John and looking between everyone. "Nice night for criminal activity, eh?"

"Don't worry about the business part," Tommy said. "Just enjoy the party and look pretty."

"And keep my mouth shut?" You said, leaning back.

"And keep your mouth shut," Tommy answered.

"And what's to happen if I don't?" You challenged.

"Do you ever shut up?" Lizzie said as she looked at you. You looked over John and glared at Lizzie.

"We all don't have history of being paid to be discrete, Liz," you shot back. "Can't help your price is so low."

"Enough," Tommy said loudly. "We're all going to this party and you both will be quiet. We'll do our dealings and be out without a problem. I chose you because you're loyal and can handle business. Don't make me regret it."

The car was silent. After a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat and asked Tommy a question, breaking the hold on the car. 

John looked to you, nudging your shoulder.

"You look good in that color," he said in a quiet voice as the conversation continued in the front seat. You smiled. 

"I see you're still trying your charms," you said.

"No harm in it," he said, pulling a pick from his pocket and placing it in his mouth. "We've been both called to business."

"Why didn't you have your wife come?" You asked. "She's got to be more trustworthy than --" 

You nodded to Lizzie, who was looking out the window. John's eyes softened.

"Can't be having both my favorite girls in danger at once," he said. "And someone's got to look after the children when I'm gone."

You wanted to melt, to feel the bloom of warmth that wanted to expand in your chest, but all you felt was cold.

"You'll never be gone, John," you said, nudging his shoulder with a sad smile. "Shelby's are too stubborn to die. You'll be a dirty old man making all the girls uncomfortable with your wink."

John gave a brief smile and rolled the pick in his mouth from one end of his smile to the other with his tongue. 

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "Until then, I'm here. With you. Might as well enjoy it."

You smiled and squeezed his arm before resting your head on his shoulder. You looked out the window to see Tommy's eyes meet yours in the side mirror. His face was perfectly blank but his eyes held a storm that you weren't sure of the cause. 

----

The car arrived at a gorgeous large home surrounded by land just as dusk darkened the sky. 

"A party?" Lizzie said. "We're dressed for London and going to a party."

"It's a good cover for business," Arthur said. "Little fun, little business, and dirt on those that stay the night."

"Oh," she said. "That sort of party." 

You felt Lizzie shift uncomfortably in her seat and immediately felt on edge. You looked over and finally noticed her dress was very similar to yours, only a mustard color with brown beading. She picked at the beading near the bottom of her dress.

"We'll take care of ye," Arthur rumbled. "Stick close and smile and it'll be over before you know it."

"Who's to be matched with who?" You asked and fidgeted with your clutch. The car stopped in front of the house and a boy came to take the keys from Arthur.

Your question was ignored and the doors opened for you and Lizzie. You stepped out in your heels, feeling the gravel crunch below your feet. The game was on. 

John exited the car on Lizzie's side and took her arm to escort her in. You nervously looked back to the house and felt a touch on your shoulder. 

Tommy had lit a cigarette and was taking a long inhale of the smoke as his hand was outreached for yours. He nodded as the smoke rose from his mouth to his nose, disappearing back into his lungs. You smiled and took his arm, stilling yourself for a moment in preparation. 

You and Tommy led the pack through the doors, shortly followed by John and Lizzie, and Arthur trailing behind. The house was massive and bright. Men talked in groups and women similarly dressed to you were peppered in. Dark corners held couples kissing and drugs. You watched people closely as Tommy led you to a side den and what you could guess was the host. 

"Ah yes!" Tommy exclaimed, mentioning the man's name, but you were so nervous you immediately forgot it. "Beautiful home. Thank you for having us."

"Tommy Shelby," the man said cooly, leaning against a fireplace. "Thank you. I see you brought your brothers."

The man looked to be middle aged with a mustache. His brown suit was nice and he held a glass of liquor on ice. He looked intently at you and Lizzie, up and down like he was looking over a horse at the market.

"And who are these beauties?" He said as he clicked his tongue. You did your best not to drop your smile. "I told you I would provide the entertainment tonight."

"You did," Tommy said, "but we Shelby's prefer a bit of Birmingham with us wherever we go."

"I see why," the man said, holding his hand out to take yours. You let him. 

"(Y/N), Pleasure. And this," you said, deflecting his eyes off of you, "is Lizzie."

Lizzie murmured her pleasantries and smiled and Tommy cleared his throat, bringing the man's attention back to him. 

"Right," he said. "So shall we have a drink and talk business, or talk business and have a drink?"

"Tommy," the man jested. "Always to the point. I have a few other matters to attend to, so best you men get these ladies a drink before. Enjoy the party. I'll be back shortly."

The man walked away and your group was left to wander the party. Tommy touched the small of your back and led you out of the den. Your stomach was butterflies when you walked into a larger living area with multiple large ornate couches. He motioned for you to sit on the couch and John ushered Lizzie beside you. 

"We'll find you two drinks," John said as he looked around the crowded room. "Stay here."

"You need three men to get five drinks?" Lizzie said dryly. "Sounds like a Shelby."

Tommy rolled his eyes before looking down at you both perched on the couch.

"We'll be back shortly," he said. "Just stay here and you'll get your drink."

"Gin," Lizzie sounded.

"Whiskey," you said after.

"Always whiskey," John said with a wink before the brothers left to find the alcohol. 

"They're scoping out the layout," you said as you watched the crowd, "It's as much the alcohol and girl watching as it is the job."

Lizzie opened her mouth and then clamped it shut as she saw a man sit on the arm of the couch next to you. She smiled and touched your hand.

"I think I'm going to find my own drink," she said, looking from your eyes to behind you with a tight smile. You watched her leave the same direction the boys did and jumped when you realized a man was sitting on the arm of your seat, looking down at you like a predator. 

"May I help you?" You said, leaning away from the man to look up at him. 

"You shouldn't have been left alone," he said as he fingered the dark beading of your dress on your shoulder. "I can get you a drink. Are you a gin or vodka girl?"

"No thank you," you said, scooting into the middle of the couch to get away from his reach. "I have a drink on its way."

"Oh now," he said as he slipped onto the seat where you had sat. "No need not to be friendly."

His hand slid onto your thigh and played with the dress at your knee. Your teeth grinded together as you looked up at his smirk.

"I said no," you said. "Do you need to hear it again?"

The man's smirk slowly turned into a look of confusion as he looked down at your hand holding a small knife against his crotch. No one around you seemed to have noticed your interaction.

"(Y/N) I've got your whiskey--" John said as he barreled toward the couch holding drinks in both hands. He stopped directly in front of you when he noticed the man. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at your hand holding the knife before he gave you a careful look.

"Thank you, John," you said as you slid your knife back into your bag and reached for your drink. "I was just telling this man--"

"Roy," the man supplied in a daze. His eyes moved between you and John, who smirked down at you as he handed you your drink. Roy's hand slowly moved off of your leg and onto his own lap.

"Roy," you said, "that I already had someone to get me a drink." 

Tommy and Arthur walked up behind John before Arthur passed him to sit beside you and Tommy looked at Roy over John's shoulder. 

"Where's Liz off to?" Arthur said, his arm slung over your shoulder as he took a drink. 

"She told me she was getting her own drink," you said evenly, meeting Tommy's hard eyes as he soaked in the situation. 

"Right," Roy said, seemingly snapped out of his daze. "It looks like you have proper company. Nice to meet you."

"John," Tommy said, eyeing Roy's departure, "Go find Lizzie." 

"Right," John said with a grin. "Let's hope she's not threatening to cut off a man's balls, too."

Arthur laughed. Tommy stiffly took the seat beside you, both hands holding drinks. You sipped yours and returned to watching the crowd, all too aware of how close you were next to Tommy. 

Tommy quickly downed the first drink before putting the empty glass near the foot of the couch. You looked over at him curiously.

"How were you to cut off balls without a knife, (Y/N)?" He rumbled, drinking from his second glass slower.

"Who says I didn't have a knife, Tommy?" You said with a raised brow.

He hummed, running the glass across his lip before taking another drink. Arthur finished his drink and stood up to get another. 

You had gotten used to an arm around you and shifted in your seat, growing anxious without the weight to ground you. You shook as you looked around, untethered while the rest of the party buzzed around you. A couple took the other side of the couch and it only unnerved you more.

You looked over at Tommy, who watched you silently, taking in your every movement with his cool blue eyes. You watched him claim a cigarette and matches from his pocket with his empty hand and give you his matches. He looked at you expectantly but didn't say anything.

You wrapped your fingers around a match and pressed it against the box, sparking a flame and letting it lazily caress the cigarette between his lips until it caught fire. 

Tommy leaned into the corner of the couch with his drink in hand and his other arm on your shoulder, pulling you into his chest until you were draped over him. He reached around you, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and blew the smoke above you both. 

"You're shaking," he whispered into your ear. "Relax. And for fucks sake behave from now on." 

You found yourself melting into his side, grateful for the touch. You people watched with him in comfortable silence until John returned with Lizzie on his arm and Arthur and the host in tow.

"Tommy!" The man said cheerfully, his cheeks much redder than before. "I found your entourage, but it looks like you snuck away for a moment's silence. I'm ready to talk business in my office if you are."

"I'm always ready for business," Tommy said, giving you a small squeeze before ushering you both to your feet. 

"Great!" The man said. "Follow me."

The man turned to lead and Tommy rested his hand on your hip, pulling you beside him to follow. Lizzie scowled and burrowed into John's side as you passed. You slowed a step but Tommy's hand pressed into your hip to urge you forward at his side.

The man led your group to a study before and sat behind a large wooden desk. He pulled a decanter of alcohol from a cabinet, pulling out four glasses with it. He waved to the three seats in front of him. 

Your boys took the three wing-back seats and Lizzie sat upon the arm of Tommy's seat in the middle. You decided to look at the library of books along the wall. 

You heard them all talk, but you mostly paid attention to tone rather than words. You ran your fingers along the books and noticed most of them sounded scientific or mathematical in nature. A lot had to do with statistics. You froze as the tone shifted in the room. You looked over your shoulder with your hand still on the bookcase when you heard John call your name.

"Come sit over here, little bird," John said, using Harry's nickname for you, and patted his knee with a smirk. "You're making our friend nervous."

You smiled shyly and walked over to John before pausing above him. He patted a knee of his splayed legs again. You gritted your teeth before sitting on his right knee, your legs in between his and your hip against the arm of the chair. His hand wrapped around your waist and rested on your thigh as the conversation started again. 

You tried to focus on the conversation about horses in front of you, but you felt John's hand loosen it's hold on your leg and move to play with the beading at your left shoulder. You turned slightly and shot him a look to stop but his eyes were intent on your skin. 

John's brows furrowed and he tried moving the beading off your shoulder. You shrugged him off and whispered a hiss at him. He stopped for a moment and nodded for you to look ahead. You paused before doing so, feeling him lean forward behind you. 

You froze in place when John slid his hand under the strap and it fell down your shoulder. You eyed Arthur and Tommy as John nuzzled your bare shoulder and pressed his lips to it. Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth in his closed mouth as he watched John. Lizzie perched on Tommy's chair smirking at you. 

Tommy's jaw ticked but he didn't look over to you two once in his conversation. You slowly pressed your heel into John's instep until he hissed against your skin and moved the strap back onto your shoulder. 

You closed your eyes, knowing full well what he discovered. Your tattoo. Even when you had gone swimming with him in the dead of night, clothes thrown to the edge of the pond, you had always been careful not to show him your shoulder. You hadn't worn low back dresses in years. You were sure people thought it was for modesty, but in truth you didn't want to show the world that you had a tattoo. You loved it, but it was for you and you knew how society treated tattooed men. You didn't want to be seen as a freak for your own.

You sat still as stone for the rest of the meeting, and John returned his hand to your lap. You could feel his cocky grin behind you and you fumed at the blatant disrespect of boundaries.

When the business wrapped up, the men all shook hands and said their pleasantries and you all were ushered back into the party. When the host drifted off, you twisted in John's arms and smacked this chest.

"Don't you ever touch me like that again," you growled, trying to keep your voice down. Tommy and Arthur moved between you two and glared at you both. 

"What was that?" Arthur said and glared at John. 

"Our (Y/N)'s marked," John said, licking his lips as he eyed you. "And it's not fresh. How many more surprises are you hiding under there?"

"Marked?" Arthur said, looking at you in confusion. "Like a tattoo? How'd you find someone to give you that?"

"You can find them," you said shortly. "This isn't about my tattoos, this is about you" you jabbed your finger at John's chest, "not respecting me. You have a wife."

"More than one, eh? The only way to get a good look at your shoulder was to play into what I'm seen as, innit?" John said and laughed. "No one asks when ol' John boy gets frisky. They continue on with business, and now I know your secret."

John's eyes sparkled as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Tommy watched you two closely for a moment before he stepped directly in between you. 

"Right," he said, causing you both to step back to give him the space between. "We've done what we came here for. I would have said let's enjoy the party but no one can fucking behave long enough. We're done here, let's go home."

Lizzie laughed and Tommy raised a finger at her.

"You're not innocent, Liz," Tommy said, glaring at her. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

You all followed Tommy out of the house like scolded children. A boy brought the car around and you all went back to the seats you had before. 

The car was quiet. John was all too happy with himself beside you; Arthur looked bothered but confused as he drove and Tommy watched you too closely through the side window as you looked out into the dark.

"(Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence as the car turned into the road from the long driveway, "what is your tattoo of?"

"It's not a branding or an allegiance, Tommy," you said combatively, hugging yourself. "I wanted it. Thought it was pretty. It's only meant for me."

"And what is it?" Tommy pressed, growing agitated. You glared at him through the side mirror.

"That's between me and whoever falls in my bed, innit?" You shot back. 

"And me," John said teasingly. "Do I get to fall in your bed tonight, (Y/N), or are we still worried about Esme?"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he doubled as he clutched his side. 

"And here I thought you were a good girl with bad company," Arthur said. "Turns out you have some secrets, don't you little bird?"

"A knife and a tattoo all in one night," Tommy mused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Not my fault you got more than you bargained for," you said. "Isn't King Tommy supposed to have us all figured out, like? With his big brain?"

You stared defiantly at Tommy and he regarded you back. The ride was a quiet standoff between you and him the rest of the way. Lizzie scowled out the window the entire ride. When Arthur dropped her off she left the car without a word and went into her apartment without looking back. 

You touched the door handle and opened your mouth to tell them you'd walk home from there when Tommy interrupted.

"Get out, I'll take (Y/N) home myself," Tommy said. 

Arthur and John both started to protest. Tommy raised a hand, quieting them.

"I need a talk with our little bird," he said. 

You let go of the handle as if it burned you and shrunk next to John in the back seat. He instinctively wrapped his arm over your shoulder.

"Tommy," Arthur protested. 

"Out," Tommy said again before he opened his door and then yours. 

"Night, John boy," you said softly as you unwrapped yourself from him to get out of the car. 

"You haven't called me that in weeks," he murmured surprised. "Night, (Y/N). You'll be fine. Tommy's just being Tommy." 

John eyes softened and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. You got out of the car and moved around Tommy to sit in the passenger seat. Tommy closed both doors.

John and Arthur reluctantly got out and moved aside as Tommy sat in the driver's seat. You could see John worrying his lip as they both watched as Tommy turned the ignition and drove you both down the road. 

He drove until the brothers were out of sight, and then took a turn that was opposite of your home.

"I have a hard time placing you, (Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence. "There are times you're strong and about men's business. And in the next moment you're young. Too young."

"Why can't I be both?" You ask.

Tommy didn't answer, instead he looked off into the distance and nodded. 

"Why do you lock us all out of that head of yours?" You asked, knowing you wouldn't get a true answer. You passed a bridge and he slowed and moved to the side of the road and parked.

"I let someone clear out that which needs clearing out," he said stiffly, looking through his pockets for a cigarette. 

"I'm not talking about Lizzie," you said gently. He stilled for a moment before continuing his search for a match. You pulled the matchbox from earlier out of your clutch and lit one and held it out for him.

"Why do you two hate each other?" He asked as he leaned over to light the cigarette and returned his gaze to you as he inhaled the smoke.

"We don't," you said quickly. "Or at least I don't hate her. I think in a way," you said as you blew out the match and fidgeted, "we both know there's only so many spaces for women in the Blinders, and we're not Shelby, so we've only so many places to fit."

"Insightful," Tommy said more to himself than you, "but young."

"I'm not that much younger," you grumble as he opened his door. "John and Ada's age."

"Young enough," he said and stepped out of the car. "Let's sit by the water and talk."

You got out and numbly followed him to the waterside, feeling the cool night air on your skin. Tommy laid his coat down on the bank and motioned for you to sit. You both looked at the water in front of you. 

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight," he said finally. 

"You told us nothin' of what we was doing and I was leaning on my friend to help me," you retorted. "You also saw me put him in place when I thought he was crossing the line--"

"When did you stop trusting me, (Y/N)," Tommy interrupted crossly. "Because most of this night taught me you don't. The knife." 

He scoffed.

"Was used for its purpose when I was left behind," you retorted, turning to him in anger. 

"Could have ruined us," he hissed. 

"Don't dangle me like a prize and I won't have to defend myself," you hissed back. "Maybe I stopped trusting you when King Tommy decided no one was smart enough to know his plans."

"Drop the king bit," he snapped. 

"Or what, Tommy?" You sneered. "You'll teach me my place? What is my place, Tommy, or do you not know yourself?"

"You are the most aggravating girl in bloody Birmingham," he said under his breath.

"Says the biggest git--" 

Tommy's hand swung around and grabbed your jaw forcefully and his whiskey-heavy lips crashed into yours before you could process. His kiss took every bit of air out of your lungs and you fought your head as you kissed him back hungrily. Your tongues fought each other for dominance as his grip on your jaw tightened and pushed you away. 

"What's your tattoo, (Y/N)?" He said testily as he looked you in the eye. 

"What's this, Tommy?" You snapped back defiantly. 

Tommy growled and let go of your chin with a jerk of his hand. 

"So fucking young," he growled. 

He stood up and dusted his pants off. 

"Let's get you home," he said finally. 

You glared up at him, watching him put his blank face on like armor. The window closed for seeing into Tommy Shelby's mind. 

"Sure, Tommy," you scowled. "Let's just pretend this never happened, too, eh? Like you haven't tasted my lips."

You stood up and stomped off to the car, slamming the door closed as you collapsed onto the passenger seat. You crossed your arms and looked over, gathering a terrible idea. 

You slid over and placed the shift between your knees like you had sat when Finn drove the day before. 

Tommy slowly made his way up the waterbank, new cigarette in his mouth as he opened the door and got in. He looked at you with a raised brow when your shoulder bumped with his, but quickly rolled his eyes and started the car. You looked forward out of the window, arms crossed, trying not to look at him as he grabbed the shift and slammed it to first gear. His hand stayed on the shift stick the entire painfully quiet ride to your home. Neither of you would fold. You could feel his eyes on you at times but you refused to look at him.

Tommy parked the car in front of your home and turned it off. You moved to get out of the car but Tommy's warm hand dropped from the shift to your thigh as he blew out a breath in frustration.

"I didn't like it," he growled as you froze. You refused to respond or turn to him.

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight and I didn't like it," he growled with a clenched jaw.

You looked down at your lap as he let go of your leg and you nodded tightly. You slowly leaned to the door and opened it, letting yourself out into the night and into your warm apartment. You didn't breathe until you locked the door behind you.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - February 26th

The Breaking of the Fellowship. It has an ominous beginning:

The day came with fire and smoke. Low in the East there were black bars of cloud like the fumes of a great burning. The rising sun lit them from beneath with flames of murky red.

In the morning, Aragorn calls the Fellowship together and asks Frodo for his choice of which direction to take, to Mordor or to Gondor. Frodo asks for an hour’s peace and solitude to decide, but comes no closer to a decision. Sam is the one member of the Fellowship to understand him - he says the same thing to the Fellowship as Frodo says to Boromir. Frodo knows he has to go to Morodor, but is afraid to do it.

But by the time Sam says that, Boromir has already left the rest of the Fellowship found Frodo. When Boromir attempts to take the Ring, Frodo put it on and flees to the summit of Amon Hen and, wearing the Ring, sits in the Seat of Seeing.

Frodo sees signs of war everywhere he looks:

The Misty Mountains were crawling like anthills: orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes. Under the boughs of Mirkwood there was deadly strife of Elves and Men and fell beasts. The land of the Beornings was aflame; a cloud was over Moria; smoke rose on the borders of Lórien. Horsemen were galloping on the grass of Rohan; wolves poured from Isengard. [The First Battle of the Fords of Isen was the previous day.] From the havens of Harad ships of war put out to sea; and out of the East Men were moving endlessly: swordsmen, spearmen, bowmen upon horses, chariots of chieftains and laden wains.

All that we see, in the books and even in the Appendices, is only a part of the full scope of the War of the Ring.

And then Frodo looks at Barad-dûr and suddenly senses the Eye of Sauron becoming aware of him, and looking for him, first to Amon Lhaw on the river’s other bank, then to the pinnacle of Tol Brandir in the middle of the river, tracking towards Amon Hen.

He threw himself from the seat, crouching, covering his head with his grey hood. He heard himself crying out: Never, never! Or was it: Verily I come, I come to you? He could not tell. Then as a flash from some other point of power there came to his mind another thought: Take it off! Take it off! Fool, take it off! Take off the Ring!

The two powers strove in him. For a moment, perfectly balanced between their piercing points, he writhed, tormented. Suddenly he was aware of himself again. Frodo, neither the Voice nor the Eye: free to choose and with one remaining instant to do so. He took the Ring off his finger...A black shadow seemed to pass like an arm above him; it missed Amon Hen and groped out west, and faded.

Two key points. First, the Voice is Gandalf; as he later tells Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli: Very nearly [the Ring] was revealed to the Enemy, but it escaped. I had some part in that: for I sat in a high place, and I strove with the Dark Tower; and the Shadow passed. Then I was weary, very weary; and I wandered long in dark thought. Gandalf briefly overstepped here; he is not supposed to compel, as he was doing in the moment Frodo fels himself poised between Voice and Eye, but to guide and give people the freedom to make their own choices, even in truly dire situations like this one. And that is what he ultimately does: he counters Sauron for an instant to give Frodo a moment to choose, and Frodo chooses rightly.

Second, this is the first moment since Rivendell that Sauron has had clear knowledge of the Ring’s location; he doesn’t know exactly where it is, but he has a good idea. His later decisions are extrapolations from this. He knows a halfling has the Ring; he knows that Saruman captured two halflings and sought to bring them with all speed to Isengard, and that shortly after a halfling looked in the palantir of Isengard. He thinks that Saruman obtained the Ring. But Saruman was defeated, and Aragorn and Gandalf were there; either of them might now have it. Aragorn looks in the palantir, outright threatens him, and then commands an army of the dead - Sauron’s particular power of necromancy. From that time on, I expect he’s quite certain Aragorn has the Ring, right up until the Battle at the Black Gate.

Saruman also strongly suspects the Ring was here at Amon Hen: he was likely the one sending the crows that were watching the Fellowship in Eregion, and has been spying on them with birds on the trip down Anduin. He definitely thinks Merry and Pippin had the Ring at that point; after Éomer’s destruction of the orcs, he fears the Rohirrim have obtained it and so throws all his forces at Rohan. During the parley, at the time he throws Gandalf’s offer of clemency and release back in his face, Saruman may even believe Gandalf has the Ring. Certainly, believing that Gandalf controls and commands the Ents is more in line with Saruman’s attitudes than recognizing them as independent beings with their own priorities.

In short, the plots and plans of all the major figures in the War or the Ring stem from here; and fortunately - because Frodo has loyal friends who insisted on coming along, and thus the Fellowship has excess hobbits - Sauron and Saruman are both mistaken.

So here the Fellowship breaks:

Frodo and Sam row across the lake to the east shore and set off across the Emyn Muil in the late morning. They miss the orc attack entirely and do not know that Merry and Pippin are captured. Gandalf knows that Frodo and Sam set out towards Mordor, but no more than that.

Aragorn sits on the Seat of Seeing but can see nothing of note except “far away...a great bird like an eagle high in the air, descending slowly in wide circles toward the earth.” Gwaihir, certainly - perhaps carrying Gandalf down from the “high place” where he countered Sauron?

Boromir is killed by the orcs, and Merry and Pippin are captured (Merry cuts the arms and hands off several orcs). Pippin awakes in the orc-camp in the evening and overhears the orcs arguing about him and Merry. The orcs fight, killing some of each other, and Pippin is able to cut the bonds on his hands and replace them with loose loops of rope to disguise them. The orcs carry the hobbits like sacks until early night, and by then have reached the far side of the Emyn Muil on the borders of Rohan. The orc scouts report being detected by a horseman. [The horseman brings news of the orc-band to Éomer.] The hobbits are made to run all night, with whips behind them, but Pippin is able to run off to the side and leave footprints and the elven-broach from his cloak to be detected by Aragorn. (He sees every now and again “a vision of the keen face of Strider bending over a dark trail and running, running behind.” The source of this vision is never explained, so far as I can tell.)

Yes, that’s right, Pippin manages both to free his hands and leave signs for trackers on the same day that he is first captured by orcs. What a good hobbit!

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli tend to the body of Boromir, mourn him, and set off in pursuit of Merry and Pippin to rescue them from the orcs. They reach the Emyn Muil by dusk and continue climbing through them for most of the night.

Additionally, in the aftermath of the First Battle of the Fords of Isen (which occurred the previous day and night), various Rohirrhim who were scattered in the Isengard attack return to the fords. News of the death of Théodred son of Théoden reaches Erkenbrand at Helm’s Deep; he assumes command of the Westfold and send riders towards Edoras with the news of the battle and an urgent request for reinforcements.

[somestansomewhere]

Debbie Gallagher: ALL Love Interests RANKED

Okay! I tried to rank all of Debs’ love interests and it was hard to do because I am not set on that ONE PERSON that I ship her with above all else, but these are my thoughts! Keep in mind that these are all MY OPINIONS and you are entitled to yours as well! Let’s talk about it! If you read all this ILY.

Here we go:

...................................

23. The Guy At The Pool (Season 5)

He thought Debs was special needs and she tried to flirt with him...

22. Kelly (Season 9-10)

I LOVE Kelly so much but she was not into Debbie! I really love her with Carl and Debbie should not have tried to interfere! I will however say that I really really REALLY enjoy their friendship and I wish that that would have continued on. They had some really good moments together.

20/21. Eugene (Season 6) & Board Game Guy (Season 7)

Alright so these two don’t technically count because Frank tried to set Debbie up with Eugene so that she’d be written into his will. And the Board Game Guy was from a deleted scene as one of Debbie’s “life partners” from that flyer she made. So enough said.

18/19. Tyler (Season 6) & Erika (Season 6)

Again, Frank attempted to set Debbie up with Tyler and while that “potential relationship” wasn’t as bad as what happened between her and Erika, I am grouping them together because Debbie wasn’t technically into either of them and it was set up to fail right from the start.

17. Larry (Season 6)

The pregnancy fetish guy! I’m not quite sure what the intentions were for this character in the long run but it was a funny joke in the episode he was in. Even in the beginning Larry gave off red flags, but Debbie was happy... until the truth was revealed. Weird.

16. Jared (Season 11)

Another irrelevant love interest: the gay guy that cheated on his husband with Debbie after giving her cocaine. Obvious issues with this encounter/plot line aside, I did feel that their interactions at the bar were flirtatious and I didn’t hate him.

15. Calista (Season 11)

ANOTHER irrelevant character that was used and never brought back!!! I didn’t totally hate her either, she was upfront about her ex-girlfriend and that whole situation. She helped Debbie and didn’t take advantage of her but the second she came on screen; I’m sorry but I did not give a fuck. Her last episode built up a potential friend/relationship opportunity for Debbie and they just did nothing with it. Idfk what else to say, not a fan but I did appreciate Calista trying to take care of Debbie when she clearly was drinking too much.

14. Sandy (Season 10-11)

Oh boy, everyone’s favorite partner of Debbie’s... Yeah, Sandy is so low on this list not necessarily because I didn’t like her for Debbie, or that I have beef with Elise (b/c I love her as an actor sm). I personally just hate the sheer fact that this character EXISTS in the first place. I never understood the hype, but I know that people only like her because she’s a Milkovich ie. related to Mickey. That’s the hard truth this fandom isn’t willing to admit. My disliking Sandy should be a post of its own but lemme get into her relationship with Debbie.

You could tell that Emma and Elise liked working together so the chemistry was sorta there (definitely not soulmate shit tho). Each time that they interacted in s10 I was over it. S11 was better in the sense that whether I would like to admit it or not, they did have some “cute moments” (mainly just Sandy calling Debbie babe/babes). The second shit hit the fan in regards to Sandy’s history, I immediately understood Debbie’s issue with her and why her character would not want to be with Sandy. But, with that being said, Debbie was also in the wrong because she made everything about herself throughout the entire course of this relationship! Sandy did call her out, ex: “who was supposed to take Franny to school?”, and things like that were nice. HOWEVER I am sorry to say, this relationship felt like a massive waste of time and it felt like they were trying to force something that shouldn’t have existed to begin with. I don’t have the patience to even analyze this anymore, but maybe down the line because clearly there is SO MUCH to delve into!

13. Alex (Season 9)

Omg I did not like this relationship/plotline at all. Alex had issues but Debbie was so inconsiderate! I never saw the appeal here! It was nice that Alex had the decency to go and help Debs with Ford after the fact. I just feel “meh” about this tho. They had moments but ultimately I personally wasn’t into it and Debbie’s random newfound self discovery of “lesbianism”.

12. Kyle (Season 3)

Emma Kenney’s first kiss! Kyle was a one episode character that did have the potential to be more than that. I didn’t hate the kid as Debbie’s love interest, but there also wasn’t anything special about him. He was just kinda there and then he left. Debbie really seemed to like him though, spelling his name in her peas, etc.. I do like that one line about cigarettes that Kyle had but again he was such a short lived character and when he turned out not to be related to Kevin it became unnecessary to keep him around... even if the episode alluded to him returning. They were sorta cute!

11. Claudia (Season 10)

So I didn’t like this relationship much either but there was a certain kind of stability in the relationship that felt organic and nice. Partly because I enjoyed watching Constance Zimmer and she made Claudia likeable. Do I ship it? No. Was it a problematic dynamic? Yes. Was it a tolerable relationship? Eh. I didn’t hate it entirely though. Debbie, being a Gallagher, eventually fucked it up. And while I did like the drama, Debbie wasn’t REALLY into Claudia as much as she may have believed she was. So, it totally felt like a one off that would end with Claudia not returning... and it was. So there was no time for an investment of any kind.

10. Hedi (Season 11)

Gosh... Debbie’s endgame(?). Hedi was introduced too late for me to care enough about her (At this point it would have made sense for Debbie to wind up with Calista because at least she was already introduced!). I don’t necessarily like Hedi as a character and quite frankly it was a “who tf does SHE think she is” kinda deal for me. At first I was interested and didn’t hate her (and I don’t), but then she “thought she was Jimmy” and I instantly got annoyed (LOL I GUESS it was a nice nod to him tho... I guess).

My (several) problems with Hedi as a character aside, there IS something about Hedi being presented as this “dangerous badass” who is (somehow) WORSE than Debbie, that worked well. I’m not a fan of the ship, but it is an interesting dynamic in the sense that Debbie could potentially be “living on the edge”. I fear for what trouble this could cause Debbie BUT it’s like Frank referenced: Monica vibes. I don’t think it’s “true love” like Debbie said to Franny. A constant storyline for Debbie has been “why can’t anyone ever love me” and so she falls in quickly. Maybe Hedi will leave her but that’s the thing, “she’s done worse” so idk, either way I don’t think it’s meant to last! But I guess I don’t mind them being together! Karma’s a bitch! Will Carl tell her what Arthur found? Would it even make a difference?

9. Julia (Season 10)

I would have actually rather preferred her with Carl too! It was never love between Debbie and Julia, but the relationship did create good conflict for my viewing pleasure. UNPOPULAR OPINION, I didn’t mind Julia as a character at all. She was fine for me. I also enjoyed how ultimately SHE was only using Debbie in the end. Julia does admit later on that she was experiencing with her sexuality so maybe she did have feelings for Debbie at one point, which I thought was interesting. Debbie got herself into this one. At least Julia was more age appropriate than Claudia... (which is ironic since Debbie got in trouble for being with Julia when the age gap is MUCH bigger between Claudia and Debbie LOL I love it)! I also found Julia annoying Debbie to be amusing, that’s not to say that I liked her a lot either cuz I don’t!

8. Matty (Season 4-5)

Man do I feel bad for Matty! Debbie raped him and it was horrible. From the get-go when Matty was introduced the relationship was hella awkward!! And not only that but Debbie was a MINOR! Matty did do the right thing and said they couldn’t be together but a part of me will always feel strange that he WAS INITIALLY attracted to Debbie before learning her age. That to me is still wildly inappropriate. He shoulda cut it off. He did try to be her friend and took her to that dance which was cute but ahhh this was just a MESS all around. Cringe. At least he didn’t take advantage.

7. Henry (Season 4)

Speaking of Matty and that dance, Henry was supposed to take her. He asked her as a joke in order for Seama to inflict revenge on Debbie. If that weren’t the case however... DAMN THEY WERE CUTE! The potential that this relationship could have had! If only it wasn’t all an act! It was a “day worth of love” and sure that’s not enough for two people to REALLY be IT, yet there was something charming about their connection that I wish was real. Or idk maybe Henry could have reconnected with her later and apologized and it could have been revealed that he did actually like her... but that wasn’t the case. Fuck him!

6. Simon (Season 1-2)

Debbie was NOT interested in Simon at all but at the time he was almost like the male version of her. Their banter back and forth was fun to watch and he probably would have treated her well. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t get to even see their friendship progress. Their interactions were funny and he was a good guy!

5. Batiste (Season 10)

Y’all may not understand why this guy is so high on the list but a part of me wishes this character wasn’t a one off. Batiste is the dude Debbie tried to return her “unused” shoes to. If you can recall, he wanted a blowjob to take advantage of her. While this was a dick move (and the plot went nowhere) a part of me would have liked to see more! He did have an arc where he acted like an ass and realized that it is wrong to degrade women. I just think it could have been built upon and Emma may have had chemistry with this actor. There was something here that I didn’t hate and I felt it could have been expanded upon.

4. Little Hank (Season 2-3)

Debbie’s first real crush! It was interesting to see how he didn’t like her at first and then a “friendship/relationship” slowly started to develop after he gave her flowers. IT JUST NEVER CONTINUED! Little Hank was in no way the most upstanding, but it was cool to see Carl have a friend that Debbie crushed on (when she was little she wasn’t intentionally taking something away from Carl ie. Kelly, so I support it). Their interactions were fun to watch too! The fandom definitely has a soft spot for Little Hank! And at one point everyone was rooting for them to be together. Too bad we never discovered what ended up happening to this character!

3. Neil (Season 7-8)

The bathtub scene tho! Adorable! There was a short moment within this relationship that was super cute where the two of them really did seem to care about each other and may have both been in love. It goes without saying that Debbie was only using him, but they did have SOME potential and they found a common ground where they each benefited each other’s needs. Debbie once again was TOO controlling and self absorbed to make it work, but I don’t think she was entirely happy in a relationship with him. He deserved more respect!

2. Derek (Season 5-8)

Baby Daddy! I really did enjoy them together until Debbie took advance of him and Franny came into the picture, but at the same time that’s one of the reasons that Derek, as a character, has a deeper connection to Debbie and the audience. I always enjoyed their flirting back and forth and the relationship they had (the deleted scene with the card/push up game ahh my heart)! Debbie really did mess up due to her desperation to “belong to a family”, which is another one of her consistent character traits. She just went too far and tried to trap him. Then shit got messed up between their families. Derek did eventually ask for parcial custody and did have a desire to be a part of Franny’s life. Debbie said no and that plot line died until s10. Pepa!! Ahh! RIP to Derek, it was sad to me that he died. Definitely a character and relationship that I wish was incorporated more because I truly enjoyed them together.

1. Duran (Season 8)

Besties with benefits! Stop! Nobody talks about my guy Duran! Sure they both said that this relationship was of a sexual nature and that they were just a couple of friends but damn! The chemistry and dynamic was palpable! It is truly a shame that we didn’t get to see more of this friendship! They were on common ground and really did care about each other! I don’t know why but I really just LOVED them together! Duran was also in her friend group with Farhad and that was a group that seemed to have a positive impact on Debbie as a person. S8 Debbie was cool! These two complemented each other so nicely! Duran wasn’t by any means the best influence on her because he almost lead Debbie down a “Monica path” but come on, Hedi is worse in that department. He was getting his life together like Debbie was with her profession. Just think of the hair convos Duran and Tami could have had Lol. Idk, I just like Debbie with him a lot! It was healthy to an extent and he was supportive of Debs with Franny.

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 30: Daddy Lessons

Necromancy

~

SAM YAO: Okay Five, you're outside Thurman's bunker. There's a... there's a lovely occult sigil of uh... a bleeding eye on the door. And we don't know what's inside, so warm up just in case. Stretch, jog on the spot, whatever you need. I want you ready for anything. [sighs] I wish I could say I'm not scared, but I know we're both scared. It doesn't feel like three days since you got out of the underground village, does it? It-it sort of like feels like-like a couple of hours and also about two years.

Okay, briefing Janine-style always seems to help me focus. I have carefully checked every single camera in Spectrum Mall, but there's been no sign of Thurman since he left you in the dumbwaiter. Zombies don't notice him, so maybe he went out into the horde? The point is this might be our only chance to find out more about him. Specifically, how he can be in two places at once. Oh, and oh yeah, the bunker's locked with a code. The tape you took from the longevity research lab says where it is. Give it another play.

DR. MCBRIDE: April 9th, 1991. Dr. McBride. I've heard keeping a diary can help one make sense of things, and I refuse to lose my mind. Seven months ago, Artemus Thurman fired me for excessive altruism. Weeks later, I watched on my sofa as he attempted the highest ski jump ever built. I was willing him to fail, but only so he'd embarrass himself. I still see his neck snap when I close my eyes. I saw his funeral on the BBC News. It felt like I’d killed him, somehow.

Except two weeks ago, Thurman turned up at my door in the middle of the night and forced me at gunpoint to come with him back to my old lab. It's deserted. He won't explain how he survived, only says, “Prepare the bunker for my son. He'll be here once the dust's cleared, and there are things inside that explain everything.” The gossip pages say his son hates him. He wasn't at the funeral. Maybe he knew it was fake, but I can't say that to Thurman. If I disagree with him on anything, it's like he doesn't even hear me. I'm too afraid to argue.

He's different now to how he was before, some sort of monomania, and he keeps talking about the occult, secret knowledge that will help the chosen to survive. He asked me more than once if I would participate in the ritual with him, and I'm too afraid to answer. There's something else I'm afraid of. Thurman left tins of food, but they're running low. If he doesn't bring some more soon, I'm opening the bunker myself. He told me often enough the code for the bunker is engraved on the frame of Brandon's portrait in the Thurmanville labs.

SAM YAO: Stop the tape, Five. It gets a bit grim once McBride realizes Thurman's locked her in the lab and all he's sending her is plastic fruit. Okay, I'm looking for a portrait. Mmm... Ah! Yeah, I can see it. Boy in a suit, but uh, the actual face has been cut out. That's creepy. Still, I've got the bunker code on cams. It's um, 1875. Oh, that didn't work. I'm missing something. Keep warming up, and I'll figure out how to get you in.

~

SAM YAO: Okay Five, I've worked it out. The bunker lock’s electronic and the power's down, but the door's hooked up to the generator, so you just need to crank it up with some bicep curls. So press your elbows into your sides, forearms down, palms facing forwards. Grab the bar with both hands. Now it looks heavy, about the weight of a couple of tin cans? Now bend your elbows to lift the crank to your shoulders, then lower it back down. Careful, don't hurt yourself. It should take a minute.

Janine's been looking into some occult stuff since McBride mentioned it. She says Thurman was probably using fear of the supernatural as a way to control and manipulate his employees. She also says 1875 is the year that occultist Aleister Crowley was born. The occult sigil on the door, I wonder if it was from one of Crowley's books. Apparently, Crowley wrote about being in two places at once via astral travel, but the occult isn't real. Janine says, "There will be a rational explanation, Mr. Yao," and she's right, obviously. But there's something seriously weird going on.

Okay, you've got the generator working, Five. Try the code again. 1875. Yes, the bunker's open, but you might want to crank the generator a little longer. Don't want the power going out while you're inside.

~

SAM YAO: All right, Five, time to enter Thurman's bunker.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Brandon! Here at last.

SAM YAO: That's a recording, Five. Brandon was Thurman's son. He obviously thought only Brandon would make it in here.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: I trust your journey to post-apocalyptic England wasn't too arduous. I'm serious. If it's still a nuclear wasteland, go to the decontamination suite for three weeks and reread my autobiography. You've got a lot to live up to. You can't just rely on your Thurman genes. They're diluted by your mother’s. Penelope raised you to be a sissy, mommy's boy.

You were almost six when I last saw you, and you didn't even know how to box. I hope that black eye taught you a lesson, and the wasteland has hardened you. Regardless, I've prepared tests so you can prove you're worthy of meeting me. If you fail, you'll die, and good riddance. I'd rather have a dead son than a weak one.

SAM YAO: Five, a dart just flew past your face! Another by your knees! Uh, quick, do some jumping jacks to avoid them. Uh, feet together, arms by your sides. Now jump, spreading your arms and legs in the air so you land in a star shape. That dart almost clipped your ear! Jump back to the starting position. Keep doing those and the darts will miss you.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Still alive, Brandon? These darts are tipped with poison, you know. Ever see The Running Man? Contestants fighting to the death on television, a marvelous idea! The weak are punished and their deaths set an example. Televised combat is just what this country needs. Gladiatorial battles for children, now that's an idea! Get rid of the weak early and stop them growing into giant wastes of resources.

SAM YAO: [sighs] It's over. What was wrong with Thurman? He's treating this like some kind of joke! I mean, it's one thing to prepare for the future, but this... ! [sighs] I hope wherever he is, Brandon never gives his dad a moment's thought. Head to the next chamber, Five. If any more darts fly at you, just keep jumping.

~

SAM YAO: There's an arcade cabinet in this chamber. Must be another test from Thurman for his son.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: With discipline, strength of mind, and secret knowledge, one can live forever. If you prove worthy, Brandon, I'll tell you about it.

SAM YAO: Oh, I hate to send you further into that... that bastard's lair, but we have to know what he knows, Five. He's too dangerous, and he's fixated on you. We've got to find out how to stop him.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Ever heard of The Grimoire of the Empyrean Oracle, Crowley's lost manuscript? Explains how to harness occult forces to make reality bend to your will. I bought it for millions, memorized it, then burned it. Couldn't have anyone else reading it. Sharing is for commies. Besides, they say the book is cursed. Everyone who owned it before me died horribly. Starving, thirsty, trapped and alone. You know why? Because they were unworthy!

You must prove you have the right values. Approach the arcade cabinets. Behold, a computer rendering of Karl Marx. Before you are two buttons, Hero and Parasite. Press the one you think describes Marx. Get it wrong, and the room fills with poison gas.

SAM YAO: [laughs] I'm pretty sure Thurman thinks Marx is a parasite, Five, but the buttons have corroded. The levers on the floor are all that's left. You can't stop looking at the screen, I need your head cam, so um... Okay, yep. Lunge and hit the lever with your knee instead. Stand with your feet together. Now step forward with your right leg and lower your back knee so that it almost touches the ground. And raise back up.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: That's right, Marx was a parasite, and you've exterminated him! Here's Ayn Rand.

SAM YAO: Ugh! Um, yeah, I think Rand wrote a book called The Virtue of Selfishness. Hit the hero button. Lunge with your left foot this time.

ARTEMUS THURMAN Keep going, Brandon! Here's Robin Hood.

SAM YAO: Looks like Thurman's alternating heroes and parasites, so keep lunging with alternate feet. Go!

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Ah, Henry Ford. Tore down 5,000 square miles of rainforest to build a private rubber production colony. Excellent man. Yes, Brandon, exterminate those parasites! Halfway there. Oh, Dickens. Reagan. If you become half the man he is, you'll almost be worth the time I've spent on you. You've done it, Brandon! If you'd made a single mistake, I'd have gassed you like a rodent.

SAM YAO: A door just opened, Five! If anyone else pops up on that screen, keep lunging. Otherwise, press on.

~

SAM YAO: Oh, there's an altar in this chamber, Five. I wonder what that's for.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: The Grimoire of the Empyrean Oracle explains how to harness animal spirits through ritual sacrifice.

SAM YAO: Of course. Yeah.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Your mother disapproved, Brandon. Called it torture. Well, now's your chance to prove you don't hold with the stupid ideas about animal rights. Release the hounds!

SAM YAO: Oh, well surely there aren’t live dogs here. Oh crap, Five, robotic dog heading right for you, glowing red eyes and razor blade teeth! Quick, punch it! Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, left foot back, fists up. Now punch with your right fist. Nice shot, Five! Keep hitting it with your right fist.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: "Save the whales!" Penelope used to say. Hogwash. What have the whales ever done for us? Ever wondered what happened to your gerbil? Rat poison. Taught you a lesson about wasting resources on useless creatures.

SAM YAO: You've taken down that robo-dog, Five, but there's another one! Right, switch stance so your right leg is behind and punch with your left fist. Go!

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Prove you have the stomach to continue Crowley's work. Show no mercy, Brandon!

SAM YAO: Five, I hope your knuckles are okay after that. Keep going, we've got to know what this grimoire actually did. And if you see any more robo-dogs, you know what to do.

~

SAM YAO: Right, I just searched for Brandon Thurman on ROFFLEnet, but nothing came up, not even gossip like McBride mentioned. It's like he never existed. Everything about this family is so... just twisted and wrong.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Getting my hands on that grimoire was no picnic, Brandon. Had to hold my nose and venture east of the Iron Curtain, spend a week in a basement in Bucharest getting a man who refused to eat or drink to tell me what he knew. There wasn't much I could threaten him with, but I found his weak spot in the end. [laughs] After he told me what he knew, I followed Crowley's trail to India. There are carvings under a temple in Hyderabad, tied all my research together.

Immortality is there for the taking, Brandon, you just have to work for it. You can exist in two places at once. Think about it, working twice as hard, making twice the money! I bulldozed the temple, of course. Full of stupid warnings. The grimoire states that to conquer death, you must overcome an attempt on your life, value strength over weakness, and sacrifice those less valuable than yourself. And at last, you have to be willing to kill.

You're nearly there, Brandon. I'm almost proud of you. I've been testing you all your life. Never sent your mother a penny. Wanted to see if you'd grow up self-reliant. And when I saw that article about you in the FT, “Teenager establishes paper route pyramid scheme,” I knew I'd been successful. There's only one thing left, Brandon.

The staircase ahead bears blood sigils. It is a shrine to the god Moloch. He demands the sacrifice of love, so as you ascend, you must renounce all that you love, as I have renounced you. Only then will you be granted power over death. Speak the words carved on the stairs as you ascend.

SAM YAO: “I vow to sacrifice to Moloch that which I love. To starve, kill and...” What the...? Don't say any of that stuff, Five. Don't even look at it. Just climb the stairs.

~

SAM YAO: Okay, you're outside the last chamber, Five. Almost there. And yeah, your way back is clear. You can get away if anything's... bad. There's a glass coffin inside.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Well, Brandon, you've found me. I'll be taken here after my death. Of course, since I followed the grimoire's instructions, I won't really be dead, just sleeping.

SAM YAO: The coffin’s bristling with tubes leading to the machines beside it. Dr. McBride worked in longevity research. Maybe this equipment has been keeping Thurman alive all this time. Yeah, maybe he's um... uh, you know, zombie immune because he died, or-or something. Take a closer look.

There's a desiccated body in the coffin. It's uh... Yeah, I'm not imagining it, am I, Five? It's Thurman, but dead. Really, really dead. Oh Five, look at the machine. Every switch has been flipped to off. And is that a note? “See you in hell, dad. B.” Did Brandon come here to turn his dad off? Not that I... [sighs] not that I blame him, really, but... ugh. For his sake, I wish he hadn't cared this much.

Nothing makes sense, Five! If Thurman's really dead, then who's been chasing you? What was that noise? The whole bunker’s shaking!

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Oh Brandon, I've installed monitoring systems. If my state deteriorates too far for me to be revived, I have a contingency plan. See you soon, boy.

~

[mithrilwren]

So, uh, I got three hours of sleep last night and this was basically the first post I saw when I woke up and my brain is pretty much mush at this point anyway… so… Vokodo/Dragon Turtle? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

Sharks know not to swim too close to Rumblecusp - where the surf is a degree too cold, where the waters shimmers and spouts into the sky, where alien fish float on currents that run the wrong way, and scrounge their food amidst shards of obsidian ruin.

He is no shark. His course is not dictated by instinct. He is not moved by strange goings on above land - he has plumbed the ocean’s depths, and found stranger things by far, and claimed them all as his own.

He takes what he desires, no matter where it resides. The ocean is his, to traverse and plunder at his whim.

And all the while, above the line of breaking swells where the air meets the sea, the island takes too.

---

The ship is the latest catch, brought to keel on Rumblecusp’s shore, and he feasts long into the night, and well. Belly warm with the fat stores of a heavy laden hold, he drifts below the surface, savouring the taste of gold beneath his tongue.

This is the first time the island speaks to him. Within the bubble of its rising ire, the water rakes at his scales, scalding heat pouring from lava vents below. Not enough to injure, not to a creature such as him. Only enough to warn.

You have taken what does not belong to you. Return what you stole, or face my wrath.

And beneath the surface, a loose-hinged jaw curls back, and coins spill from the corners to the ocean floor below, drawing up clouds of silt around his clawed feet.

He does not need to speak, to know he has been heard.

Everything belongs to me.

---

The shoels of the island are a bounty of spoils. Sailors bring their boats, and do not return. He feasts, and takes from their cargo at his leisure, though the island grumbles its dissent at every turn. The water grows foul with ashy sediment, and he’s forced to leave, for a time, but soon the waters clear and the ships return, and the shores of Rumblecusp are filled with easy prey once more.

He grows weary, of the ease.

The hunt beckons, and he follows the scent of tougher blood, far into open water.

And it is satisfying.

For a time.

---

When he returns, he does not plunder.

He watches. He observes. He hunts, with the patience of the barred ghoul that lurks in the sand, waiting for its prey to swim overhead.

On the seventh day, the waterfall splits, and a ship he did not take passes into the depths beyond.

He follows.

The water closes at his back, which does not alarm him. He has forded the ocean’s eddies, born the scar of a wizard’s spell, met his match in the fiercest storms. He does not fear to traverse the waterfall. Powerful as it might be, it will find him more than suited to the challenge.

The steerers of the ship balk and run when they see him enter - no dead-eyed, glassy stare can withstand the fearful awe of his presence, but he pays them no mind as they flee to cower in the crevasses of the stone cavern. His eyes are only for the armada that surrounds him - the wealth of ships to take as his own.

Again, the island speaks. The ground rumbles, and the sailors wail, and he turns his ear to the direction of the quakes. Further in, beyond the orange glow.

When he submerges once more, he smells sulfur in the water.

Sulfur, and gold.

---

There are passages, hewn by time or by pressure, that lead to the island’s center. They are too small to contain him, and so he carves his own path, rock giving way to the relentless force of sinew and nail and gnashing tooth, until the flowers are rent asunder and scattered in his wake. The water froths and churns its anger at the carnage. He pays it little mind.

Gold, he smells, and jewels as well, and the electric sting of magic colouring it all with a flavour most pleasing. If he had known the island hid such a delicious pearl of treasure within, he would have claimed it for his own long ago.

He breaks at last into an open chamber, the ceiling above embroiled in shadows. The most dangerous things lurk in the darkest places of the ocean, and so he waits to see what will emerge.

One tentacle, then two, snake their way out of the darkness, lithe as the fluttering arm of the jellyfish, as beautiful and as liable to sting. He keeps his distance, waiting still. Patience is not a thing he lacks.

Offer tribute, or choose to die here.

The temperature rises to scalding, and though the burns begin to seep past even his protective shell, he does not bend his neck.

Who are you, that I should offer tribute?

A growl or a roar sounds from above, as the rock of the cavern begins to give way.

I am the Lord of Exandria, the god of this island. Interloper, you have taken what is not yours. Repay, or die.

Three tentacles lash out, curling around the base of his throat and tightening fast.

He does not resist, as the tendrils test their strength against his scales, and find themselves unable to penetrate a single line of armor. He lets himself be pulled up, drifting closer and closer to the heady scent of gold. Two flaring, fiery eyes flicker into view, mere specks of light in the darkness. The water around them shimmers with heat, and more precious things.

“I take what I want,” he speaks, and reaches into the darkness as he wheels around and dives backwards. His claws rake over a body of many appendages, none strong enough to cling to the roof’s surface in the face of such overwhelming force as he drives them both to the bottom of the cavern. They spin in the air until he is atop the creature, pinning it to the floor when the sediment settles.

All around float glittering coins as the creature stares up with eyes burning as bright as the deepest amber, brighter even than the fire that burns all around them, setting the water ablaze.

The tentacle around his throat tightens, and tightens once more, until his beak is brought low to the creature’s own, until the scent of gold fades from prominence, until all he can smell is wealth, and hunger, and desire, and greed.

A deeper desire awakens, for the first time in many, many years, and a wave of images begins to fill his mind, scene after scene after scene. From the onslaught, only two words need be gleaned, to understand that the creature’s realization matches his own.

‘Then take.’

// And then they had whatever hot, kinky morkoth x dragon turtle sex you’d like to imagine, because I tried to for about 0.5 seconds before my brain short circuited and I decided it was probably time for bed.

[lovelyirony]

this is just a re-do of a post with a prompt from anonymous, so don’t worry if it looks a bit familiar! 

As Bucky is running away from government agents trying to snipe him for killing a politician, he supposes Natasha’s argument for him being suicidal might have the tiniest bit evidence behind it, which he previously argued it didn’t.

As he slides underneath a car, he debates whether or not she’ll find out about this one. He feels a buzz from his phone in his pocket.

Yeah, she knows.

He shoots one of the agents, nicking him in the knee. Oof, that’s gonna be a fun story to tell his grandkids about why they can’t climb on his lap. But he needs to get away, and that involves potentially shooting through a car.

Potentially turns into definitely and there’s enough of a distraction that he can commandeer a car, drive at least ten blocks away, and ditch it to run on foot, calling Natasha.

“You got my location, right?”

“Of course, you fucking idiot,” Natasha curses. “You…god I hate you sometimes. The job’s at least done, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to lay low, though. Which sucks because my apartment is right in the city.”

“I already have a punishment and idea for you in one.”

“I…what is it?”

“Sam’s picking you up. Tell you when you get to base. Bye.”

Bucky groans.

She must be really pissed at him.

Sam picks him up in the shittiest economy car in the world.

“I hate you for picking this one,” Bucky groans.

“A stupid decision grants a stupid car, that’s why you’re getting picked up in the 1995 Ford Fiesta of shame,” Sam says. “Nat’s real mad. And I also think you’re going to hate your next assignment.”

Bucky’s not sure what’s gonna happen. He’s hoping he’s not on latrine duty.

-

Oh, it’s so much worse.

“Protection detail?” Bucky asks. “And undercover? All at once? Nat, come on. I bet we don’t even need undercover.”

“You both are doing undercover because you both fucked up,” Natasha says. “And since apparently you don’t know how to act, maybe this will get you better lessons.”

“Cold,” Sam hisses.

“I will legally ask you to shut the fuck up,” Bucky growls out.

He packs his things. Realizes that Sam got to choose the name so his name is Roger Stevens. Fucking shit. (Steve, of course, approved this. Because Steve is an asshole.)

“Why does she even need a protector?” Bucky growls out, driving to the house. It’s in suburbia.

“Because she fucked up and whoever she pissed off might send more than she can handle,” Natasha says.

“We’re hinging my being here on a ‘maybe’?”

“And because you got caught by government agents, which would be a rookie move,” Natasha says. “There’s a reason that I can still go my same nail salon for five years and now you have to get your hair cut somewhere else. And why you got a wedding china set and you have a backstory of being married.”

“I hate you.”

“A lot of people do, take a number.”

If it helps (and it mostly doesn’t), Sharon Carter is also not happy. She is in the house with the most dangerous look Bucky has seen.

“So I’m stuck in this fucking hell house with him?” Sharon asks.

Maria Hill is her boss. Woman is a scary, competent human. Bucky wouldn’t cross her.

(Then again, you also shouldn’t cross a certain redhead who could make you disappear within twenty minutes, maybe thirty if it’s a surprise. But he did.)

“Keys are by the front door, hope you know your address! Bye!” Natasha says. “Don’t kill each other or we lose the deposit!”

Maria Hill smiles. Of course the only time Bucky’s ever seen her smile is at the suffering of others. How typical.

So then they are left alone.

“Let’s read the cover story,” Sharon says. “And I don’t need protection, Maria’s just paranoid.”

Bucky snorts.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go with that.”

Sharon sends him a sharp look.

They meet while on a cruise.

Bucky fucking hates his life.

“A fucking cruise,” he mutters. “As if I would ever step foot onto any of those fucking–”

“We had a beach wedding?!” Sharon cries out. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it!”

They are both in a bad mood.

It’s also awkward because this is a house. They have decorations. They have tea towels.

And a neighbor comes to visit.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” she says brightly. “My name is Karen Tent, so lovely to meet you both!”

She then invades the house with her Tupperware. Literally speeds past them and it’s not like Sharon judo-chop her throat or anything.

“What a lovely house you two have!” Karen cheers. “Of course the color palette is a little bit drab, but I’m sure you’ll change that soon enough. When Linda told me we had new neighbors, I could hardly believe it myself, but here you are! Now, how did you two meet? Have you married yet? If not, I hope that you are living apart, you know.”

“The rings are in boxes,” Sharon answers smoothly, noting that they’ll need to ask Maria where the fuck the rings are. “You know how move-ins are. I’m Melanie Stevens, this is Roger Stevens. How nice to see you so very unexpectedly.”

“Well, that’s what neighbors are for!” Karen answers, her voice shrill as ever. “I brought over my famous cookie bars. Everyone says they’re good, and I believe they always are. Tell me Melanie, what do you like baking most?”

“Yes dear, tell her,” Bucky answers, smiling. “I seem to remember…lemon bars?”

“That’s right,” Sharon says, sending Bucky a smile. “They are really good. Just delightful.”

“Oh you’ll have to bring some over!” Karen responds. “Now, let me tell you a little bit about the neighborhood…”

She talks for a fucking hour. Bucky wants to drink. So badly. He saw the wine on the counter.

Sharon, to her credit, keeps trying to use certain “end” phrases. Karen either knows it and knows she won’t be budging, or will not ever take a hint in her lifetime.

“And you simply must not ever play loud music in your backyard,” Karen says. “We’ve had a couple of problems with the Richardsons, but nothing a few calls won’t fix.”

“You called the police?” Sharon asks.

“Well yes!”

“Oh my god,” Bucky mutters.

“I am sure that’s not exactly the measure I would have done,” Sharon says. “But I am tired and don’t want to get into it now,” she says quickly, noticing Karen’s “confused” expression.

“I say we need some time to rest, today is gonna be a lot of moving,” he says. “So nice of you to stop by, Karen. I’ll return your dish as soon as possible.”

Karen is ushered out the door, placated with two waves, and they both groan.

“I’m gonna fucking hate everything after this,” Sharon mutters. “My name is fucking Melanie. Maria knows…” she trails off, facing the very real boxes that were obviously packed with dishes and miscellaneous items.

Bucky finds four spatulas. He doesn’t know why there are four.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, noting the incredibly cheesy salt-and-pepper set.

“Welcome to married life,” Sharon says sarcastically. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

Dinner is spent with Sharon trying to convince Bucky that she’s “fine” and in “no danger” at all.

“Who did you piss off?”

“Sitwell.”

“Oh my god. You’re screwed.”

“He’s a lapdog, I’m not screwed.”

“He’s the lapdog of Pierce. You’re screwed.”

Sharon thunks her head on the table.

“Can we at least repaint the bedrooms? They suck.”

“If you think I’m sleeping in a separate room you’re dead wrong,” Bucky says. “You have a target the size of New York on your back. Uh-uh.”

“You will sleep on the floor and get out when I shower or change,” Sharon threatens.

“Of course.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

Married life is not so bad. Except when Karen and the rest of the neighbors tend to visit or talk to them for about fifteen minutes on the lawn.

“It’s your turn to cut the grass,” Sharon groans, flopping on the couch. “If I have to hear Kevin tell me one more time that you should be treating me better, I’m going to explode. He’s trying to lecture me on how to cut grass.”

“On it,” Bucky says. “Your turn to go get groceries, I ran into Karen and her kid last time. I think she wants me to stop buying so much hummus.”

“Not our fault it’s good,” Sharon mutters.

-

And then, of course, avoiding the various assassins that are sent out at random intervals and at public locations (including their own house) while convincing the neighbors that there’s nothing going on.

This involves pretending an agent of Hydra is their cousin.

“This is Jen, she’s visiting for the day!” Sharon says, squeezing “Jen’s” wrist hard enough to make her stay quiet. “We have so much to catch up on, you probably won’t see me or–or Roger again for the day! Ha ha!”

“Well where’s her car?” Linda asks, looking around the neighborhood. “I don’t see anything…”

“She’s a hippie environmentalist, she walked,” Bucky answers. “Jen, let’s go catch up in the house, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the agent squeaks out sadly, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

She’s delivered tied up in rope on the steps of Maria’s office with a note of “please stop this from happening we’re planting azaleas.”

Maria snorts.

Bucky starts to think they’re getting too attached to this. It’s been four months.

He started a garden. They’re growing tomatoes.

He also notices Sharon a little bit differently.

Because she drags him out of bed.

“Legally? You have to go to brunch with me. Illegally? You like the breakfast burrito too much.”

She’s scarily competent with anything that could be classed as a weapon. Or their groceries.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky yells at her as she throws the jar of tomato sauce. “I am not cleaning that up!”

“Tough shit!” Sharon answers, dodging a bullet. “It wasn’t even the good kind of tomato sauce!”

“It was fine, sweetheart!” Bucky growls out.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me in the middle of a battle!” Sharon yells. “Strictly after!”

“You’re the weirdest fucking married couple,” one of the agents wheezes out as Bucky is holding him as a sort of shield.

“Thanks,” they say in unison, grinning.

-

The punishment for them both doesn’t exactly turn out as planned, both Natasha and Maria agree. In fact, it is almost worse.

They are both reckless, subvert orders, and get along like a house on fire by the end of it.

“You can still be together, we just need the house back,” Natasha says.

“Thank god,” Bucky groans. “I get to stop being Roger and I get rid of Karen in one fell swoop.”

Sharon untenses her shoulders while she’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“Can I keep the knife set?”

“No,” Maria says. “I’ll send you a link to where I got it.”

“Why can’t I keep it if you can get another set?”

“Steal it,” Bucky stage-whispers. Sharon grins back at him.

“You have the best ideas, babe.”

“You are not stealing anything,” Maria scowls.

“Sure we aren’t,” Bucky says easily.

“You stole my heart,” Sharon sing-songs, knowing damn well it’s going to make Maria barf.

“Aw babe…” Bucky says, holding her hand. Natasha fake-retches.

“I hate you both,” she declares. “And I won’t be there for your actual wedding.”

“You made us tell people we had a wedding on a beach, were you assuming that you were getting an invitation?” Bucky asks.

Sharon snickers, getting the last of her bags out into the car.

“Where to now?” she asks him.

“I think that there are some apartments we can look at…”

-

“We’ve made a collective monster,” Maria decides, blinking. “We Frankensteined this.”

“We did,” Natasha says, staring at the house. There are still little bits of glass. An unfortunately busted can of beans where someone had been knocked out and they had “conveniently” forgotten to clean it up from yesterday.

Well. Sharon and Bucky are going to cause havoc on the world. Maria and Natasha just hope they can cover the other while doing so.

[babygirlgalitzine]

i can’t get over the way (you love me like you do) - chapter three

read the chapter on ao3

It's a beautifully sunny day, albeit the air is cold with a breeze that whistles around. It filters through the trees, and there's a bristle of leaves that can be heard from around the square. Ben's sitting in the car lot, his chair pushed far away from his desk and his legs perching against it, one leg hooking over the other. He's shattered, and his mind is playing last night on repeat, an incessant reminder of his words to Callum. How could he be so stupid? His phone buzzes, pulling him away from his thoughts and he picks it up, noticing that it's close to his lunch break now. It's hardly been a busy morning, the phone only ringing once or twice with enquiries, but that's the usual when it's not near pay day. There's a text from Callum, his contact picture lighting up the screen - a photo taken months prior, Callum leaning over the bar at The Vic, moments before knocking over an almost full pint glass with his elbow.

can I come over? He's asking.

Ben smiles to himself, and he's not even sure why, but it's instinctive, as though Callum has the ability to make Ben skip a heart beat and smile at even just the thought of him.

course. He texts back, and waits.

It's common for this to happen when Callum gets the chance, when he's not working over the lunch time hour, even though that's not all that often. He'll text Ben, or just show up unannounced, peeking his head around the door of the car lot, checking if the coast was clear. It's only five minutes later when there's a knock at the door, a light tapping, only three - and Ben just knows. He doesn't shout anything out, and there's nothing but silence for a few seconds, and then there's a squeak of the door and Callum's head suddenly appears around the corner, a grin spread across his face. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Ben says, pushing his feet off from the desk. "Only if you've bought me food though."

Callum walks through the door, kicking it shut behind him and if it was anyone else, Ben would be angry. "Of course." He says, lifting his arms up to show two boxes, and Ben instantly recognises them as the takeaway ones from his mum's cafe. "Chips. Plenty of salt on yours, because you're weird." 

Ben rolls his eyes, but it's more endearing than anything else. His heart soars at the knowledge that Callum knows exactly how he likes things. 

"Been busy this morning?" Callum asks, throwing a chip into his mouth and twisting the lid to his bottled water open with a crack. 

"Nope." Ben shakes his head. "Just had a few phone calls, but I've got someone coming around later to sort out a new contract with." 

"Boring then." Callum says, and there's a laugh in his throat as though this is normal, as though last night has been completely erased from his memory. 

Ben wishes it was that simple for him. He can't stop replaying it over and over again in his mind, from the second he was hidden from view last night, in the confines of his own bedroom, to the early hour he woke up, the sun only just creeping in through the darkness hanging onto the night. Even now, looking at Callum, his thoughts are dominated by the idea of pretending to be Callum's boyfriend, and Callum pretending to be his. He must have faded off into a daydream, eyes blurry as they focus on the window to the right of the car lot. There's a chuckle, and it half tears him away from his daydream, though his eyes still remain focusing on the window, watching as the leaves blow and twist and bend in the breeze. He's not completely back in the room yet, at least, not until something hits his face, and when he looks down at the desk, there's a limp chip just sitting there. Callum actually threw a chip at Ben's face. He looks up at Callum, who's sitting at the opposite end of the desk, laughing around the edge of his water bottle. There's crinkles at the outer corner of his eyes, and his cheeks are red and glowing. He looks beautiful, Ben can't deny that. 

"What's up with you?" Callum asks, furrowing his eyebrows now and the humour has wilted away slightly. He knows that Callum cares, and it causes warmth in his chest. 

Ben shakes his head, but it's pointless in doing so. He's open like a book, simple for Callum to read, for him to take in every word as if his life depends on it. Callum raises an eyebrow, and it's almost comical. Ben would probably find it hilarious, if there wasn't currently a sickening feeling rising in his stomach. "I'm just thinking about last night." He says, and it's out there now, spoken into the atmosphere, imprinted into Callum's brain. 

"About what?" Callum asks, though they both know the truth. "About us pretending to be together?" 

Ben nods, and he realises that he's suddenly shy. There's no doubt that there's a flush of red making its way up onto his cheeks. 

Callum shrugs, but to nothing in particular. Ben notices his box is empty now, chips now long gone, and then Callum speaks, breaking up the tension. "Do you still want to do it?" 

"Do you?" Ben asks, and yeah it's probably a deflection tactic, because he's too scared to answer the question, though there's part of him that's probably more scared for Callum's answer. 

It's silent for a few moments, and if Ben listens hard enough he might even be able to hear the cogs turning inside Callum's head. It's unbearable, waiting for an answer, and he doesn't even know what he wants to hear, not really. 

"It's just a bit of fun, isn't it?" Callum says. 

Yeah. A bit of fun. That's exactly what it is.

"I don't see why not." Callum continues, and with each word that tumbles from his lips, there's a tightening in Ben's chest, practically restricting him for breathing. "Jay and Lola seem to think we're together anyway, I reckon it'll be fun to wind them up." 

Ben nods. "Yeah." He says, and he's going to be eternally grateful for the fact his voice didn't crack even when it felt like it would. "Yeah, it'll be fun." 

That's it then. It's officially happening.

Callum picks up his box, and stands up, towering over Ben. "I need to go anyway. There's a delivery that needs sorting out in the cellar." 

Ben looks at his own box, and it's only half empty. What a waste. He looks up at Callum, and notices that he's almost near the door now. Probably just as well. The further away he is, the less likely he is to see the blush that litters Ben's cheeks, or hear his heart thumping away in his chest, threatening to burst out into view. Ben speaks, and he has no idea where the confidence suddenly comes from, but it feels natural. There's something that draws him to Callum. "Not even a goodbye kiss?" He asks, and there's a self assured smirk that creeps its way up onto his lips, getting wider and wider as Ben notices that Callum's blushing. He made Callum blush. "You wound me." He says, holding his hand over his heart, acting as though he's in pain. 

Callum rolls his eyes, but there's the tiniest evidence of a smile forming on his lips. "You can piss off." He says, and yeah, Ben's right. He can hear the smile in his voice. Callum's hands are at the door handle, and Ben looks down and gets out a folder from a desk in his drawer, assuming that Callum is about to leave. "Ben?" He hears, a voice low and quiet and innocent, almost. 

Ben looks up, and sees Callum still standing there, half out of the car lot, half of his body still inside. Ben raises an eyebrow, questioning, and he sits back in his seat. Callum pouts his lips, and blows a kiss in Ben's direction, knocking him for six. He escapes, the door locking behind him, and blood rushes straight to Ben's head and he's grateful that nobody can see him. 

I'm fucked. He thinks. I'm actually fucked. He puts his head in his hands, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks. How on earth has Callum blowing a kiss in his direction done this to him? Made him feel all gooey and helpless. 

It's not until the day after, that the reality of the situation sets in. 

Ben's running late, having slept through his alarm. The sleep was needed, really, after not sleeping at all the night prior with thoughts running through his head inescapable. It's just - today, of all days, he can't be running late. He's got someone coming over to the car lot to look at a Ford he's been trying to sell for months now, at nine in the morning. If he misses that, it's almost guaranteed that the car won't sell. He's just about shoving his shirt on over his shoulders, eating his toast at the same time, trousers on but unzipped and unbuttoned, hanging low on his waist, his white boxers exposed to the world. There's a knock at his front door, and he groans. Today is not the day to be stuck chatting with a neighbour he couldn't care less about, but he's hit with a realisation when his hand wraps around the door handle. Callum. It's a day he comes around in the morning, and walks Ben to work. It's a semi regular occurrence, happening most weeks when he's available. Callum goes out and buys a fresh new pint of milk from the Minute Mart, maybe even a loaf of bread, and on his way back, he walks Ben over to the car lot, usually making plans for later that day, or even the weekend. He opens the door, and in the back of his mind he's aware that Callum's about to see him half clothed and in a state of rush, but he doesn't have it in him to care about it. He's more focused on the fact it's quickly getting closer and closer to nine, and he needs to get over to the car lot before the potential buyer shows up to get everything sorted.

Callum's standing there, beaming smile spread across his face, until he looks at Ben and his face contorts into confusion. "Why aren't you dressed?" He asks, looking down at Ben's bare chest, breath hitching when his eyes eventually stop at the opened zip of Ben's trousers, and he can see Ben's boxers so clearly, a faint trail of hair leading down from his belly button to the edge of them. He quickly retracts his eyes, and looks back up at Ben's face, who doesn't look the least bit bothered, in fact, he looks as though he's enjoying Callum looking at him in that way. 

Ben looks down at his body, one hand stretching out above his head and presses it against the doorframe, defining his body even more. "Do you not appreciate it?" He asks, teasing Callum. "I'm running late. Slept through my alarm, didn't I? And I've got a buyer coming at nine, so if you want to walk me to work, you may as well come in and wait whilst I finish getting ready." 

Callum looks down at his watch, and he doesn't even know why, because he doesn't have anywhere to be in a rush. It's probably more for Ben's benefit than his own. "You have twenty minutes." Callum says, and looks back up at Ben with a smile on his face. 

"Make that ten." Ben says, and his hand is resting on Callum's chest as he looks behind his shoulder. Callum should turn, and see what it is that Ben's looking at, but there's something in him that's telling him not to. "I need to be there early." He explains, and then there's silence for a few moments and Callum tries to walk past Ben, into his house, but Ben's eyes are fixated on whatever's happening behind Callum's shoulder. He speaks again. "Callum, trust me."

"Wh-" Callum tries to get out, but his words are soon muffled, and even sooner forgotten about. Because Ben is kissing Callum.

Ben. Kissing Callum.  

It takes Callum by surprise. But then the initial confusion is fading away and turning into a mist of excitement bubbling inside of him, intrigue tugging at his heart strings, and then he finally gets into it, putting his hand on Ben's waist, not even over his shirt - underneath it - so that he's actually touching Ben's bare skin. It's cooling, yet hot at the same time, and it leaves Callum begging for more. It's a connection that Callum never thought he would experience, but it's right here, with Ben. Ben who he's not even dating. Ben who he's pretending to be with, for the sake of a practical joke on two of their friends. There's a tug in his chest, and even more so when Ben pulls away, tilting his head back to its normal position, but his lips are cherry red and so enticing and Callum just wants to pull Ben in again, by his waist, and feel Ben's body against his own and re-attach his lips to Ben's. But he can't. Fuck, he wants this to be real so badly.

"What was that for?" Callum asks and he knows, he's certain, that his entire face is aflame right now.

Ben's hand is still pressing against Callum's chest, and there's a smile on his face as he can feel each individual beat of his heart, and it's beating ridiculously fast, thumping away. Callum's hand is still firmly cupping Ben's waist, thumb running around his skin in circles and it's surely leaving goosebumps in its wake, Callum's coarse skin feeling perfect against Ben's, their bodies just fitting together seamlessly. "Jay's across the road watching us. May as well get started on our little joke." 

Oh. Of course. 

Callum pulls away from Ben's touch, and instantly Ben regrets his words, because he misses Callum's touch against his skin like it's his to miss.

Ben walks back into his house, and buttons up his shirt as Callum follows him, the door clicking shut behind him. "Make that five minutes now, give or take." He laughs, and Callum smiles. It's not bright, like usual, but Ben's laugh makes him smile. "You're a good kisser, by the way. I'll be looking forward to more of that." He slides his shoes on, and pulls the back of them out from where it's digging into his Achilles' heel.

"You are too." Callum says, and his fingers trace his lips, trying to hold onto the remnants of Ben

-- 

The day's practically over, the simple nine to five life ending the working day, and as per usual, all the locals are in the pub after shutting up shop everywhere else.

Ben's still in his work clothes, as he walks into the pub, and Callum shakes his head, handing Ben's pre-prepared pint over to him "Glad to see you're properly dressed now." 

"Leave off, you love seeing me naked." Ben grins, and carries his own pint over to the booth. He's bone tired, an ache in his body that he's never felt before, but he certainly wasn't swapping his usual few pints in the local of an evening for anything, even if a relaxing aromatherapy bubble bath does sound perfect right about now.

They're sitting together on one side of the booth, waiting for Jay and Lola to arrive and sit opposite them. It's lucky that they managed to get this booth really, courtesy of Callum being a barman, and even more lucky at the fact he's been given the rest of the evening off, providing it doesn't get too busy that the rest of the bar staff can't handle it. He knows there's a high chance of that happening, so secretly he's planning on drinking just enough so that Mick is forced into not asking him to do the closing hours. 

"Managed to sell the Ford then?" Callum asks, drinking his pint. 

Ben nods. "Yeah. It was only going for cheap anyway, just a little run around really. Some bloke came in and bought it for his daughter. Apparently she's just passed her test anyway, and he didn't want her in his car." 

Callum's hand is resting over the top of the booth, stretching out behind Ben's head. Neither of them notice that it's there, not until Ben leans back, attempting to press his head against the back of the seat, and he feels Callum's arm in its place instead. "Want me to move?" Callum asks, and he's facing Ben properly now, his body twisting in his direction. By default, he can now see the bar as well, and notices that Jay and Lola are standing in a queue waiting to be served. He focuses back on Ben. 

"Do you want to?" Ben asks, and follows Callum's previous eyeline to spot their friends talking to one another. 

"Not what I asked." Callum grins. "Jay's definitely told Lola about this morning. She keeps looking over at us." Ben makes a movement, a jerk of his head to look in their direction, and Callum could strangle him - talk about making it obvious. He puts his hands on Ben's chin and pulls him so that he's forced to look at Callum's face. "Don't look, you idiot." 

"No, I don't want you to move." Ben asks, and he licks his lips. "Better now?" 

Callum nods, and there's a smile on his face as his heart practically skips a beat, their bodies that close now only a thin piece of paper could fit in the gap between them. 

"Can I kiss you?" Ben asks, and he looks so shy, like a whole new person. His voice is quiet, so quiet that Callum wasn't completely sure he heard him correctly, but judging by the fact Ben can't take his eyes off of Callum's lips, he knows full well he heard Ben correctly. 

Callum shuffles closer to Ben, if that is even possible, and his arm that's resting against the back of the booth now comes around to cup Ben's head, holding him in a position where it's impossible to move. He's solely focusing on Ben now, the thought of both Jay and Lola, along with the rest of the pub watching them doesn't faze him at all. It doesn't even enter his head negatively. "You didn't ask me that this morning." He says, and his voice is low, primitive, only for Ben to witness.

Ben shrugs, and licks his lips again. He knows where this is heading. He never knew Callum could be such an expert at flirting. "We didn't have loads of people watching us this morning." 

"No, we didn't." Callum says, and his forehead is against Ben's, their hair tickling each other's skin though they don't mind. "Only Jay." 

"Only Jay." Ben repeats, and his voice is low, matching Callum's. 

They pause for a few moments, but the rest of the pub is muffled out beyond recognition. White noise fills their ears as heat bubbles away between them. Callum's hand is still firmly on Ben's face, holding onto his jaw. It's hot, the tension between them palpable, and Callum inches closer, and witnesses Ben's eyes fluttering closed. He smirks, knowing he has the ability to do that to Ben, that he can make him look like that, even if they're only pretending to date. Because that's what this is. All pretend. Make believe. Not real, not under any circumstances. He has to remember that. But right now, he doesn't care, because Ben looks so fit and he can feel his breath on his skin and his lips are so close and then they're touching. It's mind blowing how something so simple is so perfect. Callum nudges closer, his nose bobbing against Ben's cheek, and Ben takes that as a hint to open his mouth and let Callum in. Callum nearly crumbles, and he's glad that he's sitting down because he definitely wouldn't be able to hold himself up otherwise. There's a grin on Ben's face, and Callum can feel it against his lips as they move together like they were meant to be. His hand falls onto Callum's thigh, and there's a soft moan that tumbles from Callum's throat and out through his mouth, and he's thankful nobody other than him and Ben would be able to hear it. Ben's hand squeezes at his thigh, and then his thumb runs in patterns of circles over the denim material that is stuck to him and then there's a cough, pulling them away from one another. 

Callum releases Ben from his hold, though Ben's hand remains at his thigh. He's not going to complain. No normal person would. Callum picks up his pint, and takes a large gulp, trying to avoid eye contact with Jay and Lola. He can still taste Ben on his lips, and it's driving him insane. 

"You interrupted?" Ben asks, and Callum bites his lips, hiding a soft chuckle that's threatening to escape, though he's sure that his shoulders bobbing up and down is a dead giveaway. 

Callum eventually looks up, and he sees Lola with a wide grin on her face and she looks ready to burst into tears and jump over the table to hug them both. Jay has a look of disgust, but Callum knows that it's because he's seeing his brother kiss someone else. Nobody likes to see that. Behind his eyes though, he looks happy, and it leaves Callum with a pang of guilt, because it's not real.  

"Why didn't you tell us?" Lola asked as she swirls her gin and lemonade with a metal straw. "Jay was just telling me he saw you two this morning." 

Ben shrugs, and looks up at Callum with a gentle smile. That's real, Callum notes, he knows that smile is real. "We didn't want to say anything in case it didn't work out. But it's working out." Ben says, and Callum's shocked, to say the least. Lying comes easy to him, and he's so good at it that it's scary. 

"So you are together then?" Jay asks, raising his eyebrows, mouth hidden by his pint glass.

Callum nods. "Yeah." He says, and his fingers interlock with Ben's as he rests it on top of Ben's hand that is still on Callum's thigh. "We have been for a while, but wanted to keep it hidden for a bit at least." 

"I knew it!" Lola bursts out, her smile getting wider and wider there's a high possibility it'll stay that way if the wind changes direction. "I've said it for weeks that you're together! There's just been little things here and there that have been making me think it, and I was right!"

Oh. Lola genuinely believes that they've been together for weeks. They haven't done anything out of the ordinary until today though, not consciously anyway. 

"Oh my God." Lola says, as though a thought has suddenly come into her brain. "Double date." She says, and Ben and Callum instantly look at each other, fear in their eyes. "We need to plan one, don't we Jay?" 

Jay laughs, not thinking that she's serious, until he winces over in pain at Lola kicking him underneath the table. "Yeah, can't wait for it." He says, pain evident in his voice as he rubs his calf muscle. 

"Any ideas?" Lola asks, and looks expectantly at Ben and Callum.

"We," Ben says, causing Callum to look at him, wondering what on earth he's about to say now. "Were going to have a film night, at the weekend. Weren't we babe?" 

Callum nods, a look of confusion mixing in with a smile as he looks at Ben. "Yeah. Pizza, popcorn, the full lot."

"Yeah." Ben grins. "That'll be a good double date." Ben falls into Callum's shoulder, and Callum instinctively wraps his arm around Ben, holding them both together. 

It's oddly comforting, and feels natural for him to hold Ben like this and then it hits Callum. They have been acting like a couple for weeks, Lola's right. 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI Rogers And Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer. Episode 17- At Last Pt. 1

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​ 

Summary: It’s Tony’s wedding weekend, and the usual fun and antics ensue. Then Steve and Katie take an extra evening in Manhattan, where Steve has a little surprise of his own planned.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT IN PART 2 (NO UNDER 18s and NSFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  So this is it. The FINAL CSI: Rogers and Barnes instalment. (Well, bar an Epilogue…) and it’s long so we split into 2. This has been one hell of a ride! It’s been a total playground for us, seeing how many stupid references and ridiculous actions we could fit in, and our first collaboration. We hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as we have. Myself and Storm love each and every one of you who’ve taken the time to read, like, comment and re-bog.

We love you 3000…

CSI R&B Masterlist

  //

Main Masterlist

Chapter Song: At Last- Etta James 

You smile, and then the spell was cast, and here we are in heaven for you are mine. At Last.

Steve stretched out, rolling over and reached out for Katie only for his hand to meet a cold, empty mattress. He opened his eyes, confused for a second at the unfamiliar surroundings before he realised he was in his room at the Plaza…and it’s the morning of Tony’s wedding. His head was a little fuzzy due to the drinks last night which had gone on late and he could remember sitting in Tony’s suite drinking the bottle of scotch Sam had pilfered from the free bar at the rehearsal party. They had an impromptu party once the girls had left for Pepper and Tony’s and he remembered complaining loudly about why Sam and Bucky got to spend the night together when Katie wasn’t allowed to stya with him.

Jesus what had he turned into? A clingy bastard, that’s what.

He reached for his phone, checking the time which was 9 am. He dropped it back on the bedside table and tried to go back to sleep but he couldn’t. Not without her so he gave up. Firing Katie a quick ‘good morning beautiful’ message, he then kicked off the bed covers and shoved on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Grabbing his kit he decided to head for the pool to make the most of the facilities.

The place was fairly busy considering the time on a Saturday morning, but there was a lane closed off for the ‘serious’ swimmers with no one in it so he made use of that for half an hour before he made his way into the changing rooms and showered. By the time he was drying off in the locker room, Katie had messaged back wishing him a ‘good morning handsome’ and complaining she had a bad head from a lot of champagne. He smiled, replied that he was sure she’d soon get over it when they start again, and then just as he’d done that another message came through. This one from Tony who had apparently ordered a fuck tonne of room service for a breakfast party.

Deciding that wasn’t such a bad idea he replied saying he was on his way, shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his kit bag and headed to the elevator. When he got to Tony’s suite he knocked on the door, the faint well natured chatter from inside hit his ears before the door swung open. Rhodey greeted him and Steve stepped in to see Tony led on a chaise in a hotel robe, eating grapes like a Roman Emperor. Steve snorted.

“Having Fun Tony?”

Tony grinned “Am I ever? I love all this. You know, I might get married once every 2 years.” He looked at Steve “You should try it, Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes, remembering full well about the ring that was tucked in the safe in his room.

From his spot over by the low coffee table, Bucky shot Steve a glance. He was certain the punk was gonna pop the question this weekend, why else would he have booked an extra night for them to stay in Manhattan on Sunday as well?  When Steve suggested it to Katie over breakfast a few weeks ago, he’d simply stated it was an opportunity for them to spend a bit of time together in the run up to Christmas, but if said girl didn’t return to Brooklyn on Monday with a ring on her finger then James Buchanan Barnes would chop of his left arm with a chainsaw.

At that point, Rhodey, ever the tactical, organised man asked Tony what the plan was for the day and Tony simply looked at him, and blinked.

“Aren’t you the best man?”

Bucky sighed “What a waste. I could have been a groomsman….ow!” he hissed, rubbing his side as Sam had elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Rhodey completely ignored Bucky and looked at Tony “I am, yes, but you’re the Groom.” Tony waved him away “Yeah, yeah. We need to be dressed and in the room for 1. Ceremony is at 1:45, girls should arrive at half past and our stylist is arriving at midday. Easy.”

Steve glanced at his watch and Bucky smirked up at him “Hey, Stevie…only 3 hours till you see her punk…” From besides him, Sam snorted.

“You’re whipped man.”

Steve glared at them both, not even bothering to deny that was what he’d been checking and turned to Tony. “Is Greatmaster…Grandmaster, whatever, your wedding planner coming?” “Right, yeah that….asshole shall be showing up at some point.” Tony rolled his eyes “Fortunately I’m getting rid of him for the day.” He shoved another grape in his mouth and looked at Bruce “Remind me never to hire anyone you or the Bungalow recommend ever again.”

They boys settled down to eat, taking their time, enjoying a bit of banter about the stag do and the previous night’s rehearsal until an hour or so later Tony clapped his hands and stood up.

“Ok boys, suit up.”

Steve made his way back to his room and whilst in the elevator he got another message from Katie. This was a selfie of her in a robe with a glass of champagne having her hair put up. He smiled, responded telling her he couldn’t wait to see her, before the elevator door opened and he headed down to his room. Having already showered he knew he wasn’t in a huge rush so took his time trimming his beard, making sure the lines were crisp before he shrugged on his dress shirt, tying a Windsor in his deep, scarlet tie. Then he pulled on his suit pants, matching waistcoat and then jacket before placing his shiny black oxfords on and stood up. With a little product he styled his hair, making sure it was parted and slicked back as usual before taking a final glance in the mirror, smoothing down his jacket. He had to admit, the suits Tony (or most likely Pepper) had chosen for the Groom’s party were sharp. A black wool blend Tom Ford with a subtle red and gold check detail. Deciding he looked half decent he grabbed his wallet, phone, and room key. Satisfied he didn’t need anything else, he made his way back to Tony’s room.

Once more he gave a rap and the door opened inwards to reveal Grandmaster, smiling at him.

“Good afternoon Mr Rogers, you look dapper.” The man grinned, batting his eyelashes.

“Erm, thanks.” Steve replied in the absence of anything else to say.

“You’re late by the way.” Grandmaster continued.

“What?” Steve frowned, checking his watch to find he wasn’t late. He was never late…

“You’re the last one.” Grandmaster stated, as ways of explanation. “Everyone else is here already.”

“That’ doesn’t mean that I’m late.” Steve shook his head.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Grandmaster replied, batting his eyelashes again.

“Whatever, can I come in?” Steve arched an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah, sure. Sorry. I got lost in your eyes for a minute there.”

Steve looked at the man, utterly lost for words. The guy was as nutty as a fruitcake. Steve stepped into the room, turning sideways as Grandmaster did the same smiling at him. He hastily moved into the living area of the suite where Rhodey was doing up Tony’s gold dress tie.

Grandmaster headed over to Bruce, brushing something off the man’s shoulder, smiling “You’ve always been my champion.”

Steve raised his eyebrows before he leaned over to whisper to Sam “How does Bruce know him again?”

“Some Ultimate Fighting online fan group.” Sam said “Bruce and Thor are very into it, apparently, along with one of Thor’s other good friends, Korg.”

“Korg?” Steve looked at Sam.

“Yeah, Thor knew him from his Uni days.” Sam said “They used to be quite political apparently. Tried to organise a protest against fascism but they didn’t print enough pamphlets so hardly anyone turned up.” Steve shook his head, the fact that didn’t surprise him in the slightest was ridiculous, but when it came to this lot, nothing did really, not anymore. It wasn’t long before Tony was ready, and the boys all stood round with one more scotch each before they were ushered, by a now very militant Grandmaster, down to the chapel where the wedding was going to take place in. Once there, Grandmaster headed off to check the function suite was ready for the ‘Post Wedding Meal’.  At his muttering of those words, Steve and Tony shared a little grin at the memory of a few weeks ago in Tony’s kitchen.

The Photographer arrived and set about arranging the boys for a few shots. Bucky tried to sneak into most of them, Tony at one point telling him to fuck off from his grooms party shots, which was the WORST thing he could possibly have done, as Bucky then made it his mission to infiltrate as many of them as he could by stealth. Steve had to admit, he couldn’t wait to see the final shots of Bucky popping up all over the place like some kind of nameless assassin.

As they were all having a shot taken just at the doors of the room, Grandmaster bustled back in. “OH. EMM. GEE.” He said, pronouncing each letter, drawing out the vowel sounds. “My crew sent me photos of the girls…you’re all going to DIE when you see them.” He grinned, slapping Steve’s back.

Ducking away from him, Steve checked his watch. 12:15…not long now. But before he could think about it, the first guests started to arrive having been shown the way by the concierge, and it was all to attention and the groomsman duties began.

Approximately 10 or so minutes later, he was just heading back to the door of the chapel having shown the assistant from the lab to her seat when he stopped dead as he saw Katie just outside in the foyer area, locked in an embrace with Tony. He was sure his heart stopped for a beat, fuck, she looked stunning. Her dress was the same colour as his tie, a deep red with a halter neck and a v neckline. It cinched in at the waist, with a fairly loose fitting skirt that had a slit up the side and it accentuated her figure perfectly. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant knot of curls at the back of her head, exposing her delicate neck and shoulders, and the star necklace he bought her twinkled as it sat just below the hollow of her throat. For some reason his mind strayed back to the time he had met her. He’d been invited to Howard’s for dinner a few months after arriving at the 101st and she’d answered the door, dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans, an oversized grey sweater which hung off one shoulder complete with a messy bun on top of her head and the prettiest eyes he had ever seen, eyes which were now popping from underneath a lid of smoky brown and gold eyeshadow. She’d flashed him a smile that day, invited him in, and if he was honest from that moment he’d been a fucking gonner for her. Why he had waited the best part of ten fucking years to even kiss her he would never understand. As he watched her eyes turned to his and she beamed at him. He gave her a smile back as she released Tony and made her way towards him, her leg slipping through the long slit in her dress as she walked giving him a flash of the peep-toe gold heels she was wearing, leaving him actively fighting the image of said heels being hooked around his ears…. Jesus Christ….

“Miss me Captain?” She grinned, her teeth bright white against the deep, blood red lip stain she was wearing.

“Always Doll.” He smiled as she stopped in front of him, blinking as she looked up at him.

“Good, because I missed you too.”

“You look amazing, honey.” Steve complimented her and she beamed up at him, scanning his suit.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.” She said, her palms sliding up the lapels of his jacket.

Steve’s hand slipped round her back as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. When his palm met bare skin he couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth as he realised her dress was backless. Katie looked at him having heard his involuntary noise, arching a perfectly plucked brow and smirked.

“Yes, no bra Stevie.”

“You’re killing me sweetheart.” Steve whined out but before she could reply, Steve was rather harshly slapped on the back.

“Put her down, Punk you’re needed.”  Bucky smirked as he turned to Katie, doing an over exaggerated double take as he looked her up and down “Huh, ok, so you look decent…” “Fuck you Barnes.” She shot back “And tell them they can wait a little, I haven’t seen my man since last night.” “Oh believe me I know. He’s been a whiney little bitch all morning…”

At that point a familiar voice cut him off. “James Buchanan Barnes, wash your mouth out, this is a wedding!”

Bucky grimaced as huge grins spread across both Katie and Steve’s faces. “Sorry Momma R” “Yes, I should think so.” Sarah looked at him sternly.

“Okay, I’m gonna…go…ummm…” Bucky hastily made his retreat, Sarah watching him with narrowed eyes before she turned to Katie, beaming as she gave her a hug.

“Star you look stunning.”

“Thanks Sarah and so do you, I love your dress.” Katie smiled, looking down at Sarah’s light gold knee length gown and Steve had to admit, it had been a while since he’d seen his ma done up. She was quite striking actually. “I love the neckline, and your hair.”

“Yes, thank you for that.” She gave Katie a look and she blushed a little, waving her away.

“Thank you for what?” Steve asked and Sarah looked at him, smiling.

“I had a little surprise this morning. Star arranged for someone to come and do my hair for me.”

Steve looked at Katie, a soft smile crossing his face. “You did?”

Katie shrugged “It’s no big deal.” “Well it was to me, so thank you.” Sarah smiled, before she turned to Steve. “My boy…don’t you look handsome?”

Steve blushed a little “Ma…” he sighed and Sarah chuckled

“Are you going to show me to my seat?” she asked and Steve smiled. He offered his mom his arm, shot Katie another smile and then walked into the room. As they reached the row she was to be seated on he stopped and reached up to brush his cheek. “You look just like your father.”

Steve didn’t miss the emotion in his mom’s eyes and he swallowed a little as she took her seat one down from the end of the row. “Have you…?”

“God, Ma. No, not yet. And I won’t be today either, its Tony’s wedding…”

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, most likely to pressure Steve to hurry up again but she was cut off by a voice from behind them.

“I believe my seat is just there…”

Steve frowned, he recognised that voice. He turned to see none other than Stan Lee smiling at him.

“Mr Lee?” he asked as the elderly man beamed at him “I didn’t know you were invited.” He extended his hand to shake Stan’s. “Good to see you again.”

“You too Captain. May I?”

Steve gave a nod and moved so Stan could drop into the seat on the end of the row, next to his mom.

“Good afternoon Ma’am, looks like I’m on the young’uns row.” Stan beamed at Sarah who burst out laughing. Steve shook his head with a snort and left them to it, making his way back out of the room to find the rest of his team had now arrived, Thor currently giving Katie a huge hug. He greeted Natasha who touched his arm gently before making a bee line for Bruce. He watched her go, smirking to himself, before he turned and raised an eyebrow at Clint. Clint merely shrugged and then introduced the Captain to his girlfriend, Laura. Thor then turned to him, shaking hands with Steve and moved slightly to reveal Gina was stood now talking to Katie.

“Greetings Captain, I bought a date.” Thor grinned.

“I see.” Steve said, raising his eyebrows, not bothering to correct Thor on what he had just said making it sound like he’d purchased Gina in some way...

“Yeah…” Gina turned to Steve. “The way he says it he sounds like he’s bought a bottle of wine.”

Thor shook his head “No, I don’t drink wine.”

At that Katie burst out laughing and turned away, shaking her head slightly.

“It’s a good thing he’s dreamy” Gina said, jerking her thumb at Thor.

Steve’s attention then was then distracted by a loud voice “Miss Stark, you look stunning…” He turned to see flash fucking fire dude, Johnny Storm approaching her and he gave a little groan, rolling his eyes.

“Captain…” Thor asked and Steve turned back to him “Where do we err sit?” Steve floundered for a moment, he really didn’t want to leave the fire bastard alone with his girl so he turned to Bucky who was watching him, a huge grin on his face.

“Buck can you…”

Bucky raised both palms, shaking his head, smirking smugly “Hey, I’m not part of the groomsman party…”

“Fuck you jerk.” Steve shot back and Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Ok, first off, watch your language. This is a chapel, a place of worship and two…” at this point he dropped his voice and gave Steve a stern look. “Stop with the jealousy, she’s with you. No competition.”

“What is he even doing here?” Steve frowned, completely ignoring what Bucky had said, and the sergeant took a deep sigh. He was just about to inform Steve that he had no idea when a voice sounded from behind them.

“Johnny, there you are!”

Bucky and Steve turned to see a tall, dark haired man and a blonde woman approaching them. The blonde rolled her eyes “Of course he would be here, Hi Katie.”

Katie smiled “Hi Susan.”

“Well this is cute and all but…” Gina spoke again, “like seriously, Captain. Where do we sit?”

Steve groaned and took another glance at Johnny who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning as Katie chatted to the 3 people in front of her. Knowing he couldn’t not show the team to their seats, he rolled his eyes and moved gently to loop his arm round Katie’s waist, dropping a kiss to her cheek.  A flicker of a smile crossed her pretty face and she turned to look at him, leaving him with absolutely no question she knew he was ‘marking his territory’ so to speak, before he grudgingly turned away to show the team to their seats.

“Smooth.” Bucky observed.

“Shut up.” Steve snapped back as he led his team down to a row half way down the room. This time, when he once more emerged from the room he was greeted by a whirl of gold and blue and he let out a low groan. Grandmaster.

Tony’s eccentric wedding planner started to clap his hands at Steve “The bride is here…get everyone seated, we’re behind schedule…”

Tony, who had been stood talking to someone grumbled to Steve “I wish he was behind schedule, preferably by a week so he wasn’t here.”

Steve gave a snort as Grandmaster turned to Katie and Pepper’s sister “Miss Stark, Miss Potts, the Bride may need your help…” At that he then looked at Steve, didn’t I tell you she looked stunning?” “You said gorgeous.” Bucky replied lazily.

“No.” Grandmaster frowned “Why would I use that word?”

Before Bucky could reply to the very strangely dressed man in front of him, Rhodey then appeared, smiling. “All set.” He smiled, clapping Tony on the shoulder “You ready?” Tony shook his head “Nope.”

Katie smiled, “You’ll be fine.” Steve watched as she stepped forward to give her brother a hug before she pulled back, her hands on his arms. “Mom and Dad would be so proud.”

Tony swallowed before he nodded “Ok, kiddo…don’t make me cry. Go help Pepper, tell her she’s already late.”

Katie rolled her eyes as Tony and Rhodey headed into the room, being ushered along by Grandmaster. She glanced at Steve and smiled. “See you in a minute.”

Steve smiled back, reaching out to pull her to him, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Don’t make it too long Doll.” She grinned and turned, giving him a full on view of the back of her dress, leaving his mouth a little dry and he made his way to his place on the front row, slightly down from where Tony and Rhodey were stood at the front of the aisle. On the way he shot his mom a smile as she beamed proudly at him, Bucky nodding as he sat next to her on the opposite side to Stan Lee. For some reason Steve was nervous. Why, he had no idea. He’d already seen his girl and she’d taken his breath away once already, but here he was, a ball of tense energy.  He could hear Tony and Rhodey talking, but he wasn’t focussing, that was until Tony’s voice grew loud and indignant

“That man is playing Galaga” Tony pointed to a man on the second row who was engrossed in his phone. “He thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did.”

“Man, shut up and relax…” Rhodey soothed him.

“I need a drink, something strong…is it bad I can’t feel my left arm.” Tony looked at Rhodey who was about to respond when the music started and everyone stood up. Steve turned his attention to the door which opened inwards and Katie and Pepper’s sister stepped into the room, walking down the aisle.

Bucky watched Steve as he took a deep breath, his eyes on his girl as she glided towards them, a stupid, dopey, gooey-eyed smile crossing the Captains face. “Gross” he mumbled, giving a soft yelp as Sarah slapped him round the back of the head. Fury, who was on the seat to Bucky’s left gave a little snigger. Bucky looked at him and frowned. “What are you doing here? That’s not even your seat, I’ve seen the seating plan.”

“I’m sure you have Barnes.” Fury replied lazily “But given that it’s a stupid ass plan designed by an even more stupid ass planner I’ve elected to ignore it.”

As Katie reached the front row, Bucky saw her shoot Steve a huge smile, which his punk best friend returned, and then there were gasps in the room. Bucky turned and saw Pepper in a gorgeous, yet so simple silk, straight A-line dress, which was embellished round the waist in red and gold embroidery. He glanced at Tony, and was amused to see that the normally composed scientist was literally floundering for air. Bucky then caught Sam’s eye who flashed him a wink which he returned, and Sarah nudged him.

“See, that’s what being in love does to you James.”

Bucky smiled at her as she squeezed his hand gently. Throughout the Ceremony Bucky saw Steve kept on looking at Katie who was on the same row but the opposite side of the aisle. She was watching Tony, her eyes glassy. At one point, Pepper’s sister took her hand and she turned to her, giving her a smile, before they both looked back, Katie turning to Steve. She shot him a huge grin which he returned, and Bucky smiled to himself. It might be gross, but it was cute. He liked seeing Steve happy.

When the ceremony was over, Tony was told he could kiss his bride.

“Well, I’m not one to back down from an honest challenge…” he muttered, stepping forward and sweeping her up in a huge kiss to loud cheers in the room. As music began to play again, the new Mr and Mrs Stark swept down the aisle followed by Rhodey and Pepper’s sister. Steve walked on behind smiling as he reached the end of his row.

“May I Miss Stark?” he offered Katie his arm and she grinned, linking hers into the crook of his elbow and he lay his hand over hers. As they walked towards the doors, he caught his mom’s eye as she dabbed her tears away with a tissue. She beamed at him, and he smiled back, before he turned to look at Katie, dropping a soft kiss to her temple.  

**** The meals were eaten, the toasts were done, and tears were shed through the afternoon. But once the reception was done, the drinks kept on flowing right through to the evening party. Steve was relaxed, feeling the buzz from a fair amount of wine, beer and shorts which had been consumed through the day. There was a loud tapping noise on the speakers and Steve glanced up from where he was sat at a table near the dance floor, Katie perched on his lap, as Tony and Pepper were welcomed to the floor for their first dance. The opening bars to Etta James ‘At Last’ last rang out around the room and Katie gave a snort.

“You can say that again.” She chuckled and Steve grinned, his arm curling round her as she watched her brother, her eyes glassy with tears. “You know…” she leaned down to Steve, this should really be our song.”

“Doll, just don’t…”

She shrugged and he gave a little huff of a laugh as she turned back to watch Tony slowly revolving Pepper around the floor, the camera flashing from the photographer. After the first verse the MC invited people to join them, as tradition and Katie looked at Steve. He nodded and she stood up, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

Bucky watched them go, picking up his drink, smiling.

“Look, now there are two Stark ladies!” Thor grinned as the team watched Steve take Katie in a close hold, gracefully revolving them on the spot, the pair of them sharing a laugh at something.

“Not for much longer.” Bucky grinned.

“What do you mean?” Thor frowned,

Besides Bucky Clint gave a snort as the sergeant looked at Thor blinking “You know, I don’t get it. Like, you’re super clever sometimes and others…”

Thor shrugged and then Bucky turned his attention over the table to see Scott Lang, their assistant looking at Natasha.

“Are you gonna eat that peanut butter macaroon or…” Scott began, but Natasha wasn’t listening, she was too busy caressing Bruce’s palm as it lay on the table in front of her so Scott reached out and grabbed it, shoving it in his mouth. On the dancefloor, Steve effortlessly moved Katie around the floor to the song as it played. She tucked her head under his chin and he breathed her in, his hand splaying on her bare back, simply relishing the fact she was so close. He didn’t speak a word, simply allowed the music and being with her to sweep him away, and he was rather unceremoniously jolted back to reality when loud applause sounded as the song finished. The MC congratulated Tony and Pepper once more, Katie turned to give her brother a huge hug, before the man on the mic wished everyone a Merry Christmas and the sounds of Wham, ‘Last Christmas’ rang out, cheers hitting Steve’s ears as suddenly the dance floor filled up.

Almost immediately, Bucky was in front of him, throwing what looked like torn up place cards into the air, holding his arms out “Merry Christmas and Happy 2021!”

Sam, who was besides Bucky looked at him “Its 2020 next year, idiot.”

Steve dusted the paper off his shoulders, picking pieces out of Katie’s hair as she looked at Bucky, frowning. Bucky turned to Sam and shrugged “Yeah I know but I don’t like 2020. Sounds like a shit year to me…although…” he spun to Steve grinning and Steve took a deep breath and shot him a glare, which he totally ignored “It could be a good one eh Stevie?”

“What is he talking about?” Katie looked at Steve.

“God knows, he’s drunk.” Steve shrugged as Bucky made a clicking noise as he winked, pointing at both of them. Thankfully, Sam dragged him away, Katie and Steve both watched them go before Katie turned back around. Smiling, Steve took her back in a hold that was a little lighter this time as the music was more upbeat and they began to dance together once more.

“Hmmm. Last Christmas…” Katie pondered and Steve let out a groan.

“Can we…” he took a deep breath, dropping his head “Can we just not? Please Doll. I’m not very proud of myself when I think about it.” Katie chuckled and her hands came to rest on his shoulders as he moved them in a little livelier dance. “Ok, sorry. But, it worked out in the end.”

“It did. But I caused you a lot of pain along the way.” He sighed, “Too much.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t hang around and give you chance to explain or try and work it out.” Katie looked up at him. “I just ran away.

“I didn’t exactly try and stop you did I?” Steve looked at her.

“No, you didn’t Captain Righteous.” Katie conceded and Steve chuckled as she shook her head “God I was so mad at you.”

“I was mad at myself Sweetheart.” “But if I’m honest, I was more upset that we’d blown our chance.” Steve took a deep breath. “I really thought we had. Well, that I had…”

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you ever leave me again, please.” She said, almost whispered. Steve frowned and looked at her, her face was loaded with emotion and beneath those sparkling green emerald eyes he could see a flicker of fear.

“Hey…” he reached for her hand and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her wrist “Where’s this coming from baby girl?”

Katie sniffed, “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s just, everything is so perfect. It sometimes feels a little too good to be true. And I’m scared that one day I’m gonna wake up and I’ll still be in DC…or that you might have another car crash…or a case getting nasty and you…”

She was losing herself in her head again, something he’d seen her do countless times so he quickly cut her off. “Look at me.” He cupped her face in both his hands “I’m not going anywhere Doll.”

“Promise?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but he knew full well that words wouldn’t do this moment justice. Instead he dipped his face to hers, catching her mouth in a deep kiss, not caring who the fuck was watching. He poured every single piece of emotion he was feeling into that kiss, desperate for her to understand that he had no intention of leaving her ever again and she must have gotten the message as he felt her relax into his hold, kissing him back, her hands softly gripping at the material of his jacket.

“Erm, stop eating his face Kiddo, this is my wedding.” Tony interrupted “It’s supposed to be about me….and Pepper” he added.

Steve could feel his cheeks growing warm as Katie pulled away from him with a groan and a roll of her eyes as she turned to face Tony.

“How about you go eat your wife’s face and leave us the fuck alone Tones?”

“Rude much?” He snorted “I raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, Tony!” Katie scoffed.

“Ok, it was a figure of…” he trailed off, frowning at something over her shoulder. “What the hell is Thor doing?”

Steve and Katie turned to see Thor was stood his nose almost touching one of the branches of the lit up Christmas Trees round the edge of the room.

“Oh, he was rambling on over dinner about Norwegian Spruce trees.” Katie shrugged, “Maybe he’s trying to figure out if that is one or not.”

“He was rambling about what?” Tony looked at her.

“It’s a type of tree which…” Steve began but Tony cut him off.

“You know what, on second thoughts I’m not really interested.” Steve sighed and looked at Katie who rolled her eyes as Tony continued “By the way, how do you like the décor?”

Steve watched Katie look around and knew what she’s was going to say, because she loved this time of year, turning into one huge, great child over the entire period of December. And true to form, when she opened her mouth to reply, she was grinning ear to ear.

“I gotta say, he might be a pain in the ass but Grandmaster got this right. I love it.” She smiled.

“Yeah, me too.” Tony agreed. “It’s like Christmas but with more me.” Steve let out a snort and Tony clapped his shoulder “Remind me to give you his card.” And with that he left, Steve shooting daggers at him. Thankfully, Katie was too engrossed in what Thor was doing to hear Tony offering Steve the services of a wedding planner. He saw her frown and his attention then flicked to the tall blonde, frowning.

“What is he offering my Ma?”

“Condoms.” A voice shot back, and Steve wheeled round to glare at Bucky who had appeared out of nowhere.

“For fucks sake Buck!” he growled as Katie spluttered out a laugh.  

“Just kidding.” Bucky grinned, “They’re sweets. He handed them out before, you two were too busy dancing.”

“Sweets?” Katie arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he said he got em off a suspect…no, not a suspect, a suspects brief, yeah…”

“Bucky, are you ok?” Katie asked him and Steve looked at her, then to Bucky who did look a little, what was the word, spaced?

“Yeah, I feel…great!” He replied with a giggle.

Katie looked at him again before she let out a small “oh.” And groaned a little “Oh God.”

“What is it?” Steve asked, but she ignored him and continued talking to Bucky.

“How many of those sweets Thor has did you eat?”

“3 maybe 4…I dunno…” Bucky giggled, “I want more though.”

At that point, the man in questioned arrived. “Greetings!” Thor beamed at Katie and Steve, holding out a little foil packet “Sweet?”

“Thor, the guy who gave you those, was he wearing suspenders?” Katie asked and Steve frowned.

“Yes, I believe he was, along with a very bright lime green shirt. Nice chap.” Thor mused “He used many Post Its”

At that Steve looked at Katie, giving a little groan as he suddenly understood “Weiss?”

Katie nodded “They were a favourite little party treat of his.”

Steve snatched the bag from Thor and sniffed inside, pulling back immediately, the smell of cannabis sticking in his nostrils. “Jesus how can you not smell that?”

“Wait…” Bucky said, taking a sniff and looking at Steve “These have weed in them? The things I ate?”

Katie took a sniff and wrinkled her nose “Yup, and they’re stronger than I remember.”

“Than you remember? You used to do this?” Steve looked at her and she shrugged.

“Hey, I was younger and dumber…”

“Wait, so I’m high right now?” Bucky pressed and Katie grinned.

“Yep, they’ll wear off in a while. For the time being you’ll just feel very drunk and kinda floppy.”

“Floppy?” Steve frowned and Katie nodded.

“Yeah, like nothing matters, everything is cool. They used to make me a little frisky actually, we once took them before we…” she paled and Steve looked at her, swallowing before he turned to Thor.

“Thor, you didn’t give one of these to my ma did you?” Steve asked.

“Of course, not, no.” Thor shook his head.

“Oh thank fuck” Steve breathed out.

“I gave her two.” Thor concluded. At that Bucky’s giggles suddenly turned into loud laughter as he bent over, clutching at Thor’s arm.

“For fucks sake Thor, you drugged my mom!” Steve exploded as Bucky’s laughter grew louder.

“Sarah’s gonna be hiiiiigh.”

“Where is she?” Steve demanded, ignoring Bucky.

They scanned the room, searching for her only to see her at the other side of the dancefloor with flash fire dude, who was twirling her round to the music.

“Flame on!” She whooped, her hands up in the air as Johnny grinned.

“It’s catchy right?”

With a groan Steve strode over towards them. “Ma? What are you doing? You Ok?”

Sarah grinned at him, her eyes slightly glazed “Hey Son I’m good…just dancing with this young man.” She said, looking at Johnny then back to Steve “He says he’s called the human torch but us girls can call him torch”

Steve glared at Storm as Katie reached his side “The human torch?” he deadpanned “Seriously?”

“Hey,I didn’t coin it, it was the press that did that when we put out that warehouse fire. So called because my uniform caught fire on the way out…thanks to my sister though, I escaped with nothing more than a slight smoulder.” Steve felt Katie shaking besides him and could tell she was holding back laughter. Storm flashed her a wink and Steve grit his teeth before he felt his mom slap his shoulder.

“Don’t you be giving him that look Steven Grant! This brave man is a firefighter…” at that she turned back to Johnny, sniggering. “Now, where is your hose young man?”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve groaned, looking away in disgust.

Johnny opened his mouth to speak but Katie cut him off “Err no. Don’t.”

He shrugged and then looked at Sarah who was laughing so hard she was almost bent double.

“Ok, that’s enough Ma.” Steve decided to do what he did best, take control of the situation. “ I think you need to sit down.”

“Awww, don’t be such a buzz kill Steven.”

“It ain’t the buzz I want to kill…” Steve said, his eyes locking onto Johnny’s as he gave him another filthy glare.

After a little more cajoling they manage to get Sarah to agree to sit down. Steve helped her to her seat whilst she was rambling on about not wanting to be sat with Mr Lee again because he spent all dinner complaining about the booze not being strong enough. As they reached her table Sarah suddenly stopped.

“Actually…I think I need…yeah I need to go to my room.” She looked at Steve and Katie gave a snort.

“Hey, Steve, your ma’s crashing.”

Steve shot her a look. “This is not funny.”

Before she could respond Sam appeared and looked between the two of them, then to Sarah as he raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on his handsome face.

“Everything OK?” he asked.

“Yeah, she had one of Thor’s magic sweets.” Katie grinned “You wanna watch Buck, he’s had 4.”

Sam snorted, “Yeah I noticed.”

“I’m hungry.” Sarah suddenly said and Steve let out a sigh.

“Sam, can you help me get her to her room. Doll, you keep an eye on Bucky.” “I want a cheeseburger.” Sarah pointed at Steve and he looked at her.

“Ma, you’ve never eaten a cheeseburger in your life.”

“Shows much you know. A McDonalds on a Friday is my secret treat…although now I told you it’s not a secret.” She raised her finger to her lips “Sshhhh you can’t tell anyone.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started leading his ma to the door, Sam following.

“Bye Sarah!” Johnny called. “Pleasure meeting you!”

“Bye hottie!” she giggled, waving her hand at him as Sam laughed. She turned to Steve, spluttering out a laugh. ”Ha, hottie, see what I did there?”

“Yes.” Steve shook his head as he led her from the room. “Very good, Ma.”

Between Steve and Sam it was fairly easy to get Sarah to her room. Once he’d made sure she was ok and had some water he closed the door and they made their way back to the main room, Steve throwing the sweets in the trash as they passed a can on the way.

“Fucking Weiss.” He grumbled to himself as Sam gave a little chuckle.

When they arrived back in the room, it was clear a fair few of his team had managed to have one of those damned sweets before he’d confiscated them. Gina, Nat and Clint were dancing, all 3 of them with odd looks and dopey grins on their faces. Katie was on the floor with Pepper and Bucky, Bucky swaying on the spot. As Steve watched Sam headed over and winked at Katie, steering Bucky away. Steve felt someone besides him and he turned to see Bruce.

“How’s the team look to you Bruce?” he asked, a smile on his face as Bruce snorted.

“Right now we’re not a team, we’re a time bomb.”

Steve had to concede he was right, as at that moment Clint started miming as if he was shooting a bow, whereas Nat looked like she was throwing knives. Gina on the other hand was stood doing the robot.

“I need a drink.” Steve concluded.

“Good idea.” Bruce agreed.

They head to the bar where Tony was leaning against it, his tie long discarded, lecturing Peter Parker. Steve, taking lead from Tony, loosened his tie and popped the top button on his shirt before he ordered himself and Bruce a bourbon each, offering one to Tony who nodded, and then Peter who asked politely for a beer instead. The 4 men engaged in conversation, and a fair few drinks as Steve was happy to remain where he was, out of the way, every so often glancing around. It was about an hour later when he saw Clint and Natasha slowly walking towards a table, dropping down into a seat, Gina following. Bucky walked over to the bar with Sam shaking his head.

“Feeling ok Pal?” Steve grinned and Bucky blinked, rubbing his eyes.

“What the fuck just happened? It was like someone took over my brain…” he looked at them.

“I think the magic wore off.” Bruce mumbled as Steve gave a snort. “

“God, I really need food.” Buck looked around.

Steve laughed and clapped Bucky on the shoulder, ordering another round of drinks.

CONTINUED IN PART 2....

[sincerelyreidburke]

I know you only talked about it like, once in a post but could you please tell me more about drunk Quinn?

Yes, absolutely, anon. Drunk Quinn is an experience. Here’s the post in question where I mentioned it, and let’s expand on it.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

- Quinn drinks in very specific (and relatively rare) settings. Unlike his frat-bro boyfriend, he doesn’t really like getting lit up at parties on the regular. Rest assured Nando, when he does this, does it safely and in good company, but the fact remains that he’s often down to party.

- Quinn is a bit different. His idea of drinking at a kegster is having rosé out of a Solo cup with Ford. There are two places where Quinn will actually drink to the point of becoming tipsy: drama club cast parties (the closing-night ones, where they get champagne), and when he goes out with the crickets.

- First, let’s do the former, because the latter is way funnier. When Quinn is drinking at a cast party, it’s because he just finished a performance, and he had a really good time. He’s relieved that everything went well, in a place he loves, and happy. Closing nights can be magical like that. It’s this liminal space between performance craziness and the post-show “what am I supposed to do with my life now?” feeling.

- The first time Quinn gets actually tipsy is probably freshman year at the DEH cast party. They play random showtunes, and he sings along while eating the cake that has a frosting tree on it. His cheeks always get rosy when he drinks. Nando thinks it’s adorable.

- And so those are the cast parties. The far more entertaining version of Drunk Quinn comes when he and the 3 crickets, uh......... go clubbing.

- I mean specifically they go to gay bars. It starts around their sophomore year, and the reason they go is to support Rhodey’s secret undercover drag queen life to be in a fun queer space where they can also have a good time. (And yes, Touille is ace, but he’s going for the experience of hanging out with his friends and not to do Specifically Gay things. Also, he’s the designated driver.)

- Stick with me because this is funny. Quinn lets himself actually.......... become a little laid-back when he goes out with them? Those three boys are his best friends (even though he’s dating one of them). Like, he does have theatre friends, some really close ones, but when it comes down to it, the crickets are his closest friends.

- So that translates to Quinn being able to actually drink quite a bit. One time he and Rhodey go shot for shot. It’s terrifying.

- We all know that Quinn is kind of a bossy little bitch, but he tends to talk a lot more shit when he’s drunk than any other time. Drunk Quinn will spill all the unnecessary drama club tea.

- He makes Nando dance with him, even though Nando’s dancing skills are questionable at best. (He just wants the excuse to dance like a low-key thot for once in his life. Clubbing Quinn is a whole new person. Nando goes into gay panic.)

- There’s also the extremely vivid thought of Quinn making people do karaoke with him, like:

Quinn: C’mon, Remy, we can do Celine Dion! You’re Canadian, so you like her, right?

Touille: Oh, Q, I don’t really sing— (Gets physically yanked from his seat by Quinn to go up on the little stage)

- The videos of what transpires afterwards are copious.

- And on the thought of videos, Rhodey will often whip out his phone, start a Snapchat video, and say, yo, Q! Explain the plot of [x musical] to me! There are copious videos of Quinn essentially doing Drunk History in the backseat of Rhodey’s car, except it’s explaining musicals.

- So... Name That Show, based on Drunk Quinn’s explanations:

“Look... Dorothy was a little brat, okay? The Wicked Witch did nothing wrong. All she wanted was the shoes to remember her sister by... *Possibly shedding actual tears* Nessa deserved better!—”

“Umm... he broke his arm? And then he’s so socially awkward that he accidentally becomes a compulsive liar. :).”

“Well, it’s basic United States history, Ben; don’t you pay attention in class?????”

“PFF, okay, so, this bitch totally murders her secret lover and then she spends the entire rest of the show explaining why she’s obviously innocent—”

“Twelve-year-olds unionizing...... featuring vigorous tap dancing.”

“Hold on, hold on, I can do this, okay, uhh........ so they’re in France, and everybody’s life is awful....... so the main character is an ex-con, and everybody hates him because he stole bread— shut up, Sebastián, I’m thinking— and he’s traveling around trying to find a place to live, and, uh, wait, I lost my train of thought— okay, they all hate capitalism, and they try to revolt against the government, but— why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ben; it’s just singing cats!”

- Quinn is extremely handsy when he’s drunk. To the point where Rhodey and Touille literally make him and Nando sit separate from each other, like Nando in the front and Quinn in the back, so Quinn doesn’t try any funny business when they’re on their way home from the bar.

- Nando usually carries him home. He never drinks to the point of being unable to walk on his own, but for someone who’s always graceful when sober, he stumbles more than he’d like to when he’s been drinking. It’s easier for Nando to just lift him up.

- Commence burying his face in his neck and mumbling things that might be vaguely spicy for a public place but it’s okay because Nando is the only one who hears them.

- But he usually just ends up snuggling a lot when they get in bed, even though he might think he’s up for more than that. Nando makes sure he drinks water, and Quinn clings onto him until he falls asleep.

Drunk Quinn is an experience. Thank you for enabling this information dump.

[goobergamer]

Welcome to the Real World, Chpt. 4/?

Summary: ‘The real world’ is Marine Corps slang referring to civilian life after discharge.

Or, Washington, new and struggling veteran, moves into a duplex where he has a strange and surly neighbor with a penchant for the color red. (Sargington modern war vets AU)

Pairing: Sarge/Washington (Red vs. Blue)

Warnings: Alcohol use in this chapter

First chapter on Tumblr here: (x). Also crossposted to AO3.

Wash is a chronic homebody rapidly chewing through the books on his shelf and the TV shows he can stand to be semi-present for. The phone never rings when he’s there, but he still can’t help and check every morning and night hoping the voicemail light will have come on.

He’s pretty sure he saw a couple of his teammates when he was taken in by the medical team, half-coherent. No one has been in touch since, through his care or discharge. He’s not sure what he expects them to say. Wish you were here, xoxo? Sorry you’ve cracked? (He’s not crazy.) Thanks for compromising the mission, asshole? How could you have fucked up so badly?

Wash isn’t sure. But he thinks he’d take any of it over the dead light and the dial tone.

---

It just keeps getting hotter as they approach midsummer, and one day when Wash steps outside straight into a wall of humidity, Sarge joins him only to suggest that he come inside for coffee so they don’t just up and die on the porch from the weather.

Wash is pleasantly surprised when Sarge gives him a tour of the downstairs space; it’s cluttered, but not a junk pile as he may have guessed. Rather, the home looks lovingly lived-in. A card table is open in the corner of the living room, with parts and tools for some sort of electronics project scattered across it. The TV stand is covered in small piles of DVDs; at quick glance Wash sees serious war documentaries mingling with old family sitcoms.

Of course, it still shows little signs of Sarge’s quirkiness beyond the multiple locks on the door. Despite the gun cabinet standing against the wall with his scarlet beret sitting atop it, there’s a shotgun casually leaned up against the coffee table that Wash only hopes has the safety on. Everything that can come in different colors is red in Sarge’s apartment; upholstery, painted wood, you name it. There’s a strawberry Yoo-hoo balanced on the couch armrest, and Wash halfway wonders if the flavor was chosen to fit the color scheme.

They take their coffee on very red chairs at the very red table in the kitchen. Sarge is polite enough to only harass Wash for two straight minutes about how he takes his coffee (“Washington, without sugar you’ll have no energy to defend yourself!” “Defend myself from what?”) The new location doesn’t change much until Wash asks, “Which way to your bathroom? Is your side of the duplex the same as mine?”

“Flipped. Upstairs to the left.”

When Wash walks into the bathroom, it takes him a moment to register what’s off. At first he thinks Sarge had installed a full-size towel rack above the sink, but after stepping closer, he sees that a bath towel has simply been strung across the medicine cabinet to cover it.

He remembered, Wash realizes. He remembered the mirror.

Something in his throat tightens, almost imperceptibly. It was a small, simple gesture, but an appreciated one all the same, at a time when the world feels minimal in its kindness.

---

When Wash hears a knock on his door early one evening, he only pauses a moment before opening it without the chain in place, having an easy enough guess of who it will be. “Hey, Sarge. Something you need?”

Sarge is leaning against the doorframe all too casually, an atypical grin splitting his face in two. “Washington, when was the last time you went out anywhere?”

Wash pauses for a moment, thinking. “I go running every day? Beyond that, I picked up groceries three days ago.”

Sarge switches battle tactics. “When was the last time you went somewhere to do something fun?”

Wash has a sinking, suspicious feeling he knows the ballpark where this is heading. “...I don’t mind grocery shopping.”

“...Well, that answers that.” Sarge chuckles. He doesn’t seem too surprised. Wash supposes he can’t really be insulted; a serious answer to Sarge’s question would have been ‘on shore leave over a year ago’.

“There’s a legion a couple towns over,” Sarge continues. “A few of the guys I know are catching up there tonight! There will be drinks! General merriment! And YOU are cordially invited!”

“I wouldn’t know any of the people there.”

“I can introduce ya’!”

Wash knows that Sarge isn’t the type to take no for an answer when his mind is set on something. And he has to acknowledge that he has become a hermit in the months since his discharge, to an unsustainable extent. At some point he’ll have to reconnect with the real world. May as well do it with a friend to guide him. “Alright, fine.”

“That’s the spirit!”

They take Sarge’s Ford, a decades-spanning oddity; the truck itself is from the 70’s, but has a new high-tech radio system Sarge says he installed himself. The radio will only tune into an obnoxious polka station from god knows where and which Sarge will claim no fault in his installation process for. The drive is still nice with the windows rolled low, Sarge resting his elbow on the sill as he steers with one hand, Wash turning in his seat so the early evening sun shines down on his face.

They’re quickly hailed by a chorus of both greetings and heckling from a far table when Sarge leads the way into the Legion. There’s one chair left open for Sarge when they approach, but he grabs another one from an empty table and plants it next to his own for Wash, the nearest guy shuffling over to make more space.

“Men, this is Washington,” Sarge announces when they’ve settled in. Wash receives some amicable nods and hello’s from the ensemble; apparently Sarge doesn’t think more introduction is necessary, and neither do they. “Washington, this is Tucker, Caboose, Donut, Lopez, Simmons, and Grif.” There’s a surly element to his tone when he introduces the last one, who seems unperturbed, just offering Wash a late “‘Sup?” before some earlier conversation picks back up.

Wash takes the time to examine the group unnoticed, observing that they look ragtag in more ways than one. They’re all young, younger than Wash, though it's not always easy to tell under the scars; the majority of this group look like they had to physically claw their way out of warzones. Wash can pick out four prosthetics between what he can see of just two of the people at the table, and with the extent of Lopez’s, he might guess prosthetic legs were hidden out of sight too. Grif and...Donut? sport some major scarring visible above the table. Grif’s scars, a layer of patchworks across his cheek and down one arm, look too clean to be from anything in-field; skin grafts, maybe? With Donut’s ear and eye gone, and the side of his nose and lips halfway there, it’s easy to assume that he took something hard straight to the face.

“—Before I can catch whatever gave Private Pinhead that stroke of inspiration, I’m going to get a drink!” Sarge huffs, brushing off a conversation with Grif to rise. “You want something, Washington?”

“Oh, I—whatever you’re getting is fine. Thanks.” Wash reaches for his wallet to offer him payment for the drink, but Sarge has already moseyed over to the bar.

“So, Washington, how do you know Sarge?” Simmons asks, all attention now turning to the new guy.

“He’s my neighbor.”

“Man, that sucks,” Tucker replies, though obviously without true rancor.

“Could be worse. He could live next to Donut,” Grif says.

“Hey!”

“That’s right, has Lopez gotten his insurance pay back after that fire yet?”

“No.”

“Hey, I said sorry, I didn’t think a hair dryer could overheat like that! I guess I’d been doing too much blowing.”

Amidst a chorus of groans, Sarge returns with a pina colada in each hand. “Can’t believe the bartender didn’t card me! They’re supposed to card anyone under forty.”

“And why would they card you, again?” Wash asks as he takes one of the drinks. Sarge’s efforts to convince Wash that he’s some ludicrous age are drowned out by amused laughter from others at the table.

The longer Wash is there with them, the more he feels himself settling into the rhythm of the conversation, becoming comfortable enough to laugh and joke along. By the end of the night, he’s been wrapped up into a number of ridiculous and crazy anecdotes that tell him two things: Sarge surrounds himself only with those that are as insane as himself, and that Wash has had the best night in as many weeks despite his hesitation before he came.

“They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots,” Sarge says fondly in the car on the way home.

“I can see why. They’re good guys.”

“We’re there every week. Just let me know if you want to come along again.” Washington looks at Sarge, but Sarge is cheerfully watching the road as he says it.

It’s an unexpected offer, but certainly not unwelcome as he thinks about the dark apartment he’s about to return to. Remembering the warmth of the rum and the night’s festivities is a strong pull. “I just might take you up on that.”

[avatar-state-kate]

thoughts on the government?

Short answer, not good.

The Canadian Liberal government is hugely hypocritical as it promotes itself on ‘left’ values, (really only in a libertarian sense, which has some benefits like you can argue abortion and gay marriage on an individualist level, but any real change is going to have to come from a collectivist systemic change framework), but fails to meet any of the standards it has set for itself.

Trudeau says he cares about the climate and is dedicated to reconciliation with Aboriginal Peoples (using this term for its legal context) and yet he’s approving pipelines.

We have a 5 party system, my hope is more people vote like it as plenty of liberal voters really want an NDP government but fear they’re “throwing there vote away” if they don’t vote liberal. (I blame American politics for this- brain rot from knowing far more American then Canadian politics- which I’m also guilty of because the over saturation of American media just makes it so much easier to keep up with)

Also the Canadian public, and government, is delusional about our own state of affairs. Everyone loves to go on about how we’re better then the States (which is an embarrassingly low bar), but has no knowledge about anything happening here. Idk make fun of the states for electing trump, but Ontario elected Doug Ford, the brother of infamous crackhead mayor of Toronto- like idk it seems just as embarrassing to me. The utter lack of self awareness on all fronts astounds me

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again

all webassign problems due monday night 11:59 PM EST. this is a long one kids

listening i’ve had Eddystone Light stuck in my head and in an effort to dislodge it i’ve been listening to the Bioshock soundtracks. We Saw The Sea is the same flavor of goofy and charming but thank GOD it’s got a different tune 

reading Kieron Gillen’s 2015-2016 run on the Darth Vader comics. i tend to like Gillen’s work more often than not, and this set of 5 volumes is some of the better Star Wars i’ve read in a grip. it’s not as nostalgia-bait-y as some of the actual films in the canon, but does occasionally fall into the wink wink we know you’ve seen other Harrison Ford films nudge nudge here’s where the Wilhelm scream would be in this volume. i think it’s an interesting expansion of Vader’s character showing a slow turn from attack dog to someone willing to overthrow Palpatine. not that Vader is good, or has ever been good, but the slow disillusionment and machinations to keep hold of power outside Palpatine’s sphere of influence 1) make intuitive sense with existing movie canon 2) are just fun to follow. wiki says Gillen pulled from The Godfather and House of Cards and i’ve only seen one of those things but Vader is basically a mob boss when u til ur head. 

anyway Vol 3 The Shu-Torun War reminds me of all the best parts about the EU pre-Disney. it’s just a cool little selfcontained sidequest in a cool setting with a things that are interesting to look at. 

kay, this is a low bar! you cry. yes! i cry back. most of the star wars expanded universe material both pre- and post-Disney is extremely bad! some of it is enjoyably bad but most of it is just nothing! anyway look at this spread! classic Star Wars, classic pulpy scifi, mwah. i want to eat it with a spoon. 

watching rewatching Cowboy Bebop. i have not seen this since my first year of college, seven fucking years ago in September, where i watched it on dailymotion on a small and terrible chromebook. now i have Hulu and a larger and slightly better acer. shows that are only half an hour are dangerous bc you can knock out half a season in an afternoon. hour-long things like Black Sails are like. appointment television. i have to clear my schedule to watch an ep of Black Sails.

my tastes and opinions have changed somewhat in those seven years. the first time around, my main complaint was that there were hardly any ladies and that jesus lord almighty i had to google Faye’s name bc all my brain was giving me was Jill Valentine. wrong Miss Valentine. anyway my complaints about Faye the first time around were mostly that she doesn’t get enough to do and she’s an “oops all boobs” anime character. this time around i’m like YIKES this is a TERRIBLE and KINDA GROSS way to have a Romani character. i haven’t gotten to her mini arc yet but iirc they mention that she’s Romani like...twice? in the whole series? i don’t think she actually is and it has not come up again since we met her. baffling. 

oh also the mob is in this anime. forgot about that.  

playing SOMA, on the recommendation of @delta-orionis​ . i’m a baby and i don’t generally like horror games so we’ll see how far i get, especially bc i had to look up a guide bc i got stuck in the first room post-Incident. it did not occur to me to throw anything at the window. that’s IMPOLITE. SOMEONE WILL HAVE TO CLEAN THAT UP. I DON’T HAVE SHOES ON WHY WOULD I DO THAT

making YARN PACKIDGE CAME. the ability to just crank out these yellow cotton mitered blanket squares without looking down has been returned to me, i can watch complicated television again. i’m gonna have to do eight hundred million miles of mattress stitch which i HATE, but present!kay is offloading that to future!kay, bc present!kay hates picking up stitches along edges WAY more. this blanket has been an idea in my brain for a while, there’s an additional stack of these squares in a storage unit i haven’t opened in five years. one day my own hubris blanket will be complete. i’ve knit other blankets for people but not one for me, one this big and one that required so much assembly. stay tuned over the next ??? years.