#its just like. oh yeah. traffic engineering is fucked. i already new that i guess.

[istherewifiinhell]

okay u know i love 11ft8 bridge cant get enough of that shit but every time theres a post about how it was raised and how theres soooooo much signage. i cant help but think. okay the actually way to MAKE cars slow down is to put things in their way tho. ppl drive faster on wide streets so making narrower streets with like trees and stuff to drive around is a way u can actually force them do to that. so really shouldnt they have Lowered the bridge.......

[heyheydidjaknow]

I do not have a decent title for this. I’m also not even going to bother with an image (even though I know it would generate more traffic) because I’m not going to steal someone’s shit. It’s about 3500 words, so have fun with that.

Chapter 1

Dying is not fun.

I do not know if you knew that until last night. Maybe you figured that since it was romanticized so much that it would not suck as much as it so clearly and obviously did. Maybe you dreamed of dying relatively peacefully, surrounded by your loved ones. Alas, those dreams were dashed last night when you, oh so wise Y/N, decided that you were going to try baking and forgot the most essential step; taking the thing out of the oven. You remember that night so clearly, the screams of your family begging for their lives still bouncing around in your ears like a torturous golf ball that made a habit of forcing itself into your throat, the feeling of your hair catching alight as your skin bubbled and charred, and rational thought became a foreign concept. You do not remember if you had died from a heart attack or hyperthermia or smoke inhalation, but you had a general idea that, yes, that night had been your last on Earth.

So, where the fuck are you?

You pull yourself into a sitting position, your back pressed against something hard as your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. The air smells like rotten food and exhaust engines as you pull yourself off the concrete, looking around the alleyway that you had found yourself in. It’s small, narrow, unremarkable in every way, with graffiti covered dumpsters near the entrance. Dazed, confused, generally out of sorts, you make your way to the entrance, patting yourself down for injuries you did not seem to have.

You rub the side of your face with your hand. ‘My head is killing me.’ You slip your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling a key and a piece of paper. ‘God damn it is cold in this alley.’ You zip up your jacket, walking out into the open as you pull the note out, beginning to read.

“Dear Y/N,” you mumble as you read, “we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our transference program, yadda yadda yadda, whoopdeedoo…” You skim ahead of some introductory jargon before getting near to the point of the note. “From this point forward, enjoy your permanent residence at ten West.. fifteenth street… apartment number six two two… New York, New York?” You blink. ‘I… that’s not my address.’ You pull out the key. ‘Wait, hold on.’ Your eyebrows furrowed. ‘New York? Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?’ Your eyes become unfocused. ‘I don’t live anywhere near NYC. Where am I?’ You look around for some sort of landmark, street name, anything to give you some idea of where you are.

You hear a car squeal to a stop on the street corner in front of you, snapping you out of your stupor. As identical men start climbing out of the back of the vehicle, all marching deliberately towards you, a fifteen-year-old girl, your immediate reaction is to run like hell. Unfortunately for you, apparently your speed was not comparable to that of the men who quickly apprehend you, scooping you up and dragging you kicking and screaming into a van. You hear vaguely familiar voices outside, but your focus is less on the mayhem and more on the more pressing matter of getting yourself out of the van. You pound at the door, feel for any sort of locks on the inside, something, anything to get you out of the van, still screaming your head off as you hope whoever was outside had the common sense to call nine one one. You feel your eyelids droop as your breathing slows, your voice dying as your pounding becomes less intense. You slide to you knees, eyes closing even as you mentally scream at yourself to get up, keep at it. You passed out.

--

You wake up laid on the floor this time, the pulsing of electricity above your head almost soothing as you open your eyes. You stagger to your feet, looking around your well-lit enclosure, pink florescent lights lining the ceiling and walls like arteries. After taking note of your new bruises and checking to see if you still have your few personal belongings—you do—you ran over to the door, eyes fixated on the mind boggling, ridiculous scene taking place in front of you.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ You back away from the slot in the door, trying to process the blatant larping headassery. You had not thought that you would honestly be able to say that, apparently, you were kidnapped by the mother fucking Kraang, yet, in some stroke of tomfuckery on behalf of whatever deity controls your universe, you have, obviously, been kidnapped by some seriously hardcore cosplayers. If nothing else, you must admire the obviously advanced set up.

You run your fingers through your hair, chuckling almost manically. “So,” you say to yourself aloud, “I got kidnapped by TMNT fanboys. Great. Fantastic, even!” You pace around the room, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I guess this makes me April O'Neil, then? Cool.” Your voice is extremely tight as you shake with intense, mostly negative emotions. “So, I’m somewhere in New York, kidnapped by the Kraang in the worst convention ever. Let me guess,” you laugh, losing your mind a little as you speak to nobody. “I’m gonna have a run in with the Teenage Fucking Ninja Turtles next, right?”

As if on que, you hear laser blasts and shinking metal. The high pitched beeping on an alarm sounded as you heard people—‘Male, teenagers… fuck my life,’— talking about power or something as their footsteps approach your room. You pound on the door. “Hey! Over here!”

You see a brown set of eyes look in through the window. Your suspicions are confirmed; ‘Definitely TMNT larping.’

“We found her,” the owner of said eyes, the one cosplaying as Donatello, calls to the others. Lasers shoot by his head as he turns to stare death in the eyes.

“We’ll hold them off. You pick the lock.” ‘Leonardo.’ You breathe a soft sigh of relief; if nothing else, you are apparently on the side of the people trying to get you out in this game. You hear footsteps going towards the firing.

“Don’t worry,” “Donatello” reassures you, voice tight with apparent anxiety, “I’ll have you out of there in a second!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up, trying to see what he was doing through the window. “Take your time.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

You sigh. “Look, man, I don’t know the script for the first episode by heart. You’re gonna have to cut me some slack for not being off-book.”

“Off—what?” He stares at you blankly.

You purse your lips. “I’ll explain if you let me out,” you promise. “Just pick the lock before the blue one gives you shit.”

“Oh, right! The lock!” He nods, grasping onto the logical thing you say and leaning down to start working on the alien technology. He pulls the cover off a control panel by your door, starting to fiddle with the wires.

You lean against the door, watching him work curiously. You hear the battle cries of “Michelangelo” and the toppling of robots as he works, clearly focused on his task. You zone out again. “This is some serious shit,” you mumble.

He mutters in frustration. The one dressed as Raph marches over, more impatient. “Oh for the love of—get out of my way,” he snarls, proceeding to take a very real looking sai out and stabbing the panel with a very in-character ferocity. You almost feel the urge to applaud the acting, and you might if this weren’t such a high stakes situation.

The door in front of you and behind you open at the same time and, deciding against getting captured again—you remember something about hanging from a helicopter in that scenario and you want nothing to do with that—you run alongside the turtles like your life depends on it, stumbling to a halt once you reach outside and slamming the doors closed behind you, blocking it with your back.

Your feet scramble to gain some traction on the cement. “Donnie,” you snap, almost impressed by the force used to pound against the doors, “put your staff in the handles of the door. We gotta go ASAP.”

“Wait, hold up.” The one dressed as Raph jabs his thumb towards you. “How do you know his name?”

You groan. “For fucks- it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not fucking Happy Sugar Life. Get the thing in the thing before the vine thing kills us!”

“The what?” Donnie and Raph seem much more confused than before, staring at you inquisitively and angrily respectively.

“Uh, guys?” Mikey pointed. “I think she means that vine thing.”

From the shadows emerges a towering creature made of plant life, its vinelike limbs draping across the ground like roots as it rears its ugly head. Its exposed, pulsating heart pressed against what remains of the creature’s ribcage. “You did this to me,” It growls. “Now you’re going to pay!”

“It’s-“

You cut Leo off. “Snake guy. Mutated into a weed. If you wanna kill it, go for the heart.”

He looked back at you, joining the other two pairs of piercing stares. “Cut that out.”

“Then don’t monologue and kill it before it has mobility!”

“On it.” Raph charges at its lumbering form, and within moments, it falls to the ground in a heap.

The pounding against the door is getting more intense. “Donnie! Staff!”

“Right!” He runs over, sliding his staff in between the door handles.

You stumble forward, the pounding already starting to crack the wood. “Alright, now we can leave.” Without waiting for the others, you sprint away from the building like your life depends on it. The others, clearly confused, follow.

You got a fair few city blocks away before you slow down, breathing heavy and palms stamped with the outline of the key you were holding desperately onto. “You run really fast for cosplayers,” you pant, “with all the- the paint and all.”

“Yeah, about that.” Donatello stops next to you, a thousand questions apparently swimming around in his head. “How do you know our names?” His mouth moves a mile a minute. “How did you know the weakness of that vine creature? What do you mean, cosplay? Who are you? Who were they?”

You cut him off. “One question at a time, hot stuff. Deep breathes.”

His pupils dilate. “H-hot stuff?”

Leo cuts in. “How did you know what we were—uh—cosplaying?” he asks tentatively.

“Odd time to cut the act, but alright.” Your heart rate lowers to a decent pace as your mind still struggles to comprehend what had just happened. You slow your breathing. “I mean,” you explain, gesturing with your hands, “it’s TMNT. It’s iconic.”

“Iconic?” He nods. “Well, since you know so much about it, then why don’t we test your knowledge? To see if you’re a real fan..”

“Y-you think I’m hot?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m down.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the melting turtle for a second. “Shoot.”

He thinks for a moment. “Who’s the main character?”

You shrug. “You four, I guess.”

Mikey jumped in. “What’s the theme song?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, buddy.”

“Is it really a great idea to just talk out here in the open?” Raph crossed his arms across his front.

“Probably not.” You look around. “Unless you have a map on you, I’d suggest we go back to your lair.”

“Our—what kind of stalker—”

“Look, honey,” you sigh, “if we’re going to go over every aspect of their lives that I know about we’re going to be here for a long time. For our purposes, just assume I know everything I need to know, and if you’re curious about specifics, we’ll go on a case-by-case basis.” You start walking down the sidewalk. “I’m guessing you guys hang out in the sewer, right?” You feel almost tempted to say that they’re just flat out psychotic, their blatant conviction in their own characters almost frightening. ‘I’ve heard of kinning,’ you think, pulling up a manhole cover you see at the end of an alley and wincing at the smell, ‘but this is ridiculous.’ You blink at the surprising lack of weight.

“Yeah.” Mikey—no, the Michelangelo cosplayer—walked over, already hopping in. “Our show must be super popular, right? Who’s the favorite character? How long have we been running?”

“Oh, you guys are—” You stop talking. “Wait, what year is it?” You start climbing down.

“Two thousand and twelve. Why?”

You step off the ladder, starting to walk behind him as he lead the way. “Well, it’s not tweny twelve where I’m from. It’s twenty twenty.”

“Wait, hold up.” He turns around to face you as he walks. “You’re from the future? That is so freakin awesome!”

You rub the back of your neck, trying to ignore the smell. “I mean,” you confess, “being from the future would be cooler if I was from a better time, I think.” ‘I wonder where they—’ You shake your head. “But, If we were running on the same time, I’d only be seven, I think, so it’s pretty cool I get to be here, I guess.”

“Dude, totally!” He turns a corner. “Our first day up top and we meet a time traveler?”

“Technically,” a voice from behind you makes you jump, “if what she’s saying is true, she somehow also knows interdimensional travel as well.”

‘Mother fucking ninj—cosplayers, focus. Don’t let them pull you in too.’ “Well, I really wouldn’t say—”

“Guys, is there not a clearly bigger concern on our hands?” You were already getting sick of not hearing footsteps. “Like, say, I don’t know, the fact she’s claiming we’re fictional characters?”

“Look, man,” you roll your eyes, “I already said I’m more than happy to answer any questions I can. In fact,” you continued, stopping in your tracks as you stared the red—clad turtle in the eye, “I’ll even stay put until we sort this whole situation out.”

“Fine by me.” Leo and Raph both face you, eyes boring into your soul as you stand there awkwardly.

“Let’s start off with the basics.” Leo’s tone is awfully light compared to his blatant skepticism. “What is everyone’s name?”

You force yourself not to roll your eyes again. “You’re all Hamatos.” You point at the tall one with the gap in his teeth. “That one’s Donatello, the yellow one next to him is Michelangelo, you,” you point at the red one with the broader shoulders, “are Raphael, and the sensei appointed leader is Leonardo. Easy.”

Leonardo nods. “Okay, you got the easy one.” It is at times like these when you wish you could read people. “What are we?”

“Teenage mutant ninja turtles.” You don’t have to hesitate.

“How did we become the way we are?”

“Splinter had a Kraang run in and you got ooze on you. Last thing you touched before you transformed was a person, so you became turtle/human hybrids.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

A sea of blank faces face you. “Wait, you know who those things are?” Donatello is the first to speak after a pregnant pause.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, the reality of the situation not yet dawning on you. “They almost take over the world in at least two season finales.

“They what?”

“Yeah.” You stick your hands in your pockets, fingering the key and note, confused by their apparent horror. “I mean, I’m still on the season three finale, but alien invasion is this show’s bread and butter for the most part.”

“I- what?” Raphael appears to be having a stroke. “What- bre- I- huh? What the-“

“Is he okay?” You look, completely unconcerned, at Donatello, who is swaying on his feet.

“Alien.. invasion…”

You blink, walking over to him and placing your hand on his cheek. You were surprised at the feeling of skin under your palm. ‘Not face paint..’ You look his incredibly pale face over curiously. ‘Not a mask…’ “Oh.” Your fingers slide down and off his jaw, falling slackly. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

If nothing else, he seems less concerned than he did a second ago.

Leonardo—‘The actual—hold on a minute.’—grabs your shoulder. “This isn’t a joke.” His face is stone. “You’re being serious, right?”

You felt blood drain out of your face. “Sadly? Yes.” You force yourself to take deep breaths so as to not pass out. “But, on the bright side,” you smiled weakly, “I can guarantee your survival for at least a few months.”

“What do you mean a few months?” Raphael is shaking as he yells, his voice roar echoing in the enclosed space. “How is it only—what the hell?”

“The show only ran over the course of an in-universe year.” You fight to keep your voice steady as dread seizes your throat. “I don’t know what happens after the year is up, or if it even lasts the whole year.”

“So we have less than twelve months to live?”

“This is so not cool.” Michelangelo is having a bit of a mental breakdown. “So, so not cool.”

“Hey, it’s not a guarantee!” You put your hands up reassuringly. “That’s just how long the show runs. Besides, it’s a kid’s show. There’s no way they’d kill off the main characters.”

“The hell they—who the hell is they?”

“Nickelodeon.”

“What the fuck is Nickelodeon?”

You groan. “Look, I’m just saying that you four are definitely going to survive the next few months!” Your voice rises easily to his volume. “I don’t know what happens after those months are up! I haven’t gotten to that point!”

“Why the hell not?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, laughing incredulously. “What, do you think I knew I was going to meet the IRL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had a chance to plan accordingly? No!” You throw your hands up in the air. “I died last night and now I’m here! Hell, I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to go, fuck knowing who’s going to get the fucking axe between now and the series finale!”

“Will you two both cut it out?” Leo snapped, shutting you two up.

You put your hands up, still fuming and glaring at Raphael. He responds in kind.

“What’s your name?” He looked at you.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Your breathing slows slightly.

“Alright. Y/N, you said you’ve seen up to season three, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Meaning you know what’s going to happen in the next few months, right?”

You nod at the leader.

He thinks for a moment. “Then we need to stay in contact. If what you’re saying is true, your knowledge of our show could be extremely valuable to us.”

You rub your eyes with your hands, sighing, trying to cool down. “I can do that.” You put your hands down. “If nothing else, I’m more than happy to offer up emotional support. The next few months are going to be extremely physically and emotionally difficult for you guys.”

Donnie pipes up. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You pull out the piece of paper. “I have an address and key, but I don’t know my way around NYC.” You smile slightly at the unintentional rhyme. “Do you guys know where ten west fifteenth street—wait, it’s your guys’ first day.” You nod. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Donatello is oddly quick saying that. “I-if you want, I—we can help you find it.”

You rub your arm, your previous indignance replaced with extreme embarrassment at your previous actions. “Nah, it’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m sure I can find a map or something.”

“It’s really not safe to just wander around New York so late.”

You pause at that. “That is an extremely good point.” You nod. “Alright. But I owe you guys dinner or something for trusting me this far. Also,” you smile teasingly, “what you’re currently eating is legitimately revolting.”

“Amen to that.” Raphael, if nothing else, seems to have calmed down.

Mikey hopped in. “Oh, we just found this crazy awesome food—”

“I can order pizza,” you reassure him.

He punches the air excitedly. “Let’s go!”

“If you want, you can sleep on the couch for tonight,” Leonardo offers. “It’s going to get light pretty soon, and we really shouldn’t be seen.”

You shrug. “Works for me.

As you follow the teenagers down the sewer, conversating as you walk, you take a moment to reflect on all that has happened so far. A part of you, oddly enough, is almost excited by the prospect of spending time with these guys. But a stronger, darker part reminds you sweetly of the dangers you knew lay ahead.

You close your eyes. ‘I’m never going to see my family again, am I?’

How that is the least of your worries, you don’t know.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 2

[keyofjetwolf]

Bonus Question Answers! (non-anime animated noms)

This was SO. FUCKING. HARD. This question went so much better than I expected, and I’m only sad I lack the artistic skills to make it all a reality.

Below, my PAINSTAKINGLY selected top answers, If yours is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

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Q: The Senshi suddenly find themselves in a very different animated world. Which cartoon power (think Looney Tunes) do they each now possess?

*  Usagi can make literal rainbows happen when she smiles.  Rei can set anything on fire with her mind (she feels a bit cheated because she can do that at home too).  Ami can write down anything in her special notebook and it literally changes reality around her (she does not share this with her fellow Senshi, because she knows the full weight of this power.  She did, however, write Michiru having a bad hair day for just one day.  Just one.)  Makoto has the ability to pull out any ingredient she wants from any pantry/door/closet.  She usually uses this for cooking purposes, so she won't have to purchase groceries.  Minako has the ability to mimic any voice in the world, whether she has heard it or not.  Hijinks ensue.  The Outer Senshi sensibly escaped from the new animated world right after Michiru recovered from her bad hair day.  They don't speak of the experience. -- @amberlilly  [The whole thing was so solid, but what absolutely sent it over the top for me was Ami using her powers to fuck with Michiru in the most petty benign way, which is EVERYTHING.]

*  Usagi is definitely rocking the exaggerated tear gushers.  Ami can pull charts/diagrams out of nowhere at any time.  Rei combusts when she gets sufficiently mad.  Makoto has birds fly around when she sings while cooking or cleaning.  Minako breaks the fourth wall to make jokes and asides to the audience.  Chibi-Usa is somehow able to walk through ludicrous danger without getting touched, because the censors won't allow kids to be hurt in this show. Haruka can make girls melt into puddles of goo with her flirting.  Michiru can summon a servant at any time to take care of an unpleasant or potentially dirty task for her (including to take the slapstick comedy for her).  Setsuna has access to the script.  Hotaru just sort of appears sometimes, just standing there, silently and menacingly, but never does anything on-screen (though you may hear the occasional off-screen screaming).  Oh, and while I'd like to say Mamoru gains the power of inexplicable entrances... he kinda already has that one.  --Darkcloud k'California  [Again, I loved all these, but particularly Chibs saved by the censors, Michiru’s poor hapless slapstick avatar, and everything about Hotaru, thank you.]

*  Usagi: The power to be found charming by every character she encounters and somehow escape all consequences and damage by simply remaining oblivious, a la Tweety Bird.

Rei: The power to explode, reducing her surroundings to charred wasteland, but remain relatively unscathed (perhaps a bit singed)

Ami: The power to grow multiple arms, hands, and hundreds of fingers in order to do tech stuff

Makoto: The power to punch someone through a brick wall, possibly several, and into someone's family dinner. It's always some surprised-looking family's private event. Often the same family.

Minako: the power to, Bugs Bunny style, apply lipstick and seduce ANYTHING. Which, according to her, is a power she already has.

Haruka: The power to run off a cliff and keep going until she looks down. She never learns to not look down.

Michiru: The power to stick a pin into any other character and cause them to deflate like a balloon

Hotaru: She just gets to actually be used. It is thrilling.

Pluto: She will observe this strange planet from afar with her huge telescope and breathe the Martian air and look great in a kilt and Roman-style helmet. --  @incorrecttact  [Your set-up and punchline delivery style on all of these was perfection, and I legit lol’d at Mako and the poor family she continually interrupts.]

* to make dynamite go BOOM (Rei obviously); to have their opponent chase them to the point where they're floating in midair and then their opponent falls 5000 feet but they calmly walk back to land (like Wil E Coyote & the Roadrunner) (Usagi); the power to blow kisses to their opponent (which are clearly poisonous and end up killing the chap) (Minako); the power to have their opponent's entire arm shattered if they try to even punch them lightly on the arm (Makoto - this is canon anyways, but moreso exaggerated here hehe); to open a book and start reading it out loud and words start showing up on screen, confusing tf out of their opponent (Ami - also canon already)  --@midnightdrops  [Each of these were great, but Usagi and Mako as you described them totally sold me.]

* usagi: can now float on yummy aromas, so long as they lead her somewhere tasty! the others play a quick tournament of jun-ken-pon each time it happens to determine who will be responsible for steering her from blissfully drifting into traffic. again.

ami: is now possessed of x-ray vision! only she can neither turn it off, nor control its intensity. she is working on developing a set of goggles to dampen the effect, and secretly hopes they will make her look like geordi laforge.

rei: rei-chan is now blessed with the power of song! her heartfelt melodies soften the malice of even the most one-dimensional baddie, and influence public policy on a global scale. international success life, yo! i guess she's really a hard worker!

makoto: has become something of a cartoon cupid! in a poorly-ventilated room, her mere presence has bystanders declaring their love for one another within minutes*; and her decadent wedding cakes are the hit of second marriages across the country. *all of them so like her old senpai, and none of them falling for her, alas!

minako: employs her considerable powers of confidence and charm to convince the others she now has access to Plot Manipulation, mainly by engineering and taking ownership of a series of happy accidents. her real power is to literally jump out of her skin when she's startled*, and she has no intention of EVER letting the others know about it.  *minako discovered this new ability while she was changing a roll of toilet paper, and a spider dropped onto her hand. the leader of the inner senshi had never been so horrified. her bones were so slick and cold, her skin a hideous unwiped pile, and then THE SPIDER CRAWLED INTO THE PILE and she STILL doesn't know if it ever got out and sometimes her skin itches REALLY bad and you know what let's stop talking about this right now okay???

setsuna: can now manifest a giant pencil and erase the enemy! but doing so would be breaking The Greatest Taboo, and leave her impaled upon the pencil.

haruka: her new empathetic ability is remarkably similar to Ma-Ti's "heart" ring (Captain Planet and the Planeteers, 1990 - 1996). basically, she's just like really soft at you, and it inspires you to take more positive actions toward yourself and the world at large? she protests about wishing she'd received something tough and intimidating, but secretly is very moved by being made an instrument of kindness.

michiru: her intuition has mutated into fourth wall awareness, and the subtlety with which she makes this known to you is SO GODDAMN UNCOMFORTABLE OH MY GOD

hotaru: can now not only communicate with inanimate objects, but also render them permanently animate! you should have been there during the princess tutu crossover episode when she met lamp-chan - they're STILL inseparable, and chibiusa is SUPER jealous. speaking of which,

chibiusa: can now use hammerspace to store her endless series of magical geegaws and weird animal boyfriends.  -- @rasiqra-revulva  [Dude, you have got to stop making me snort laugh, it’s RUDE. Pure solid gold, every word, with a special nod to Haruka, MICHIRU, and Minako’s extended tragic cartoon backstory.]

* Usagi - like her name suggests, she is now Bunny. By which I mean she is now a very pink and blonde bunny (somewhere between Bugs and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit), but with super-elastic limbs to accompany her new form. Ami - Magical Science Powers up to and including ‘mix one brightly colored liquid in flask with another brightly colored liquid in flask, explosion, get hammer.’ Rei - An infinite supply of dynamite she can pull out of nowhere. This shouldn’t be as useful as it is. Mako - Literally suplexed a giant metallic youma not just untransformed, but before she has Senshi powers at all. I fully believe she could lift an anvil in canon. Minako - While Usagi looks like a rabbit, Mina now has the supernatural trickster abilities of Bugs Bunny. Implausibly effective bad disguises, persuasion, showing up out of nowhere. Chibs - Now that gun from her first appearance is a real gun, but it shoots anything from normal bullets to pies in the face to live birds. Pluto - The fourth wall is a real and tangible thing. Pluto can not just break it, but control it. If she wants to remove a layer of cel or suddenly turn things into sketch, she can do it. If she wants to teleport, she can skip in the animation. If she wants to suddenly appear as a Roger Rabbit-style cartoon in a live action field, or vice versa? Yeah, she can do that too. She basically uses this power to warp the layers of her cartoonish reality for pastry acquisition. Haruka - You’d think it would be Roadrunner speed. Haruka thinks it will be Roadrunner speed. But no, it isn’t. Space Jam is Looney Tunes, and Haruka’s power is Basketball. Michiru - Another power that’s just canonical: Wealth. Ridiculous, tremendous wealth. Hotaru - The funniest thing for Hotaru to be in a zany cartoon world is Even More Spooky. Nothing changes except the artstyle and a ridiculous supervillain cape.  -- Regalli  [Pluto, man. Fantastic and brilliant and I legit WANT THIS. Also though, Hotaru with a cape.]

*  Usagi gains the ability to eat anything and everything like the Tazmanian Devil, though she shares none of his aggressive personality; Minako enjoys fucking with people by bending reality (you know, diving into painted tunnels and stuff like that); Ami is able to utilize and test unreal technology without harm, like jet boots, massive bombs, tornado seeds, etc.; Mako uses body manipulations to change her size and shape--especially for blocking attacks to protect people or grabbing people (coupled with her immense strength); and Rei is the only one aware of the audience beyond the Fourth Wall... She tries not to talk to them but sometimes she just can't help it, especially when Usagi is getting on her nerves.  -- @thehubby  [I said pander to me, and you absolutely did. I can’t stop thinking about Rei trying not to make fourth wall eye contact, then just whirling around all “CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THIS SHIT??!?” and as it turns out, that IS precisely what I wanted.]

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I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry, so keep those answers coming! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.

[elphenfan]

Walking in the Air

This is going up literally as I’ve finished writing it. It’s not beta’ed or anything.

For @tlou15 who replied to my request for prompts with: “I would like to see Aziraphale and Crowley going to the country side to have night flying dates”. Took me an embarrassing second to realise it wasn’t anything to do with fruits.

And yes, it’s titled after the song. Do listen to it while reading this, if you like.

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The car that had pulled up on the other side of the road from the bookshop was quite the familiar sight in the area and so was its owner. So was the owner’s reaction if you touched or even made mention of anything the car did and consequently, no one made a peep of comment about the fact that the car was idling and had been for at least half an hour.

Of course, it should’ve been fine, seeing as the engine had never seen a drop of petrol since it had been bought – the petrol bought in the sixties by its owner had been given to some youth who was protesting something or other, it was hard to keep track of them all at the time.

Somehow, though, despite the fact that it drove purely because its owner expected it to rather than having any combustion happening in its engine, it also put out quite the cloud of exhaust, whether it was idling or not, because its owner expected it to.

Right now, it put out even more than it usually did, and one might wonder if it was in response to said owner and his mood.

The owner who sat inside, in the driver’s seat, a bundle of energy that could only be called nervous.

Why would he be nervous, it might be asked and rightly so, perhaps. After all, he’d walked the earth for actual millennia, seen just about every permutation of evil, and good, that humanity could muster, and been instrumental in causing a few of them, on both sides. He’d been friends with his hereditary enemy for roughly as long and he’d gone up against Heaven and Hell themselves with said enemy in a bid to avert Armageddon.

Which they’d accomplished, too, somehow, though he had a pretty clear idea that without the presence of such a clever, sensible and entirely human Antichrist, all due to a previous cock-up, they would’ve been, well, buggered, screwed, fucked. Take your pick, or they might’ve gone for them all.

The point was that considering all of that, it was very strange that he was nervous about this. Not that he’d been precisely calm through the averted apocalypse, especially not when this very same car had burst into flame and he’d had to struggle to keep it together, both metaphorically and quite literally. But the point remained even so.

When you looked at him, there could be no other words for it, at least if you knew what to look for, knowing better than to confuse the small, suppressed gestures for impatience or annoyance, and especially if you knew the reason he was letting his car idle outside a particular Soho bookshop.

He was going on a date. They were going on a date, Aziraphale and him. Together. The two of them.

Just the two of them. On a date.

They’d been to dinner before, of course. Lunches, too, even a few breakfasts. Gone to the theatre, been to more than a few concerts as well as a few operas.

So what if Crowley happened to like operas?

The point was that they’d done quite a lot of things that could be considered dates already and he’d got through them easily enough.

Relatively easily, at least, but, well…

So, why was he so nervous about this one? It wasn’t even the first time after they’d averted the end of the world and things had changed. All in all, things should just be as they always were.

There was no denying he was nervous, though. Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to admit it out loud or even acknowledge it to himself.

If he did, the culprit might be that he had called it a date, when he’d asked Aziraphale a week or two ago. Not left it open to interpretation as such or alluded more or less obliquely to it that way.

No, he’d come right out and asked, one day after much consideration, at least that was what he called it, and had caused Aziraphale to pause in his work.

“Date?” he’d asked as he’d started up working again, and though he was hardly the one to keep current, to say the least, he had understood it had nothing to do with the fruit mostly eaten around Christmas, for whatever reason, and everything to do with two people going out.

“Yeah. Date. You and me,” Crowley had clarified, just be sure, casual as anything. He’d even leant against a bookshelf as he’d said it. “I was thinking a drive out into the countryside, just take in the scenic route. Maybe have a picnic.”

He’d dropped the reference in there, wondering whether Aziraphale would pick up on it or not. Expecting that he wouldn’t, hoping that he would.

Judging from the way that the angel had almost dropped a book he’d been putting back on the shelf, it seemed likely that he had.

A, a picnic,” he’d echoed. He’d stared into the shelf for a moment that was very long, or felt it, and Crowley had wondered whether he’d outright decline or just ignore that something had been said at all.

Then he’d turned around, a smile on his face that was bright and delighted, with just a hint, the demon had thought, of nervousness in there.

“A picnic sounds utterly delightful, my dear, I would love to,” he’d said and that had been that.

Well, no, not quite that. There’d been the practicalities of when and where and such, of course, as well as convincing Aziraphale that he wouldn’t be in charge of catering.

The angel seemed to have taken that to mean they were buying a hamper from a place somewhere, possibly local, to take out into a field or something similar.

They…weren’t.

Crowley glanced at the hamper stashed underneath the backseat, tucked away so that hopefully, Aziraphale wouldn’t spot it when he entered the car. He’d spent the last week sourcing everything good he could think of to take.

Then he’d spent some time sifting through those to actually make it fit into a hamper. Of course, there were miracles to sort such things out – bigger on the inside, hah, what would you need with bigger when you could have infinite? – and it wasn’t as though he didn’t want to spoil the angel…

But that was just it, wasn’t it? To spoil him properly, and to show that this was a date rather than merely one of their usual meetings, he needed something else. Something more. Something picked among the best of the best.

Something to show the angel just how much he meant to Crowley.

Not that he hadn’t shown him before, of course, in his own way. But now that he wasn’t merely not prevented from doing it but actively allowed to, as much as he liked, almost, he wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity he was given.

Of course, there was something else about this meeting in particular, apart from it being their officially labelled ‘date’, but, well…that was –

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the passenger door opening. For a moment, he stiffened, worried about the hamper being discovered. Then his brain kicked in to inform him that what he’d heard was the front passenger door, not the back.

“Hello, dear,” an oh, so familiar and achingly beloved chimed as the car dipped with the weight when he got in.

“Aziraphale,” he acknowledged, his expression not changing an iota.

Then he glanced down, thinking he saw something, and sure enough, there was a small…not exactly hamper but certainly a basket in the other’s lap.

“Thought I said you weren’t in charge of the food,” he said, turning his attention back to face ahead. The car began to move, without him ever doing something as silly as pushing the pedals. He’d never thought he’d need them and therefore, he didn’t.

Oh, this isn’t – this is just a little something extra that I found,” Aziraphale said, somewhat…well, not exactly shiftily but slightly evasively, at least. “Thought it would be perfect for a picnic. I will say, though, that I’ve never had a dinner picnic rather than a lunch one before.”

Something new, then,” Crowley said as he turned out into traffic, metaphorically almost flooring the accelerator.

Aziraphale let out a gasp at that, sharp and high, and shot out a hand to try and grab onto something, anything for a steadying grip. He found it and his knuckles turned just a little whiter.

“Crowley!” he protested, loudly.

“What?” the demon asked, feigning innocence as he took a corner fast enough that he would’ve done a handbrake turn without a handbrake if he hadn’t been in control of the car.

“You don’t have to go this fast!”

“Aw, come on, angel, it’s no fun if you’re only going at the speed limit.” He accelerated just a tad more, to underline the point.

Speeding is one thing, endangering the pedestrians is – Crowley!”

“What?”

“You hit that cyclist!”

“I didn’t. I missed him by three quarters of an inch. That he went tumbling anyway, that’s not my fault, is it?”

It – “Aziraphale looked over to him, then stopped speaking and sighed, heavily. “Oh, it doesn’t matter what I say, does it? Or you might make it worse, just to spite me.”

“Never to spite you. Just…wind you up a little, maybe.”

“Really,” Aziraphale said, and the word really felt orphaned without the disapproving cluck afterwards that should’ve been there. Probably was in the expression, though, if Crowley turned to look.

He didn’t.

They made it out of inner London without any issue and really, in rather record time, to boot. So what if Crowley scared the life out of four cops, a criminal in the process of being arrested, a banker and two telephone salespersons on their way to work.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going,” Aziraphale commented after they’d made it out of the city altogether. He was looking out the window as he spoke, as though trying to guess just by what they passed.

Crowley hadn’t and there was a good reason for that. Well, perhaps not a good one, but a reason, anyway.

“You’ll see,” was all he said out loud about it.

He’d thought that as they left London, his nerves would calm at least a bit and he’d relax back into their normal chat and to be fair, it had. But the moment that the blond had asked, it had spiked right up again.

Was it too much? Too little? It would be too little, wouldn’t it? Or just plain stupid. Definitely plain stupid and Aziraphale would think so. He might even outright refuse to do it.

Not the picnic. The day Aziraphale outright refused food like that…that day Crowley would be sure the world had indeed ended – or someone else was trying to impersonate Aziraphale, and doing a really bad job it, too.

A hand landed gently on his knee. Just on his knee, well within the area that could be considered perfectly acceptable, even respectable.

They still didn’t touch a great deal, at least not by Crowley’s standards – or perhaps those were just fervent wishes – and when they did, it was not uncommon for it to stay at that perfectly respectable stage.

But the important point was that they did touch now, freely if not frequently, and there was a sense that said touching was allowed.

They could if they wanted to and do it as much as they wanted to, as well. The question might then be – why didn’t they?

To be fair to them, it hadn’t been that long since That Saturday, relatively speaking. Half a year, a bit more. Just about the time where the south of England was getting to be fairly warm again, by the standards of old Blighty, anyway, and might reasonably be expected to have a relatively lovely, if not exactly warm, night out like this.

To have gone from not touching at all, even actively avoiding it so as to be sure not to go anywhere they shouldn’t, over six millennia to this rather comfortable touching, infrequent or not, within a span of a little over six months was…quite an achievement, Crowley would say.

Not that he wouldn’t be thrilled with me, and practically melted whenever they ended up in a cuddle session, often because Crowley was an octopus rather than a snake when he was in a bed, sleeping or not, and Aziraphale was sitting, or sometimes even lying, beside him.

That wasn’t to say the angel was an unwilling or passive participant in the sessions, far from it. He just did it in his own way.

Such as touching his hand to a knee.

It helped that he left it there, too. Obviously.

“My dear, it is getting rather late for…well, if we’re to call in somewhere and buy something to eat, they’d be…well, it would be rather rude to expect them to keep their kitchens open for us.”

“As if you haven’t done that several times over the years, angel, and that’s putting it kindly,” Crowley countered, looking over at the other.

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye didn’t work with the blinkers, for lack of a better term, that he had on his current set of sunglasses, as the most he saw there were disjointed colours through a metal mesh. If he turned his head a little, it seemed to give him the same effect, though, as well as being able to see the other.

“Well, I...” Aziraphale said, not quite spluttering but achieving something to that effect. “I may have, once or twice over the years, but I…that is…well, you’re allowed to mend a bad habit, aren’t you?”

“‘Course. Just find it interesting that the time you decide to mend it is the time when it’s not you who’s in charge of the food, for once.”

Again, he wasn’t looking fully at the other’s face as he spoke, but he still managed to clock the way Aziraphale’s face fell. Not completely but quite a bit, showing that he understood what Crowley was saying and what he was implying as well.

“I didn’t – oh, good grief, I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I?”

“Just a bit.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, dear, and I apologise.”

He didn’t say anything more but then, what really was there to add? Further words wouldn’t change anything or make it more sincere. The sincerity was more than evident in the angel’s almost always very expressive voice.

Nor was Crowley about to say that it was okay because it wasn’t. It was only a minor thing, that was true, but it still mattered. That said, he wasn’t going to ignore it, either.

“Accepted,” he said instead, quietly, and felt the hand on his knee squeeze slightly in understanding and thankfulness.

He laid his own hand over it, covering it completely. He still thrilled in his heart at being able to do this, and he also had to admit that his nerves had quietened some more.

They sped along into the afternoon that was turning into early evening, and quite a bright one with a clear sky that could be appreciated better without obstructions, if that was your cup of tea, along narrower roads and increasingly more picturesque landscapes, heading for the destination that Crowley had in mind.

It wasn’t Lower Tadfield.

Even though there might certainly be reasons to go to Lower Tadfield, such as the general feel of love that Aziraphale still claimed or the people they’d met that still lived there, it wasn’t his intention to go there.

For what he wanted to do, he needed somewhere a little more…out of the way. Or at least, seeing as the south of England wasn’t exactly sparsely populated, as a rule, he needed somewhere where there was no Antichrist about that might show up to ask what they were doing.

He wanted a bit of privacy. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

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

It was that special time of evening just before the sun decided it was done for the day. They had only just pulled in somewhere, where the nearest town was a mile or two away all around, there were no nearby farms or obstructing woods. Just pleasant landscape all around the vantage point that Crowley had picked.

Aziraphale, sitting in the passenger seat, looked around him, clearly not finding what he was expecting to see.

“Crowley – “he began, sounding just a little bit…concerned, perhaps, but the demon interrupted him before he could get further.

“I said I’d take care of the food, Aziraphale,” he said as the car shut off, “and I have, so don’t worry about it.”

With that, seeing as it was obviously on his mind and he’d need to bring it, instead of getting out of the car, he reached behind him and down. With a flexibility that ought to have been difficult, at the very least, grabbed hold of the hamper and pulled it around, holding it up at the same time.

If he was a little bit pointed about it, so what?

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked more than a little embarrassed. He looked down at his lap, his fingers twiddling on the handle of the basket he’d brought. “It seems that I might not be able to eat the food, seeing as I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”

It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, it’s – Crowley!”

Aziraphale called out his name because the demon had got out of the car with his usual speed and dexterity, despite being hampered by a lidded wicker basket.

Come on,” he called just before the door shut behind him, sauntering his way towards a lovely looking spot that would give them quite the perfect view, around and, not unimportantly, up.

He heard the passenger shut and presumed the other was about to join him. While he would’ve liked to walk up there with Aziraphale’s hand in his, he also wanted to find the perfect spot himself, without being interrupted.

That and get his suddenly galloping nerves reined back in a little, of course, if he could.

As he spread the blanket – more of a duvet style of thing, with a few extra things added on, because just because you’d decided to dine outside on the ground didn’t mean you had to be uncomfortable, did it? – out on the ground, he picked up that Aziraphale had stopped moving.

He straightened back up and turned to look, a part of him just a little bit worried about why.

What he found was Aziraphale stopped, basket in hand, looking out over the area which, Crowley had to admit, they had a very good view of from up here. Both of the landscape and the sun setting over it, not a cloud in the sky to obstruct it.

“Strikes you, doesn’t it?” he said as Crowley sauntered up close to him, hands in his pockets. “Even though you’ve seen it unimaginably many times before, it can still be as beautiful as that very first time it happened.”

“Every time since, really,” Crowley commented. “Either none are beautiful, or they all are.”

“True,” Aziraphale agreed, voice and smile soft.

They stood for a few moments, just watching it, taking it in. Enjoying it and each other.

Then the ginger walked back towards the blanket, which now quite mysteriously was packed with just about everything he’d brought. Equally strangely, there was still room for the two of them to sit on it, though not with their legs, despite the spread that could only be described as ‘abundant’.

He sat down, his heart in his throat, hoping he’d got it at least somewhat right.

Which really was stupid. This, at least, he knew he’d got right. Not only had he possibly got every type of picnic-appropriate thing put out on the blanket, and then some, but he knew his angel well at this point and knew that something of quality, food or not, that was made for him was bound to be approved of.

Had he thought about it, he would’ve likely realised that it was almost certainly the nerves from what he had planned for after their ‘light’ dinner that were bleeding over into this.

Aziraphale joined him, sitting himself down opposite, where Crowley had made room for him. Just like they always did. Well, almost always. At least, there was space between them wherever they sat. It had got to be less in the last half a year but well, with everything else, he didn’t want to overdo it.

It was probably, no, unquestionably being overly cautious but at the time, he didn’t see it as such.

Only this time, while the blond did sit where he’d been given a space, it seemed that it was somehow much closer to the ginger than what he’d intended, what he’d made room for, while the spread remained unaltered.

Crowley wasn’t about to complain, he just...he’d thought that with this being so different from what they’d done before, with no concert or play to distract them and not a drop of alcohol drunk between them yet, on an actual date, Aziraphale might find it one thing too many, one step too close to also be sitting as close as they’d done on many occasions now.

Apparently not, though, if not just the fact that he’d sat himself down where he had but the ease with which he’d done it, no hesitation, as well as the smile still on his face.

One might think that the smile was because of the food but as blue eyes were meeting yellow through tinted glasses, it seemed unlikely.

For a long moment, he sat there, immobile. Then he reached across and again placed his hand on top of Crowley’s.

“Thank you,” he said, and there was more packed into that small sentence than the ginger had expected. It felt like he was being thanked for more than just the spread or even the picnic.

“You’re welcome,” he managed to reply, smiling in turn. He was purely smiling, though, not colouring. Not in the slightest. “Go on, then. Eat some. It’s not show food.”

It does look absolutely scrumptious I have to say,” Aziraphale enthused as he looked it over. He put one or two things carefully on the plate beside him, then picked up a jar of something to examine it. “I didn’t know there was anywhere that sold a hamper like this.”

“There isn’t.”

The angel looked up from the jar, realisation dawning.

“My dear…” he said softly, and it really shouldn’t be allowed to pack that much into just two words. Especially not when it wasn’t clear just what exactly was meant.

Oh, the understanding and the gratefulness were both clear enough but as for the rest of it…

The poor demon had to swallow and had to remind himself not to wet his lips.

“Eat,” Crowley said, glad of his glasses that hid his eyes looking just about anywhere else because he couldn’t right now.

He reached out and grabbed something without looking and brought it to his lips. Due to sheer luck, it was something that could be eaten as was and he bit into the scotch egg without relish. Or any other type of condiment, really.

Aziraphale looked at him for an achingly long moment, then smiled and began to fill his plate.

So did Crowley after he’d finished off the scotch egg. Though they as supernatural beings didn’t get hungry and eating was more of Aziraphale’s indulgence than his, he found himself piling more on the plate than he normally would – that he didn’t eat as much as the angel didn’t mean he didn’t eat at all – and what was more, digging into at least most of it.

That seemed to delight Aziraphale for some reason and he placed the occasional morsel from his own plate over on Crowley’s, who in turn made sure to pick up the offered treat as the next thing he ate.

By and by, the food Crowley had brought was eaten, between comments, big and small and completely irrelevant, and discussions, laughter and the occasional touch that was no less meaningful or appreciated for not being constant.

As they ate and talked, they also watched the sun disappear completely beneath the horizon, gradually calling back its tendrils of colour, who darkened as they ran, and the bolder ones even changed colours altogether.

Behind them came night, this time rolling in slowly and majestically rather than jumping and skipping along or racing as if it had got out of bed too late and was in a hurry to reach its destination.

They were even lucky enough to have a few stars come out as night-time came.

As they became visible, Crowley shifted where he sat, feeling a sense of unease creep up on him, but not for the reason that Aziraphale evidently thought, judging by the way he clutched the hand wrapped around his and tried to gently run his thumb back and forth over the patch of skin it touched.

It would be a guess but given what they were looking at, it didn’t seem that big an assumption to make; that Aziraphale was worried he was uneasy being ‘confronted’, as it were, by evidence of his life Before.

Crowley wasn’t going to deny that he did think about it at times or that he wasn’t affected by them, both positively and negatively, much as he didn’t want it to.

At the same time, not only hadn’t he been the sole builder of stars – the paperwork alone on managing all that would’ve caused anyone to Fall, he felt – and consequently weren’t necessarily responsible for what he could see on any given night, he’d watched the night sky so many times over the millennia that…

Well, it hadn’t stopped hurting, but it had dulled, in a way, and become at the very least something he could look at and even contemplate without feeling small and lost, let alone outright pained.

That said, he appreciated both the consideration and the gesture on the angel’s part.

No, the unease, the nerves, were to do with the realisation that they were nearing the end of the meal and therefore also nearing the next step in the plan. The plan which he still wasn’t sure how the other would react to.

Could he just put it off a little bit longer?

Well, yes, of course. He could put it off for eternity, if that’s what he wanted. If he was honest with himself, however, and stripped away the fear and nerves that were doing at least part of the thinking for him, then he knew that he didn’t want to. It hadn’t been a sudden impulse or idea, after all, but something he had wanted for a long, long time.

Putting it off for just a little bit longer wasn’t going to change anything, either. Not the issue and not how he felt about it. If anything, it was in all likelihood only going to exacerbate the matter.

Procrastination was the thief of time, yes, but it didn’t even have the decency to leave a solution or a better feeling about it all behind.

It might be shot down and not happen but if he chickened out like this, it wasn’t going to happen anyway.

With all of that in mind, he took a deep, unnecessary breath and, not entirely intentionally, squeezed the hand in his.

He could do this. More importantly, he was going to do it.

Aziraphale looked at him, puzzled but evidently willing to wait for an explanation, even as he then stood up, keeping hold of the hand in his.

The ginger, after taking another breath, then tugged at the hand in question. Aziraphale followed his request and stood up as well, a little less fluidly than the noodle that was the demon but with a surprising amount of grace, nevertheless.

Once they were both upright, Crowley tugged again and led the other a little way away from the blanket.

The question in blue eyes grew larger still.

Crowley?” he asked, evidently hoping for an explanation.

I…ehm…”

No. No hesitation, no more second guessing. The worst that could happen was that Aziraphale said no and even if he did, he would do it kindly and with understanding rather than judgment.

It was Aziraphale, after all.

For all that he could be a bit of a bastard, Crowley not only loved him the more for it, he was never a bastard around such things.

“I wasn’t only planning to go all the way out here for a picnic,” he said, speaking calmly and at a normal pace, both of which was a bit of a surprise.

He might’ve expected the blond to make a comment but all he got was a patient, yet expectant expression and a small smile.

“I was actually planning, well, hoping that we could…could maybe, if you’re…”

Bless it, when did his tongue become a knot? Or rather, a positive jumble knot. Spit it out already.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go flying. Together.”

The angel didn’t seem to react to that and for a split second, Crowley was unsure of whether he’d heard him. But he must’ve done, as he then noticed the blue eyes slowly but surely widening, possibly as realisation dawned.

It was on the tip of the forked tongue to take it back, to somehow annul it. He stopped himself, however. If he was going to do it, then he was going to go the whole way. Even if he ended up being the only one up in the sky.

The possibility that Aziraphale didn’t know what he meant was remote. There really weren’t many, if any, other ways you could interpret those words, were there?

Another deep breath and he made a further decision; he was going to go up there, whether the angel was going to join him or not.

You might not be able to claim that half a year was a long time since they’d last been ‘let out’, not in the context of their lives, but even so, he’d felt an itch in his shoulders ever since that day on the airbase tarmac.

And it would be good, not just to stretch them on the ground but flex the muscles of them, too, let them do they were intended to do for once.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, drawn-out breath of relief as he let go of something inside of him and felt the wings unfurl behind and around him with a silent roar.

It occurred to him, then, somewhat and perhaps unwisely belatedly, that maybe Aziraphale’s reaction had something to do with a fear, residual or not, that they would be spotted. Not by humans, that could be fixed. By upstairs or downstairs.

That conclusion seemed born out by the fact that the blue eyes had somehow only grown wider as they looked at him.

If they were going to strike them down, though, they would’ve done so already, surely? Quite apart from what they had already put them through, what with the trials and everything, they’d had plenty of opportunities in the last half a year.

Going for a flight wasn’t going to piss them off more than the rest of what they’d done so far, or so he’d thought when he’d contemplated it himself.

“Crowley…”

There was quite the evident amount of concern and apprehension in that one syllable, or so the demon would’ve said.

He sighed, heavily. There was convincing and then there was coercion or simply pushing someone into doing something they really didn’t want to do. He had no intention of doing either, not when it came to Aziraphale and their time together, much as it was sending small cracks through his heart.

They would mend, though. It was fine.

It was fine.

He let go of the hand in his, reluctantly but nevertheless, he did it. If he was going to do this on his own, he wasn’t going to drag the other with him, not even a little.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, angel, or if you don’t feel safe going up. I can go up myself, it’d probably be safer – “

Before he could get any further, he was interrupted by the angel unfolding his own wings with an equally inaudible clamour.

There were certain benefits to being a demon. One of them was excellent night vision and so he could easily see the angel standing before him, wings spread out on either side before they came to rest, much like his own.

Without the threat of impending doom and obliteration, for the entire planet as well as them, looming over him, over them both, he had the opportunity to take in the shape of his friend and partner, with his wings, and the sight took his breath away.

Oh, to see those wings beat as they brought the angel up into the air properly and then stretch out as he glided across the night sky, occasionally pushing down with force yet still with grace to stay up.

If ever he’d been in doubt that he’d had a fantasy about seeing that, it evaporated at that moment. Not that that meant anything, really, at least in this particular context.

“I don’t believe I ever said I didn’t want to,” Aziraphale said. “Nor imply it, either.”

“Your silence was pretty telling,” Crowley countered, with just the merest hint of sharpness to his voice.

“Perhaps so, but that doesn’t mean it was indicative of the thing you assumed,” Aziraphale returned, with an equal hint of sharpness.

Then he paused, swallowed, and his voice softened when he spoke again.

“With that said, I do see how it wouldn’t necessarily come across as it formed in my brain, and that a silence can leave some very unfortunate implications in its wake that mere words very often, and for that, I honestly do apologise.”

He grabbed hold of the hand that had only just left his, gripping it even firmer than before.

Crowley expected him to say something more. Perhaps explain his reasoning for not feeling like he could go up there. Which wouldn’t gel with him having let his wings out but perhaps his had been itching same as the ginger’s and this had, if nothing else seemed a good opportunity.

What he did not expect was what he got; Aziraphale not saying a word as he took a step backwards, then another while still trying to keep hold of Crowley’s hand.

As the demon didn’t move, however, since he didn’t feel like he ought to, given what the other was trying to do, that proved impossible, even when they both stretched.

Crowley frowned, puzzled but hopeful. Was that – did that mean that –?

When Aziraphale closed his eyes and drew a deep, but quick breath, it seemed more likely and when air slammed into him and flowed around him as the large wings pushed it down with force and the distance wasn’t quite great enough, Crowley could no longer be in any doubt.

He watched, something constricting his throat, as Aziraphale rose into the air, born aloft by his wings that a certain subset of humans would unquestionably point out were entirely impossible; that with their size and construction they shouldn’t be able to carry something the rough shape and weight of a fully grown human.

Impossible included other such small titbits as being immortal and performing actual, honest-to-opposition miracles, whether benign or malignant, too, and they managed both of those well enough, didn’t they?

To be perfectly fair, it was probably at least a little more graceful to Crowley’s biased gaze than reality would record, but that hardly mattered.

What mattered was that it was happening and for that, he could have swayed like a kite that refused to pick up wind as it was run along to make it fly and Crowley would still have found it beautiful.

That wasn’t to say it was inelegant, regardless of the body shape of the angel. Just a, a little rusty, perhaps. Like something that you once excelled at but haven’t touched in long enough that not just your brain, but your body needs a moment or two to tap into what the dickens this was all about again.

Once that seemed to come back to him, he visibly relaxed. How exactly that was visible, given, well, everything, was something best left to someone with demonic night vision and very intimate, though not sexual, knowledge of the body in question.

Then, another thing happened that Crowley hadn’t expected and certainly wasn’t prepared for. Rather than hold his hand out for the ginger to take as he rose himself, Aziraphale instead grabbed the hand he’d been trying to hold onto earlier.

He didn’t pull or anything like it that would make the demon destabilise or otherwise risk staggering and stumbling, though, just held on as he waited, his wings beating a slow but steady rhythm, keeping him afloat in the air.

Crowley should’ve been up there to join him immediately, he knew. He wanted to, too, without a question, and he would’ve done, as well, if not…

If not for the tiny little issue that his body seemed to have shut down for its holidays and the front desk wasn’t taking any calls at the time.

This was not…

He had been so bloody nervous about all of this ever since he had first formulated it in his mind and suggested going on a date; he’d gone from being hopeful and sometimes even confident back to being a nervous wreck to then thinking in entirely defeatist terms about it and then swung back around to hopeful and start it all over again. Sometimes it’d switch up the order, of course, but otherwise, it had stayed.

All of that, over and over in his mind since Aziraphale had said yes to the date, and this was the result?

It wasn’t that he was…no, that wasn’t right. He was complaining, he just didn’t have any right to complain. Not when things had turned out more or less just like he’d hoped for, and he was more than fine with avoiding drama.

Drama when it was someone else could be interesting, might even fuel a tarnishing of a soul somewhere – he was a demon, he’d had a job to do – but drama when he himself was involved? No, thank you. He’d had more than enough of that in his life, he was going to avoid any further instances.

He guessed there was just the slightest sense of…anti-climax to things panning out like this.

Or perhaps anti-climax was the wrong word. Maybe it was more accurate to say that it felt like it was going too well and that it would come crashing down on him, if not right now then in not very long.

Or…oh, he didn’t know. It was too much, all too much to contemplate at once. It wouldn’t change anything, either, but that wasn’t the same as easily being able to push it out of his mind.

The hand that wasn’t already gripping his was extended towards him.

He looked at it, followed the line of the arm all the way until his eyes met those of Aziraphale. The ones that were smiling so softly, so warmly.

So lovingly.

There was no other word for it.

That broke through not just the thoughts thronging in his mind and making the start of an absolute racket, but his momentary stupor.

Right.

Pushing aside the small thought that it ought to have been him who’d asked Aziraphale like this, not the other way around, as petty and irrelevant in the circumstances, he grabbed the proffered hand without further hesitation.

Thankfully, pushing his wings down wasn’t something that required a whole lot of thought. Not none at all, mind, and he ran the risk of wobbling as much or even more than the angel in front of him. But he would gladly take that if it meant that he got to experience this.

He was in the air before he knew it, the hands in his gripping firmly. It certainly wasn’t him that was holding on tightly to the hands of the angel. Most definitely not.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, not even when Crowley accidentally pulled a little higher than he’d intended in one go.

Only when the demon felt like he had it all under control – and he wasn’t as foolish as to let go before he was sure he had it under his control – did he let go…of one hand.

The whole reason he’d wanted this wasn’t for him to faff about on his own, now was it? One might argue ‘tricks’ but if that was what Crowley was after, he had plenty of things he could show off to his angel – and they were things that only he could do, too.

Hardly a competition, was it?

He changed the grip on the hand in his, just enough that it was much more secure. That and, well, interlacing your fingers always felt very comforting and, well, romantic.

It was a good thing that angels didn’t have excellent night vision as well, because it spared him from having his slightly reddened cheeks exposed. What light might be left from the disappeared sun was not enough to illuminate the demon’s face, thankfully.

His hand was squeezed gently and Aziraphale’s smile only broadened.

Shall we, then?” the angel asked, and Crowley nodded, ignoring the moisture in his eyes.

Despite it being Aziraphale who had got off the ground first, as it were, he let it be Crowley who took the lead on moving forward, beating his wings once, twice as he looked across the expanse of fields, trees and a small smattering of houses that constituted the nearest village, which included both a post office and a pub, and beyond.

All stretched out below them and around them, ready to be seen.

Not because he never had, though it had been a while since he’d last been on any flight, on his own or assisted by machines. That wasn’t the point.

The point was that he was going to see them with Aziraphale.

That made the difference. All the difference in the world, really.

He thought he saw something glow in the far distance and figured that that would be a good thing to start heading for. Not the final destination, of course, just the pointer to head for right now.

Taking a deep breath, he then set off, his grip on Aziraphale’s hand very firm, warm, a little sweaty and just about perfect.

There was the slightest of tugs in their clasped hands at that, but the angel kept pace with him almost immediately and despite the fact that they should’ve crashed right into each other, flying so close and on a line, nothing happened.

For a little while, they just sailed across the sky, floating in the air, in silence that was only theirs.

Crowley closed his eyes without meaning to, unable to help exhilarating in the sheer excitement and utter joy of being up here, letting his wings out to stretch and flex their muscles. The wind in his face, the sting in his lungs, the rushing through his feathers, the power underneath his wings as they rose a little.

Apart from those small noises right beside him, the almost deafening silence of everything around him, the everyday humdrum noises of an evening that hadn’t realised it had become night far too small to be heard up where they were.

All of it coming together to form something that was altogether so much more than the sum of its parts.

Something that was magical.

But it was only so because it was focused through the spectacular, unique prism that was his angel. Without Aziraphale, none of this would’ve meant even a fraction as much, if anything at all.

Speaking of that, he thought that maybe, if he concentrated on the right muscles and such, he could change the angle and maybe just –

Aziraphale, caught up in his own enjoyment, it seemed, must’ve felt the hand in his loosen. But even so, he let out an inaudible but visible gasp as he watched the demon suddenly fly beneath him, keeping perfect pace with him as they sailed on through the gathering night, his wings beating steadily.

Blue eyes slid across the entirety of the body beneath him and Crowley couldn’t help but spread out his arms as well, grinning just a little cockily.

Alright, so perhaps showing off wasn’t purely for when there were serpentine tricks to perform. Sue him.

Actually, that…nah. He’d got better things to do. Especially now.

Such as flying up above the other and circling all the around him, ending up right back where he’d started, but with a bigger grin than he’d had before.

Aziraphale’s mouth clearly said ‘show-off’, judging by the careful, somewhat exaggerated movements of lips, but despite the distance and despite the darkness around them, Crowley had no trouble seeing the warmth shining in the eyes that he knew so well.

He rose again but only so much that he was in front of Aziraphale, hovering high above the ground.

Luckily, the angel must’ve expected something like that to happen, as he slowed immediately before stopping completely, and thereby avoided crashing straight into the other.

Crowley flew in close and grabbed hold of both plump hands. He brought him up a little and then tugged, moving as he did so. The grin that now threatened to take over his face had nothing to do with cockiness and everything to with unadulterated joy and delight.

Aziraphale followed him, a smiling frown on his features as he didn’t quite understand what the ginger was getting at.

That soon became a laugh of delight as he caught on and moved with the demon, faster and faster as they spun round and round, like a celestial round-about, with the added benefit that they weren’t going to fall off and if they became dizzy from it all, it was easily fixable.

They were both laughing like idiots the entire time.

When they finally stopped, Crowley felt just the slightest bit dizzy, but he also felt outright giddy and joyous and the fact that his feelings were reflected on his most beloved face in the whole world. The entire universe, really.

Part of him wondered whether they ought to call it a night. Whether Aziraphale would want to call it a night, after everything.

Did Crowley want to call it a night? No, not at all. Not ever.

…And still have begged for more…

He had no idea where that had come from. No, actually, he did, with music accompanying it and everything. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it, that wasn’t the same thing.

Despite that, he couldn’t deny that he shared the sentiment, even as he tried to bury the wretched song deep where it might never resurface.

He did want it to go on all night, at the very least, if not longer. It wasn’t as though they were exactly hindered by the limits of other creatures with the ability to fly, was it?

On the other hand, though, he did recognise that a large part of the magic lay in it being such a limited time.

To extend it beyond the night would not only mean that they’d have to perform quite hefty miracles not to be spotted by anyone – as it was now, even with the clear sky they were flying in, they would, if they were spotted at all, be seen as weird birds or possible odd hang-gliders…oh, weren’t humans simply wonderful? – it would take away from the night.

From their date.

Which wasn’t what he wanted at all.

So, instead he could make the most of what he had, make it as memorable an experience as possible.

That did not mean that all it could be was showing off for Aziraphale.

He flew a little closer, with the intention of asking whether the angel wanted to make a swooping dive with him.

Before he got the chance to more than open his mouth, however, he was in for a shock that almost sent him crashing out of the sky; Aziraphale closed what distance remained between them and kissed him.

It wasn’t a short kiss nor a chaste one, either of which he would’ve expected from Aziraphale, if he’d expected anything at all. Which he hadn’t, mainly because he hadn’t dared to entertain even the glimmerings of such a thought. To do more was to only set himself up for unneeded disappointment, or so he’d thought.

This now…

This told an entirely different story, though, didn’t it? As well as saying that maybe he’d got it wrong. Possibly not entirely but quite significantly wrong, even so.

Quickly, he pressed back, as enthusiastically as he could without risking the other toppling over. His hands let go of the other’s as their tongues met, but though he’d intended to wrap the hands around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, only one managed that.

The other settled itself under and over the angel’s jaw, cupping it and allowing his thumb to brush across the entirety of the cheek, paying special attention to the cheekbone and the corner of an eye where it seemed as though some moisture had gathered.

It was him that pulled back after a small eternity, his eyes opening slowly…which was entirely lost on the other, seeing as he’d retained his sunglasses for the trip into the air.

“Well, that…”

“Shush,” Aziraphale said, without opening his own eyes. He placed a finger on Crowley’s lips for emphasis, even though they were definitely close enough to hear each other now. “Don’t go ruining it. Not yet.”

The demon let out a sharply indignant noise at that and pulled back a little further.

Ruining it! The bloody nerve of it – as though he would!

Then the angel did open his eyes and there was nothing but warmth and love in them, no anger or annoyance at all.

Well, to say that it was all that was in them was perhaps not quite true…

“You bastard,” Crowley murmured when he cottoned on, the downward pull of his lips transforming into a broad grin in an instant. “You – “

“At your service, my dear, always and ever,” Aziraphale smiled back. After a moment, he asked, “Shall we head back, then?”

Crowley was about to say ‘yes’ – because just because they were headed back didn’t mean they had to take the straight route – when he spotted something flashing through the night.

“Not yet,” he said, his grin a positive beam now. “Come on, I want to try something!”

And what’s that?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley didn’t answer, just grabbed the other’s hand and headed down.

That was to say, he dove down, in a swoop that was a bit too vertical for any kind of comfort. Nevertheless, Aziraphale followed him, keeping hold of his hand throughout and staying right beside him.

Down they flew, down and down and forward as well, until they were right above what Crowley had spotted; a train, though sadly not a steam train, moving through the night with a speed that was quite seductive and almost lent it a sort of grace as it sped across the rails.

They kept pace with it for a while, just because they could.

Once or twice, Crowley dropped down to look in on the passengers, which rather startled at least a few. There was one who merely waved to him, but as that was a child, with a sibling beside it who just frowned and stared, he had no compunction with waving right back to them before shooting back upwards, with perhaps more speed than he rightly needed.

When he emerged back up above the train, he looked around.

His heart seized when he at first saw absolutely nothing, not even a hint of angel as he looked.

Just as he was about to call out for him, however, strangled and, admittedly, desperate, his eyes caught on a mass of white. A familiar and incredibly welcome mass of white.

He dropped a foot or two out of sheer relief before he flew over to where Aziraphale was. Where he had sat himself down.

On top of the moving train. He was cross-legged but somehow managed to look as prim and proper as he always did when he had something more…chair-like with a seat to perch on instead.

Crowley alighted on the roof himself.

“What the heaven’s possessed you to sit yourself down on top of a moving train?” he asked once he had.

Aziraphale looked entirely innocent. “You were the one who wanted to follow it along like a couple of gulls trailing a ship.”

Gull? Gull? He wasn’t a bleeding gull!

What he said out loud was something else, though. “And you went along with me, which you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to.”

“Of course, I had to, don’t be silly,” the angel said, but his sniffy attitude was rather undermined by the way he reached across to grab Crowley’s hand again. The ginger definitely felt like he could get used to that happening far more often.

“What’s more and much more important, I wanted to,” Aziraphale added, a smile creeping back into his expression. “I just felt that while you flitted about scaring the life out of innocent passengers, I might as well get a bit of rest out of it.”

“As though you get tired – and isn’t it your job to stop me from doing things like that, anyway?”

The flight had lessened some tension between them, which had been more needed than Crowley had been aware of beforehand, and it was nice to just bicker back and forth a little.

That and the kiss had helped significantly in that regard, obviously.

“Scaring passengers is not very nice at all and even a bit juvenile but it hardly counts as evil, my dear, and certainly not something that needs thwarting.” The smile turned just the slightest bit mischievous. “Besides, I thought that we had retired. I believe you were rather adamant on that score.”

“Me? It was your idea.” Crowley wasn’t going to be goaded by something like ‘juvenile’.

“No, I am entirely certain it was yours, dearest, and you won’t persuade me otherwise.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, got as far as the first half of a syllable before he gave it up in mild disgust, turning it into a mocking grimace.

It only made the angel smile broader.

They stayed on the train for a few more miles, just taking in the scenery. As the first, faint but distinguishable glow of predawn began to suffuse the darkness around them, they looked to the landscape around them.

Then they looked at each other.

With a deep breath, their wings pushed down in unison as they set off, with surprisingly little issue for either of them, their timing meaning that they only just missed the tunnel the train was about to hurtle through at top speed.

They flew quietly but happily through the countryside, going past a town that might’ve qualified as a city, a few towns, quite a few villages and a whole lot of landscape, none of which looked remotely familiar to Crowley, who excused himself with the fact that it had been dark when they’d set out, completely ignoring the night vision, and besides, didn’t it all look the same?

He wasn’t worried, though. Not in the slightest. After all, he’d left his car in loads of places over the years and he’d always been able to find it.

It had always been in fine condition, too – and if he returned now and found that it wasn’t, for whatever reason, then he would make the little punks who’d so much as thought to damage it or even take it regret the day they had ever been conceived.

And if Aziraphale made any comment, he would ask, innocently, about if someone hurt his books.

He squeezed the hand in his, unable to fight the beaming smile of utter joy on his face as they flew back towards the car, the angel taking the lead this time.

For a first date, it had been almost, definitely entirely perfect. Every other date from now on certainly had a lot to live up.

…Well, then. He liked a challenge.

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

The car turned out to be fine.

When they finally located it about a mile or two away from where their picnic blanket still lay, undisturbed. Mostly fine, at least.

Aziraphale never asked where Crowley went one afternoon about a week later, which he had spent polishing and pampering his car despite the fact that he could and had fixed it completely with one single glare at the dents and scratches, and the demon never volunteered the information.

It was better and easier for both parties that way, and there was no need to spoil the mood.

Not when they had had such a beautiful trip out of it.

Aziraphale was already planning for another ‘date’, one which he hoped could do the first one proper justice.

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

Hope you like and it even remotely lives up to what you hoped it’d be.

[benjaminjofaiho]

The Captain Next Door Ch.5

Summary: You’re a doctor who also just so happens to be a fan fiction writer. You love lots of fandoms but Captain America is by far your fave, so what happens when you get a new job, move to Brooklyn and realize that the brownstone you bought is right next door to Captain America? Obviously shenanigans ensue.

Warnings: Swearing.

It’s worth noting that I do not care for or abide by the timeline, there are some people mentioned that haven’t technically been brought together yet [ As per Winter Soldier ] but I did it anyway.  P.S. I do not currently have a beta and the ‘f’ and ‘u’ keys on my keyboard are messed up so incase you see repeating letters anywhere they aren’t supposed to be feel free to let me know.

AN: I had so much fun writing this chapter. Please reblog and share. Your feedback is always welcome and I love hearing from y’all.

You looked at his back muscles and not to mention nice ass as he walked up the steps to your house. Yeah. This was definitely going into a fic. The world needs to know about this physique. He turned back to you and asked you if you were ready with that milliwatt smile. You were ready alright. Ready to jump his bones. Just as he was about to turn his keys into his house your phone started to ring. You lifted it to see The Bone Man’s smiling face.

           “Boner, what’s up?”

           “Hey babe, Do you got time for a couple consults?” A couple? Usually it was just the one or two.

           “What do you mean a couple?” You hesitated, putting your finger up to Steve, you were completely taken out of your flirty and laid back mood it was work time. He turned to completely face you and lean on his front door.

           “Yeah I know you’re not working today but there was a freak accident on the highway. I have about 10 patients that need to go into surgery but I need your okay and the on call doctor isn’t answering his phone.”

           “Fucking Daniels. I bet he’s golfing with members of the bboard. I’ll be there, gimme 20.” Ending the call and biting your lip you looked at Steve. You were going to get to go into CAPTAIN AMERICA’S house but Dr. Daniels was in absentia so you were the next call.

           “Listen I’m really sorry but I have to go, there’s emergency at work.” Looking at your watch you absent-mindedly said “I told him 20 but it’ll be more like an hour, I totally forgot it’s rush hour. Alright Captain, duty calls.” Turning and running to go to your brownstone and get your workbag and change your clothes you heard Steve calling out for you.

           “Y/N! Wait!” You turned to see him jogging up to you “Where do you work?”

           “Mount Sainai. Why?”

           “It doesn't have to take that long.”

           Scrunching your face you told him “ I know about the subway,  but I don’t know it that well and I don't want to risk getting lost. Plus I heard the MTA is really unreliable and I don't have time for any delays right now” Spinning back around your continued to your house but you were stopped by an arm around your bicep. It felt as if your body came alive. Usually when you were thinking about work you had a really one track mind. Work was still on your mind while your bicep burned, it just wasn't at the forefront. You looked down and saw a large hand that you would have imagined was very rough but was actually soft and then looked up to Steve’s face. For a moment he was staring down at his hand too. Snapping out of whatever haze he was in he let you go.

           “Sorry.” His hand shot up. “I can get you there in 15.”

           “15 minutes?” You asked, confused. It took 20 minutes to get to work without traffic. How was he going to get you there faster than that? You decided to voice that particular concern.            

           “Just trust me, Go get your stuff and I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.” Knowing you had no time to argue you just turned and ran up the steps into you home. Within ten minutes you were back with your hair up in a bun and jeans with a blouse. All signs of Saturday rest and relaxation were off of you. And there he sat. Atop a fucking motorcycle. You almost tripped over nothing and your eyes were bugging. You were sure of it..

           “Absolutely not.” You began.

           “You’ll be fineeeee” He started to persuade. “ Think of all the people you could save. And potentially loose if you call an Uber. Come on. Get on.” Realizing he was right you were about to get up behind him and then you stopped again.

           “What’s up Doc?” He smiled. Under normal circumstances that would have gotten a light chuckle out of you. But aren’t weekend Y/N. Weekend Y/N had checked out and Work Y/N was here and in complete control despite her faltering 10 minutes ago.

           “I can’t get on that death trap without a helmet” You shrugged pulling out your phone about to open the Uber app.

           “Hey” He said and he was in front of you in an instant. “Of course I would get you a helmet. We have to protect the precious cargo.” Handing you an all-black helmet. How many times would he alone you make you grateful for your melanin that a blush you could feel was creeping up behind. He took your bag from you while letting you put the helmet on.  He sat on the bike and waited for you to get on. This was the closest you’d been to him in your almost 3 months of knowing each other and you weren’t touching him but you might as well have been. You could feel the heat radiating off his back. Flipping the face shield up you asked how you wouldn't fly off. Was there some sort of mini motorcycle seatbelt or something?

           “Yeah of course look at the end of your arms” He laughed. “You can either wrap them around me or hold on to that little railing on either side of the back.” You looked back and indeed there was a little railing, then opting to respect his boundaries; hold on to those. The engine come alive beneath you and you let out a little squeal you hoped he didn't hear.

           “Ready? He shouted.

           “Yeah” You shouted back trying to sound as normal as possible. You were off and zipping through your borough and were on the highway in 4 minutes. Shortly after you pulled up behind a sedan where you stayed for almost a full minute. Traffic was no joke and you started to think maybe it would have been better for you to take the subway. Moving  closer to Steve so he could hear you began to shout over all the engines around you.

           “Traffic is worse than I expected! I think I should have gotten on the subway”. In lieu of responding he just shook his head. You heard him saying something from behind the screen shield of his helmet. After asking what several times, he annoying flipped up his visor and said “I said hold on!” You were the closest you'd ever been in your months of knowing each other.  You were able to see his eyes weren’t all the way blue actually, they had a bit of gold flecks in them. Only being able to manage a strangled ‘okay’ he flipped his visor down.

           Grabbing the handles behind you and clenching your teeth you closed your eyes and prepared for the worst. But you weren’t prepared for what happened. The world started to fly by you and all you could see the back of Steve and the your blurred surrounding. Before you knew it you were screaming and found your arms all the way wrapped around Captain America. Boundaries be damned, this man was trying to kill you. Did you he know you belonged to people? Did he know you were someone’s child? You both made it to the hospital in 9 minutes and you got off the back of his bike with shaking knees.  

           “Steven. It feels like my esophagus dropped through my chest knocking my heart into my stomach causing a ripple effect that made my uterus fly out of my asshole.” Before being able to stop yourself your hands shot up to cover your mouth. “Excuse my language. I appreciate the ride but that was crazy.” Meanwhile Steve was keeled over his handlebars laughing enough for the whole island of Manhattan.

           Between fits of laughter he managed “Y/N, you know to call me Steve come on. And plus it was my pleasure, you've been feeding me well for months so this was honestly the least I could do. By the way what time do you get off work?”

           “Oh Steve, you don’t have to do that-” he cut you off immediately.

           “I’ll  be in the area. I was supposed to come down here during the week but since I’m already here I might as well get stuff done. Plus, I’ve been hearing a lot about global warming, and that its my generations fault and how we can help emissions by doing communal rides and such which, so I’m picking you up because it’s my civil duty, and to collectively lower our…carbon footprint?” you couldn't help but smile. You were had no idea the great Captain America was a rambler.

           “Okay.” And you both looked at each other smiling small and you turned to walk away. Turing back around “Oh! By the way, if you happen to finish your…stuff before I’m done take Sonia’s number. She’ll be able to direct you to my office where you can wait and if you’re hungry she can grab you something to eat as well. There’s a TV in there so you can watch the news or whatever old men do” You ended laughing and his smile got bigger as well. Turning around and walking through the automatic doors of the hospital Work Y/N was back. It was game time.

           After quickly changing into your scrubs and lab coat you paged Boner and were able to find him near intake with a patient.

           “Bone man, talk to me” You began. You heard a patient laugh and question Bone man?

           “Excuse me ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. knows my name is Dr.Siriboe she just likes to joke.” He leaned in close to her like he was about to reveal a top secret and put his hand up to the side of his mouth. “You know I heard she wanted to be a comedian at first, but she didn’t have the chops so she settled for being a doctor. Not as funny but I guess it keeps the lights on” He ended with a shrug. The patient began to laugh. You knew Boner was funny but he wasn't tears in your eyes funny. This was because he was a handsome surgeon. You were woman enough to admit his good looks. Keeping it as professional as you could with someone you’d known for so long, you got started.

           With a smile still on your voice you asked “So, what do we have here?”

====================Steve’s POV=======================

           He had nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. But when he felt her arms wrap around him like that? He knew he was hooked and was looking for any way to get a fix. So he pulled up to the place he would always go when he needed time to think. The Met.

           The Met served as a sort of mental relief and motivation/inspiration, depending on his head space when he decided to visit. But as of late, he hadn’t needed to visit because. He didn’t know he just felt, satiated. He looked around at various exibits and found himself staring at a portrait of an open field of flowers. Physically he was staring at that painting but in reality he was looking through it, and thinking of you. He spent the next few hours wandering around the Meuseum for hours. Around 6 he decided to head back over to the hospital to see if she was ready to go.

           Upon arrival he texted Sonia and got the instructions to your office. Finally walking in he saw the smile on your assistant’s face welcoming him and asking him if there was anything he needed.

           “I’m fine thank you ma’am, although, would you be able to help me turn the news on in Dr. Y/L/N’s office?”

           “Of course Sir.” she replied. “And please, Sonia is fine.

            After a few minutes of silence with her setting up the TV for him he asked “Please don’t take this the wrong way. But why aren’t you acting more nervous? Not that I want you to or anything…just curious.” Sonia let out a light laugh.

           “To be honest I kind of know of you a bit. I speak with Sam a lot and you’ve come up in conversations plenty of times seeing as how the both of you are in some type of love affair” She began to audibily laugh and then absentmindedly added “Plus I can’t the good Doc to shut up about you, so I sort of feel as if I know you already.” She continued to search for the right channel. Before he could stop himself he found himself asking

           “Really? Y/N talks about me? What does she say?” All he heard was a distracted ‘hmm?’ in way of response.

           “Excuse me, Sonia” He began again. “What does she say about me?”

           “I’m sorry what?” Sonia turns her face in his direction with her eyes still glued on the screen. It was clear she was responsive but not present.

           “Sonia?”

           “Yes! Oh I’m so sorry! I always get confused by this TV.” She said landing on BBC and finally turning to give him her full attention. “What was your question again?”

           “Y/N? What does she say about me?” He’d never thought it would be possible to see the color drain from a person with such a rich complexion but he was witnessing it.

           “I don't think I said that, Captain”

           “Oh yes you did. You said, and I quote ‘To be honest I kind of know of you a bit. I speak with Sam a lot and you’ve come up in conversations plenty of times seeing as how the both of you are in some type of love affair. Plus I can’t the good Doc to shut up about you, so I sort of feel as if I know you already’ Actually. By your words it seems as if she talks about me a lot. So, what does she say?” Sonia started backing out of Y/N’s office.

           “ You know the usual…nothing unscrupulous…You know her, shes a sweetheart. Only good things and you can believe me about that” She answered nervously.

           “Can’t you give me any specifics?” He turned the Captian America charm on 3000. Who was he becoming? Since when did he imagine doing sinful things to beautiful women and it was getting out of his control. Since when did he try to do anything possible to get closer to a woman ? Physically and otherwise? Since when did he draw the same subject over and over for God’s sake? He was a disciplined, responsible, respectable man. Who was Y/N turning him into? Even in the midst of this mental crisis he knew she wouldn't be able to refuse the Charm.

           “ Nothing much. You’re really friendly and helpful, and brave because of your job and all that ya’know? And that you have a nice smile but your eyes. Good lord when she starts on your eyes I know to take a seat because we are gonna be here for a while.” She began to playfully mimick your accent “Oh my God Sonia, I’ve never seen eyes so blue” and then as if noticing she was spilling all the beans her hand shot up over her mouth. “You never heard that! You never even spoke to me! In fact I’m just the pretty lady with the beautiful accent to you!”

           He couldn't help but laugh. And he was happy for it because before her little outburst he was feeling something that he was sure other people would deem as shy? Or was he blushing? He had no idea but he didn’t like the feeling one bit so laughter was a nice change of pace.

           “Hey” He said grinning as he shot his hands up “ No one will ever get a word out of me.”

           “Thank you” she breathed a sigh of relief  “That would have been my ass.” With that she left him in the office. He had a little while to think to himself it didn't last long because he could see the profile of a man talking to Sonia out in the little reception and shortly he turned and walked into her office.

           “Hello Sir, it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m Dr.Siriboe, I work in a different department than Dr. Y/L/N, but when Sonia told me you were here I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet you. Thank you for all your service and sacrifice. My grandfather fought in WW2 so I grew up hearing stories about the front line and I know the tax it takes on a person. Your hard work does not go unnoticed, Captain.” He smiled. Steve smiled back

           “It’s good to meet you, Dr. Siriboe. I’m just a guy that decided to put on a uniform one day but you, decided to put on a white coat and save lives. That is an equally if not more taxing and hororable carrer so the pleasure is mine.” Simling widely Dr.Siriboe gave a small nod in way of accepting the comment and asked the captain to sit down with him.

           “So” He began “You like 2k?”

           “Love it!” Steve replied with a big smile.

           “Wanna play? You know what matter of fact I can’t do that to you. I’m sure whopping your ass would be considered treason or something.”

           “To be commit treason you would have to be in possession of some type of threat.” Looking around the office Steve continued “But I don't see anything threatening in here.”

           “Ohhhh Cap’s got jokes!” Kofi said laughing with Steve. “But its not gonna be so funny when I decimate you in this game. Then Imma be the only one laughing.”

           “Now son, If I go in on you it would be considered heroism in defense of our great nation”           Steve snapped back laughing. “You don’t want these problems.”

           “Son? Sir. Sir. Excuse me, sir. If I were to really get started by the time I was done witcha they’d arrest me on elder abuse and I’m liable to catch a case.”

           Before he knew it they had been playing a game of madden for about 30 mintues and between the little conversation and a whole lot of shit talking he really took a liking to Kofi. He enjoyed his company and he was always looking for new friends that weren’t attached to S.H.E.L.D. in any way possible. He seemed down to earth, and a happy go lucky fellow. Obviously he was smart to be able to become a doctor so he had that going for him as well.

He seemed like the type of guy that would already had been Steve’s friend if they hadn’t just met, he had a friendly personality. Then he wondered why he had never heard of this man before. This is the type of man Y/N should hang around, not that Boner fellow. They seemed as if they would be good friends and he decided then, that he would introduce the two. As if she was a genie and manifested though her doors.

           “Oh! Hey! Steve! You’re here!” She said looking winded.

           “Yeah I am. I’ve been here for a little under an hour just chilling with-” turning behind him to gesture to Kofi “Dr. Siriboe. Dr. Siriboe officially meet Dr. Y/L/N, Dr. Y/L/N, meet Dr, Siriboe, he works in…well actually I didn't even get his department. I’m sorry what department do you work in? You never really mentioned it.”

           “He’s in ortho” She said, cutting him off. Kofi and Y/N stared at each other for bursting out laughing leaving Steve uttlerly confused.

           “Steve, this is the Bone man!” Steve felt something sour in the back of his throat. This? This was dR. bOnEr? THE dr. Boner? That she wouldn't ever leave out of important decisions? The one that helps her when she needs it and doesn't know who to call? This is the guy she was referring to as ‘sort of her work husband and sort of her husband husband?’

           “Oh.” Was all he could manage. He was sure if he could see his own face in that moment it would look something like a 6month old who was constipated. He’d been on the couch fraternizing with the enemy?! Why would he be the enemy? Why would he even think of that? Why had he been internally monologuing this whole day? Again what the hell was she doing to him?

           “Well” He began trying to recover “Are you ready to go home?”

           “Oh! You came to give her a ride? I thought we were gonna split an uber and Rate the Pache as usual and maybe pick up some Thai?”

           “Shut up about Rate the Pache boner! Damnit that's supposed to be between just me and you!” She whisper shouted. He couldn't help himself and asked.

           “What’s rate the pache?” He asked turning to Kofi knowing you wouldn't give him an answer.

           “Well,-” Kofi started

           “Traitor!” She shouted and to be honest it startled Steve a little. He had never seen this playful and mischievous side to her before. He’d seen glimmers of it with Sam but never this full out and raw. He assumed it was because of their old friendship, but that didn't stop the little green monster coming to life within him. Who was he becoming?

Laughing Kofi continued “Rate the Pache is something we started doing back in med school. At the end of the day we get together and rate the patients we worked with on that day. Who would we bone, if there was no repercussions to our careers.” Looking over to you he saw your hands covering your face with what he thought was embarrassment. The practice was a little iffy admittedly, but he couldn't help thinking that she just looked so damn cute acting shy like that.

           “Anyway!!!” She shouted and turned to him. “Steve, I just have to get a couple things done here iff you don't mind waiting like 20 minutes and then we can head home.”

           “Sure, no problem” He said.

           “Well, we can try to finish this game” Kofi said interrupting his train of thought.

           “Ahh I didn't know you were open to public beat downs Kofi, lets do it!” Steve laughed.

           After about 15 minutes of playing, she asked Sonia for a cup of tea and Sonia told her it would be ready in a few, however the next person to open her door was not Sona, but a man instead.    

           “Dr. Daniels” She started, “How nice of you to answer your page” looking at her watch “hmmm… 6 hours too late. People could have died.” The room went silent and everyone turned to look at the late doctor.

           “Dr. Y/L/N, I’m terribly sorry. It started off with me trying to just have a meeting with some of the board members and then they refused to let me leave without playing a round. But I promise the meeting was worth while. I was able to get cardio 3 million dollars for research!”         She let out a squeal.

           “Really?! Damnit Daniels! I was really prepared to rip you a new one but I can’t be mad at this. This money will change so many lives and help preventative care so much. Thank you.” She ended quietly.

           “Of course. Meanwhile I swung by my house and got you something.”

           “Is it what I think it is?”

           “Your blueberry tea leaves as requested. And I threw in some blueberry scones just as you like them. Try one now. I added something new and I want to know if you can taste a difference.”      

           Biting into one she moaned which was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. If he weren’t so busy being something in the neighborhood of jealous he might have actually started to feel aroused. Why the hell was she surrounded by all these…Men? Men who had eyes just like him to see how wonderful she was. Men who had dirtier minds than him imaging all sorts of things.

           “Is this lemon glaze drizzled overtop?” She asked.

           “Good pallete! I call them blueberry lemonade.” He replied.

           “I mean this with all repect daniels, if things don't work out here in the hospital and I fire your ass for something you do to annoy me, you could definitely make it as a baker.”

           That pulled a laugh for a quiet Kofi which made this Dr. Daniels aware of his presence as well as Steve’s as well as if he didn’t notice the both of them before.

           “Kofi, what’s up man? Sorry I missed the pages.” Daniels said nodding to Kofi.

           “Don't worry about it man. You know Y/N zoomed in to save the day as usual.” Turing to face Steve it was then he noticed who he was. Steve could always see the change in people when they recognized him. He noticed the Dr. stood up a little taller, and cleared his throat lightly. Oh, he was a fan.

           “Hello, my name is Dr. Gerald Daniels, It’s a pleasure to meet you Captain America.”

           “Nice to meet you Dr. Daniels, likewise.” Steve said giving a patented smile. “Congrats on your new research money by the way.”

           “Thankyousomuch” Daniels rushed out. Then zipping back to her “Enjoy the tea and deserts. See you Monday. I’ll go round on the patients you had today, so you can get home.” With that he was out of the office and left a bouncing Y/N at her desk happy as could be.

           After she finished her scone, Steve watched her walk out of her office and go talk to Sonia. He watched her throw her head back in laughter and couldn't help but imagine yanking her hair back and burying his face in her neck taking in her sweet smell. He wanted to bury something else in her too but then he heard Kofi aggressively clearing his throat.

           “You like what you see?” He started.

           “Sorry?” Steve decided to play stupid.

           “ I mean any other day, I would let you be distracted and continue to score on you while you look in a completely oppsite direction just as I have in the last 2 mintues already scoring 3 times but...” He paused the game “ That’s Y/N. I’m protective over her.” He said seriously.

           “I really don’t know what you think you-” Steve started but Kofi interrupted him.

           “Listen man, I’m not blind. What are you trying to do with her? You know what? That’s none of my business. Whatever it is, make sure you’re clear about it and don't hurt her. Because at that point you’re gonna have more to worry about than aliens falling out of the sky.” With that he unpaused the game and continued to play as if nothing happened between them. Steve turned back to Y/N and Sonia to see Sonia walking out of the office and Y/N looking out the big window. All of a sudden she turned and looked directly at him and gave him a small smile that felt like an ember lighting a fire.  It was a smile he returned.

           “Alright people.” She started after walking back into her office. “I’m just about ready to go and Sonia’s gone for the day, apparently she has a date to get to.” She said wiggling her eyebrows and laughing. Kofi stood.

           “Okay I just got a page myself, so I have to run.” He stretched his arm out to steve. “Nice to meet you man.” Kofi had that easy go lucky smile but his grip was telling another story. It said if you fuck this up I fuck you up. Steve didn’t know where he stood with Kofi. Thiking of him as boner he didn’t like him at all but getting to know him as Kofi he knew he was someone he could befriend plus him sticking up for Y/N like that really won him points in Steve’s book as much as he hated to admit it. He sorta liked the guy.

           Turning to Y/N kissed her cheek and jogged out the door and she looked after him. What the hell was going on with those two?  He couldn’t place his finger on it. Was she maybe into him? Before he could even think of the situation further. She sat on the couch next to him while putting her feet up on the table and let out a big sigh.

           “So how was your day Steve?”

            “Well” he began mentally scrambling. “ I finished those errands I told you about but I ended up at the Met as I usually do.”

           “Usually? What do you do there usually?”

           “I look through Picassos stuff, they’re permanently on display. Then I go through the current exhibits. I like looking at things from all over the world and from varying time periods. Sort off broadening my artistic palette if you will” He said with an easy smile.

           “I’ve never been to the Met! It’s on my list of to-dos before I officially become a New Yorker.”

           “Then I have to take you down there one of your free days. We can. Make a day of it. Remember, doing my civil duty and all.”

           “Sounds good, I’ll let you know” She said quietly. Off course. She was back to her normal self now, trying to let him down easy. He didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was and suggested they go home.

           She turned off her light in her office and her stomach let out a noise that demanded for attention and she let out a laugh.

           “I’m a little hungry, can you tell?”

           “Right!” Steve said snapping. “Kofi mentioned something about Pad Thai? I know the best Thai restaurant in all the boroughs.”

           “I have to stop ya there chief. If it’s not New Saigon then you are sorely mistaken. Me and boner have been eating there since I used to visit him here in the city and lived back down south. He’s something of a foodie and I’m inclined to believe him.”

           “Hey! I know something or two about food as well. I promise you you’ll like it.” He stared at her while she stared at him and the both of them had a silent battle of wills.

           “Fine! But if I don't like this place, I get to choose where we eat from now on.” Now on? Does that imply that we’ll be doing this more often? Steve decided not to over think it and just live in the moment. He told her wait at the front of the hospital while he pulled the motorcycle around. He couldn't help but notice a pep in his step and it all began with him thinking of having her arms wrapped around him again. Pulling up to the hospital he saw he nervous face in view and let out a little laugh. She was the cutest. He handed her the helmet.

           “Where are we going anyway?” She said taking the helmet from him.

           “It’s this little hole in the wall called Jai-Yen.

           “Jai-Yen” She repeated quietly. “I’ve never heard of it.”

           “Well you have now.” Steve smiled. “Let’s get going.”

           “Alright, take me on your devil machine” She said putting on the helmet. Steve laughed and shook his head. As soon as she was stable on the back of the bike they were off.

Taglist: @champagnesugamama@smooth-sunflower@queenwinchester27 @hamilboots @trees-are-friends

[argentarium]

afterlife ↠ bucky barnes (i)

author: fessa

a/n: i clicked a few buttons and screwed something up. also realized this had no tags, no wonder why this post did so bad.

Not only did Bucky underestimate you, but he judged you by your looks. At this point you could not begin to start on how Bucky was almost another bad decision of yours. Every type of guy, you had your fair share of. Whether it was the sweet middle-class Brooklyn boy or the charming golden prince who had treated you as his princess — only until he broke your heart. You knew it was your fatal flaw, falling for any guy you set your sights on. And you did it again. . . for some old asshole.

After you pressed the elevator button, you pulled out your phone and began searching for the company’s I.T. contact number. You glanced up as the elevator door ringed and opened, then looked back down as you were walking inside along with several other coworkers.

A few couple of people were talking about a new project, another was typing on her phone, and the other was in the corner with his arms folded and his head down. However, you did not pay any mind to them as you brought your cell phone up to your ear after dialing the tech department.

“Hi, is this I.T.? — Great, this is Y/N Bass, Angela Murphy’s assistant — Yeah I’m going to need one of your guys..” You said kindly, trying to mask your temper. “So somebody needs to be sent to fix Mr. Barnes’s arm — Yes, somebody was sent already— This is not a waste of your time sir— The person isn’t fixing it because Mr. Barnes made them leave— Why? Sir- ” And your irritability started to peek through as the guy on the phone with you continued to question each of your phrases. “Somebody else needs to be sent because apparently, an electrical fucking engineer is underqualified in fixing a vibranium arm!” You nearly yelled as you finished, silencing the whole elevator and gathering their attention quickly with the use of your foul language.

Saved by the bell. You thought as the elevator stopped on your floor and you quickly scurried out as the tech guy continued speaking to you. “Just send someone up now, please.” You said rushed before hanging up the phone and reaching your desk.

What you were not aware of was the man in the black baseball cap, who happened to be Steve Rogers who was on his way out for a run but decided to go pay a visit to his best friend instead.

Once Steve reached Bucky’s door, Bucky swung it open and greeted his friend with a smile, inviting him in to sit and catch up on anything new.

“So, did your arm get fixed?” Steve asked, motioning his hand toward the mildly dysfunctional device.

Bucky sighed, “Oh no.. Not yet at least.” Bucky said, then chuckled to himself. “You remember that girl I asked you about before? She got a job here just a bit ago.. You know, the one who always looks really put together.” He described and Steve nodded his head. “Yeah she came up, Y/N Bass.. A secretary’s assistant about to fix my arm.. I felt bad for sending her away but this can’t get worse with someone messing with it.”

Steve nodded his head in understanding, “Seems like you know best, Buck.” He replied passively, clasping his hands together. “Do you really think they would send you a secretary’s assistant if they weren’t qualified? Like an engineer or something?”

Bucky glanced at Steve suspiciously, but before he could say anything about it, he heard a knock on his door with a man shouting, “I.T.!”

“I guess that’s my cue.” Steve said, standing up from his seat as Bucky did the same. Both men approached the door. “Catch you later.” Steve said, leaving the room as the tech manager walked inside.

As for you, you were organizing online files diligently because you wanted to go home so badly. A pair of headphones was plugged in your as an attempt to mask the mild chatter of coworkers in desks surrounding. You were so entranced by your work that you did not notice how the room silenced.

Steve Rogers approached your desk and you failed to avert your attention to him even after two clearings of his throat and tapping of his foot. Until he tapped your shoulder, you finally let out a light hum and pulled out your headphones, turning to look to the person.

As soon as you saw his face, your eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” you breathed, trying to decipher if this was reality. “Mr. Rogers- uh, coffee? Or tea? I can get you it.” You began to stand up but he stopped you.

“No, I’m okay, please sit.” Steve said kindly, pulling up a chair while you were still comprehending his appearance. “So, as you already know, I’m Steve.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You took his hand, “I know.” You responded almost too quickly. “I mean— it’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. I’m Y/N-“

“Bass.” Steve finished for you, which made surprised you even more.

“You know my name?” You said dazed, still star struck over the superhero. You were never one to become a mess over someone famous since you too were seen in many public, high society events but superheroes were different.

“I was wondering what an electrical engineer was doing as a secretary’s assistant: a job that has nothing to do with engineering?” Steve asked you, which made you twist your face.

Your face flushed in embarrassment, realizing he was in the elevator with you. “Oh my god, you were in-“ You started and he nodded, still waiting for you to answer his question. You thought about it for a moment, “Just a calling.. I guess.” You shrugged looking down to the floor. You also wondered how he knew you were an engineer. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? You know, talking to me?” You questioned him with a weak smile.

Steve noticed how you skimmed over his question, but he decided not to say anything about it but answer yours. “I came here to apologize on behalf of Bucky,” He paused as you let out a short laugh. “He tends to overlook things..”

“That’s a nice way of saying he judges a book by its cover.” You chuckled, even making Steve laugh too. “Listen, Mr. Rogers, I appreciate you coming here and doing this for Mr. Barnes but it would’ve been nicer coming from the man himself.”

“He’ll come around soon.” Steve said reassuringly. “Can I walk you out?” He asked, as he saw you gathering your things together to leave.

You smiled, “Sure.” You agreed, standing up, leaving the office with him.

Steve asked you about your life, where you grew up and how you got here. You were not completely honest with everything, omitting details here and there but you told him about your three month trip to Wakanda, where you learned how to use work with vibranium. He, in turn, told you how he grew up in Brooklyn with Bucky, how he spent his days in the past with many mentions of Bucky as well. You were annoyed that you were starting to like Bucky through Steve.

Once you got to your car, you said your goodbyes to Steve and began to drive off. You were glad to finally be on the roads, on your way to your apartment, anticipating a hot bath and a bottle of wine.

Several minutes into your drive, your personal phone started buzzing mercilessly. You groaned in exhaustion, just when you thought your day was over. Initially, assumed it was just your friends but all of the loud vibrations made you think otherwise.

You shuffled in your bag while driving with one hand, pulling out your work phone by accident but you checked it anyways, seeing sixteen missed calls from your boss and four voicemails.

You heartbeat skyrocketed, “Shit, shit, shit!” You cursed loudly, dropping your work phone and feeling for the still ringing phone in your bag. As soon as your hands felt the device, you grabbed it and brought it up for your eyes, glancing at the road every so often.

Boss: WHERE ARE YOU

Boss: ANSWER YOUR PHONE

Boss: I NEED YOU BACK AT WORK

Boss: WHATEVER U ARE DOING DROP IT

Boss: ANSWER YOUR PHONE!! I HAVE CALLED IT A MILLION TIMES

Boss: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

Boss: AS SOON AS YOU READ THESE GET BACK TO THE OFFICE SINCE YOU ARE NOT ANSWERING

Boss: BUCKY BARNES INJURED

Boss: HE JUMPED INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC TO SAVE A KI-

That was the last thing you read before your boss called again and you answered promptly.

“Y/N you need to get back here right now! I don’t care what the hell you are doing, you need to be in Stark towers!” Angela’s shrill, fearful voice roared through the phone speaker. “Bucky Barnes is located in research room sixteen C, I need you to-“

Angela’s voice sharply cut off as you heard many car horns honking at once, causing you to hit your brakes instinctively, immediately a high-pitched screeching noise filling your ears followed by a booming crash. When you looked up, your eyes only saw the inflating airbags, feeling the weight of your car shifting, until everything was black.

[joonsmagicstudio]

CHAPTER 1: THE CLASH OF BILLIONAIRE’S (JJK)

genre: drama + romance

pairings: reader x jeon jungkook

word count: 1.2k

description: Past history + break up

warnings: sexual themes and shit load of swearing.

status: currently editing

story mini-masterlist here

Chapters: Prologue || Chapter 1  || Chapter 2 (coming soon) ||

Now

"Y/N! We got an emergency!" A male voice rung out as he shoved the door to my office open and stood still at my desk, letting the door swing back into its place. Now I am trying my level best not to brag, but my office was damn spacious and had the best damn view of New York city, I mean c'mon why wouldn't a CEO not have the very top floor as an office with glass windows and oh-so modern furnitures?

"Don't tell me that we ran out of fucking glitters for the dress because I swear I will go hulk crazy on yo-" I stood up from my chair with my hands flat on my desk, being over-confident about what this man was going to say, considering his dramatic 'We have an emergency' entrance.

"Y/N, what the fuck? I was going to tell you that we got a class five customer waiting down in the lobby and demands a dress that only you would be able to make." The man simply crossed his arms against his chest and raised his right eyebrows at me.

"Oh, sorry Holland." I looked down at my desk ashamed, well this was embarrassing.

"Oh sorry, that's all you say? Well missy, you better get your ass downstairs! It's a class five customer!" Holland chuckled and urged me to get moving to visit "class five" customer. Class five customer often meant an high ranking person in the society like celebrities, billionaire's and 'popular' people. And a class five customer wasn't that rare at my company, rather it was common. That's right my company is pretty damn well-known and prestigious. Heck even Beyoncé came here.

"Gosh Holland!" I mimicked a girly voice and added the classic basic bitch expression before skedaddling to the elevator that would take me downstairs. The elevator ride to downstairs hardly took my five minutes, but as I took a step out on the the ground floor, I was greeted with loads of 'Good Afternoon Madam" or a simple head nod in acknowledgment of my presence. The whole floor was filled with my workers running around, some with measurement tapes around their neck, some with pieces of fabrics in their hands of even a full dress in their hands and some chatting away with their clients of the designs and the fabrics. I stiffened my back and stood up straight to look more professional and walked all the way to the waiting room in the lobby.

There the reception counter was across the black sofas so the clients and customers would come in and take a seat after having checked in with the receptionist.

"Hey YooRa! How's your kids doing?" I walked over to the reception counter and leaned over with my arms rested on top of the counter.

"Oh Ms Y/L/N! My kids are doing fine! Thank you for asking me." The receptionist named YooRa was in her late 30's with her husband at home and kids at the middle school.

"Oh please, no need to call me Ms Y/L/N, kind of makes me feel old when I am just in my mid twenties!" I smiled at her and quickly glanced down at her small photo frame which held a picture of her kids and her husband. That family picture alone melted my heart for she had a loving family. I would ask her how her family was doing, because of the simple fact that that when she finished her work here and headed back home, she would have her kids running up to her and her husband hugging at the entrance of her house while I would have an empty house with nobody there to greet me back from work. One of the sad part of being a CEO.

"Oh Y/N! Stop it," YooRa giggled, "Well anyways your class five customer is in the waiting room, he is pretty handsome, his name is so good too! Jeon Jungkook, hmm imagine screaming that name out, I would have hit that if I didn't have a husband!" She chuckled at her sexual suggestion.

"Real funny YooRa, but it's against the rules to fuck your client YooRa and for fuck sake's I am a CEO." I shot back with a joking glare.

"Oh Y/N, it's time you let loose, lately everyone has to keep a distance between you since you've been a little sexually frustrated! When did you have last have sex? Since you were born?"

"Damn it YooRa! Back at it again with your immature self and by the way, for the record, Last time I had sex was..." I trailed off, realizing that she spoke the truth, the truth set in pretty deep and it hurt.

"Y/N? Since when did you last get relieved?" YooRa sat up a little straighter, concern lacing her voice.

"6 years..." I mumbled weakly, loud enough for her to hear, I tried not to reminisce that memory of the very man who degraded and lowered my self-esteem that day.

"Damn, that's a long time, a girl has its own need, even I do! I keep up with weekly, but 6 years is way too long, you need to blow of some steam. I kid you not, you have been recently overworking and over-exerting yourself now days. You have become a workaholic, Y/N. Honestly I don't know how you kept it together for the past 6 years!" YooRa shoulders sagged as her eyebrows stitched together in concern, why should she be concerned about my sex life anyways.

"Thank YooRa, but I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I'll go to meet with the customer now if you don't mind." With that I left the reception and walked into the waiting room and stood there, forgetting the actual task on hand, I was momentarily distracted by the conversation with YooRa.

"Uh, excuse me Miss?" A sultry voice snapped me out of daze as I turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Yes, sorry, how may I help you?" I put on a sweet voice, ready to help the man.

"Yeah I am supposed to meet with the CEO, but apparently the CEO isn't here and I must add, a CEO is always punctual." He said curtly without lack of confidence.

"Ah my apologies, that would be me.  I am assuming you are Jeon Jungkook?" I smiled cautiously, already sensing that he was an asshole. For some reason I got that strange intuition of who is an asshole or not. But this one was just stamped with 'asshole' in bold red on his forehead. Looks like I am going to have a long day.

"Hilarious, look I get a lot of girls throwing their body at me and I am running out of time so if you just give me your number and then show me your CEO, perhaps after this I'll call you for a quickie." He had the audacity to wink at the end of his fucking request.

"Gladly, Mr. Jungkook." I bent down to rip a piece of a magazine paper from the center table and grabbed a nearby pen to write down my number, then folded it in half and tucked away, "I'll take you to the CEO's Office then." I gave him a cold smile.                       ----------------------------------------------------------- "Here, please take a seat," I spoke icily, signaling him to take a seat, my nice facade washed away as I took my seat, in my room, taking up my true role. "Mr.Jungkook, how may I help you."Mr. Jungkook a shabby man himself by the looks, he seemed young, mid or late twenties perhaps. A good amount of scruff and quite a broad man, indicating that he was a man who worked out, his face was well-structured and any ladies would have fallen at his feet, even me, only if it wasn't that shit personality he had.

But it was the wild panicked expression he had that amused me, now he realized who was talking to.

"Apologies, I didn't know. You seemed rather young that's why I mistook you for a-" I interruped him harshly.

"A young whore you meant to say? Look, I'm not a proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Okay? So please leave sir, come back another time if you're so desperate." I slammed my hands on the desk again, effectively shutting him up.

"Look, geez you don't have to be a sensitive bitch over this." He rose to his full form, I am guessing some feet and something inch, but at this point, nobody cares.

I hesitated for a moment and scoffed, vigorously shaking my head  at his 'bitch' statement, was he really a moron? "Do I get a bonus point if I act like I care?"

Mr. Jungkook was about to open his mouth, and I assume - to speak some more shit, so I beat him to it.

"Get the fuck out of my building." I calmly pointing with my index finger towards the glass door and without any further ruckus, he left. I sighed and fell back into my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.                       ------------------------------------------------------ Jungkook walked out of the well-known prestigious dress maker company, honestly all he wanted to do was get someone to tailor the dress for his sister wedding.

He approached the curb of the noisy NYC street and waved for a yellow taxi cab and within seconds a taxi came screeching to halt and the door swung open, "Where to Sir?" The driver asked, his eyes still trained on the road.

"Jeon Building." He replied as he sat into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. He barely had the time to put on his seatbelt before the taxi skidded off to its destination.

The taxi pulled up in front of the Jeon Skyscraper and the driver switched of the engine, turning to the passenger seat. Jungkook was staring out the window with an absent expression on his rather handsome face, not even realizing that he had reached his destination.

"We're here, Sir." The driver said gruffly, with a hint of impatience lacing his voice.

Jungkook started slightly, turning from the window and blinked at the driver in confusion, his green eyes cleared and shook his head, "Apologies, I was thinking about several things." He muttered, already digging through his wallet and paid him a huge wad of cash, way more that the actual cab fare, "Keep the change." He said as he got out and shut the door then hurried through the drizzling rain of New York toward his own building.

He smiled at his own butler who was more like a father figure to him that his own biological father, "Hello Jisub, is my sister here?"

"Unfortunately not, she said she would be here in couple of hours. Delayed because of traffic jam. Have you got the CEO to make the dress? I hear she is the best after all." Jisub asked, his face devoid of any emotions, but when Jungkook and Jisub were alone, he was a little more loose and fun to talk to.

"Speaking of that, no. Well technically it didn't go too well. The CEO was a bit bitchy..." Jungkook rubbed his hands nervously.

"Really or was it your ego that got the best of you?" Jisub asked, raising his eyebrows and Jungkook swore that if they were alone, Jisub would have simply lectured him to keep his ego down.

"Ok, you know what, I am going to head up to my office." Jungkook changed the topic and headed off towards the open center of the building. He followed a succession of exquisite walkways and escalators until he came to the open dome right in the heart of the structure, that was the open cafe. He plopped into the vacant seat across the counter where the barista was busy making coffee's for the customer.

Jungkook sighed deeply, there was something that troubled him deeply after the incident with the CEO, which he thought was somebody else. What trouble him was that the lady seemed familiar but he couldn't put his finger on who was she or have they ever met before. He pondered over the thought of her, she did seem young, like him. Then it struck him, she gave him his number, so he hastily searched and patted all over his suit like a maniac before successfully finding the piece of a torn magazine sheet, he opened it and read the number:

                                     +1 212- GO-FUCK-YOURSELF-67

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amusement at her discrete, well obvious move of saying go fuck yourself, he had to give her that point.

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

                                              Y/N - 1  // Jungkook - 0

Hope you enjoyed the long awaited 1st chapter, I’m sorry about the ship imagines, i will try to get through it but for some reason i’m unable to do so.

If you have any feedbacks or comment about this chapter, please don’t hesitate to let me know! 

[redvsvblue]

A little FAHC Battle Buddies thing inspired by this great art. (Warnings: car crash mentioned, some detail, doesn’t happen to any of the main characters.) 

“Bikes’re hot, let’s go!” Michael shouts, kicking open the door and fluidly shifting so Jeremy can shoot over his shoulder, rattling the cops trying to close in around the bank.

A mean growl roars down the street, cacophonous and loud, and Jeremy feels Michael sigh beside him as a bike zips past the roadblock at the intersection and towards their little crowd. It rips through the ranks of cops to brake in front of Michael and Jeremy, the back wheel skidding around in a semicircle as the driver launches a couple flashbangs at the cops, temporarily rendering them useless.

“Hey! Where’s Gavin?” Michael asks as Jeremy jogs forward to swing a leg over the bike – the driver tugs off his helmet and tosses it neatly to Michael, who catches it in one hand with a grumble.

“Right behind!” Ryan replies, hunching over and revving up the bike again. “You’ll need that!”

Jeremy glances back and sees, indeed, another bike roaring towards them, also barraging through the cops and there’s already a dent in its side.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Michael mouths to himself, and that’s the last Jeremy sees before Ryan zooms off, followed by two cop cars that peel away from the rest to give chase.

“You got ammo, right?!” Ryan yells over the wind.

“Yeah!” Jeremy shouts back just as he’s snapping a new clip into his pistol and discarding the empty behind them, hoping to at least hit a cop’s windshield. He doesn’t. His next bullet does, though, shattering the glass into delicate spiderwebs that make the driver wobble but not lose course.

“Hold on!” Ryan shouts – Jeremy scrambles to hook one arm around him, still trying to shoot with the other as Ryan dips into a sharp turn, the engine growling under them.

“We’re taking Vespucci, straight shot, that good?!”

“Yeah, just fucking go, man!”

Ryan does, kicking them up into the highest gear and weaving through the slight traffic – the police cars don’t miss a beat, matching their swerves and sirens wailing through the city. Jeremy’s shots go wide and he huffs to himself as he shifts his weight on the bike, opening himself up more and better balancing the bag on his back to steady his aim.

It works. Ryan veers them onto Vespucci and Jeremy shoots a tyre, a headlight, hits the windshields more and manages to put a stop to one of their annoying sirens. The cops still chase aggressively, leaning out to shoot back – Jeremy clocks one right in the head and civilians break into louder screaming at the sight; Jeremy simply shifts his arm and aims for the engine block. Misses, but hits the glass and cracks it into a million shining shards that explode over the road and by the way the car suddenly lurches forward and rams into a parked SUV, he’s gotten the driver somehow.

Jeremy briefly turns back to reload, the wind ruffling his hair and his clothes and neon lights blurring past them, vivid reds and softer pinks, arcade blues and nightclub greens – Ryan whizzes by a sleek red car, dangerously close to the side, and Jeremy instinctively grabs him tighter, panting through his teeth as he clicks a new ammo clip in.

This cop shoots back faster, bullets ripping by them but far, far too low to hit Jeremy, far too - 

“They’re tryna hit the tyre!” Jeremy warns when he realises; Ryan quickly double taps the back of his hand to acknowledge it and Jeremy returns fire to distract the guy.

Ryan doesn’t even hesitate before running the red lights – something else loud and growly zips across just in front of them, fast enough to almost give Jeremy whiplash when he turns to see what Ryan nearly crashed into – a familiar blue and green bike, the rider with a skull helmet and an SMG, shooting up at the chopper following them. The hooting and hollering from the people makes Ryan laugh loud enough to Jeremy to hear.

“How the fuck did they get choppers on them?!” Jeremy asks incredulously – although if anyone would, those two would.

“At least it’s not us!” Ryan yells back, and - “Hold on!”

Jeremy again curls his arm securely around Ryan and all of a sudden Ryan reaches back to grab Jeremy’s other arm, hurriedly tugging it around his waist as well – Jeremy reflexively hunches against Ryan’s back and hugs him and Ryan yanks a sharp right, speeding into a parking garage and narrowly missing a concrete pillar that would have bashed Jeremy’s arm if he wasn’t tucked in like he is.

Moments later there’s a satisfying crash behind them – Jeremy glances over his shoulder to see the cop car crashed into the pillar Ryan avoided, the hood crumpled and blood splattered on the windshield from inside; from the lack of movement and gunshots, neither cop made it.

Ryan brakes and swings the back of the bike around to stop in the middle of the garage, scanning the area as he turns the engine off, the growl reducing to leave them in silence save for their harsh panting.

“You can let go now,” Ryan chuckles, tapping the back of Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy nods and withdraws his arms, rolling his shoulders to re-settle the duffle bag as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“What now?” Jeremy asks. Ryan brushes loose hair out of his eyes and looks over his shoulder at Jeremy, mouth twisted in thought.

Just as Jeremy opens his mouth again, explosions start up outside, the unmistakable sound of helicopter guns barrelling through the relative silence and startling him, making both of them look up. Ryan seems unaffected except for the way his mouth drags up in a smirk, his gaze falling back to Jeremy a moment later.

“Guess we go save those chucklefucks,” he says, and revs the engine back up. Jeremy wraps one arm around his chest again and flexes his fingers around his pistol.

“Chucklefucks?” He teases as Ryan slowly rolls towards the exit, nudging the bike forward with careful acceleration. His shoulder lifts in a shrug under Jeremy.

“Eh, I’m trying it out.”

“I think you should stick to the nerd language.”

“Okay, Rimmy.”

“Shut up.”

[fapangel]

We tell Merkel to go piss up a rope// So what if things got REALLY bad and we had to have a throw down with Germany and the EU forces and all the troops we have are the ones already there or near by (also including Naval forces). No WMD or Nukes allowed. How well would it go in the first 24 hours?

Oh, you mean a true theoretical “what-if” war scenario? I’ll admit I’m not very good at those - it’s very hard for me to decouple from the political/alliance angles required for “just-for-fun” comparisons. However, there’s other people out there who are good at it, so for starters, we can turn to Comrade Binkov’s analysis of a 2017 war between modern Germany and Poland. This video is a good watch to quickly acquaint oneself with the modern German armed forces. 

However, answering your question requires a knowledge of American assets already over there that I just don’t have. I’ve done extensive research on it (for making CMANO scenarios, or attempting to) and I’m still unable to find a unified resource that keeps track of what military assets are where at any given time. It’s far from impossible - civilian armchair analysts even maintain twitter feeds for this kind of thing, and stitching together sources like that into a constantly-updated picture is a job they give to the New Guy in state intel agencies - but far as I can tell, you’d have to make it your day job. I know snippets of it - we’ve been flying AWACS missions over Poland; to monitor Russian air activity over Ukraine, from bases in Norway. Norway also houses a ton of Marines heavy equipment (tanks, trucks, crew-served weapons, etc.) to enable very rapid deployment of a Marine battalion to Norway to counter a Russian push into the Baltics (soldiers are a lot lighter than all their heavy gear, natch.) But even that takes longer than just 24 hours to deploy. Plus, many of our biggest overseas bases, that are most heavily relied on as transit points to the Middle East, are located in Germany itself. So it depends heavily on if those assets are allowed to evacuate from Germany first, and how much of their support equipment can be brought with them in whatever time window they get. We’ve also got most of our European-stationed ground forces based in Germany - do they get to evacuate, or are they set upon immediately? 

Frankly, I don’t think anything would happen in the first 24 hours, because not only would we not have nearly enough assets in-theater to stage any immediate, substantive strikes against Germany, but also because Germany would be pants-on-head retarded to provoke these so-called “EU forces,” as they’d probably include France, and France has more than enough assets to make life difficult for Germany. As Binkov’s video noted, German defense spending cuts have been very harsh on their military readiness - they have good equipment, but their people are not being kept in a high state of competency with them. When your pilots log less flight hours a year than the fucking Poles, something’s amiss. From what I’ve seen posted on /k/ (take with a bucket of salt,) by an alleged German tanker, Germany’s newest, greatest Leopard tanks are sitting in mothballs because they don’t want to pay for the training programs on the new equipment. So in case of war, the older, obsolete Leopard units will be ordered into action to hold the line while other tankers are very quickly trained on the new tanks. (This brilliant plan has not earned Merkel much love from the military.) So despite Germany having top-notch equipment; a mix of NATO-alliance tech and American toys, it might overstate their initial capability a bit. 

But home-ground advantage more than compensates for this, and many other problems. For instance, Germany’s force structure is shaped around the concept of being in NATO. NATO “shares” a fleet of 16 E-3 AWACS planes, for instance; spreading out costs and time-sharing their usage (the aircraft are actually registered in Luxembourg,) so Germany doesn’t maintain an AWACS fleet of its own. On the other hand, the NATO E-3 fleet... is based in Geilenkirchen AB, Germany. See, it’s hard to disentangle Germany from NATO in terms of military assets - but, to make the point, assume the E-3 fleet is evacuated. It still doesn’t make it much easier to penetrate German airspace, because it’s their airspace - their entire ground radar network is still operable, which includes everything from military radars to air-traffic control stuff. 

So even with a lopsided force structure built around the assumption of NATO participation, you’re probably not going to be kicking in Germany’s door even with stealth aircraft. Yes, the B-2 can hit Germany from the US mainland in a round-trip strike (with air refueling,) but it takes longer than 24 hours just to prep those aircraft - and with F-22s in-theater (all six of them, last time I checked,) you’re likely to get your ass shot off flying over Germany. That’s because stealth isn’t some magic absolute; it’s relative to the other side’s detection capability. Stealth reduces the range at which radars can detect you, so the denser a concentration of radars they have, the harder it is to find “gaps” to slip through. In addition, the more radiation being pumped into the air, the more easily something up there’s detected. There’s also angles; aircraft are less stealthy from the sides (larger profile) than front or rear, so a dense radar network has more chances to get a “look” at an aircraft. So you can’t just sneak into the heart of Germany like AMERICAN NINJAS and ram an SBD up Merkel’s ass (more the pity.) Germany doesn’t have a lot of SAM batteries - ten or so - but they’re modern PATRIOT systems, which simply can’t be ignored, and then there’s the good-sized numbers of modern Eurofighters to contend with, so... no. Inside the first 24 hours the only real option is immediate airstrikes (unless you have a carrier group parked in the North Sea or something) and those just aren’t feasible with whatever we’ve got on-hand over there. A Burke in the North Sea could unload Tomahawks, but those things are not stealthy. Sure, lack of airborne radar makes their chances a lot better; as they can fly “under” most of the radar, but again, you’re attacking the homeland of a first-world NATO nation; they’ve got ground radars out the ass. Those missiles will have Eurofighters on them like ticks on a Turk. 

Offensively, Germany’s not much better off. They operate the very, very, very good KEPD 350 cruise missile (think “a JSOW but with an engine”) with longer range and less signature than a JASSM-ER... but they’d also be firing at first-world NATO homelands, and NATO members that have AWACS support, to boot (if not the NATO E-3 fleet, than American AWACS out of Norway.) And honestly they don’t have much in the way of air strike capability anyway - their Eurofighters are fine, and so is their Tornado fleet, and they do operate the HARM and such, but their EW ability is 24 specialized Tornadoes, and that’s not going to cut it against - again - a NATO nation’s homeland. So their best option would be a ground offensive against... France, I guess? Except France has not skimped on spending, and won’t have to stage emergency training of their fucking tankers, so I doubt Germany would rattle that cage. 

So... yeah. I’m not very good with these “theoretical what-if” scenarios. They always seem too much like two faghammer 40gay players comparing army lists and that’s just... not me. Morale, alliances, and above all, goals  are too embedded in actual modern warfare to be ignored. These what-if scenarios really, really require a removal of context so severe that I just can’t follow, most times. 

But, there is one last thing to speak of - the Pole Boner. When this rumble starts, Poland - as one nation - will pop a boner. Even the women. As one raging lusty dick, they will race towards the border with rifles, tanks, knives, sharp sticks and wolves balanced for throwing. No “Random Omnipotent Being,” no fiat of the scenario creator, can prevent the reality-rending, murderous, unholy glee of Poland as it moves as one soul to crash the party. 

[putaloadintrucks]

After the events

The Inline Fuel and Café was quiet, more so as the solemn mode hung over the group of vehicles there. The recent events having taken their toll on the group, bringing down most of their spirits as they sat around the pumps. The softly sipped at their drinks, soft mumbles coming from the group as the other regulars sat away from the group, not wanting to upset them any further than they were already. The mood around them did not help them either, as it was an over casted cool day, the sun hidden by the clouds over them, casting the ground in cool grayness.

“Anyone word on when those two will be able to work Rodger?” asked one of the group, A large faded black and silver Semi. One of the group shook their hood, sighing softly in the process.

“No we don’t Ryan; they are on leave until they are cleared to be able to work. It could be a week from now, or a year. We have no idea and it’s starting to bring them down knowing they’re stuck in traction for the future” grumbled the car, an older model Caprice. The other vehicle of the group whined softly, sinking down to its frame as he held the can of Apple oil in front of it.

“I miss Jaslo” he said softly, Rodger giving the smaller vehicle a soft nuzzle as the kid stared at his drink.

“We all do Shayne, Don’t worry. She’ll be back soon. She promised, and after the shit show with her boss, I am pretty sure they will listen to any demands she gives. Who knows huh, maybe she’ll be stationed up it permanently. Wouldn’t that be good?”” Rodger stated, earning a soft whine from the Mustang, all the while Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get his hopes up Rodger like that; big cities like hers like to fuck over anyone they can. They won’t just bend to what she wants sadly. If we do see her, I’ll be surprised” he grumped, earning a sigh from the Caprice as he sipped some of his drink.

“I know, I can be hopeful right though?” he said softly, sighing. He felt an antenna roll across his hood, softly patting it. He looked up, seeing Ryan give a soft smile as his CB antenna came back into original position.

“It’s alright man, Y’all will pull through this. This valley has seen worse, and you guys will recover from this and be better for it alright?” he stated sharply, earning a nod from the Caprice.

“Thanks Ryan, I appreciate it” Rodger replied, earning a smile from the Semi before he turned his attention to the smaller Mustang.

“How’s the kid doing? I’ve heard from the local rumor mill that he was getting kind of close to the Blazer” he said, a soft whine escaping from Shayne at the mention of Jaslo. Rodger gave him another nuzzle, smiling softly before turning his attention back to Ryan.

“Depends on how the rumor mill is spinning it I suppose, though knowing them it’s a lot more sexual than what was actually happening” he said chuckling as Ryan gave a huff and rolled his eyes.

“Of course it is, they spin anything and make it sexual. For fucks sake they tried to say Vic and Jaslo were fucking. They just blab and blab and cars eat right up as if it’s the god damn fucking truth” he growled, earning a smirk from Rodger.

“I’m not surprised honestly. But Shayne and Jaslo relationship wasn’t anything sexual in nature, if anything I think the kid was starting to see Jaslo as a mom” he started to say, a louder whimper coming from the Mustang next to him. Rodger gave Shayne another nuzzle, purring his engine softly at him to calm the kid back down as tears started to form in his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay Shayne, She’ll be back soon. I promise you that” he softly said, as Shayne sniffled, softly nodding as he tried to hold the tears back. Ryan gave a soft chuckle at the scene, smiling widely as Rodger continue to keep Shayne calm.

“Kid needs it than, Glad Jaslo could be a positive influence on him. Especially with all you deviants at the station” he said smirking as Rodger gave a huff, returning to his drink as Shayne softly sipped his, finally starting to calm back down.

“We ain’t all bad” he mumbled, earning a bark of laughter from the semi.

“ Don’t you lie, The only one I would trust in a dark alley is Vic, I swear you and your brother would jump my chassis if given a chance, and I rather not bash your frames in for that” he smirked, earning a huff from the Caprice.

“You’ll attractive I’ll give you that” he mumbled, yelping as he felt a antenna smack across his hood.

“I appreciate the comment, but I already told ya I don’t swing that way little car. Sorry to disappoint the fantasies again” he stated with a chuckle, Rodger groaning as he focused on his drink, a blush across his hood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t remind me you asshole” he grumbled, Ryan chuckling softly as the cop continued to drink, quite easily embarrassed as he did so.

“So with Vic down than, You the sheriff?” asked Ryan, Rodger sighing in response and Shayne softly shaking his hood.

“No, the county said I was not qualified enough” he grumbled softly as he took a large slurp from the can in front of him.

“They s-said he wasn’t qua-alified enough” mumbled Shayne as he also continued to sip, the sound of a drink almost gone becoming more evident from the boys direction. Ryan tilted softly, a puzzled expression stretched across his eyes and bumper as he looked at Ryan.

“Then who the fuck is the sheriff than, you can’t run a county on one cop around here nowadays. There’s to much traffic around the parts for you to be everywhere Rodger, and your Brother is stuck in traction for at least another month if what you told me is correct” Ryan stated, earning a nod from the Caprice as he frowned.

“That’s why according to them, they will be bringing a temporary replacement from up north of the pass. Some older Ram called Oliver. He’s apparently a new Sheriff in the town up ahead of us here and since they have more than enough cops to patrol the top of the peak, He’s coming down here and helping us for a bit while one of his cops runs his department” Rodger grumbled, earning a long drawn out angry sigh from the Semi.

“Great, a fucking pencil pusher probably. Last thing we need in this valley is someone who has their pipes so far up their own ass they can taste it” he growled, earning a chuckle from Rodger and a soft smile from Ryan.

“Well if he tries and change the things around here, I can guarantee it will not end well. Probably with him dragged into the forest. People around here really like how things are, and the last thing anyone wants is some hotshot trying to change things” replied Rodger, earning a nod from Ryan.

“Oh yeah, Last thing I want is to bust some frames because someone decided the new guy needs to be taught the lesson. Last thing I’m gonna have is someone hurt in my town, especially if it’s Tony from my yard.” barked Ryan, stomping a tire on the ground for emphasis as other cars at the café.

“I know what you mean, I’m not gonna allow people to hurt the new guy, unless he’s a damn asshole. Last thing we need mixed up in all the sexual deviance here is for violence to occur” replied Rodger, earning a nod from Shayne.

“ I do-on’t want any-yone else hurt” he said softly, earning a sigh from both of the larger vehicles, and another nuzzle from the cop as a result.

“Exactly. Last thing anyone else needs is someone to go to jail cause of their stupidity” growled Ryan.

“I agree with you Ryan. I am going to do my best to make sure everything stays right as peaches here in town. I swore on my oath I would do so and I will be damned if anything here tries and change that” Rodger stated, his eyes narrowed in determination. Ryan chuckled, a soft rumble of his engine as he looked at the Caprice.

“Good, we are gonna need that type of attitude here with all the idiots around here” he said sharply.

“Yeah, well anyway I rather not be thinking about that right now. He’s supposed to be here any day now anyway so we’ll see when he gets here” he mumbled, pushing his now empty can of fuel away from him. “How’s the kid doing anyway Ryan, That van that moved here recently? I heard he has been making deliveries all over this mountain”

“ Kids a fucking speed demon that’s what. You order a part and within the hour, no matter where you have it. I’ve heard from some of the loggers further up the pass, way away from any actual roads that the kid has gotten them the part quick as all fucking heck. He is not afraid to bust ass on those trails, and he seems to get a kick outta doing it. Cade is a hard worker, we need more like him around here, instead of all the lazy fuckers that we seem to get nowadays” he replied, pushing his now empty can away as well.

“Well good, if he seems happy that I see no reason to try and stop that. Vic seems to have taken an interest in the kid, also so has Christine if I can remember. They treat him like a member of the family, even though he can’t be that much younger than Christine” quipped Rodger, earning a nod from the truck.

“ It’s a little strange how quick they took to him, but who am I to judge. Kid seems to have an innocence about him anyway, like he’s looking through the world through tinted glasses or something. At the end of the day, as long as he is happy and does his job, I could care less what he is doing” Ryan replied, Rodger shrugging before tossing his and Shayne’s can in the trash.

“I suppose that’s true. Me and Shayne need to head out, gonna have to help those two idiots at the station now fall on themselves. They have been pushing themselves way to hard it seems lately and they are going to reopen their wounds if they don’t stop. Come on Shayne, we need to head out” Rodger stated, Shayne softly nodding following after the Caprice, both turning and rejoining the road upwards to the station. Ryan mused softly, turning his attention to the clock at the café before looking down at the waitress.

“Eh, I have one more drink I guess” he said softly before slowly rumbling over to her to grab another cold drink. Overhead, the clouds began to slowly part, the sun slowly peeking out of the cloud cover, shining areas in the valley with its golden rays.

Like Ryan had said, the valley had experienced worse and had always rebounded back. This valley could and would recover back from this incident, and as a result would shine brighter in the basin.

The sun continued to shine, albit a bit brighter than usual for the residents

[dimenovelsfromoblivion]

Predicting the Unintended

Mild summer weather had brought floods of weekend tourists into the city. Swollen white clouds lazily drifted across the ocean blue sky. The rays of the gentle sun tantalized the flesh while a fresh and sporadic breeze softened the touch of the heat. The brimming sidewalks channeled currents and counter currents of pedestrians through the confines of the busy commercial district. Stylish young women carried large paper bags displaying designer logos, while their male counterparts prowled the streets wondering where these fashionable ladies might be congregating. Mothers navigated the dense crowds pushing strollers while their husbands herded the children old enough to walk on their own and listless teenagers compelled by their biological rhythms actively sought out potential mating opportunities.

None of them gave a second glance to a U-haul truck box in by the idle traffic. The driver was a 25-year-old man named, Dale. He had spent his late teen and the better part of his early 20s in the army. He kept his light brown hair neatly buzzed and as a matter of habit kept his clothes neatly pressed. He stared through the windshield in quiet contemplation. His foot tapping the gas as a reflex whenever the cars in front of him began to move.

His companion in the driver seat looked much his opposite. Dave had thick curly black hair and wore a loose fitting t-shirt. Unlike Dale, Dave couldn’t stop fidgeting. He displayed every nervous tick imaginable. His eyes darted in all directions, he drummed on his knees, and continuously adjusted his seat.

“Why does there have to be so many kids here?” Dave muttered.

Dale didn’t answer. He kept his gaze fixed and lightly tapped the gas when the light changed.

“Can’t we try another spot?” Dave asked nervously.

“Now’s not the time to get cold feet,” Dale said in a voice absent of any emotion.

“You’re right for the greater good, for the greater good,” Dave repeated the mantra again and again.

“Right here,” said Dale as he maneuvered the truck out of traffic and up to the curb. He set the parking break and turned to Dave.

“Read?” He asked.

Dave inhaled deeply and nodded his head.

On the outskirts of the city software engineer, Scott Drenstein was toiling away in an office complex. The building had a shell made with glass tinted so dark the building looked like a shimmering ebony cube. The 36-year-old wunder-programmer was average high, slightly pudgy, and looked almost boyish. Despite his sizeable salary he dressed modestly and was considered by most to be a nice guy.  His home life was average, quiet, and serene. He was happily married and had a healthy infant daughter.

Scott was the star employee in a private intelligence firm. A company he had helped transform from just another start-up into an emerging titan of the industry in just a few short years. Scott was the architect of a program that almost solely financed the young company’s move from a rented loft space into a steel citadel. Scott affectionately referred to his creation as the Messiah maker. In short, it was a program that created digital social movements. The algorithms automatically constructed media materials across every known social networking platform. Video manifestos, memes, and even people were generated by the program. It was used to root out the angry and the dispossessed and to lure them into an arena where they could be easily monitored. Scattered hopeless souls that might spontaneously and violently lash out at society found a place in illusionary communities where they became adherents to carefully crafted ideologies designed to appeal to people just like them. It was here they could be controlled. Movement leaders who were nothing more than a social media account could call their followers to any kind of action, and this suited the shadowy power players who either hoped to pacify them or use them to stoke the fears of the wider society.

Scott was analyzing a spike in online activity on the message boards of a second American revolution group constructed by his program. Its membership prescribed to an ideology that was a blend of libertarianism and religious authoritarianism. Like most of the groups created and monitored by the program, it was made up mostly of young men who for one reason or another felt the society they lived in condemned them to a meaningless and frustrating existence. While Scott couldn’t explain the pulse, he had already decided it was probably benign. He scrolled through dozens of posts and messages containing numerous keywords that had alarmed the program. He had been at it for a few hours and was growing fatigued. He looked at the time. It was already almost 5. He decided he would breeze through what was left and head home. His phone began to vibrate across his desk. He looked at the screen it was his wife.

“Hey there,” he said jovially.

“Hi hon hows it going?” she asked sweetly.

“Not bad, almost done here,” he replied.

“Oh, good so will you be home for dinner?” she asked.

“Yeah, I should be. What do you wanna do?”

“Hmmm, want to try that new Thai place?” she suggested.

“Yeah sounds good,” he concurred. “I should be home in about an hour.”

“Ok I think we should be home by then too,” she said.

“Oh, where’d you go?”

“I met Stephanie downtown for lunch and took Alex shopping for some new onesies.”

“Again?” Scott said feigning surprise. “She just keeps growing.”

“I know won’t be a baby for long,” she sighed.

“Yeah, I guess not. Well, I’ll see you later,” Scott said.

“Bye,”

He hung up the phone and turned his attention back to the screen. He tapped away for a while and looked back at his phone.

“Damn how has it been half an hour already?” he mumbled to himself.

“Whatever I’ll finish up with this tomorrow,” he said to himself as he pushed his gliding office chair away from his desk.

He was startled by a rapid knock on his office door.

“Come in,”

His secretary opened the door; she appeared panicked with dark glistening eyes and quivering lips.

“What’s wrong?” He asked even before she uttered a word.

“Scott there was an attack downtown. Someone set off a truck bomb or something,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Wait, who set off a bomb?” Scott asked in a raised voice.

“I don’t know,” she whimpered.

Scott grabbed his phone and redialed his wife. It went straight to voice mail. He hung up and tried again and still only the prerecorded message answered his call.

“Fuck,” he hissed

He dialed and redialed again and again and never got a single ring. By the fifteenth time, he threw his phone on the ground in frustration. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Her phone’s probably just dead,” he muttered.

His computer monitor caught his eye. The screen was starting to fill up with posts of pictures from the massacre. There was the immolated husk of a truck surrounded by burning car parts. The sidewalk and streets were smeared with blood and rescue workers were gathering up the charred and dismembered bodies strewn around the street.

“Today is our day!” the caption above the picture declared.

It was a classic case of what those in the intelligence industry call “blowback.” Only this time the dead were not just statistics. He could not distance himself from the pain of the mutilated victims by thinking of them as just “collateral damage,” not when it was the people he loved. No matter how much power Scott imbued his creation with it was still just as incapable of him of predicting the horrific consequences of such profound mass manipulation. Unintended consequences are by their nature unpredictable and no technology, no matter how cutting edge can ever change that.