#the full government name of the car is necessary to the bit

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

All Funk, No Punk - Still Hobart Brown

Gold chains instead of silver spikes. Gator shoes in place of thrifted boots. And an afro bigger than Hobie's -

Spider-Funk is Hobart Brown - Earth 831

Hobie Brown maybe Artie's chiller, rougher, and louder self - but somehow, they get on like a cop car on fire (or whatever the saying is).

And Artie Brown maybe Hobie's cockier, flirtier, and flashier self - but they just tell people they're twins.

Or at the very least - they call each other 'brotha' and 'bruv' all the time.

When people ask about the accent thing - you know, Artie being American, they say 'Ever seen The Parent Trap?'

[A LONG ASS post - Below is Artie's Origins, Fighting Style, Relationship to Hobie, and how he got recruited - All About the Brown Bros! Artie & Hobie, FunkPunk!]

It's Hobie 2 - Electric Bugaloo!

And just when Miguel thought he could only stomach one of them.

Though he calls himself the older brother, being born over a decade earlier, Artie is Hobie's less mature, more materialistic, but just as kind variant.

He's a pacifist instead of an anarchist - Full of Soul instead of bursting with Rock.

And he still hates cops.

Origins:

When Artie was drafted for the Vietnam War in 1969 - the first thing he did was burn his draft card. Then he joined the Black Liberation Army.

He wasn't the only one - Artie was part of the almost half a million draftees to do so.

And then President Osborn was elected.

To fill the gap in enlistment, Osborn came up with a solution.

V.E.N.O.M - A highly toxic, unfeelingly aggressive, and wildly bloodthirsty symbiote. A solution to the protests and draft dodgers.

Engineered by Oscorp - if you didn't induct yourself as a soldier, the V.E.N.O.M would make you one. And suddenly his friends were disappearing one by one.

A subtle but sudden-onset disease, the V.E.N.O.M variant was nearly undetectable, very persuasive, and incredibly effective.

More primal than animalistic, the symbiote's function didn't raise one's bloodlust, - instead it lowered, and at worse cancelled, your empathy. The symbiote subtly normalized dehumanization - attacking neurons in the cerebral cortex to destroy one's capability of empathy, compassion, and at times - recognizing faces. Able to follow commands without a second thought - the perfect soldier. Convincing the host of necessary order and their own biological superiority, over the course of 72 hours the host would lose their ability to recognize the people around them as anything other than sub-human. In 138, V.E.N.O.M turns you into an animal. In 831, V.E.N.O.M turns everyone around you into an animal.

It could make anyone into an unfeeling, unrelenting soldier - no guns needed.

The best of them got sent overseas to the War - and the rest, he turned on the people, hunting down all those who dared to dodge their call.

While on tour in DC, Artie was bitten by a radioactive spider, as he attempted to burn draft papers at a government facility.

He burned the papers. Plus he got some sick powers out of it. Plus Plus he gets to beat up The National Guard on a weekly basis. Ain't that a score.

And Hobie may hate the name Spider-Punk (or so he says), but Artie loves being Spider-Funk.

He calls them Funk & Punk. Hobie calls them that too, but like in a cool ironic way.

Artie & Hobie:

Personality:

Hobie knows that Artie is going through his 'Pavitr Phase', so he cuts him some slack. Artie's only been Funk for a year and some change.

He's got more Ws than Ls, so he's always one to be a bit cocky and reckless - though never at anyone's expense.

He's more talkative than Hobie - and WAY more flirty than Hobie, ready to wink at anyone willing to stare.

Like Hobie, Artie has his own groupies. And the pair on campus do get stares (and whispers. and giggles); Two 6'5 dudes with enough hair to cause an eclipse, walking around in loud ass boots, they're sure to draw attention.

Something Artie loves.

Artie considers himself a Ladies' Man. And a Man's Man. And what gender you have to offer really. (He's still a 'Hobie' - he doesn't discriminate)

He's got a waterbed in his boathouse, shag carpets, and wine at the ready. He loves sweet-talking people, and showering them in compliments. Whereas Hobie's love language is Physical Touch, Artie's is Words of Affirmation.

But all Hobie has to do is open his mouth and Be British and suddenly Artie's date is swooning and he's like 'Brotha, I'mma need you to shut the hell up for a second right quick.'

If you hang out with them, get ready for Hobie hanging off your shoulder, while Artie is in your ear complimenting your outfit.

Fighting:

Artie's fighting style is a lot more fluid than Hobie's with a lot of martial arts involved - similar to blaxploitation movies of the era.

Hobie thinks he looks bloody ridiculous meanwhile Artie is like 'if dem damn jeans weren't so tight maybe you could get like me and have some flair in your fight, my man.'

He also has an INCREDIBLY MEAN backhand.

Ideology:

The two of them are fairly close, hanging out with each other a lot. Though the two of them are fairly different. Artie is far more pacifist than Hobie, but that doesn't mean he's above violence.

He's just not one to talk about it, or threaten it. He's more of the 'let people talk - don't start none, won't be none'. Camp - and he'll almost never throw the first punch. Though he absolutely considers intimidation, selling hard drugs, and fucking with the general population 'starting some'.

Their ideology may clash heads everyone once in a while, but they hardly ever fight. At all. Instead, they have frequently heated, in-depth debates.

Artie may not be as radical or educated on things as Hobie, plus Hobie has ten years of extra history to pull from, but the two of them do it often, and it keeps them spry.

The only problem is, they get so into it, it SO HARD to understand what they're saying. Accents, slang, cutting each other off, roping other people into the conversation to back them up. It's WILD.

Artie is a lot more materialistic than Hobie. Not as critical of capitalism, Artie likes to game it rather than complain about it.

Unlike Hobie, Artie LOVES the finer things in life, and spoiling those around him. He likes gold over silver, and wears more rings than spikes.

He's a bit full of himself, and he carries a rag in his pocket to whip blood off his nice white boots. Something Hobie wouldn't be caught DEAD doing.

And Hobie clowns him for it everytime. Artie doesn't care. 'True playas never play sloppy.'

But how can he afford all of this? Well,

He's not as uhh,..honest as Hobie. But he has a heart of gold (get it?). And he never lies just to lie - if he's doing it, it's probably for work, or to Miguel, because he does not respect Miguel.

Artie be stealing. He's a master at sleight of hand. If it's a big corporation, it's free game. He never steals money - but to put it concisely: He's a smooth mfer.

He likes gold - he thinks it looks nice. But he knows for a fact that the worth of it is completely manufactured my human and capitalism, and that it's literally just a pretty metal.

He knows that paying hundreds for a chain or gold is exploitative, especially when it's stolen to begin with. So to him, it's justifiable, gimmie.

He also does it mostly for fun, a magic trick - in the same way Hobie makes stuff 'disappear' while talking to Miles, and doing hand tricks.

Artie does that, but more often, and more skillfully.

He doesn't do it all the time, but the first time he did it in front of Hobie - snatching Hobie's homemade watch of his wrist - Hobie was genuinely surprised.

Mostly he does it to make things disappear from your hand, parts he finds lying around, and playing pranks on people like Miguel. Generally, just being a lil shit.

He's a sweet-talker and a big steppa.

Unlike Hobie, Artie knows better than you force his way in. Artie slides in. He can talk them in to anywhere.

He'll pretend to be someone else, pretend to know someone else, steal passes and key cards to get in, and try to attack from the shadows when he can.

In battle, Spider-Punk is the louder, chattier, more immature one. And Spider-Funk is the chiller, sarcastic one.

Like twins, the two of them have their own in-jokes, and they hang at each other's places all the goddamn time. Though they live in different universes and decades, Artie & Hobie are kinda a package deal.

They may not always be together - they both got their own shit to do and they're not actually brothers - but if you hang with one, it's only a matter of time before you meet the other.

"Why is your brother American?" "Divorce." - "Adoption." ........ "Adoption." - "Divorce." "One of you or the both of you are lying."

Diane & Artie & Annie -

[This section is about my main OC Disco-Spider Diane, and her variant Annie P. Disco-Spider is Hobie's....something and they are happily....a something]

Every Hobart needs his Diane, and Artie is no different.

Artie & Diane:

And like usual, it all starts at the beginning.

Diane was the one to recruit Artie - because of course she was. And Lyla had told her two things: He was a guitarist, and his name was Artie. That's all she needed to know.

Lyla wanted it to be a surprise.

She snuck back stage to his show, brushed off the nearly palpable feeling of deja vu in the air, broke into his dressing room, and then tried to flirt him into joining the Society. Easy peasy.

Diane is a very oblivious woman. They spoke for nearly 10 minutes - and Artie decided to hear her out. He sat down on the couch in his dressing room, pulled back his hair and-

Diane goes -

"Hobie??? Is that you?! Oh my goodddd, you look so cute! Your hair!! Hobarrrrt - Why you ain't say nothing, had me standing here doing all this."

Speech completely forgotten. Mind you, she still hasn't explained anything. Diane is destined to freak out every Hobart she meets.

Artie is starting to think he should stop flirting with weird ass groupies that break into his dressing room.

Diane takes out her watch, the watch he doesn't know she has. She pulls up Lyla, the AI he doesn't know she has. And Diane asks her -

"Lyla! Does Artie stand for-" "It does!" "Oh my god!!! That makes this SO much easier! You're soo sweet, awww!!" "You know I saw the mission and thought of you-" "Am I on drugs right now?"

Needless to say - Diane's recruitment was successful.

Diane and Artie actually get on well, really well. Like weirdly well.

Artie and Diane are both extroverted, flirty, and a bit full of themselves. They're expressive, and more into their hair than they're willing to admit. They're perfect for each other - and people notice.

And Diane finds it a TAD BIT WEIRD

I mean, the differences between her and Hobie is what Diane loves about them - they're like sugar and spice, PB and J.

Sometimes Artie and Diane may accidentally finish each other's sentences - and Diane will be like 'Hey don't do that :)'. Other times, Artie will playfully be like 'Why are you standing so close to me, mama?' Just to piss her off.

Of course, Diane thinks he's 'cute'. But not Hobie Cute. And unfortunately, he 'speaks American'.

Besides, Hobie is the only Hobart for her.

Artie is definitely into Diane, but more in the 'she's a catch I would go for' kinda way. He did hit on her a couple times early on in their situation - but once she made it clear that she was 'seeing Hobie', he took the hint.

There's no jealously there - Hobarts are incapable of it. In fact, he's kinda proud the only other guy who could pull the hot girl is ..another him.

Now, Artie is a lot more like a big brother, kinda like the ones Diane grew up with in the Panther's house.

He's protective of her, in a 'Be mean to her and I'll deliver an ass whoppin on a plate' way. He thinks she's cute in the way a platonic sense, and finds her groupie mode to be as amusing as it is adorable.

It's ironic though that his ACTUAL girlfriend is - well, Diane's Opposite.

Artie & Annie:

[This section is shorter, and will be longer in Annie's post]

Diane Pastors is Annie P. is Mod-Spider.

Artie's girlfriend, Annie is the farthest thing from Diane while somehow still being just as big of a diva.

An avid feminism campaigner and modern woman, she would never be caught DEAD hanging off of Artie like that. And she can't stomach Diane all that much.

Hobie, Annie HATES. And not in a coy way. She thinks he's obnoxious - she calls him a poseur. She thinks he's a scrub.

Her & Artie are in a committed relationship - officially boyfriend and girlfriend. And instead of Annie, Artie is the one who wears her name on a chain.

Just like Diane and Hobie, Annie and Artie have a musical duo - called ModFunk.

We're almost done I PROMISE.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Random Details:

Artie's design is an inverted version of Hobie's, but it's also inspired heavily by Jimi Hendrix, mainly this photo on the left.

Right is an example of Artie's Style. His universe has a paint-marker aesthetic, a lot more colorful and soft than Hobie's, with dripping paint and splatters, but it tones down a lot - like Gwen's.

Artie plays Soul, Jazz, and Funk.

He has a band with his version of Daredevil, Felicia Hardy, and Captain Anarchy.

Artie has killed cops - and soldiers before. But he doesn't see it as a big deal. He hates cops, but he doesn't focus on it. He doesn't discriminate. Ass Whoopin's for everybody.

He DOES pull his hair back, his face isn't covered all the time. Maybe 80% of the time.

He can get around with Spidey Sense, so he doesn't care much - he loves his fro and is always picking it out.

He Pavitr are like best friends. Pavi and The Brown Twins get LOUD AS HELL when all together.

Gwen thinks he's an absolute goofball - So Artie tries his best to make her laugh. She seems like she needs it.

When not on stage and in battle, he prefers to play an acoustic guitar, which Hobie doesn't like playing. His acoustic is also blue.

Him and Hobie can play on each other's guitars, but it sounds very trippy, and VERY VERY weird, abnormally so.

If their heads are covered, or hair done like each other's, they can seamlessly pass as each other.

Hobie SUCKS at an American accent - but somehow, he can mimic Artie's perfectly.

It's the same for Artie - sucks at British, but can speak like Hobie.

He loves chocolate candy bars, Hobie likes fruity candy.

They do write songs together and go to each others shows, though they don't ever really perform together.

They wrestle A LOT

Artie is a genius as well, and they work on mechanics together, Artie is great at math specifically.

He and Hobie do each others hair care and help oil each other's scalps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So uh.....that's Artie :) The guy

If you made it this far THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENTERTAINING ME - Artie platonically gives you a red rose.

ALSO TELL ME Why I tried to draw him like Jimi Hendrix But he looking like the Jackson 5 IM SO SORRY YALL

Here's OG Hobie as a thank you! Just imagine two Hobarts standing on either side of you both tall and with big hair and touchy and talkative as fuck Diane is living the DREAM let your OCs be happy

Bye.

[baglove]

(via cat lovers Mask by mohammed elhachimi)

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[aks3raao1]

You know, there's a thing with characters that foil each other and serve as the "good" and "bad" respectively (Toga/Himiko, Tenko/Izuku, Nagito/Hajime, Ryoko/Hajime, Atsushi/Akutagawa) but that trope felt rather annoying to write, especially in the world I am trying to write about (ALTERNATIVE's world is basically MHA X BSD but like. 1000 times more fucked up and the Specialised are always prejudiced against. A terrible lot).

The title itself, ALTERNATIVE is to symbolise Romila's POV of "infinite choices and paths present for every being" and how she starts off the story with a decisive line of,

"Many people ask me if this could have been avoided. They beg for me to tell them that things could have been better. There are others too, who try to justify that this was the only way for things to have been. If you ask me, both are living in states of denial. One can't accept the stupidity of humanity for disregarding common sense for violence and prejudices. Another can't accept humanity's choice for having better circumstances if the one with the power chose to."

The thing is, the running theme is that the story is a bittersweet one, despite there not being many deaths of the main characters, but there was always a junction where you can see it could have been avoided, that there was an "alternative" for things to have gotten better, especially in the first book.

Another reason for the title is that it's basically an "ALTERNATIVE" to this world of ours, where super powers and stuff like those exist.

The subtitles of both the books (Myriad of Colours, Colour of Death) signifies Romila's power, "Aura Tracker" which lets her view people's aura as colours (Myriad of Colours is to signify the different kinds of people she meets, Colour of Death is about what affects her the most (death) and how she's constantly seeing that colour everywhere, especially now that it's war).

The thing about ALTERNATIVES is that Romila could have chosen to be a doormat (like Koldin tends to be at the beginning (his rp self is like THAT due to circumstances different to ALTERNATIVE's actual storyline. Also because Hack's a nicer person to be around than Romila is) in order to nOt hAvE cOnFliCt™) to not get into conflict and put up a super nice persona for people but she didn't. She decided to focus on hanging onto her reasons for doing what she does and using it to create a caustic personality to shield herself because she knows that she will regret being a doormat (Her Despair takes the form of Koldin Hopkins).

Now Koldin could have certainly put his hatred for society at the forefront and taken a caustic personality but instead chooses to be nice. Because he doesn't want to become as hurtful as the rest, that's how he wants to disentangle himself from society. However he, like Romila (who just took standing up for herself to extremes), takes this to the extremes causing him to gain the personality of a nice boy™.

However this also goes into why they made the choices they did (which is what Romila realises during the Mansion of Death arc), because for Romila, she didn't really have the psychology for actually becoming a doormat (because a) Her mom wouldn't have it b) She hated to be called weak c) She didn't have anyone to fall back to after the inevitable consequences of being a doormat d) She felt that if she were to live with monsters, then it's easier to blend in by being one (this comes useful to her when she infiltrates into the Government) e) She saw doormats getting suicidal which frightened her) or not becoming fully caustic (since her standing up for herself wasn't. Liked. By. Anyone. And seen as aggressive and she basically went, "Well if they see me as bad, I will show them BAD" which led to her breakdown causing the incidents at the Mansion Of Death (especially a twisted hatred against Koldin for extremely understandable reasons).

For Koldin, being meek and peaceful had let him get by in the streets and his skills to difuse fights had come in handy. Later when Dr. Hopkins took him in, he was well. A member of the Radicals who were known to be extremely merciless towards the Specialised (he had defected but Koldin had a REALLY good reason to be wary) so he figured if he stayed nice, he wouldn't be kicked out of the house and Dr. Hopkins being Dr. Hopkins just assumed that it was his normal and that behaviour carried into school. He figured that it was a horrifying thing to be aggressive and then saw how Romila got treated and decided that yep, he was right, that confirmed his world view alright and it was more reason to be super nice. While Romila saw Koldin as a person who everyone took advantage of (a thing she hated. To be exploited just like that) and went, yep that confirmed hers and it was more reason to be super angry.

However the thing is that, Romila was chided for being anything, which caused her to just give up to be peaceful (because what would she do? Anything she tried to do got her scolded) while Koldin (thankfully) found a support system. It really goes to show the difference a good friend can do.....

As it is, when I first began writing this, the most obvious choice presented itself to me. Koldin is the "hope" and Romila is the "despair" (on the protagonist, deutergonist side) but that seemed stupid and boring as it wouldn't make sense. Since I am trying to make a point of showing with how Romila's world view gradually changes from "there are wrong and right choices" to the fact that it doesn't have to be rigid and that *now* she wouldn't be hurt if she used what her vulnerable side wanted (a world free of prejudices and unnecessary cruelty) with the talents she had. That kindness mixed with her usual personality won't literally kill her.

And for Koldin, being a doormat means that he got taken advantage of a lot by different people and since he refused to actually stand up for himself ("Ah...aha......it seems that I can't..." "Can't what?" "Feel angry for myself......it's always anger that comes from the ones I love being hurt" "Then love yourself too, you will feel angry again" ~ Koldin's conversation with his inverted self in the Labyrinth) he got. Taken advantage of. By virtually everyone. However he decided that if being nice would keep him keep his self and his name self then it would be fine. He did not want to be the source of grief (his actual parents tossed him out because of his Specialisation). The Mansion Of Death actually causes him to snap for that reason, because Romila literally puts him in a torture dream "for the greater good" and then proceeds to kill his dear friend. One thing Koldin HATED. Killing friends. (Due to them being run over by a car, which led to his paralysed left arm)

Now on the other side, their respective friends:

Romila:

Luja: Cynical and annoyed by people's stupidity but not to caustic extents and she wants to be a scientist and isn't haunted by the possibility of dying.

Kratanos: Full of anger and hatred against the world but not entirely blinded by it and is focused to using that anger for reformation of the world (she becomes a therapist later, to help people)

They both have her caustic parts but they also let themselves embrace another side which makes them her "balance".

Koldin:

Anand: Believes that there's no requirement for violence unless it's absolutely necessary.

Karishma: Figures it's a better idea to just listen to rules but doesn't hesitate to break them if she sees that they are bs

They both have his peacefulness, but don't hesitate to do what they think they should do, which makes them his "balance".

The point is that, the case of choosing alternatives isn't possible with a tunnel vision. Even so, there are choices that literally can't be made due to the individual and circumstances. Sometimes the choice is to choose more than one choice. Well, that's one dramatic storyline......

It reminds me of DDLC side stories since everyone has a bit of the other person's solutions and more of a opposite personality (don't take this the wrong way, there are many stories like that and it's honestly a favourite to think abt but it's just that DDLC does it well especially since it's only a school environment). Tbh, I like dramatic storylines that rlly dig deep into a character's perspective (reasons why I'm in love with Hack and Axel in particular). My whole thing is that I'd rather read a story with interesting and in depth characters than one where only the plot is good so I say you made the great call of the century with Koldin and Romila's characters.

What you thought before getting into it is rlly how every great character arc starts. You focus on one, somewhat forget the other one until you review every single character for inspiration and then BAM! PARALLELS! It's really admirable how, even in this messed up world of specializations, you didn't purely focus on the plot bc it honestly sounds interesting enough to just stick around for Romila's life and journey. You could have ended it all with just that, but no, you smacked Koldin in there and said "be my interesting on par character that can kick Romila's gut" and IT WORKED SPECTACULARLY!!!

I really love ur writing and hoping to one day read (and maybe print out) every story you've ever written bc GODDAMNIT I NEED THE FEELING OF THOSE WORDS ON WORN PAPER WITH AN ARTISTIC COVER AND AN AMAZINGLY HEAVY WEIGHT

Aka, paperback. Bc that's how I like to roll and that's how good I think it is. 1000% worthy of a bestseller

[the-littlefangirl]

TFATWS episode 1 rewatch commentary

The first scene was so beautiful. I loved that we didn't start directly with the fight sequence. It feels way closer to the quiet beginning of CATWS and I love it so much.

The title is also SO NEAT, music's on point too but hey it’s Henry Jackman the one thing I’m sure it’s going to be great overall is the score.

The choreography is AMAZING, really well shot. Sam shielding himself with only one wing was MA-JES-TIC.

“WHAT'S UP” EXACTLY SAM EXACTLY

I did feel so uncomfortable in regards to the military aspect of it. Not that I was expecting anything else, but both here and in Captain Marvel the military we're good guys < 3 propaganda is so blatant and ugh:/ At least there wasn’t a literal recruitment spot like with CM. 

The yellow filter in the Tunisia scene BYE please stop with the yellow filters 2k21

"I've been working with the Air Force for six months now" So, did Sam even catch a break at all after Endgame? Or did he just throw himself to work like SOMEONE did after being iced for 70 years. Hmmm? Sam????

"Essentially, these people, they want a world that's unified without borders" OH NO! HOW AWFUL, how evil of these bad guys smh

Joaquin: SO about Steve

Sam: :)))))) nope

"Moon stuff" SAAAM

#1 cry with Sam's speech, full on chills.. Fuck. Me. His voice about to break before saying thank you bYE.

Shady politician: "It was the right decision" (FUCKKKKK YOUUU)

Rhodey: *press any key to doubt *

I need someone to analyze the different curation of the two exhibits pretty please

NOT THE PHOTO POST-AZZANO JFC. That photo is my weakness, Bucky sweetie (also I find hilarious that usually when there are articles about Stucky and/or #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend they aaaalways use that photo LMAO)

In case someone wants to read the transcription of the texts about Bucky: "In 1944, while on a mission to thwart a Hydra weapon transport in the Alps, Barnes was thrown from a train and believed to have been killed in action. It wasn't until 2014, over seventy years later, that it was revealed that Barnes was alive, having been found by Hydra operatives. Captain America himself (i can't read) the effort to bring Barnes in only to later aid in a escape from custody having been convinced of his innocence. Steve's loyalty to his old friend, coupled with his refusal to sign the Sokovia Accords, led to the dissolution of the Avengers and drove the Captain into hiding with other like-minded Avengers including Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and Sam Wilson. The current whereabouts of Barnes remains unknown, habing been labeled a fugitive following his escape from custody."

"current wherabout unknown" but not the government, interesting. Also, pretty good summary of CACW from the public's perspective, although one of the things I always wanted to see explored was the public's reaction of the fallout of them going into hiding after Civil War (which I'm hoping we'll get to see a little bit of in Black Widow).

Interesting point about the 70 years without having Captain America. Clearly the sacrifice play wasn't enough this time to fuel the nationalism so they went with a squeaky clean John Walker instead.

Sam saying the shield belongs to Steve I'm going to cry now excuse me. Sam. Sam sweetie.

The No. 1 Captain America comic in the display ugH fuck yes

See this is how you do a cameo that has actual meaning. Thank god for Malcolm Spellman being a competent writer. That scene was so well written.

HAVE YOU PRAISED ANTHONY MACKIE'S PERFORMANCE TODAY?? Holy shit that last shot fucked me up.

I'm loving the use of the wide shots, especially in the flashback. The camera movements are in synch with The Soldier's state of mind and mission focus, so good.

EVERYONE STAND UP FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM aka The Winter Soldier theme composed by Henry Jackman.

Without a doubt the most brutal TWS fight scene there has been, People involved in Punisher and John Wick are involved in this and it SHOWS. 

For the record, still stands that the only time we've seen him chocking someone with his right hand instead of the metal arm remains the Maria Stark assasination. I know it's probably because of blocking and the way the shot was composed but the implications are still bone chilling. God.

Uhhmmmm I'm very ambivalent about the "Hail Hydra". On one hand, it was 100% fanservice and the internet is probably going to go insane over it, and the dead way Sebastian Stan delivered the line. Good shit. Buuut what I love about CATWS is the way Bucky never, ever ever, mouths Hydra rethoric, and even when Pierce tries to gaslight him with it, it's just an empty effort. The Winter Soldier isn't doing anything because of ideological loyalty to Hydra, even if it's product of brainwashing, it's just sheer dehumanization. They don’t need him to say the words because he’s just An Asset. There are people who have put it more eloquently but yeah, I rather go with the fanon interpretation of that aspect.

The music growing louder with the shot of the keys. GOD.

I'm fine this is fine.

#2 cry with the therapy scene of fucking course.

The government monitoring Bucky is noooot going to end well lmao.

"We need to know that you're not gonna * slowmo stabbing motions *

Bucky: * nodding along slowly * 

I laughed out loud.

"It's passive agressive" I love him.

The way this scene just sucker punched me in the face, made me weep and then had me cracking up. Amazing.

Therapist: You can't do anything illegal

Bucky: yup yup check checkity check. What IS considered illegal tho?

*aggresive tablet finger pressing *

"Then why isn't it rule number one?" Bucky your Steve is showing.

I love the close up shot. I'll keep saying it. It's so good.

"I'm James Bucky Barnes" yeah you are🥺

That smile is nightmare fuel LMFAO I love it.

Uhm the way I'm kinning Bucky it's not funny anymore damn

That whole “are you lashing out at me” rambling is really reminiscent of the bar scene in CATFA and how he lashed out at Steve after Peggy left. Uhm yeah fuck.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" "Peace"

"That is UTTER BULLSHIT" "You're a terrible shrink"

yeah ugly crying to ugly laughing speedrun for me

"You're free" "To do what?" jesus. That entire scene. #3 and #4 and #5 cries for moi.

Ugh that Brooklyn shot. Someone needs to do a gifset compairing it to the one in CATFA asap.

"It's like Monique but it's got a "U" in there for uniqueness" "That's absurd" LMAO

"You can't keep fighting with your neighbors" uHM * redacted redacted i'm shifting into 1940s mode abort abort *

"Nobody passed 90" "So young. Such a shame" FGADHGA

🥺🥺 yes flex those flirting skills good for you

"It's a dance to this things. You can't… you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943. Feels like." #6 cry I completely broke down into tears with that.

This Yori storyline is going to punch me in the face with a metal fist. Great!

The TWS theme when he looks at Yori fuuuuuck.

GREAT LET'S GO TO LOUISIANA THAT WAS GETTING HEAVY.

Those shots of Sam in the car. Immaculate. Showstoping. Yes.

Marvel, what if instead of promoting the military industrial complex you put a lot of publicity about cars?

"Uncle Sam!" LMAO subtle.

Everyone trying to have the wings lmao same.

I've only had Sarah for a day but etc. Brooklyn 99 meme

Good mirroring about Steve and Sam family's legacy. Good shit. Goooood shit.

Sam is trying so hard ouch my heart. I can't imagine how painful the scene with them reuniting must have been. He 100% still feels a lot of guilt about being gone for those 5 years (and even longer before that).

"Maybe it is time for us to move on" uuuuuuuuuuh

"To the rescue" "Always" 🥺🥺 i love them so much already

That shot outside the restaurant is so beautiful. Can't wait to see the night scenes in Madripoor tbh.

"I tried the whole online dating thing. It's pretty crazy". Uhm well that is something that Bucky Barnes has now said. In canon. Damn.

"It's a lot" "You sound like my dad" LMAO

Every Bucky fanfic trope speedrun with this scene

"Wow you really can drink" OH you have no idea

Just realized we don't even know her name, well.

"You have any siblings?" "I have a sister" THE WAY I SCREECHED. We're definitely getting Becca

Well that escalated quickly. The important thing is to try?

I can't deal with this BUCKY SWEETIE #8 cry right there fuck

The wardrobe department is KILLING IT, there's such a difference between the outfits of the shows vs how ugly and generic it usually is.

"ThEre is NO such thiNg as on time. You're either EARLY or LATE . picK One" lmao the way he delivered that line

At first I thought the flag smashers had thrown two cars out of a window LMAO

"I don't know how jurisdiction works here, but I'mma have to place you under arrest" uhm yikes. The way they changed Joaquín Torres backstory to just random army nice guy #1 is not sitting well with me, what can I say.

Sam's wings motions I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR

Fuuuuck this guy.

"Funny how thing's always thighten around us" "Look, I'm on your side. After all, he's a hero". This script is C R I S P as hell, great fucking job.

"I don't care, I'm not gonna quit" "What are you trying to prove? And who you trying to prove it to" SHIT HSIT SHIT!!! UGH amazing. Look it's not necessary to say the show's questions out loud but how they flow between the conversations is still very satisfactory without feeling in your face about it. Inner conflicts have been set up fucking perfectly everyone * claps *

Ugh here we fucking go.  I knew this was how the episode was going to end but my stomach still dropped like a rollercoster. God.

The score is on point. Damn. Damn.

God, Sam.🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

The captain america franchise's visuals in the credits are always so amazing.

Also, does anybody know why Mackie isn't first in the billing?  Uhm what's that about?

ANYWAY CONCLUSION THAT EPISODE WAS SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE HOLY SHIT. I love them so much. The balance between the personal conflicts and the political aspect (although the military aspect is still very much yikes) was on point and it was overall a joy to watch.

[gumnut-logic]

John Tracy hated taking public transport.

He hated the cramped seats, the invasion of his personal space, the fact the bus stopped every few minutes to pick up more passengers and the noise.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

But the astrolabs were too far from the dorm to hike it or bike it, so bus it was.

He mapped out the most direct route, left early to avoid the crowds and handled it the best he could. Earphones helped and he never travelled without his tablet and a network connection.

He made do.

He made do for over a year. Every morning and every night.

The work was fascinating and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He considered getting a car, but it wasn’t practical and parking was non-existent, so he stuck with the bus.

Despite the fact he hated it.

Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him.

Sometimes this was not possible.

Because sometimes they spoke to him.

John had been brought up polite. His grandmother would have slapped his wrist if she found out he was ignoring people. So, he always replied. Often concisely, but always watching his manners.

That often opened the floodgates. Because if there was anything common between big cities it was the people who were lost in them, desperately alone in a sea of faces.

John liked being alone to a certain extent, but he was blessed with a close and large family.

Some people had no one.

So, ever so reluctantly, he found himself answering their call for help.

The first was Mrs Bucklin. She was a tiny woman, well dressed, but slightly scented with mothballs as if her clothes hadn’t been out of the closet in a long time.

She sat right beside him and immediately enquired as to what he was doing.

At the time he was coding a new game and her sharp voice startled him enough for his fingers to slip and enter a chain of commands he had not intended. He would have sworn if he was alone, but the program righted itself and the new commands, instead of corrupting and crashing the function, actually appeared to improve it. He frowned and hastily input some bridging structures so the code wouldn’t fragment, idly wondering if the error would improve the game, ruin it, have him need to rewrite the whole section or be the spark that would initiate sentience.

Great, his tablet would rise up and eat him while he was distracted by a random bus passenger.

She did apologise and he did reassure her that it was all okay in the hope she would let him be.

She didn’t.

He learnt she had three cats, a niece in another country (he didn’t gather which because the woman’s pronunciation defied translation), that she had lost her son in the Global Conflict, she liked his hair (that was a first) and that he looked like an intelligent young man.

He acknowledged her quietly and politely as he eyed his code and the results of an initial compile test. How did it do that?

Her cats were named Scottie, Gordy and Allie.

He did blink at that, but didn’t comment.

Eventually, she said goodbye and got off the bus at her stop.

He would have forgotten about her, except she sat next to him the next day and the day after that.

Apparently, this was her route to work, and he was such a polite young man.

Three weeks later she admitted he made her feel safe just by being there. She had been mugged three times in her life and public transport was as much a bane for her as it was for him.

He actively kept an eye out for her after that.

Gus was a different matter.

Gus didn’t have a home and he often rode the bus just for the air conditioning and comfort.

He sat on the other side of the walkway to John. He didn’t say much and would likely have never said anything if it hadn’t been for the gang of boys who decided to throw verbal potshots at him one day.

John had had an all-nighter with exams coming up, so he was cranky. His latest project had stalled – the same game he had been tackling when Mrs Bucklin had startled him. The core of the program had become a little unpredictable and he couldn’t work out why.

So, when a group of teenagers crawled to the back of the bus and started needling a fellow passenger, it was not only a situation where the innocent man appeared to need a bit of a rescue, but it also pissed John off.

There were four of them. Teenagers flocked in groups apparently. He’d never been one for that formation himself, but he knew of them, had encountered them and Virgil had kicked a few of their asses for him.

John was in college now.

He could kick his own fair share of ass quite happily.

“Leave the man alone, or I will call the police.” He raised his voice, but not his head, transmitting all the body language of how beneath his notice they were and how he might respond if they didn’t comply.

“Mind your own business, kook!”

There was always a brave one amongst the group, usually the ringleader, the head dickhead.

At least they were only teenagers.

This time he did look up and put all that communication theory into the coldest stare possible. “Excuse me?”

All four of them froze. Hell, they couldn’t be older than fifteen, somewhere between Gordy and Alan. If either of his brothers acted like this, there were three older brothers who would quite firmly re-educate them on proper conduct.

Not that he thought either of his younger brothers would do such a thing.

In any case, all four of them stared at him wide-eyed. The eldest swore and climbed out of his seat just as the bus pulled up at the next stop. He snarled at John as he stalked past, spitting profanities. His cohorts followed and they climbed off the bus.

It was lovely and quiet after that and John went back to tackling his misbehaving program.

“Thank you, sir.”

John blinked up at the unkempt man who had been the centre of the teenagers’ torment.

A small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Was this variable being changed by the program itself? How the hell could it do that?

He didn’t fail to notice after that incident that Gus, as he introduced himself the next time they met, always sat near John on his rides, morning or evening.

John met other people. Mrs Magarey and her three young children always needed a hand with her pram. John sometimes took advantage of this and stuck the pram in the footwell of the seat next to him so no-one could sit there.

That made Mrs Bucklin sit behind him and whisper her stories in his ear.

He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that either.

Two other students from his faculty took the same bus as well. Ridley was in the year behind him and always had a friend on the phone. She chattered a lot and he learnt to tune her out.

Well, until the day he boarded the bus and found her crying into her tablet.

She had lost her entire thesis in a computer crash. He was polite. He enquired and she answered, staring up at him as if she had never seen him before. Which was entirely possible. John didn’t like to draw attention to himself.

He accompanied her off the bus that day and delved into her damaged computer. He dug up her thesis and she gushed all over him, even crying into his sweater.

He hugged her awkwardly and wished her all the best.

After that, she always said hello and had a smile for him.

John smiled back, but his program was still not behaving. It acted as if it had a mind of its own and it was very distracting.

Mrs Bucklin said it sounded like cat number two, Gordy. Never behaving, but always loveable.

John stared at her when she said that, and wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

The day Virgil landed in the seat beside him on the way to the labs startled him enough to drop his tablet.

“Hey, Johnny.”

He fumbled between the seats for the device. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“Sorry.” But he could tell Virgil was anything but.

His fingers touched the cool metal of his tablet and he scrabbled for it. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a brother drop in on his brother to see how he is doing?”

John eyed him. If it was Scott sitting next to him or Gordon, he might have been suspicious of any double meaning his brother might be communicating. But this was Virgil and although the engineer had a sense of humour that could cut when necessary, this wasn’t his style.

“I guess he can. But why the bus?”

Virgil shrugged. “Didn’t catch you early enough. Barely caught the bus behind you. I thought your classes didn’t start until later.”

“They don’t.”

“Then why are you up so early?”

It was John’s turn to shrug. “Just avoiding the crowds, I guess.”

Virgil eyed him with a slightly worried frown.

“And who is this lovely young man who has taken my seat?”

Oh god.

Virgil stared up at Mrs Bucklin as she bustled in to sit behind them.

An internal sigh. “Mrs Bucklin, this is my brother Virgil.”

“Your brother?” She eyed Virgil as if inspecting him for sale. “Doesn’t look like you at all. Where’s the red hair?”

Virgil arched a dark eyebrow.

“Nevertheless, Mrs Bucklin, Virgil is my older brother.”

“Then how come we haven’t met before? You’ve been travelling this route for a year now and we haven’t seen hide or hair of him.” She continued to glare at Virgil as if he was a threat.

Virgil was shifting in his seat, his expression decidedly wary.

“Virgil has been assisting my father on a project. He’s an engineer. I’m unsure what he is doing here right now.”

“Hmph, well, in my opinion, he should have been here earlier.” She addressed Virgil directly. “Did you know your sweet little brother has been a bastion of this bus route, defending and assisting all?”

What?

John’s head shot up. “Mrs Bucklin-“

“Don’t you go all humble pie on me, young man. I saw what you did to those teenagers and how you help young Mollie every week. That girl is going to work herself into an early grave. And poor Gus, you’ve given him a new reason to try. Did you know he has enrolled himself in a course? Got himself a grant from the government and everything. Got help from that employment assistance group. Not to mention that doe-eyed young student who stares at you with love hearts floating about her head. I don’t know what you did for her, but I have no doubt she would do anything for you if you asked.” She turned back to Virgil, accusation in her eyes. “Why haven’t you been looking after your brother?”

Virgil’s wide eyes darted between John and the older woman.

John had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Mrs Bucklin’s glare was determined.

“Ah-“

“Is this man harassing you?”

John looked up to see Gus looming over Virgil.

You know, the Virgil who lifted weights that weighed more than his brothers on a daily basis.

John frowned. Gus had a new coat on and was looking much healthier than the last time he paid attention. “No, Gus. This is my older brother Virgil.”

And Virgil was subjected to another staring glare. “Doesn’t look like your brother.”

What?!

“I can assure you that he is indeed my caring older brother and he is not neglecting me in any way.”

Gus grunted, still glaring at Virgil. He nodded in John’s direction. “Make sure he eats more. He’s too skinny.”

That started Mrs Bucklin off again. “My goodness, yes. John you do not eat enough. Have you tried any of those recipes I recommended?”

Gus was still eyeing Virgil.

Virgil appeared to be regretting several recent life choices.

“I’m fine, Mrs Bucklin.” He raised his hands. “And both of you, Virgil is not responsible for my wellbeing.”

His tablet beeped. A glance and he found a text message from Ridley. You okay over there?

He looked up and found her at the other end of the bus staring back at him worriedly.

A sigh.

A flick of his fingers. I’m fine.

He turned back to Virgil who was literally cornered, only for his tablet to chime again.

 You free tonight?

Oh, for the love of-

“Guys, Virgil is my big brother. He looks after me. He cares. I’m fine. He’s here for a visit. I don’t know why yet. Stop glaring at him.”

Gus grunted again and wandered off to his seat. He didn’t stop eyeing John’s brother for a second.

Mrs Bucklin let off a slightly miffed sound before leaning back in her seat. “He better. Or I have a mind to bring Scottie with me next time. Or maybe Gordy. To teach him a lesson.”

What the hell?

“No need, Mrs Bucklin. I assure you.”

Virgil was staring at John as if he wasn’t sure what planet he was on.

John sighed.

Yeah, he hated public transport.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

His tablet pinged again. This time it was the program he was working on. It was claiming it was dawn despite the fact the sun had risen an hour ago. He let out an exasperated hiss.

Virgil was still staring at him.

Damn public transport.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[starlightxsvt]

Sunrises || Choi Seungcheol au

Pairing: Seungcheol x Female reader

Genre: apocalypse au, slice of life (?), angst, kinda fluff, some action

Warning: zombies, death and stuffs

"Thank you for saving me that day." You murmur to the male sittig next to you.

Seungcheol, in return says nothing, focusing on peeling the apple in his hand.

It was the third day after he saved you and gave you a place to stay. The man didn't offer his name or any other information - though you figured it out from craved wood that hung on his room's door saying, 'Seungcheol's room' - neither asked yours but you enlightened him with it. He doesn't talk much and doesn't like to be talked much but you kept your mouth open anyway.

It was about two months since the strange virus spread and begun the apocalypse and you were lucky enough to have stumbled upon Seungcheol.

"I really mean it." You whisper. "I'm new in this place. Believe it or not but I moved here literally a few days before the apocalypse started."

You didn't get any response to that either.

"Do you have any family? I don't. My mother died long ago and my father's an addict so I basically ran from him."

More silence.

You take in his features which are too concentrated on peeling the apple. His brows were knit to a frown and he chewed on his lower  plump lip.

You swallow, "Who's Sunghoon?" You know you probably shouldn't have asked the question but curiosity got the best of you. You saw the name hanging on one of the rooms which was apparently locked.

He looks up at you, an angry look on his face. "I swear to any higher being up there, if you don't shut your mouth I am going to feed you to the corpses by myself." He stands up murmuring, "This is why I don't like helping people." 

You watch his retreating figure walk inside the house and you sigh, leaning against the apple tree and watching the sunset.

A week later

You thanked the heavens everyday for making you stumble upon a guy who's a farmer. Seungcheol had his own produce, a small field of rice and corns and a few apple and lemon trees. It was safe to say these were more than enough in a time like this.

The electricity is unavailable most of the time but it takes some surprise visits every few days for a few hours. That's when you and Seungcheol wash up and store water.

Your days go by rather quickly thanks to the neat system Seungcheol seems to have established. He had things run so smoothly that it was pretty unbelievable the world was going through an apocalypse right now. You help him around the house, cleaning things up, watering the crops and such. He had his own rules - don't waste water or tissues, don't eat too much, don't talk too much. You tried to follow them at your best but you couldn't stop yourself from starting a little conversation more often that which were only met with silence or threats. But so far, Seungcheol was a guy nice enough and you counted your blessings for meeting him.

A few more days later

When you ran from your place you only took your female necessities. Those were dumb things compared to others who ran away with guns and foods.

You sat in the guest room Seungcheol offered you, thinking about what you were gonna do after these necessities were finished.

Suddenly Seungcheol appears knocking on your door before entering. You turn to look at him as he takes a seat. "We'll be heading out tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"There's a super shop a mile away from here. We're going there."

"Why?"

"Why do you think, smartass? We need to stock up on tissue paper and dry foods. I visited there a couple times after the apocalypse started. Apparently the government and NGO's provide foods and stuffs there for the survivors out here."

"Really?Then where are they? We need to find them. They probably built a shelter, we can go live there."

"Do you think it's that simple?"

"Huh?"

Seungcheol sighs. "They are moving in their own pace, okay? The shelters are probably full now with survivors. When their capacity increases they'll let us know. I have a friend who works at the NGO. If he's okay he'll come for me."

"When was the last time you spoke with him?"

"On the day of the breakout."

"I see."

"Prepare yourself for tomorrow. Since you are living in my place, you are coming with me." He stands up to leave.

"I'm not a wuss, you know." You roll your eyes.

"We'll see."

"Yea. And you know, it didn't hurt to speak with me! We could talk more often Mr. Grumpy!" You call after him.

"Shut up."

The next day

"Listen carefully, don't waste anytime. Just grab the things you need and walk into the car." Seungcheol says parking the car in front of the convenience store.

You nod and watch him load his gun and tuck it behind him.

The store is a mess. Broken pieces and bits of metals everywhere. You both walk in and look for the things you came for. Luck seems to be on your side as you find a couple of dry food packets, some toilet papers and some pads -though they are not the best quality, you have to make do with these. You quickly put them on the tote bag you brought with yourself and turned around.

Seungcheol was on the opposite Isle looking through selves for God knows what. You walk out to the front of the store and see and notice taped there.

Food will be supplied here every week along with other necessities. If you are a survivor please hang in there. Once we manage more accommodation, we will come for you. Regarding the infected, our research says they are deaf, so please use that to your advantage.

You turn around to tell Seungcheol about this but instead you meet the eyes of a corpse. It stands there, a mess of blood and gunk as your soul leaves your body.

It approaches you, making garbled sounds and you take back a few steps. From behind him you see Seungcheol approaching will a huge piece of metal rod.

The corpse doesn't turn back to the noises Seungcheol's feet makes while approaching you through the mess, instead it's focus is solely on you, ready to devour. They're really deaf, huh. It opens its mouth ready to chunk a piece of your body when Seungcheol hits him in the head and bangs a couple more times to make sure it's immobile.

"Quick, get in the car. More of them might be around here."

You two dash back to the car, carrying your goods and he starts the car quickly. You look behind to see more of the corpses appearing from around the store. Dusk was approaching soon which meant the corpses will be more alive and ferocious.

The car speeds through the empty road as you clutch onto your tote bag. "Did you know they were deaf?"

"You didn't?" He throws at you. You roll your eyes at him.

"Thanks for saving me again."

"Maybe next time I won't."

Another couple weeks or so later

"I'm going to the supermarket."

"At this hour? It's almost dusk. Are you crazy?"

You watch as Seungcheol puts on the necessary protection on his arms and legs and checks his gun.

"They people from NGO deliver foods during this time since there is no survivors out at this hour. I'm gonna go there and try to meet the delivery guy. Also I need to refill my car."

"Why?"

"To pass a message."

"To your friend who works at the NGO?"

"Yes. I need to let him know that I'm alive. Then he'll come for me."

"What if he's dead?"

Seungcheol says nothing. You forbid him to leaves a few more times but he completely ignores your pleas saying he has to take a  chance. Before he is out the door, he hands you his gun. "Keep this with you. Until now, they corpses have never been around here so just stay inside the house and you'll be safe. I don't know if you have your memories after you becoming a corpse but if you see me coming here looking like one of them, shoot me."

What? You swallow as your heart tugs.

"Stop talking like that. You don't need to leave. We've plenty of food. We'll get by. Don't do this Seungcheol."

"Remember what I said." He speaks, ignoring you and turns around.

"Wait." You call, tears pooling in your eyes. "At least take the gun with you. You'll need it more than me. Besides I dont even know how to use it."

Seungcheol looks at you for a beat before taking a gun and giving you a small smile - the first one he ever gave you.

You watch him leave as the sky turn in hues of purple and black.

You spend a restless night, sitting in your room watching the sky and thinking about Seungcheol. You think of how he opened up a bit more in the last few days and the moments you shared.

Sunghoon was my brother. He was in the military. We were outside, celebrating his discharge when the infection spread. The corpses got him while he was trying to save me. I failed him.

I waited for him for a long time, thinking he'd come back. He didn't.

Y/n, if I don't return by dawn don't wait for me.

As the night passed anxiety got the best of you. This is it. I lost him. He's gone. I'll have to survive now, alone.

You were about to have a break down as you saw the first streak of light spread through the sky. You walked to the roof of his farmhouse watching the colors in the sky. You start to accept the fact that you're alone from now on. That is until you see Seungcheol's jeep approaching towards the house.

You held your breath and didn't move your position, waiting to see him come out.

You thought sunsets were pretty until you saw Seungcheol's tired figure getting out of the jeep, his eyes meeting yours and flashing a smile, the brightest one probably, at the crack of dawn.

Sunrises were pretty too. Even prettier perhaps.

A/N: Tbh I wasn't so confident in this one but oh well, here it is. Also thank you for loving my previous work, it really means a lot. As for this one, if it doesn't flop, maybe I'll write a part 2 👀.Anyway thanks again! 💖

[harringrovetrashrat]

 “I’m telling you, Maxine, this guy is a total bitch! His hair smelled all flowery and he was in the dumbest windbreaker all day—“

“Who?”

“Keep up, Maxine,” Billy sneered. “Harrington! Steve Harrington!” He smacked the wheel, rings clinking as he did. “Former King of Hawkins High. He definitely carries himself like he thinks he shits gold,” Billy mumbled. Max stared at him, eyes half lidded and unimpressed.

“So? Like you ever let that kind of thing stop you before.” Billy smirked, tongue poking out between his teeth. His smirk faded, switching to another scowl as they turned onto Cherry Lane.

“I’m definitely gonna be King,” Billy said. “But I’m sure as hell gonna make him notice.” Max raised a brow, but Billy didn’t even look at her, staring out the windshield, one hand pressed to his lips in thought.

Looking back, that was the beginning of it. Max really should have seen it coming.

—

“—and then I knocked him down, ‘cause he has no idea how to plant himself,” Billy rambled. Max was glaring at her fists, tired of the Party and their stupid rules. Billy’s rambling about Steve Harrington was a welcome distraction. “God,” Billy smacked the wheel. “I fucking hate that guy! I swear, he just bats his lashes and gets what he wants!”

“I doubt that,” Max said, just to be contrary. Billy scoffed.

“You got no idea, shrimp,” he said. “Boy could get outta burpees with a well placed blink.” Max looked at Billy from the corner of her eye.

She wondered if he even noticed.

—

Max eyed Billy, quiet in the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield, face carefully blank, not bothering her. His music played, loud, and Max stared at the volume knob. Sure, he was an asshole, had deserved the wake up call, but Max missed his bitching. Missed him complaining about dumb shit.

She just kinda missed Billy.

Max reached out and turned down the music. Billy glared at her, furrowing his brow.

“Uh, you know the rules, Maxine.” She just rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to ask you something.” Billy rolled his eyes, but didn’t say no. “So like, now that I know Steve, I totally get that whole yuppie prep thing you mentioned. Did you know he has all of Madonna’s tapes?” Billy’s face morphed in pain and he let out a groan.

“Seriously? Harrington’s more of a girl than you!” Max glared, slapping at his bicep. Billy just snickered, eyes narrowing slightly in worry and distrust. But he let it slide, so Max took what she could get. “And he listens of his own free will? Not to impress the princess?”

“Nancy doesn’t really care about Madonna. Doesn’t dislike her, but doesn’t love her the way Steve does,” she said. Billy let out an annoyed squawk, finally breaking the silence and going on a tirade about why Harrington sucked because of his taste in music.

Max smiled to herself.

--

“So,” Max said, wiggling her eyebrows at Billy, who just shoved at her shoulder lightly, frowning. “Saw you and Steve chatting before we came out.” She didn’t miss the light flush in Billy’s cheeks.

“No one else even remotely cool to talk to. I had to make do,” he replied, not convincing her one bit.

“Oh yeah, sure,” she agreed, over the top. Billy just scowled at her. “It’s just, you know, you always say you hate his guts.” Billy gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Maybe I spoke to soon. He’s still the worst, still a prep with horrible taste in music, but yanno. He at least doesn’t needle me with annoying questions.” Max scoffed at his tone.

“Whatever.” Billy gave her the side eye, lips pursing.

“Why?” He asked, tone lightly accusing. “What’re you getting at?”

“Just wondering when I can expect you to start playing Wham.” Billy made a retching noise.

“Don’t speak that name in my car! Not my sanctuary!” Max cackled, tossing her head back. It came deep from her gut, deep down, and she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard with Billy. Judging by the small smile on his face, and the light in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing.

--

It was quiet in the car, tension oozing off of Billy as he drove, cutting corners too close and too fast. Max gripped the seat, eyes darting over to Billy occasionally. He was staring out the windshield, jaw clenched so tightly a nerve was jumping clearly against his skin. Max bit her lip.

“How was I supposed--”

“I’m not mad at you, Max,” Billy grit out. Which was a lie, but Max understood what he meant. He was mad at both of them. The car was quiet again and Max had never, in her life, wanted to hear Billy yelling. Wanted to feel the brunt of his anger instead of the building, seething energy that was radiating off of him.

“They all had to sign something,” Max said, keeping her voice as even as she could. Billy didn’t reply, just took a sharp turn and exhaled sharply through his nose. “The government made them, Billy. He wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t,” Billy replied. And, oh, that wasn’t just anger. It was barely anger. Max looked at him again, mind racing as Billy’s nostrils flared again. His posture was all anger, all rage, but his voice was pure betrayal. Pure sadness.

Max had no idea what to say. She picked at a loose thread on the ripped knee of her jeans.

“They thought it was done,” she tried. “That night--”

“Max,” Billy rasped, cutting her off. “Just. Shut up.”

“But--”

“I trusted him, okay?” Billy finally snapped. Max leaned back, well and truly shocked. “I trusted him, and I really thought--” Billy cut himself off, giving Max a fearful glance. She tried to convey everything she was feeling into one look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Billy sniffed, feigning nonchalance, but Max could see his eyes watering. “Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter, ‘cause obviously he doesn’t trust me.”

Max had no idea how she could convince Billy he was wrong.

--

“Are you ever gonna talk to Steve again?” Max stirred her sundae, mixing the remaining hot fudge in with the vanilla ice cream. Billy shrugged, biting into his Dilly Bar with more aggression than was strictly necessary.

“Dunno,” he replied curtly.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at him?” She stirred more, swallowing thickly. Billy just shrugged again.

“Dunno.” Max felt her heart beat a little faster, felt her eyes and cheeks get hot in the way she hated because she hated crying.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at me?” She wanted it to come out stronger, but her voice could barely manage a whisper without cracking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Billy pause. Heard him shuffle a little.

“Listen, Max,” he said, voice low and serious. “I don’t like being lied to. You know that. I get why you did it. I do. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He was quiet a moment, cracking off some of the cherry shell to eat. “It’s different with Steve.” Max sniffed, rubbing harshly at her eyes. Billy sighed, leaning across the console to pull her into his side. She leaned, tucking her head into his armpit, leather jacket warm and comforting.

“So you don’t hate me?” She asked weakly.

“Could never hate you, shitbird.” Max snorted. “Get annoyed by? Oh, for sure.” He laughed as Max shoved at him, scowling, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “But hate you? Nah, you’re too cool for that.” Billy shot her narrowed eyes and pointed at her, taking another bite of Dilly Bar. “Tell anyone that and your ass is grass. I got a reputation to keep.” He spoke with his mouth full and it was disgusting, but still, Max smiled.

“You’re so gross, I don’t know why Steve even misses you.” She meant to be teasing, but Billy shut down, face closing off. She looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Sorry.”

“He misses me?” His voice was carefully blank, everything about him screaming indifference, so Max knew he cared a lot about her answer.

“Keeps asking me to tell you he’s sorry and wants to talk since you keep avoiding him,” she replied, voice just as carefully neutral. Billy was a fight risk, a flight one too, and she wasn’t going to fuck things up for him. Not after California. Not after they had to move. Billy didn’t say anything, just shoved the remainder of his ice cream in his mouth and tossed the stick out the window. “That’s littering,” Max said, on reflex. Billy rolled his eyes, but opened the car door and picked up the stick. He turned around, glancing from her unfinished sundae and back to her. She held it out and he took it, tossing both items in the trashcan outside the Dairy Queen. He got back in and closed the door, but didn’t start the car up.

“You know if he’s gonna be home tonight, or has the geek squad taken up all his time now that he’s got no one cool to hang with?” He was playing for normal, but Max knew he needed to talk to Steve now, or it wouldn’t happen. She’d have to walkie Dustin and get him to drop his Star Wars Marathon, which would be a fucking nightmare, but it was worth it for the way Billy relaxed when she answered,

“He’ll be home. We’re all busy anyway.”

--

“You can’t say anything.” Billy’s voice was shaky, breath short and shallow. “You can’t.”

“I won’t, Billy, I swear,” Max promised. He was staring out the windshield, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His nostrils flared and he bit his lip.

“Max--”

“I fucked up last time,” Max said. Billy’s breath was sharp and he pressed his palm to his eye quickly, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t-- I didn’t get it,” she said, voice getting quieter. She looked at Billy, who was still staring out the window. He was trying so hard, but she could see his chin wobble and the tension around his eyes.

It made her breath hitch.

“And now?” Billy asked, voice barely above a harsh whisper. Max wasn’t sure what to say.

“He doesn’t need to know anything about either of our lives that doesn’t comply with his ideals.” Billy licked his lips slowly mouth a tight line. He gave a sharp jerky nod and let out a laugh that seemed more like releasing a noise so he didn’t scream.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” Things were quiet again. Billy seemed to be calming down, but Max needed to say it. It was the time.

“I’m sorry, Billy, for that. I really am.” The car jerked to a stop as Billy pulled to the side of the road. Someone behind him honked and he gave them the finger. Things were quiet in the car, so Max pressed on, nervous in the silence. “You’re an asshole like, all the time, but you--” She let out a shaky breath. “You never deserved that. You don’t deserve what Neil--”

“Max.” Billy’s voice broke and Max snapped her head up, shocked when she saw he was crying. He had an arm pressed to his eyes as he took a gasping breath, trying to calm himself down. Max swallowed with difficulty, taking a deep breath. Finally, Billy’s breath slowly evened out, though it went through him in deep shudders, controlled and cautious.

“Just. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose. It’s-- It’s not your fault.” Max felt tears welling up in her eyes and she hated it. It was ridiculous. Both of them, in the car, trying to not cry while talking about their feelings.

She couldn’t say that even a month ago she could have imagined this happening. Maybe in California, someday, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, but after the move? She didn’t think she’d ever be close to Billy again.

“But--”

“I put a lot of my shit on you, Max,” Billy said. “I put almost all of my shit on you, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve what I did. Neither did Steve, or Lucas.” Max stared at him, hot tears falling down her cheeks because she just couldn’t stop them. Her emotions were swirling around inside her, and she could feel them trying to bubble out in any possible way.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment, sniffling. Billy shrugged, wiping aggressively at his eyes.

“What’s up with you and him anyway?” Billy asked, changing the subject. It was an olive branch, telling her he couldn’t talk feelings anymore, but that they were okay.

“He’s being a total dorkus maximus again, so I had to break up with him.”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Shut up!”

--

Max had her feet up on the seat as she sat across the backseat. Her seat belt cut into her weird, but it felt good having her back pressed against the side as the wind ruffled her hair. It came in through Billy’s open window, cool in the summer morning breeze. Billy had picked her up, promising to take her to the mall today, and when he had arrived, Steve was in the passenger’s seat.

“My car won’t start, so Billy’s giving me a ride since you guys are going this way anyway!” Max had chatted with him a bit, but it had quickly died down. She knocked her knees together anytime there was a significant bump in the road, occasionally looking up and out at the boring cornfields, that weren’t too boring, maybe, when they were all green like this.

Movement drew her eyes forward, and she watched as Steve slowly reached out, resting his hand on top of Billy’s on the gear shift. He pulled Billy’s hand away, turning it over to thread their fingers together and rest them on his thigh. When Max looked up, she saw a glimpse of the smile on his face as he turned to look out the window. Max’s eyes darted over and caught Billy’s in the rear view mirror. He looked scared, nervous, but also so happy and carefree. She hadn’t seen him this happy in such a long time.

Max smirked, making mocking kissy faces at him. Billy’s eyes widened before they rolled. He stuck his tongue out at her before looking back at the road.

[passionate-reply]

Whether you’re a Superman, a judge, a mom, or a dad, we can all appreciate the avant-garde genius of Laurie Anderson, the topic of this week’s installment of Great Albums! Find out what made Anderson’s breakout hit the most unlikely chart smash of the 80s, and what the rest of this amazing LP has in store, by watching my video or reading the full transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be discussing one of the most unique and unforgettable albums around: Big Science, by Laurie Anderson. It’s very possible that you may not necessarily recognize her by name, but this album’s big hit has been riffed on and re-used many times throughout Western popular culture, so when I play it for you, it just might seem hauntingly familiar.

Music: “O Superman”

Put simply, “O Superman” is not your conventional pop hit, by any stretch of the imagination. It features little more than a sparse, barren electronic instrumental, and Anderson’s eerily vocoder-treated voice, not so much singing as acting out a one-woman stage play. It has much more in common with the avant-garde, minimalist works of 20th Century “modern classical” composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich than it does anything you would hear on pop radio in the 1980s.

While you might assume that it entered mainstream consciousness through being used in some art film, it actually was a bona fide pop hit--particularly in Great Britain, which has always had a pronounced affinity for surprisingly weird chart entries. While the single was initially given only a small release, like most of Anderson’s earlier work, the prominent British radio DJ John Peel discovered it...and fell in love with it. And thanks to his frequent playing of it on the air, a lot of other people fell in love with it too, propelling it to #2 in the UK charts. I think it’s a testament to just how different the media landscape used to be, once upon a time in the 20th Century. Nowadays, the radio doesn’t really have room for idiosyncratic tastemakers like Peel, and the independent DJs who remain certainly don’t have the reach that Peel did. I suppose it’s the 20th Century version of sea shanties and other oddities becoming trends on social media.

But anyway, setting aside the strange legacy “O Superman” has as the world’s least likely hit single, we can appreciate it perfectly well as a moving work of art. “O Superman” is not really a pop song, but what it is is, perhaps, a desperate plea for comfort and protection. The figure, or concept, of “mother” seems to be the focus of the text, and serves as the apparent “final resort” of its insecure, searching rhetoric. We get this idea in a microcosm in the famous opening line, inspired by an aria by Jules Massenet: “O Superman, o judge, o Mom and Dad.” It’s an appeal to any and all higher powers, but culminates with perhaps the most primal, intuitive authority we can understand: our parents. Towards the end of the piece, the narrator begs to be held in the arms of “Mom,” but they’re described not as soft and warm, but “automatic,” “electronic,” and “petrochemical,” creating an uncanny conflation of innate human connections and the harshly artificial, technological conditions of modernity. Have we made the promises of technology and science into some sort of idol, looking to them for reassurance, and projecting onto them a goodwill or benevolence like a mother has for her children? Themes of high technology, as well as the search for safety and security, are found throughout the rest of the album, as is the stark, minimalist instrumentation.

Music: “From the Air”

Expanding somewhat on the references to aeroplanes found on “O Superman,” opening track “From the Air” is narrated by the captain of a doomed flight, instructing the passengers how to handle the imminent “crash landing.” It’s many people’s very worst nightmare, and plunges us straight into the sense of fearing for our lives, in a situation that’s completely beyond our control. A bold move for the very first track we hear! “From the Air” leads with somewhat plausible suggestions, like a very dated request that passengers “extinguish all cigarettes,” but gradually becomes increasingly surreal, adding to that nightmarish feeling. Anderson delivers her lines with a palpable sense of authority, that stirs you to want to obey her character even as they prove their unreliability. A taut, unresolved saxophone-driven ostinato throughout the track provides a constant sense of tension and anxiety, which certainly suits the mood. Until the end of the song, at which point it abruptly cuts off--presumably to represent the crash occurring, and the sudden deaths of those on board.

I like to think of “From the Air” as a sort of dark counterpart to “O Superman,” the latter of which is the opening track of the second side. While “O Superman” deifies technology as a source of maternalistic comfort, “From the Air” presents us with the ultimate failure of technology: slick and polished until the end, but unable to provide any real hope of meaningful security. That human desire for security is interrogated more directly on the final track of side one: “Born, Never Asked.”

Music: “Born, Never Asked”

While “Born, Never Asked” is much more laconic than tracks like “From the Air” and “O Superman,” it’s no less probing and thought-provoking, presenting us with a world of people who are, fundamentally, “free”--and yet deeply unsatisfied. “You were born,” quips Anderson, “and so you are free.” But we’re all too busy asking for a bigger answer, and some explicit, deeper meaning to our existences, that we can’t appreciate the simple freedom to live our lives however we want to, in the absence of any overt goals. The track begins by establishing a stately, handclap-driven backing, which serves to underscore the plainness or simplicity of its message, and is ultimately overtaken by a mournful violin outro--perhaps the embodiment of our emotional turmoil, as we seek the comfort of clear answers despite the fact that they never arrive. If only the world were as simple and well-defined as it seemed to be when we were children, filled with unthinking and unconditional love for our mothers!

“Born, Never Asked” asks us to question what it really means to be “free,” and whether or not it’s even satisfying or helpful to possess “freedom.” It’s worth noting that all of the pieces that comprise Big Science were chiefly intended as part of Anderson’s much longer magnum opus, entitled United States, which she completed in 1984. In that context, criticism of the value of “freedom” is perhaps also criticism of certain traditional American moral values. While “O Superman” prominently mentions “American planes,” I think the track that has the most to say about being American is the title track of the album.

Music: “Big Science”

The title track of Big Science takes us to a desolate and mostly empty landscape, defined more by its potential to be moulded into something habitable than anything it already, innately is. It’s a frigid perspective on America as terra nullius, a wasteland filled with nothing but ultra-recent and ultra-artificial capitalist “developments” as opposed to any real history or meaning. With its chilling coyote-like howls, and nods to Western movies and dependence upon cars, it can easily be contextualized as particularly American, but ultimately, the human drive to “improve” our environment through questionable (and perhaps even destructive) means is fairly universal. Much like the emotionally unsatisfying sense of freedom bestowed upon those who are born, in “Born, Never Asked,” the title track of Big Science shows us a world full of endless possibilities, but devoid of any true happiness born of those possibilities.

The term “big science” dates back to the Mid-20th Century, and has been used to describe the increasingly large scale of many significant scientific efforts, particularly those supported by world governments...and particularly, their militaries. During and after the Second World War, it became increasingly necessary for nations that wanted a place on the world stage to rope science into the military-industrial complex, especially in light of the development of atomic weaponry. Given the album’s thematic emphasis on the way we look to science and technology to provide some aegis of protection, and often in harmful or destructive ways, it’s a very fitting choice for the title.

I think that connection to the nuclear bomb is also an important key to interpreting the album’s cover art. On the cover of Big Science, we see Anderson lit very harshly from the right--so much so that her sunglasses are rendered completely white by the powerful light. While her pose is very deliberate, and perhaps even stilted, she appears to be raising her arms as though to shield herself from whatever is casting this bright light. Is Anderson perhaps portraying an atomic scientist, observing a nuclear blast with its signature burst of radiant light?

Overall, however we interpret this gesture, the black and white imagery and completely empty backdrop seem to pair well with that sparse and minimalistic instrumentation. Anderson appears on the cover with her signature costume, a solid white suit which, when paired with her short hairstyle, gives her a somewhat androgynous appearance. It also looks a bit like a labcoat, often worn by scientists and doctors--figures who culturally embody the principle of benevolent authorities backed by the power of technology and science.

Whenever artists who only briefly felt the spotlight of mainstream success are discussed, it can be tempting to ask whether or not such figures “deserved” more or better. In the case of Anderson, though, she never expected “O Superman” to become the breakout hit that it did, and never followed it up with anything actively pursuing the pop charts. In the wake of her most famous work, Anderson went right back to doing what she had been doing: making great, but totally avant-garde, art. She’s a figure of “art music,” and the “art world,” through and through, performing her elaborate multimedia works at museums, appearing in a number of festival-circuit art films, and accepting honourary degrees. Anderson has had a perfectly successful career, dwelling precisely in the realm of her choosing, and I don’t think there’s any better outcome than that. If you like Big Science, you’ll find plenty more striking and evocative works throughout the rest of her long and ongoing career.

Music: “Sharkey’s Day”

My favourite track on Big Science is “Sweaters.” With a Celtic-sounding melody, a grating fiddle, and perhaps the most vocally hated musical instrument of all time, the bagpipes, “Sweaters” is a dirge about an ancient subject: falling out of love. But despite its backward-looking folk setting, the jump from “I no longer love your eyes” to “I no longer love your sweaters” anchors it into the realm of the totally mundane...if not banal. Overall, though, what I think really makes it stand out on the album is its sense of levity. As I’ve discussed earlier, Big Science is loaded with really heavy themes about technology, Americana, and the meaning of life...so a song that’s not only about a romantic relationship, but also about sweaters, pens, and pencils, jammed into the middle of the first side, really feels like a sort of palate cleanser while you’re listening to this. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Sweaters”

[thesevillereport]

In Focus: Oil to $100

Almost a year ago I advised investors to avoid this trade. My warning came during Wall Street's celebration of Warren Buffett's deal to purchase Dominion Energy's (D) natural gas and transmission assets. Wall Street was happy to see a deal taking place during the pandemic and also ecstatic that Buffett was spending some of the $36 billion sitting on Berkshire Hathaway's (BRK-A) balance sheet at the time.

Several months before my advice and Buffett's purchase, oil prices had turned negative making me question the future of oil. Others however only saw really cheap oil prices. At the time of my advice to avoid the oil trade the U.S. Oil Fund (USO) was trading for just under $30 per share, a year prior, in July 2019 it was trading for ~$93 per share. Investors who ignored me and invested in USO are up more than 60% after taking advantage of cheap oil prices in 2020. That's a very nice win for a 12 month hold.

My instinct to avoid oil trades wasn't because I disliked oil or oil companies, it's because I saw alternative energy stock prices rising. I also saw electric car manufacturer Tesla (TSLA) growing in popularity, and several new electric vehicle companies ready to break into the market. I also expected the work-from-home phase to continue for the foreseeable future, prompting less demand for gas. 

Increasing Oil Prices

In 2021 gasoline producers in the United States have wisened up, they no longer drill all day and stockpile oil all night. Instead, they've taken a wait and see approach by watching the national demand for gas and oil and waiting to drill. This has translated into higher prices at the pump for consumers and a higher price per barrel of oil for investors, because there's no longer an oversupply of oil and gas.

This time last year Crude Oil WTI (CL=F) was trading between $40 and $41 per barrel. Oil supplies were high and demand was low with many parts of the U.S. and the world still in lockdown. Now, crude oil is trading at $74.63 per barrel as of this writing and supplies are dwindling as demand ramps up.

The question for investors now is can oil hit $100 per barrel again? Analysts at Bank of America seem to think so. Analysts for BofA believe oil prices could hit $100 per barrel by mid 2022. Crude oil WTI hasn't seen $100 a barrel since July of 2014.

Bank of America believes that the work-from-home trend is also a work-from-car trend, and that people who are working from home also have errands to run, and then there's the pent up demand for travel. Both cases create an increase in demand for oil.

The post pandemic reopening has seen Americans as well as others around the world take road trips and flock to the airports for much needed getaways and reconnection with family and friends. This need to get away has caused gas prices to jump from $2.19 per gallon a year ago to $3.22 per gallon for the week ending July 5, 2021 according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA). 

For investors playing the markets for the $100 barrel of oil there are a lot of balls in the air that they need to keep an eye on like OPEC+ and Saudia Arabia. 

OPEC's proposal to add 400,000 barrels per day to the oil supply through the end of this year was rebuffed by the United Arab Emirates. The UAE is seeking an updated production quota for itself, and isn't willing to agree to an OPEC increase without securing a favorable production increase of its own. Assuming all OPEC+ players stay in line with the current agreement, global oil supplies could remain below demand, keeping oil prices high.

Last year, OPEC and Russia failed to come to an agreement on a production cut, which was intended to level out inventories created by the shrinking demand caused by the coronavirus pandemic. When Russia refused to cut production Saudi Arabia flooded the markets with cheap oil. Saudi Arabia's move last year displayed that OPEC members are willing to take matters into their own hands if necessary.

Investors also have to keep an eye on the weather. In the summer of 2007, Hurricane Humberto caused refineries in the Port Arthur, Texas region to shut down which created supply issues that sent oil to over $80 a barrel, a 31% increase from where it started the year in 2007.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) predicted 13 to 20 named storms and three to five hurricanes in 2021. So far we've seen five tropical storms according to the Palm Beach Post.

A major tropical storm or hurricane could add to the oil supply issues and push oil prices to the triple digits once again. Not that I'm advocating for a hurricane or even triple digit oil prices, but the reality is, with a bit of bad luck, we could get back to the $100 per barrel price soon.

What's in the way of the $100 Target

There's the coronavirus, the Delta variant has been another headache for some countries in addition to the headache already created by the original strain of the coronavirus. Delayed re-openings and more lockdowns could impact global oil demand. While the United States is on its way to a full reopening, places like the U.K. and Australia are still having to lockdown to contain the spread of the Delta variant.

Another round of major lockdowns could bring us back to where we were in 2020 with a large supply and little demand for gas and oil.

Going back to the OPEC / UAE issue, former U.S. Energy Secretary Dan Brouillette  says we could see a collapse in oil prices from current levels if countries were to go off and "do their own thing, or do their own production."

Brouillette, did also state that oil could easily hit the $100 per barrel mark or even higher in the aftermath of the failed OPEC+ talks.

While oil investors would love to see another 30% plus gains in oil prices this year, the $100 barrel of oil comes with some downside for oil producers. At $100 a barrel, governments could be motivated to increase their investments into electric cars and alternative energy. Higher gas prices could force traditional combustion engine car drivers to start shopping electric.

Being a long term investor my instinct is still to avoid the oil trade. I don't see American refiners maintaining a wait and see approach for a sustained period of time. I believe their instincts will kick in and they'll start pumping out oil and in turn create more supply than demand. I also think after the initial wave of what I call reopening travel - travel to make up for not traveling in 2020 -  has subsided, oil will find its way back to around $50 - $60 per barrel.

I'm still on the train of thought that alternative energy is the future, maybe not this year, or the end of next year, but it is the future. I have a fear of being stuck in an oil trade when the first functional electric plane rolls out or being in an oil trade on the day EVs outsell gas powered cars. For those reasons and reasons similar to those I will miss out on oil's possible run to $100.

[eueden]

 ⟨ MAUDE APATOW. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, EDEN KOPPELMAN is actually a descendent of H E S T I A. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old VETERINARY from CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite THOUGHTFUL & QUIXOTIC.

hi, hello, allô, hola, ciao, ella here again with another character. okay so there’s not much to say about me that most of you don’t already know, i have no life and i’m always lurking even if i never do replies (don’t tell the admins) hgsghssghs anyway, this is eden and in a shocking turn of events i actually have a good idea of who she is and look i even made a graphic, if that’s ain’t dedication then i don’t what it is.

basic information.

NAME: eden atara koppelman

PRONUNCIATION: EE - d uh n

NICKNAME: E?? idk

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: brisbane, queensland, australia

HOMETOWN: cape town, south africa

DATE OF BIRTH: june 26, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual so far but secretly curious

MAJOR: veterinary

EXTRACURRICULARS: president of the jewish student association, vice president of the herpetology club, president of the volunteer service, women in leadership member, student government member

SPORTS: captain of the climbing team and co-captain of the track & field team

character inspo.

Jessica Day (New Girl) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Elliott Reid (Scrubs) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn 99) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

background.

tw: death, infant death, car accident, fire

Eden was born in Brisbane, Australia. She comes from an animal lover family. Her grandparents are very popular down under because they had an animal TV show à la Steve Irwin. Her dad followed their footsteps and it’s a well-known zoologist who also had some TV shows (think of Bear Grylls).

TW: death, infant death, car accident. Matthias Koppelman (her dad) had been previously married but lost his wife and child in a car accident and after that he isolated himself from the public eye and moved to Namibia. 

At twenty-eight, he felt the need to climb Mount Everest as one does, ya know? But ofc this man hadn’t climbed in years (he had experience but he’d been too sad to climb mountains. I mean he could barely leave bed, let alone climb Everest). That didn’t stop him and he did.

He almost d worded there bc as I said he was not ready but that’s when Hestia queen of fire showed up and warmed him (in a non sexual way bc she’s pure okay) and he was like oh that was a near dead experience and didn’t think much.

After he conquered the Everest with the help of Hestia, he moved back to Australia and oh surprise a few months later he opened his door and voilá a bebé was there with a note that said “you deserve to have a family, love hestia” 

He was shocked like “did i just impregnate a fantasy?”  but then Hestia was kind enough to send another and explain everything.

Anyway, Eden lived in Brisbane for four years before her dad took a job in South Africa. They moved to Cape Town (and her grandparents came with them) and pretty much had a happy life surrounded by animals. 

TW: fire. When she was nine, her dad took her to a game reserve in Limpopo and by some reason a fire started endangering animals and flora. Everyone was panicking bc I mean wouldn’t u? But Eden was attracted to the flames like a pyro (the good kind tho) and since everyone had better things to do than taking care of a child, they left her unsupervised and she delved into the fire.

Ofc nothing happened to her because ✨immunity✨ but guess who showed up again? Hestia!!!! Being a great goddess and mom, she taught Eden how to use her powers so she could absorb the fire and save all the animals and people. 

Everyone was like holy shit a miracle and the firefighters were like “the fuck? we did shit but we gonna take the credit lol”

Eden was like “did that just happen?” and yes, it did but she was like “meh that was imagination” and her dad was like *nervous chuckle* “yeah…” because he didn’t want to tell her the truth since that could put her in danger.

At 13, she had her bat mitzvah and it was all fun and games until fire lady showed up aka Hestia. Her dad and Hestia explained everything and Eden was like: 

Hestia claimed her and off to camp she went. For the next few years she went to camps all over the world as a treat.

She never went on a quest bc she was afraid and also because she couldn’t put herself in danger and risk losing her life bc her dad already had lost a child… so yeah

Her dad remarried when she was seventeen and a year later she welcomed a new baby brother and that’s why she decided to take a gap year to be with her bro and also work with her dad in the reserves.

She moved to Athens when she was nineteen and decided to go into veterinary school. So yes Ella will get her dog one way or another idc what the admins say :chaos:

Ahhhh that’s all folks!!! We did it!

FULL BIO (yes, i completed it this time)

personality.

Eden never loses her sense of curiosity. You could say that she sees life through rose colored glasses as if she lived on the edge of a mirror country where worldly objects come to life, where flora and fauna assume almost human qualities.  

She has the ability to see the good in almost anyone or anything and tends to sympathize with even the most unfriendly person. She often hides the extreme depth of feelings from her, even from herself, until circumstances elicit a passionate response. 

She has a deep sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities and potentials and is governed by her intuition. She is quite reserved and is not easily manipulated. 

She is a good listener and considerate, they try to care for and understand others in a deep way. She can be very calm and intuitive with the people around her, being able to search for hidden meanings in the actions and words of others.

Of course, all of life is not rosy and Eden is not exempt from suffering the same disappointments and frustrations that are common to others. She tends to be a perfectionist and often strives for personal ideals that can be exhausting or very difficult to obtain.

She also struggles with time management, always leaving everything to the last minute claiming she “works better under pressure” but the truth is she’s just a procrastinator. 

Very sensible, she cries almost every day either because of a commercial or a sweet story she read on Facebook. It doesn’t matter, if it’s slightly emotional she will shed some tears.

powers.

pyrokinesis: This power first manifested when she was nine years old and she helped to save an animal reserve from the flames with the help of Hestia. Since she was claimed when she was thirteen, she’s learned how to use this power. Now she can summon fire without any problem and put it out just as fast. This is very helpful because she loves baking but she’s a bit clumsy so she often burns herself, but thankfully, she’s immune, so no pain. However, Eden has never been able to create a hot wall of flames nor she has ever asked how to do that, she just hopes she never has to use it.

serenity inducement: Eden avoids conflict at all cost, not only it makes her cry but also makes her very uncomfortable and anxious which is why this was the first power she manifested. She was just a child but from what she remembers it was during a class in preschool that a kid started hitting another one. Eden panicked at such an act of violence she went there and touched the bully’s shoulder which immediately calmed him. Back then she didn’t know it was a power but after finding out about her true identity, many other events like this started to make sense. This is the power she uses the most, also with animals which is why she makes such a good veterinarian because she can calm an animal's nerves.

bond manipulation: She wouldn’t say this is one of her weakest powers but it’s one she didn’t use often growing up because she came from such a stable family that it didn’t seem necessary, however, she sometimes catches herself using it in group projects or at her workplace, you know, to keep things healthy and positive.

ability to summon food: By far the one she uses the least (personally speaking), she likes cooking and baking, so she doesn’t see the point but she does use it to feed stray animals.

headcanons.

Eden speaks fluent English, she has a mixed South African and Australian accent but she can switch. At school, half of her classes were in Afrikaans, so she also speaks it fluently. Greek comes from her demigod side, but she also took some classes back in school upon her father’s request. Growing up in a very Jewish family, her grandparents believed it was pretty important that Eden learned Yiddish and Hebrew, she can read it perfectly but struggles speaking it, especially Yiddish because she also attended Hebrew school. As for French, she learned in high school and she still takes lessons at Eonia but she hates it.

Her father started taking her to a climbing gym when she was five and by the time she was ten she was already climbing 6a routes which is pretty much an intermediate level and very impressive for her age. 

She had her own TV show on Discover Kids titled “Eden’s Wildlife Adventure” in which she explained the importance of different types of animals. The first seasons were shot between Australia and South Africa, but in later seasons she traveled across Africa and South America. The show ran from 2005-2011 (which was when she was claimed).

Dreams of climbing Mount Everest before her 30th birthday.

Her father is a classic rock band and so is she. Her animals have been named after influential musicians. Right now she has a cat named Hendrix, a horse named Cobain, a dog named Mick. Growing up her father took care of a baby lion which they named Little Richard because he was smaller than most lion cubs. Over the years, his father and grandparents have fostered several wild animals while they recover or before they are sent to a reserve. Among the animals they have fostered are elephants, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, leopards, hippos and more.

While she loves rock, she’s also a sucker for 2000s pop. Please don’t ask her about modern artists because she’s clueless. 

She’s fed up with the Mean Girl jokes, we get it she grew up in Africa and she’s white.

She is a proud Jewish girl and follows many traditions. She does attend the local synagogue during Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. And of course, Hanukkah is her favorite holiday. Her family practices Reform Judaism, so she doesn’t follow a kosher diet.

Eden was raised as a vegan and her whole family is vegan. In the past years, she has been in the process of becoming vegetarian.

Favorites: Anything written by Agatha Christie(book); Say Anything (1989) (movie); Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fear (song); 

Again, no one asked me but I will reply: “Ella, does Eden hate Iker?” “Well, thanks for asking. In a shocking turn of events, no she doesn’t. How come you might ask? Well, she doesn’t hate anyone but if she ever did then yes, she would hate him.”

pinterest | wanted connections

[baglove]

(via cat lovers Pet Bandana by mohammed elhachimi)

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[modestlyabsurd]

Reversed (Loki x Reader)

In a world, where gAHDAMMOTHAFUKIN INFINITYWARANDENDGAMENEVERHAPPENED

...

ahem, excuse me.

In a world where the genocide of 2018 was reversed and humanity was restored in full, there fought a team against all forces of adversarial motives. A broadened team; a team of heroes.

~

Including foes turned heroes.

Such was what Loki Odinson thought on a daily basis, especially at this moment.

The gifts bestowed upon him from his mother - a keen hindsight, superior knowledge, and even a bit of witchery - have allowed him a new perception of things. Well, and not to mention the time travelling thing that The Avengers finally figured out with their human technology. That contributed to his outlook as well. Otherwise he'd be dead - or worse.

Nowadays it's hard to imagine how life was then. The duties of being a true Avenger are more than enough to keep his mind busy. But from time to time it drifts off to that place. Like now. He supposes it always will.

He thinks of what state the universe was in, and albeit narcissistic, how it was his fault. How he tried to fix it in the only way he knew possible. And now knowing that his sacrifice those years ago would've inevitably been for naught, if hadn't been for them.

But in the same thought it fills him with an eternal sense of awe and gratitude that this team of somewhat gifted humans were able to successfully reverse it. That he, among half of humanity, lived to see another day. Another five years.

It is nothing short of a miracle.

He'd proven his gratitude by asking to be recruited in their team of good intentions. Make no mistake, it took swallowing every ounce of his pride to do so, which was no easy task. But alas, he's done it.

Echoes ... nothing but these strange echoes ...

Back and forth Loki's mind goes. Locked in place, imprisoned indefinitely, what more can it do? The weight of reality tends to sit heaviest at the most inconvenient of times.

The bitter truth is that half of humanity was eradicated in spite of him; his attempt at redemption, at reversing what he'd done. And it took the will of others to stop the madness. The helplessness; that's what still lingers.

Along with the pain.

It's all he can sense. It's all he can feel. He can't see, he doesn't have energy enough to decipher what he's hearing, and he cannot speak. Just his thoughts, and the pain. This evil, immobilizing pain.

How did I get here? he thinks, somehow conscious of the circumstance despite his current state.

It was some time ago. How long ago is inconceivable at the moment. But he does concentrate, and accesses the last memory in his mind.

"All units in position?" said Stark through their communication line.

"Copy that."

The exchange between Stark and Rogers brought Loki to high alert. He sits on the rooftop of a building half the height of the skyscrapers surrounding it. Exactly how he liked. High enough to see below, low enough to see above, and ideal for taking cover.

The wind blows through his ears, and for a moment he sees some amount of beauty in the setting New York sun. But only for a split second.

And only because you'd always spoke of it.

"Uh, hello - that was a question to all units. I need everyone to copy if you don't mind," Stark persists.

"Sorry! I copy," the Spiderling chirps.

"So do I," the Black Widow murmurs.

"Roger that," says the Winter Soldier, turned Avenger.

A second passes before Stark asks, "Clint?"

"Copy," he says.

"Alright - who am I missing? Uh ... oh! Y/N, do you copy?"

"Ten-four," your voice comes through, and Loki releases the breath held in his chest. "I still don't know why you're making me do this, I hate being the bait."

"Good, you can be the bait from now on." When there's silence in return, Stark softens his tone and says free of sarcasm, "Look, you're gonna be fine. All you have to do is put the moves on this guy, bring him to the car and lead him to us. If things get too serious, you know the code."

"Remind me of it again?"

"Dizzy. Just somehow in some context say the word dizzy and we'll be there before you know it."

Loki's shoulders tighten at the idea of things "getting too serious". It seems completely unfair to have someone without the same training to handle such a high caliber of criminals as the lure. Especially without him there - or, someone there, to assist.

But he doesn't make the rules, of course. To add insult to injury, he's charged with following the rules as well.

"I expect a bonus for this," you grumbled. "And you're still forgetting someone."

"You sure? I could've sworn that was everyone - " Stark pauses, clearly for dramatic effect, "Ohhhh, right. Silly me. Thor?"

Loki smirks. Yet another of Stark's frequent, petty jabs at him. The entire team was aware that Thor was currently in New Asgard organizing a new and proper government with the Valkyrie, Brunnhilde. (Which will of course require some fine tuning on Loki's part due to the brute irrationality that both of them act upon solely, but to worry over another day.)

He could practically hear you rolling your eyes through the line. "Loki? Are you in position?" you ask exasperatedly.

"As always, love."

"Ugh," someone groaned.

He smiles outwardly, where no one else could see. Yes, indeed, Loki was in love.

It was certainly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever experienced, yet the most painful. Never more so than in times as these, when you're put in danger.

Stark sighs dreadfully, "Alright, Agent Y/L/N. Whenever you're ready."

Loki watched from his aerial view as the luxury black vehicle begun to move through traffic. It was you, driving the car that Stark cared the least for.

That could be destroyed if necessary. He swallows.

At that moment Loki's memory cuts out.

... ugh! Echoes, but of what, exactly? These sounds are so foreign ...

Frustrated that pieces of the story are missing, but unable to do anything about it. All he is aware of are these faint, mechanical noises, and this undetermined amount of consciousness; and the pain.

Blackness. He suddenly becomes aware of the blackness surrounding him. He even tries to use his Seidr to possibly help, to no avail.

He thinks hard. Something happened, he somehow knows. Something happened to someone.

Slowly ... Another piece. A sound.

A voice.

Laced with fear and feigned sighs of passion.

"I'm feeling a little dizzy ... "

"Go!"

And after that, he remembers the feelings. the blur of adrenaline, the invincibility, the angst.

The feeling of his heart sinking and sinking until he finally found you, until he saved you from harm. The red anger upon seeing the source of harm and the second wave of unfiltered adrenaline as he sought to eliminate it; and then, nothing.

Nothing. He felt nothing, in an instant.

... The echoes are getting louder, clearer. A steady repetitive sound, grounding him to whatever piece of reality he had in his grasp. He now can hear the distant sound of voices - familiar voices, at least - but cannot make out what they're saying.

What in Odin's name is that noise?

He begins to hear it more and more and the smallest amount of light slowly pours through a tunnel, growing bigger and bigger and brighter; so bright it's nearly blinding - until it does indeed blind him.

No, Loki realizes, he is not blinded. But rather, he can see.

... beep ... beep ... beep ... beep ... beep ...

Oh, Norns. He'd rather be back dead. Or whatever he was just seconds ago. Back to a place where such a nuisance was light years away.

And Gods, this light ...

He can't see. But he can see. It hurts to look. In fact, everything hurts.

His eyes flutter before blinking the last bits of unconsciousness. The first thing he sees is a white ceiling, and he quickly he notices that he cannot move his head.

Both hands fly up to his head before a second thought passes by and the alarming sounds of whatever machinery he's surrounded by startle him even more, making him thrash his legs and head when a stinging pain spreads from his shoulder and a person leans over his body.

"Good to see you're awake," says Bruce Banner - who sounds like he's under water - holding a syringe as Loki relaxes into a chemical drowse. "You've been out of it for almost two days."

After relaxing his jaws, Banner hands him a cup with a straw sticking out of it. "That also means you haven't spoken in almost two days. This should cure that, and then after we can talk. In the meantime, I need to update Tony on your progress."

"Where - " Loki tries, but falls into a violent coughing fit as searing hot pain encases his neck and throat.

"What'd I tell you? Look, we'll explain everything later, I promise. But for now, don't talk - drink."

As Banner pulls out his phone, Loki hesitantly takes a sip from the cup. Lacking the capacity to argue anything further due to whatever Bruce injected in him, he finds the water to be quite soothing to the sore dryness in his throat. He feels it cooling him, from his mouth all the way down before it sloshes in his empty stomach.

"He's awake. ... Vitals are stable but I had to give him an inhuman amount of midazolam since he freaked out a little bit when he came to. ... Nothing adverse. ... Movement's properly restricted. ... Too soon to tell. I think he knows something, but I don't know what or how much. ... She doesn't know yet, she just left earlier to go home and shower. ... I know Tony, but she's gonna wanna know."

Loki cloudedly wonders who Bruce is talking about. He wished to be informed fully of what's happening, but the water is helping more than answers ever could at the moment. Somewhere distant, he notices some kind of contraption is wrapped around his neck and he feels it every time he swallows.

Oh well. It appears he's finished his cup anyway.

~

The Avengers have been so kind as to give Loki a hospital room with a television in it, complete with hundreds of channels on which all are speaking about the same thing - New York's New Hero. And apparently they have been for days.

Midgardians cling to the most ridiculous things. Anyone who goes into a tavern in a fit of love-driven madness to rescue their significant other and bring a band of terroristic criminals to the surface is deemed a hero.

Even if "anyone" is Loki Odinson.

More alert as the sedatives have begun to subside, he chews an ice cube and watches boredly as reporters speak of the events. News hasn't yet been released that he's awakened from his injuries but it's only a matter of time. He shudders to think of how the public will react to that. Like moths to a flame, he dreads.

Loki shakes the cup of ice to get another piece as Banner knocks and enters the room. "How you feeling?" he asks while washing his hands in the nearby sink.

He honestly wasn't sure how he felt. Ill? Tired? Slightly confused? Dead? Unable to articulate himself and frankly without energy enough to try, he shrugs.

Bruce pulls something out of the complimentary miniature refrigerator before asking, "Feeling good enough for pudding?"

Loki's brows knit together with suspect. Ready to interrogate Bruce, he tries yet again to speak but nothing more than a pitiful cough comes out. Bruce takes his ice cup and explains, "Y/N said that's what you'd likely eat first. She said you love pudding."

Y/N ... Y/N!

"Whe - "

Suddenly, three loud knocks come from the door before it bursts open and a frantic heaving figure emerges from the outside. Damp hair, disheveled clothing, duffel bag sloppily thrown over the shoulder.

"Y/N," Loki croaks.

You smile a huge, breathless smile.

"Hey," you finally breathe, dropping your bags and easing over to the hospital bed. Holding back tears as you see those bright green eyes open and alive, albeit drugged.

You instinctively take one of Loki's hands into both of yours, beaming. He's overjoyed as well, eyes smiling with what could only be love. A satisfied little grin. As handsome as ever, even in a hospital gown with dirty hair and a big, bulky neck brace.

"How're you doing?" you whisper.

Loki sighs, "Much better now."

Bruce respectfully gave the two of you a moment of privacy. As soon as the door shut, Loki squeezed your hand. "I missed you," he murmurs.

"Yeah," you laugh, "I missed you too." You really did, more than words can say. "I was so worried," you choke out, as the horror you've kept bottled inside from two days ago washes over you unexpectedly.

Loki slowly whispers, "What happened, dear? I haven't quite put it all together yet."

"What do you remember?"

"Most of everything leading up to ... how I ended up here."

That's good. You wouldn't have to go over the entire flop of a mission then. It wasn't actually a flop since the dudes lost, but considering the outcome you're left with here, pretty much a flop in your eyes.

"Well, you singlehandedly got me out of there, away from that creep of a criminal. You all got the rest, too - killed some, apprehended some - then as we were headed back to the quinjet, you fell forward on the ground and couldn't stand back up. You said you couldn't feel your limbs," tears do spill when you have to relive that moment.

Loki, absorbing the recollection, closes his eyes in devastation. Not out of self-pity, but out of heartbreak that you went through all of this. His lip quivers as he remembers.

"After they examined you in the quinjet, and then here, they found that you somehow reinjured the fractures in your neck from ... "

... No ...

"B-but, but that was reversed - "

"That's what I said too. But apparently, they couldn't undo the injury back then. They could only undo the outcome."

How? And why hadn't he been told before now? Loki's mouth opens and closes but forms no explanation. His eyes dart back and forth to search his brain for an answer, when he feels a warm droplet fall onto the back of his hand.

"Oh love, don't cry. I hate it when you cry," he cooes, cupping your wet cheek with one hand. He swipes the tears away with his thumb.

Looking up you meet his encouraging gaze, and can't resist resting your head in his hand. It's amazing how such a small gesture can make you feel so protected and loved.

"I'm sorry," you laugh nervously, pulling yourself together. "But y'know, look at the bright side. Now you're New York's New Hero."

Funny how the tables can turn.

Loki drops his hand and looks past you, "I don't feel like a hero."

"Well, you are one." You make him look you in the eye and whisper, "You're my hero."

In a matter of seconds a million things swim through Loki's eyes. Disbelief at your words, feeling unworthy, undeserving of you, yet gratitude, and adoration. In an even shorter instant he thickly swallows his emotions down against the neck brace.

It is quickly replaced with mischief.

"Come closer," he mumbles. You comply, questioning. "Closer," he says.

You do, and you're less than a foot away.

"Closer," he whispers again with lidded eyes. Now with you only inches away, he says it again. "Closer ... "

You can't help giggling at this point. Your noses touch, and you feel Loki's breath as he says, "I adore you."

Needless to say, you learned very quickly how to kiss him around a neck brace.

~

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

[morgana-greenleaf]

Tower of Tomorrow - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Fandom: MCU

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Alpine, Lucky, Other Avengers & related characters

Summary: One year after TWS, Sam and Steve finally track Bucky down and bring him back to Avengers Tower.

Of course, there's still lots of HYDRA bases to be taken down, and Bucky finds himself actually enjoying the Avengers' company, and making friends.

They’d spent a year hunting Bucky down, with almost nothing to go on. They still didn’t have any proof that it was Bucky who was ruthlessly destroying HYDRA bases, leaving only a box of files or a USB drive of intel behind. But no one else would know the locations of the bases, and after what he’d seen, Sam was more than convinced that Bucky was capable of taking down a whole base on his own.

He’d read the files. Read about how it took them twenty years of torture to get Bucky to become the Winter Soldier, and how he’d still fought back. He’d read about the wipes, the missions (all 182 of them), the punishments for failing missions or disobeying, the training, the experimentation, and the arm.  It struck him as a bit odd, that Bucky was happy for them to read that in the files he left, but then he had spent seventy years being treated like a machine. It made Sam sick.

Sam didn’t think they’d ever find him. Bucky was far too skilled to be caught by accident, and he hadn’t shown any sign of wanting to be found. So they kept traipsing after him, following the trail of destroyed bases.

He was surprised, then, when they found Bucky at a base just outside Bucharest. Bucky looked the same as he had a year ago, right down to the Winter Soldier outfit and mask, but instead of trying to shoot them, he sat on a chair near the partially collapsed entrance to the base, watching them approach.

They stopped about ten paces away.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, tentatively.

Bucky stood up, took a step forwards, and dropped to his knees, placing his hands on his head. “It’s okay,” he said, “I won’t fight back.”

“What?”

“I won’t fight back when you take me in. Or shoot me, or whatever.”

“We’re not going to shoot you!” Steve protested, “And we’re not here to ‘take you in’. We’re here to help you, to take you home, if you’d like.”

Bucky nodded, “Okay,” and rose smoothly to his feet, pulling a black roll-up duffel bag from a pocket, and began piling his weapons inside, which Sam just noticed had been sitting in a heap behind the chair. “Let’s go.” He passed the bag to Sam.

Steve led the way back to the quinjet, and Bucky followed silently behind. He stayed silent for the whole ride back to Avengers Tower, sitting right at the back and glaring at them. Steve kept glancing back at him from where he was piloting, but seemed to think better of talking to him.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Help him get better. Get his memory back. Get him some therapy,” Steve said.

“And you think Fury’ll just let us? The governments will just let us? He’s wanted in 140 countries.”

“I know. I’ll fight them all if I have to. They have to see he’s innocent.”

“They will,” Sam said, trying to convince himself. “I’m sure Tony’s lawyers will sort it out.”

“If Tony agrees to help.”

“You can’t blame him for not liking the guy who killed his parents. We’re just lucky he’s been taking it out on HYDRA.”

“I guess.”

Steve radioed into the tower, warning of their arrival, then settled back in his chair to watch Bucky.

Four hours later, they landed in the hangar of Avengers Tower. They were greeted by at least fifty agents Fury and Hill had scraped together, to work for Not-SHIELD. As Bucky stepped off the quinjet, they formed a circle, pointing their guns at his chest.

“Hands up!” one of them yelled. Then he turned to Sam and Steve, “Get behind me. We’ll handle this.”

Bucky raised his hands, and a pair of agents rushed forwards, shoving him to his knee, grabbing his arms and cuffing them behind his back, then hobbling his feet.

“Let him go!” Steve yelled, trying to push them away.

“It’s necessary, Captain,” Fury said, stepping into the hangar. “He needs a psych evaluation, to make sure he’s not still with HYDRA. He’s dangerous. And he will stay with us until we are sure that it’s safe.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bucky said, “I’m sure they’ll be better than HYDRA.”

Sam stifled a laugh. Steve looked like he wanted to drag Bucky back onto the jet and fly away, but instead he gave a short nod, and the agents marched Bucky away.

“He’ll be fine,” Sam said. Neither he nor Steve quite believed it.

Avengers Tower had 98 storeys, plus a ground floor and rooftop. Right near the top each of them (Thor, Sam, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Tony and Rhodey), each had their own floor, and there were several empty ones below – “For when we recruit more people,” Tony had said – and then there were several levels of lounge rooms and common kitchens and gyms and a range, and several floors dedicated to what Tony had christened ‘Not-SHIELD’, since Fury and Hill hadn’t decided on a new name yet. Then there was a massive pool, with a diving board, and then Tony had several floors of labs and workshops and who knows what else. And then right at the bottom, there were 20 storeys dedicated to Stark Industries, 2 storeys dedicated to the Avengers and their press image (or something like that, none of them ever had anything to do with it), and a hospital level.

Sam and Steve went straight to the kitchen, where they knew everyone would be, except for Thor, who only seemed to come for movie nights, and spent the rest of his time on Asgard. And they were right – Clint was drinking straight from the coffee pot while Natasha was looking on in horror, Bruce was curled up on the lounge, reading a book, his breakfast sitting forgotten beside him, and Rhodey was trying to persuade Tony that coffee didn’t count as a meal.

Natasha looked up the moment the lift doors dinged open. “Did you find him?” Her eyes flickered over the lift behind them.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. He was waiting for us outside a base. Seemed to want to come back. Only Fury’s got hold of him now, wants to run some psych tests.”

“That’ll be fun for him,” Clint snorted, “He had me for two weeks after New York was over.”

“Two weeks!” Steve exclaimed. “He can’t have Bucky that long.”

“Better keep him too long than let him out early and have him murder us when we look away.” Natasha pointed out.

“I’m going to go and see him,” Steve decided.

Sam looked longingly at the fried bacon and eggs sitting on the countertop. When was the last time he’d eaten? “I’ll come too.”

They headed back into the lift. “Hey JARVIS, can you take us to wherever Bucky is, please.”

“Of course, sir. Sergeant Barnes is on level 74, however Director Fury has asked me to make sure you check in with him before visiting.”

“Okay, thanks, JARVIS.”

They exited the lift and after a short conversation with Fury that was basically just Steve threatening him if he took longer than a day to clear Bucky, and Fury saying that it would take at least a month to do the full tests, but adding that they could do enough today so that Bucky could at least come out of the cell if he stayed in the tower, and then giving them strict guidelines for interaction.

When they entered the cell, Bucky was sitting docile on a metal bench, no longer in his Winter Soldier get-up, but in a thin black cotton shirt and matching tracksuit pants. He glanced up as they entered and locked the door behind them, shifting slightly. Sam noticed that the restraints hadn’t been removed.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Steve asked, rushing over. He stopped short when Bucky flinched away.

“No. I’m fine.” Bucky stared at the floor, unable to meet their eyes.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine, really.”

Steve hesitated, then, “D-do you remember me?”

“Yes. You’re Steve Rogers.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky finally looked up. “No. I remember before the war. And I remember during the war…with the Howling Commandos.”

“You remember the Commandos?”

Bucky nodded. “I remember Azzano. And after. With HYDRA.”

“No one blames you, Buck.”

“’Cept for me.”

“They can’t hold you responsible. Tony Stark’s got his best lawyers on it.”

“The man whose parents I murdered. I wouldn’t blame him if he killed me himself, instead of waiting for the government to do it.”

“No one’s gonna kill you, Buck. I won’t let them.”

“And Stark doesn’t blame you,” Sam added, “He may not have been brainwashed into killing people for seventy years, but he knows what it’s like to have to do things under duress.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing. Instead, he turned to Sam. “Sorry about your car. And pulling you out of the sky and kicking you off the helicarrier. And, Steve, sorry for almost killing you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I expect a replacement for the car.”

Bucky’s mouth quirked to one side. “I’ll go pinch you one just as soon as they let me out of here.”

Speak of the devil, the door opened, and Fury stepped in. “Time for the scans.”

Bucky stood up immediately, and followed him out, moving easily despite the restraints.

“That went surprisingly well,” Sam said.

“How much do you think he remembers?” Steve asked.

“Enough to not murder us. And remember, even if he didn’t remember a single thing, he’d still deserve a second chance after all he’s been through.”

“He was still wearing what he wore as the Winter Soldier. What if never stops being…that?”

“Bucky spent seventy years as the Winter Soldier,” Sam reminded him. “And even if it wasn’t his choice, it was still him. He’s probably going to keep a lot of his behaviour, mannerisms, muscle memory. It’s part of him now.”

Steve sighed. “I hate it.”

“Me too. But it is what it is, and we need to help him cope with it. Now come on. Let’s stop hanging out in his cell, and go have a massive breakfast. And then I’m going to sleep all day.”

Steve laughed. “That’s one way to make the day go quickly.”

Tower of Tomorrow Masterlist

[sherlockcallmymama]

Legal Solutions Columbus GA

Accidental Injuries Lawyers Columbus, GA –– Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C.

Accidents along with the injuries and damages they can cause may have a major influence on the life from the injured person and their families. If you or your relative has been injured or killed inside an accident, it is only natural to feel completely helpless and angry as these are natural emotions to such an event.

Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. 1234 1st Ave STE 200, Columbus, GA 31901

But, it is also important to think about the highway back to recovery. It is rather probable that your damages and injuries may be paid by the party liable for the accident. This is when a law office experienced with taking on accidental injuries cases can assist you deal will the negligent parties and their insurance adjusters to get you compensation for damages and injuries.

Here is the form of qualified legal experience you can get when you use the knowledgeable attorneys at Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Law Firm. Our legal team has extensive expertise in handling accidental injuries cases in Columbus, GA and will offer you great support with this time of need.

Personal injury lawsuits may be especially complex along with the aftermath of a serious accident is often combined with confusion and emotional upheaval. Allow our experienced accidental injuries attorneys to deal with the complexities to help you hop on using the recovery process.

So How Exactly Does a private Injury Case in Columbus Work?

After a car accident, it is really not uncommon to obtain a proposal in the insurance adjuster representing the at-fault party. At this point, most people wish to determine it can be also worth contesting this offer when the amount may seem reasonable and won’t involve a long legal process. But, there are some important aspects to consider before you make this decision.

Here is what you must understand about accidental injuries cases:

The true price of your case should come to the “damages” you have sustained as a result of negligence of some other person. The whole damages includes the financial costs, emotional distress, mental anguish and physical struggling with injuries linked to the accident. Additionally, punitive damages might be laid in the at-fault person if their actions were especially egregious.

Under Georgia Law, the plaintiff, or the individual that received the harm, is qualified for compensation equal to the volume of damages they experienced as a result of accident. These damages has to be purchased by the defendant, or the at-fault person. More typically, it will be paid by the defendant’s insurer.

The damages awarded will probably be decided by both sides after negotiations. Both sides will develop a figure they think is fair and can try and reach a happy-medium settlement which everybody can decide on. If this settlement can’t be reached in negotiations, the case may be come to court along with the judge will order the harm award be paid.

Who Can Be Named in a Accidental Injuries Lawsuit?

Very often it is easy to detect an at-fault party and start creating a case against them. Still an informed team of experienced accidental injuries attorneys will offer you no end of benefits here. However, there are occasions that the true parties responsible are certainly not as obviously identified and there could be many parties liable for the incident mainly because it played out.

At Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C., we have now extensive experience investigating cases of accidental injuries and provide all parties responsible to terms using their negligence. A few of the parties we incorporated into our lawsuits are:

A number of these entities and people we have now expertise in negotiating with include:

-Individuals

-Businesses

-Government institutions or cities departments

-Manufacturers and Defective products

-Insurance providers

You will find various ways that each of these potential defendant has to be contained in the accidental injuries claim. You can even rely on each of these defendants counting on experienced legal teams to safeguard their interests in these case. For that reason it will be imperative for the chances of you a reasonable shake which you also include a qualified legal team to pursue your case in negotiations and courts if needs be.

What is the time limit for filing a private Injury Claim?

Most states could have an occasion frame by which accidental injuries cases can be done, this time around limit is named the statute of limitations and varies between states. In Georgia, defendants have 24 months in the date from the incident that caused the injuries to create their accidental injuries claims. After that time, the case could be void.

Call the law firm of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. if you would like to understand a little more about the statute of limitation mainly because it applies on this site in Columbus, GA.

Simply how much is My Personal Injury Claim Actually Worth?

There are several factors that are involved in properly qualifying your own injury case in fact it is tough to come up with a general approximations without exploring the information on the case. At Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Law Firm we provide you with free consultations to people who have suffered injuries from negligent parties. We are going to review your case and give you a clearer picture of your respective chances for recovering compensation. We are going to also counsel you in the best approach using this point.

Below are a few factors that will change the overall price of your own personal injury case:

-Future medical cost and lost income

-Exactly how the accident happened

-Future brings about medical issues

-Medical expenses

-Wages and income lost

-Injuries suffered

The specifics of each of these factors must be thoroughly examined and their damages converted into a cash value. Those accidents that resulted in serious damages could have far greater influence on the life from the injured person which can add value to the case.

A number of these damages are really very easy to calculate, like the cost of treatment, although the damages for suffering and pain or emotional may require professional opinions and resources to calculate. A respected law office, like our, could have every one of the resources and connections to create precise calculations and a strong case for negotiations and court battles.

Just How Long Could It Take for My Columbus, GA Accidental Injuries Case being Settled?

There are several important steps that will need to be obtained from submitting the lawsuit to reaching the very last settlement. Before a settlement may be reached both sides will need to decide on an award amount through negotiations. If this can’t be completed, then your matter will need to be settled in courts.

There are many individual factors in every individual case that will use a role in prolonging or shortening the procedure. Naturally, those cases that are straightforward and include only minor damages will probably be completed far faster than others including more dangerous physical impairment pain suffering and extensive medical treatments.

Critical Factors Affecting the Time of a private Injury Case in Columbus

Settlements

For those who have an extremely specific notion of what kind of settlement you think is acceptable, you will probably find that negotiations will take a little bit longer. Negotiating to get a top-dollar compensation requires more work than when the injured party is flexible within their expectations. But, this doesn’t mean you ought to accept the first offer you are given.

Insurance providers are really careful concerning their work and can try and do just as much as they can to lessen the pay outs they make for medical expenses. When they can prove that your injuries were not actually attached to the accident, they have got no responsibility to offer compensation for these people.

When the injuries are, undoubtedly, attached to the accident, they have got different ways to lessen the payouts they have to make. As an example, they could say your injuries are certainly not as serious as you may described them and can only need moderate health care for the near future. Obviously, this is not carried out with your full recovery at heart, however in the interests from the insurer.

These are just some of the important reasons to experience a qualified accidental injuries law office in your corner to ensure all the information are properly included plus your case is bullet proof before entering negotiations.

Furthermore, having a accidental injuries attorney in your corner will guarantee the procedure is conducted as smoothly and favorably as you can. Perhaps the case is strong and runs very smoothly from learn to final negotiations and a settlement. But, in cases where the matter is not so easily resolved, it must be come to court. It will likely be necessary to have strong legal counsel in these an occasion.

There exists still a chance to recover damages from a car accident if you were partially responsible for the injuries. In Georgia, the law of modified comparative negligence implies that given that an individual is below 50% responsible for the accident.

While the idea of employing a team of high-caliber lawyers is normally an extremely expensive prospect, we will not allow financial capability to stand in the way of getting our clients the compensation that they need to get a full recovery. In the Lawyer of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C., we operate within contingency plan, or perhaps a “No Win, No Charge” arrangement.

Our extensive experience in such cases has allowed us some understanding of the plight of accident victims and their immediate needs. One important thing they certainly do not require is usually to be weighed down with financial burden of employing a good lawyer for the compensation the law entitles these people to.  In addition to the many costs of medical expense, you will find the potential of reduced wages when the individual is unable to make the same type of work effort because of their injured conditions.

For that reason, we don’t charge out clients a cent for our expert advice, professional consultations or extensive expertise in accidental injuries lawsuits – until we win them the compensation they deserve and everybody goes home happy.

The contingency arrangement makes certain that financial need will not be an issue to get the legal assistance you have to pursue your compensation. So, you have absolutely nothing to lose along with the practical information on a whole recovery to get. Phone us today!

To Schedule Your Free Consultation and Case Evaluation Contact Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Accidental Injuries Lawyers Today!

There are several aspects to consider from the aftermath of your accident where there can be many feelings of upset and frustration at the moment. Don’t do or say whatever can place your chances for full compensation in jeopardy. Get yourself an accomplished Columbus Accidental Injuries Law Firm in your corner.

Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Accidental Injuries Law Firm has the skill and experience you will have to allow you to get the favorable settlement you really want for. There is not any need that you can lose sleep over the legalities of your respective predicament. Let us become the perfect legal support as you hop on using the important business of a full recovery.

[andy-the-8th]

Things Green and Growing

Part 9 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

Sam's last day at the greenhouses for the summer and seeing her sister off back to college.

cw: homophobic language

A/N: I just really like the idea of Sam and Jess being biology bros

Also we meet Sam's dad. He's an asshole.

The rushing fans and cool mist of the greenhouse definitely made the late August heat more bearable - no matter how much you might love your job, there's only so much summer sun you (or your plants) could take without some assistance.

"Am I doing this right?"

Jess looked up at Sam from the other side of a table of junipers, a spiky carpet of green across the long low table, contrasting the spotty gray of the wet concrete greenhouse floor. He'd come by the greenhouse a few times over the summer - even though he didn't work there, he insisted he help with something if he was going to hang out. Sam had eventually agreed to let him take care of some of the more innocuous tasks.

Pruning clippers in hand, Jess had been tasked with cutting back the overgrown shoots from the Japanese star junipers - the small conifers were popular for their hardiness as a ground cover, especially as a more durable and eco-friendly replacement for grass. This meant though that their lower branches would snake over the edges of the black plastic pots they were growing in, running sideways in every direction, getting tangled in each other, burning and drying out foliage.

Sam walked over to inspect his handiwork. Actually not too bad.

"Yeah, they look fine."

"Awesome. Thanks for letting me prune something, feels more important than moving things around from table to table" Jess said cheerfully.

"No problem" Sam had come to genuinely enjoy spending time with Jess, and not just as a confidant. Sure, he never got any less excessively enthusiastic, would still frequently go off on tangents of facts and theories, but she'd gotten used to his pattern of speaking. He'd clearly been scared of being annoying the first time he'd visited, and pretty much stayed quiet the few times he'd met Jackie or Jen. Trying to be a bit more normal around new people.

So in a way, she was glad he was comfortable being himself around her now.

Sam went back to the table of peace lilies: graceful, broad glossy dark green leaves with their delicate white alien blooms on long stalks above the thick cluster of greenery at the base. Like the junipers - like most potted plants packed together for commercial purposes - the lower levels were at risk of suffocation, for both light and air, and had to be clipped off before they turned yellow and started to attract mold.

They kept working in silence for a long while, the only sound in the greenhouse the gentle rush of the fans, the occasional hiss of the misting system, the soft clicks of the pruning clippers punctuating at either end of the space.

"So school starts back up in a week."

Sam caught that that was both a perfectly normal observation and a veiled question about what they'd both been thinking since August started. Cody was supposed to be back soon.

"Do you think he'll come back at night? So no one sees him transform back?"

"I don't know, probably." Of course Sam still missed her boyfriend, but it had also been good to spend the summer focusing on her own interests, her own friends, away from swimming and social drama. But she knew she looked forward to seeing him.

Still, it would be a lie to say she wasn't more than a little apprehensive as well.

Like, he literally wasn't human. A lot had probably changed from spending some time as a full-time merman. And what sort of sea creatures were they anyway? Were merpeople more like whales, pelagic, solitary, mostly sticking to the vast fathoms of the open oceans? Living alone or in two or three individuals? Or were they more like dolphins, staying in the shallows in big social pods? Was it like in the movies, secret underwater cities of merpeople with their own cultures, music, governments?

It wasn't too unrealistic to imagine that any of those might significantly change someone's demeanor or even personality. She still got hung up on the whole telepathy thing as well - if Cody came back able to read minds, that might just be too weird of a thing to deal with on top of starting high school.

Jess didn't seem to see any of those questions as anxieties, of course. Quite the opposite. To be fair, he wasn't the one dating him either.

"Gosh, I wonder what it all was like." His voice that that airy sort of awe he'd had back when Cody was still going through the transformations. They actually hadn't really talked about him much over the summer, which Sam had found a little surprising - Jess seemed equally excited to just talk with her, especially with their shared interests in biology. He'd listened attentively when Sam wanted to talk over her mom's work with environmental regulations, or projects she was taking on with the envi-sci club at school next year, or balancing swimming with her other extracurriculars.

"Guess we'll find out." Sam carefully kept any apprehension out of her voice. She did want to know about it, as much as Cody wanted to tell her - but she also wanted to keep their first year of high school as normal as possible after junior high's supernatural finale.

"Yeah. I think I've gotten all the shoots on the junipers."

"Alright, thanks Jess. I'm finishing up here, then will have to be getting home. Jackie's leaving for college again tonight, and I think my dad will be coming to see her off as well."

Sam bit her lip at that. She didn't like having to talk about her father. It wasn't like having divorced parents was abnormal - she guessed that was the case for Jess as well, since he never talked about his mom - but she still didn't like having to bring up her father in more detail than necessary.

"Oh, OK. D'you want me to stick around and help clean up?"

"Nah it'll be fine. Ms. Brantwood should be coming by soon anyway, before I lock up."

"Alright." Jess walked over to the open greenhouse door, where he'd leaned his bike against the frame. He paused for a moment, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt where they'd fogged up from the quick temperature and humidity shift, squinting in the sun.

Sam had turned back to the peace lilies, arranging them with proper spacing on the low table, fishing the spray bottle where it had disappeared in the thick stand of leaves, pots, and dirt.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" she turned her head over her shoulder to where he was still just outside the door, helmet strapped on, hands on the bike ready to go.

"Can you call me if you hear first when he comes back?"

Sam smiled and exhaled out her nose, relaxed her shoulders. "Of course. You too, OK? You're a lot closer to the water than me."

"Oh definitely." Jess balanced to one side on the bike, ready to kick off. "See'ya!"

"See'ya later Jess."

She heard him head off, wheels crunching over the gravel down to the sidewalk, saw him blurred through the glass walls, disappear as he went around the front of the building.

Grabbing the spray bottle and the clippers, she walked them down to the worn wooden cabinets and coat rack built into the wall next to the greenhouse office, hung her gloves on the hook. She took the broom back over to the peace lily table, made sure she hadn't missed any stray leaves or sprinkles of soil on the wet concrete floor. The bell on the door of the office jingled once as it opened and closed - Ms. Brantwood, the owner, came out then, clipboard in one hand, glasses perched on the end of her nose. Ms. Brantwood always looked like some hybrid of a farmer and a librarian, flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, workboots, her gray hair in a tight bun, glasses held on a colorful beaded strap around her neck.

"Ms. Brathwaite," she said congenially. "Here you go." She handed Sam an envelope.

"Thanks Ms. B." Her paycheck from the summer, headed straight for her college savings once she got home.

"Thanks for all the help this summer! The peace lilies never looked better." She smiled approvingly over at the displays where Sam had spent most of the afternoon. "We'd be happy to have you back again."

"That'd be great! Thank you again for having me" Sam tucked the envelope in her canvass bag, slung it over her shoulder, and started to the door.

"Good luck with high school - it's scary at first but you'll do great."

Sam smiled again and backed out the open door, closing it behind her, the screen making a quick whoosh sound before the door clacked on the wood frame. She shifted her bag on her shoulders and started down the sidewalk for home.

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

"If you really have that much of a problem with it, you can just leave."

Lindsey crossed her arms and leaned back on her kitchen counter, staring down her ex-husband, who was at the bottom of the stairs next to the front door, one hand on the newel post, head hanging down in frustration.

"I don't have a problem, I have an opinion. Goddamnit, do you have to make everything into one of your crusades?"

"I don't have crusades, Steve, I have morals. It's none of your business how she looks, Jackie is a grown woman."

"Staying in a house that I pay to keep you in."

"Don't bullshit me like that. You known damn well I supported us. The house was only ever in my name, for fucks sake. Your child support checks aren't anything we rely on."

"Trust me, they wouldn't exist if the court didn't say so."

Steve glared back at her, the silence tense. Lindsey huffed and went back to packing granola bars and sandwiches in the lunchboxes on the table - snacks to send with Jackie for the car ride to the airport.

"You shouldn't have let her go to that school either."

"She got a full scholarship" Lindsey snapped. She was rapidly reaching the end of her rope with this conversation and was just about ready to throw Steve out of her house if he continued like he was. He was the father of her kids, he technically had visitation rights - but she wouldn't have him talk like this in their house. Thank God Jackie was outside, and Sam still at work.

"Yeah, well, maybe if she'd gone to a state university instead of some liberal arts bullshit, she wouldn't be dressing like some fucking dyke now."

That was it - he was through.

"Get out. Now."

She threw every bit of venom she could into the final word, her gaze ice cold, her knuckles white gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.

Steve sneered cruelly at her as he shifted to  go and roughly put his hand on the door knob. "Wonder where she got that from."

He opened the door quickly to find Sam on the doorstep, her face surprised and pale. Steve stopped, also startled for a moment. He didn't know how much she'd heard - he didn't care. She was grown up enough to start knowing about the real world unfiltered, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, Dad," she offered shakily, awkwardly. He just looked down at her coldly.

"Good luck in school next year." He turned back for one last glare at Lindsey, then pushed past Sam down the front steps, to his car in the driveway, leaving the front door open. He slammed the car door as he got in, backed down past Lindsey's car into the cul-de-sac where Jackie was standing next to Vanessa's old Jeep, and sped off around the corner, tires spinning harsh squeals, out of the neighborhood.

Jackie and Vanessa quickly looked over at Sam, clearly worried. Jackie walked up across the small front yard, making herself smile sarcastically, trying to conjure humor for her sister who still was frozen and scared-looking on the doorstep.

"Another grand finale and exit from the father of the year, ladies and ladies!" she announced dramatically.  Sam smiled a little at that - Jackie's features relaxed in relief. Vanessa stayed by the Jeep, eyes closed and looking down, fingers pressed to her temples, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Hey, Sam." Jackie looked hard at her, serious. "Don't listen to anything he says. He's an asshole. Got it?"

"Yeah Jackie. Got it." Sam went inside and put her bag down on the floor next to the kitchen table, where Lindsey was aggressively zipping up the lunch boxes. She might have chided Jackie for using that kind of language in front of her, in less charged circumstances.

"I just have one more box upstairs, 'kay Mom?"

"Alright, don't keep Vanessa waiting out there too long though. I'm set to go when you are."

Sam bit her lip and looked down at the wood grain in the kitchen table, at the lines in the linoleum floor. "Mom, I'm going to put my stuff upstairs too, I'll be down to see them off."

Sam quickly took the stairs, two at a time. She tossed her bag on her bed, closed the door, and turned down the hall to Jackie's room.

She was standing at her bureau, small cardboard box in hand, quickly putting her many rings, chokers, and bracelets in, her back to the door. She turned her head, hearing Sam step into the door frame.

"What's up?"

"Jackie, I- something Dad said -"

"Hey, what'd I tell you? Ignore him. He doesn't know shit." Jackie huffed and went back to gathering things off the top of the bureau.

"Yeah I know." Sam looked down, nervous. "But what he said about how you looked, like a...a.."

"A dyke?"

".......yeah."

To Sam's surprise Jackie actually laughed a little, put her last few bits of jewelry in the box, shoved it into her black backpack, covered in pins and patches. She crossed the room and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. She breathed in, and Sam looked up at her a little.

"Listen to me again now. We are strong, modern women. We can look how we want. We can be how we want. It's a new millennium, we can't stay stuck in that patriarchal bullshit forever."

Jackie definitely looked how she wanted - hair spiked up today, black nailpolish, Bikini Kill shirt with cut off sleeves over her black jeans.

"So, does that mean...?"

Jackie smiled and rolled her eyes. "Actually, no. I'm straight, I'm just goth and like to piss off old men." She paused, serious again. "But there'd be nothing wrong with that if I were, Sam. If anyone were."

"Um, oh. Yeah, OK, I jus-"

Jackie's eyes flicked up, past Sam's face and cutting her off, looking past her face to the doorway. Lindsey was standing there, arms folded, lips pursed, her eyes nervous.

She and Jackie held eye contact for a noticeable moment - Sam turned her head to look at her mom as well. Lindsey's eyes calmed and softened almost too quickly to notice.

"You guys about ready to head out?"

"Yeah Mom, we're done." Jackie walked back over and hauled her backpack up onto one shoulder, the buttons rattling into each other with the motion. Sam turned back and walked past her mom, leading the way down the stairs and out the front door. She paused on the doorstep to let them pass. Jackie hoisted her backpack straighter and stopped in front of Sam on the doorstep.

"You know you can always call me if you want. High school can suck sometimes, if you want to talk to someone who already did it you know where to find me."

"Hey, I was in high school once too" Lindsey added, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood as well. Jackie rolled her eyes dramatically.

"'kay, how about if you want to talk to someone who did high school within the last hundred years, THEN call me."

Jackie hugged Sam tight, and walked across the grass to where Vanessa was waiting by the car. Vanessa and Jackie both went to college in Philadelphia - Vanessa at Temple University, Jackie at Haverford College. They were on the same flight over - Vanessa's mom was an airline pilot, so would drive the Jeep back home from the airport after they'd left.

Lindsey followed her down to the side of the car, stopping on the curb, arms crossed over her chest. The air had cooled significantly as the sun went down, almost chilly in contrast to the day's heat.

"Call me when you get in, OK?"

"Yeah of course, same as always." Lindsey hugged Jackie and Vanessa, stepped back from the Jeep as they pulled away with the windows down. Jackie turned up the radio, the energetic chugging guitar and drums filling the summer night, bouncing off the houses around the cul-de-sac.

"WOOOOOOOO!!" as Vanessa steered them away from the sidewalk, Jackie looked back with a wild excited smile, hands up in the rock gesture.

"DRIVE SAFE GIRLS" Lindsey called over the loud music, waving as they turned the corner and out of the development, the music fading as they left.

Lindsey stayed looking down the road for a few moments after the Jeep was gone - from where she was leaning against the front door, Sam saw her mom's eyes were a bit wet. Lindsey walked back up the yard and into the house, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Sorry, sorry, just you girls are growing up so fast." She smiled then as they both walked back inside. As she closed the door behind them, she un-did and re-did her bun, pushing back the loose red strands from the day, refreshing, restoring order.

Following their routine pattern, Sam walked to the kitchen, got two glasses of water, handed one to her mom as they both settled at the table.

Lindsey took the glass, gently clinked it against Sam's. "Hydrate or die!" she said cheerfully, familiarly as part of their home-from-work/inside joke ritual they'd organically developed over the summer, with Sam getting back from the greenhouses the same time Lindsey got back from the offices.

"Hydrate or die." Sam replied, smiling. They both sipped their water silently, decompressing from the day, from Steve, from Jackie's departure.

"You got everything you need for next week?"

"Yeah, I'm set on everything. I got paid from Brantwood today too."

"Oh good, I'm going by the bank tomorrow morning, I can deposit it for you."

"Thanks Mom."

Eventually Lindsey got leftovers from the fridge to heat up - dinner passed at a welcomely-uneventful rate, just chatting about work from the day, errands to run. They finished the dishes and Sam filled up one of the watering cans on the counter to bring upstairs to her plants. She'd put the succulents on a nightly watering schedule, better to accommodate the extra heat this time of year without extra evaporation.

"Goodnight Mom."

Lindsey looked up from the reports she had absentmindedly been paging through after finishing the dishes - environmental justice never sleeps. "Night hon. You OK?" Her voice was gentle, but firm enough that she indicated that she was leaving it open if Sam wanted to talk about any of the commotion from earlier.

Maybe not tonight.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Goodnight." Sam was up the stairs and out of sight.

Lindsey closed the folder on the table, shuffled it back into the small pile she'd pulled from her briefcase. She leaned forward, hands on her forehead, taking long, soothing breaths with her eyes closed. She stayed like that a while, listening to Sam moving about above - back and forth around her room with the watering can, down the hall to the bathroom and back, waiting til she heard her door click shut for the night. She got up, quietly pushed her chair back under the table. She filled her glass at the sink, downing it in one draft, slowly and smoothly, letting the coolness spread through her whole body.  Hydrate or die.

Filing folders back into her briefcase could wait til morning. It had been a long day.

END NOTES:

I imagined the song Jackie and Vanessa are listening to is Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Tune in next time for more of "which of Sam's supporting cast is going to be a lesbian"

Jackie and Lindsey continue to be fun and interesting to write - maybe future spinoffs? Does it still count as fanfiction when the original characters get spinoffs?

[mcfiddlestan]

Last 10 Fics Tag Meme

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

No one tagged me, but I saw it in the tags of one of my ships and it looked fun.

1. Untitled WinterFrost Single Dad AU (Bucky/Loki)

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then the pounding started. Incessantly, pulsing around his entire head. Damned migraines. Loki let out a low grain, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Time to rise, Sunshine.”

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains were pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “I’ve got a damn migraine!”

2. Untitled Stucky Modern AU (Steve/Bucky and a healthy side of Sam/Natasha)

Bucky, his mind drawing a blank, was idly strumming his guitar when he heard the hard slam coming from next door. He surmised his neighbor and best friend, Natasha, had returned from her date, and assumed she’d be over in a few minutes to tell him about it. But when he heard a couple more distant slams and one very heavy thump against their shared wall, his curiosity got the better of him. Setting aside his black Fender, and stepping carefully over a dozing Avalanche, his tuxedo cat, Bucky walked barefoot through his apartment, into the hall, and breezed right into Natasha’s apartment.

He didn’t see her, but Bucky heard Natasha swear sharply, followed by something rattling against the hardwood floor. Waiting, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark sweatpants. Bucky watched as the top of Natasha’s head, burgundy hair in a stylish messy bun, popped up as she’d bent to pick up what he suspected was the cap to the bottle of vodka in her hand. “Hey, babe.”

Natasha turned dark green eyes on him, a sour expression pinching her usually attractive features, and said nothing, only moving to pour herself a full tumbler glass of the clear liquor. Bucky watched her swallow down most of it then waited silently as she filled it up once again.

He moved to rest his elbows on her pub height dining table. “Bad date?”

“You think?”

3. A Boyfriend for Christmas (Bucky/Loki)

“I need your help.”

Loki stared at the man in his doorway for a good five seconds, his lips in a thin red line, and his perfectly groomed black brows arched in curiosity. The man — his neighbor, Loki knew — was good-looking, Loki thought as he took the time to look him over, lips turning up in a soft grin. “Good evening to you, too, 9B.” The man’s lashes fluttered as they did a quick change from widened panic to a more relaxed gaze. Norns, his eyes were an impossible blue. “I can’t promise to help, but try me,” Loki drawled, taking a casual stance, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door jamb.

“Okay. Believe me, I know how this is gonna sound, and I swear I’ll make it up to you — somehow — but…well…okay. Here goes…” Loki cocked a brow, amused. “I need you to be my boyfriend for one night.”

Surprised, and maybe even surprising his neighbor, too, Loki laughed, a tickled near-giggle, and straightened. “You need me to do what now?”

4. Welcome Home -- working title (Bucky/Loki)

Bucky woke with a start, shooting up in his bed, and opening his eyes to near darkness, but for the faint orange glow of the streetlamps outside his bedroom window. For a moment, he was still in the dream; back in the desert, embedded in dirt, surrounded by heat. And flanked by Steve. On his right. He rubbed at his eyes, harder than necessary, willing the image of his best friend smiling and laughing to fade away again. 

Two years had passed since it all happened. The first year was the hardest. Stuck in the hospital, healing, speaking to no one but nurses and doctors — and the occasional military personnel, looking for the gory details. The minute he was out, Bucky was hounded by government officials wanting him to attend various memorials in the good captain’s name. Wanting him to relive the worst day of his life — which is saying a lot for a kid from Brooklyn who wasn’t far from ground zero on September 11, 2001. Was it any wonder that Bucky chose to up and disappear and go into hiding once it all finally ended?

5. WinterFrost Tumblr PWP Prompt (Bucky/Loki)

Bucky barged into the loft apartment, a dark expression screwing up his face, and paused just as the door slammed closed. His eyes, hidden beneath the black face paint smeared around them, like a burglar’s mask, did a quick scan of the layout of the open space before him. He kicked off his muddy boots, leaving them near the door, knowing his ‘loftmate’ wouldn’t take kindly to him leaving a dirt track through the well-kept place. He made a quick mental note to take care of the boots first thing in the morning. His mouth in a deep pout, Bucky thought to himself that it was times like this when he returned from a mission exhausted and not in the mood for company, that he wondered why he ever decided to move in with Loki, resident God of Mischief.

6. Post-Civil War/Ragnarok Frostiron AU (Tony/Loki)

There was no doubt in Tony’s mind just exactly what -- or rather who -- brought that subtle shift in atmosphere into the lab. He’d been expecting it, at some point, if he was honest with himself. And while a small part of him felt relief, there was, always had been, that slightly narcissistic part of his personality that would resent not being at the top of a certain someone’s to-do list.

Tony felt the faint flutter of air sweep across the back of his neck first, which reminded him he really needed to get a haircut. His nose tickled at the sharp tang the wafting scent of ozone often left in its wake. Realization about what exactly was about to transpire had Tony’s stomach doing a bit of a flip; pride, though, forced him to remain with his back to where he felt someone else’s presence. For a fleeting moment, Tony wondered if he could handle this.

Recalling everything that had happened since he last saw his visitor -- the mess with Ultron, the devastating truth about his parents’ deaths, the ends of friendships he actually mourned, the airport, Rhodey, the kid, the Accords -- all of it was a rollercoaster ride for which Tony had never signed up. But this...this one had hurt. The worst part was having to hide the hurt, the heartbreak, because no one knew. No one; not Pepper, not Happy. Not even Rhodey. Nobody knew the blow it was to the one they called Iron Man. How could they? No one knew that Iron Man had fallen in love with the God of Mischief.

7. Untitled Royals AU (Tony/Loki, with a splash of Bucky/Loki)

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me like this?”

Odin, King of Asgard, aimed a dark look across the conference table at Loki, the younger of his two sons, his anger and frustration growing by the second. The air of arrogance and disinterest emanating from Loki, raven-haired and more handsome than was good for him at an aggravating twenty-four years old, was making Odin curl his weathered hands into tight fists on top of the table. Loki looked at him, a questionable flash of surprise crossing his pale, chiseled features, his mostly-green eyes all but twinkling at him, mocking and laughing. 

“Of course I don’t.”

He was no fool; not Odin Borson. His expression darkened further, as he waited for the next words to come from Prince Loki’s mouth. 

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy embarrassing you. It’s more that it’s…a perk.” He smirked at Odin, like the brat he was, and Odin’s response was interjected by the Queen’s subtle astonishment. 

“Loki.” His eyes moved to her, and her disapproving look, and the smirk vanished. 

Odin slammed the newspaper that he’d been keeping in his lap to the glossy top of the long mahogany table. The headlines of Loki’s chaotic week in the States screamed about alcohol, fast cars, and the general recklessness of a perceived overly-spoiled son of royalty. “This is not a joke, Loki.”

8. Take A Bow (Tony/Loki)

Loki rushed through the narrow hallway, coughing to clear his throat of the makeshift fog that had filled the stage for the final moments of the play. By the time he reached the haven of his dressing room, his necktie was undone and his shirt was half unbuttoned. The hurried shouts and stomps of people working backstage were blissfully drowned out as Darcy, his new young assistant, quickly closed the door behind him.

“Great show tonight, Boss,” Darcy chirped as she took the discarded tie Loki handed over and waited to take his costume jacket and vest. Loki chuckled a thank you as she turned away from him. He urged her several times already to just call him by his name, but she insisted on calling him Boss, like he was a gangster in the 1930s. Darcy returned with a glass of water and Loki smiled his thanks before taking a long drink.

9. The House Guest (genderswapped FrostIron, fem!Toni/fem!Loki)

Loki sat in the front seat of a beat-up red convertible and stared blankly ahead. A mixture of hurt and anger had her brow furrowing, her lips pressed tightly together, and her chin, goddammit, was trembling. As Fandral droned on, giving his pathetic explanation, Loki did her best to focus on the other sounds around her — the birds chirping in the late summer morning; a neighbor’s dog barking in the distance; someone’s car alarm down the street malfunctioning — and fought to keep her eyes, fixated now on the white garage door in front of the car, from filling with tears.

Bullshit. She was hearing noting but utter bullshit. Her high school days behind her, Loki had spent the summer constructing plans for the next few months that didn’t involve going to her father’s alma mater in New York and spending the next four years of her life behind more piles of books. She had no interest in swapping high school jocks for frat boys. What she’d had were plans to go on a road trip across the States — and beyond — with Fandral, making love and making music.

But, apparently, Fandral had other plans. And the shitty reasons he was giving for not staying with Loki weren’t helping her understand any better.

10. WinterIron Bodyguard AU (Bucky/Tony)

“Founder and CEO of Stark International and Columbia professor wife critically injured in car accident.”

“Howard Stark, 69, runs car off-road in upstate New York.”

“Socialite couple Howard and Maria Stark injured in car accident. Condition, for both, critical.”

Tony watched the words all but screaming at him from the two flat-screen televisions mounted side-by-side on his bedroom wall, frozen in the spot where he stood by his bed. The words the news anchors spoke, giving details of the accident, were nothing but white noise in his ears. He’d gone numb. He processed nothing. Except that his parents had been in a horrific car accident — a shot of what was left of father’s silver Cadillac made Tony’s knees give out and he dropped to the foot of his bed.

How could anyone survive that? he thought to himself.

----

Tagging @teadrinkingwolfgirl @incredifishface @maeve-curry-writes @stephrc79 and literally anyone else who wants to/feels like doing it (tagged peeps, don’t feel obligated!)